#anyway ill stream again sometime soon i PROMISE!!!!!!

[torchiiko]

id liek to get back to streaming either this month or next month For Sure so ive started making monthly priorities lists to help me chip away at my massive to-do list & so far its been helping! i can manage my priorities in a more digestible way & having a smaller list with specific goals is a lot nicer than having a lot of big lists & trying to pick what to do almost at random

i like being able to go "ok here are my goals for the month" rather than "ok i need to this at some point, oh & i rlly wanna do that, & next time i draw i should do this" point is; Its Working So Far

im think im also gonna delay the development of my own vtuber model to practice on a premade educational model so i can get the hang of rigging & use it to figure out what i want/need to do for my own. for now, ill either be a png or a disembodied voice depending on the stream/video

i have a lot to think abt in terms of content direction & ill try to sort that out as i go instead of wasting time deliberating instead of actually making anything xp

im a little nervous abt picking up streaming again, especially since i only made it 2 streams before stopping for a long while.... the momentum i had fizzled out Fast since there was. a whole Situation. BUT once i push myself to get back into it i should be good to go! i just have to recross that initial hurdle which is unfortunately one of the hardest parts 😔

[aomine-ryo]

Can I request Midorima cheating over his wife because of infidelity or hormones. Trying to get her back so hard. And learning the importance of marriage and yayyy happy ending..You caa make it long if you want, Thank you...I read some of your writings so I thought it would be a much much much greater..New follower anyway, Ill support you....Taank you so much....

Never thought I’d be writing a scenario about cheating haha so this is quite new. It’s interesting though! It’s a long one, but I hope you enjoy it xx

Scenario: Midorima cheating on his wife

You and Midorima have been happily married for over two years and you thought things were going rather smoothly. The two of you had your own routines, but you both made sure that you had dinner together every night, where you’d talk about your day and anything else that popped up.

However, recently he had been coming home later than usual, sometimes even getting back after midnight when you were already fast asleep. You didn’t think too much of it at first, but you started to feel quite lonely having dinner alone and falling asleep in an empty bed, so you decided to bring it up with him one morning before he left for work. “Hey Shintaro, do you mind trying to come back home a bit earlier? It gets quite lonely when you’re not here,” you said to him.

“Hm, I’ll try,” he hummed, avoiding eye contact with you, though you didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“I’ll see you later,” he said after swallowing the last bite of his toast and placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door.

“Have a good day, I love you!” You called out after him.

“I love you too,” he replied with a small wave.

The day went by and Midorima was home late yet again, returning just when you were getting ready for bed. You went to greet him at the front door and you noticed that his appearance was quite dishevelled. His hair was tousled and his clothes looked like they had just been thrown on. The messy tucking of his shirt raised some confusion within you because you knew your husband liked to have things neat and tidy. “Welcome back, why do you look like such a mess?” you questioned as he took his shoes off.

“Oh, I had to move around a lot at work today— it was a bit hectic,” he explained.

“Sounds difficult. If you need anything let me know,” you replied, wishing to ease his tension somehow because it was quite unsettling to see him in such a state.

Of course, he never did ask for any help because that’s just how he was. So the next day, you decided to surprise him at work since you knew he was going to be working late yet again. With a bag of pastries in hand, you headed to his office after greeting his secretary. Thinking he was in his office alone, you opened the door without knocking, only to find your husband’s lips on another woman’s, who sat on his desk with her arms and legs wrapped around him. The bag of pastries dropped to the floor as you clasped your hand over your mouth after letting out a loud gasp.

Both of them immediately pulled away and Midorima’s eyes widened in panic upon realising that you had caught him. “Y-Y/N— uh, please don’t freak out. I can expl—“

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks. “What’s going on?” you managed to say, though you were practically whispering. You wanted to scream and run as fast as you could, but nothing happened; you were just frozen in place.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Midorima said as the other woman awkwardly excused herself and left the room.

“Sorry?” You repeated, the volume in your voice slowly increasing. “Is this why you’ve been coming home so late?”

Midorima hesitated for a moment before bowing his head down shamefully, “Yes.”

You felt a pang in your chest. All these nights you’ve spent alone, trusting that your husband was hard at work, proving to have been a lie. You wanted so badly to leave, but your body wouldn’t budge. So you were stuck there, looking for answers. “A-Am I not good enough for you?” you questioned, voice cracking as you cried harder.

“What? No way!” he answered immediately, shifting closer to you. “I love you,” his arm reached out to attempt to hold you but you instantly swatted it away.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered menacingly, “and you can’t say you love me after lying to me for God knows how long.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m going home,” you said, finally being able to move. “I’d find somewhere else to sleep tonight if I were you.”

Midorima didn’t stop you. He let his eyes well up with tears as he watched you walk away. He deserved this and he knew it. In fact, he even expected some sort of violent outburst from you. You know, screaming, trashing his office- that stuff. But somehow, this was worse. He’d never seen you go silent like that.

Why’d he do that? You were better than any girl he’d ever met and he was aware of that. Whatever he had with you was amazing. But he had to go and fuck it up. He had no one to blame but himself. “Shit,” he cursed to himself as he kicked his desk in frustration. Why didn’t he just stop his co-worker when she initiated it at first? She gave him so many chances to end it, but he kept going, desperately clinging onto the thrill of rule-breaking that he’d never felt before.

Midorima let out a long exhale as he took his phone out. Following your advice, he searched for a hotel to spend the night.

He spent hours tossing and turning in the hotel bed, making him realise how accustomed he had become to having your warm body lying next to him every night. Now that you weren’t there, he just felt uneasy. His endless spiralling didn’t help him go to sleep any sooner either. Constant thoughts of how you deserved better and how he had wronged you flooded his brain. Eventually though, he managed to drift off after letting out a few tears.

The next day, Midorima was at the front door of your house, patiently waiting for you to answer his knocks. He heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door and coming to a halt.

“Go away Midorima,” you said from behind the door.

“Midorima...?” he muttered to himself in confusion. You were using his last name now, the severity of the situation becoming even more apparent to him. “Y/N please let me in. I’m sorry. I really am. If I could undo it I would,” he said.

He got nothing but silence as a response.

So he continued, “I made a mistake. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but please don’t let it end here. I can fix this,” he pleaded.

The door cracked open, revealing your tired and tear stained face. “How could you possibly fix something like this?” You mumbled, the plain sight of his face making you want to burst into tears again.

“I’m not too sure yet, but I can promise you that I’ll try,” Midorima replied, beginning to feel somewhat hopeful now that he had gotten the door to open.

“And what if you can’t fix it? I don’t want to waste my time here,” you said harshly. “Come back when you know how to ‘fix this’.” You shut the door again, leaving Midorima standing there helplessly, wearing a dejected expression as he tried to figure out his next course of action.

He ended up spending the next few days at the hotel before eventually going to stay with Takao. He didn’t exactly plan on staying there, but when he turned to his best friend for some advice and he found out about Midorima’s situation, the raven-haired boy insisted that he stayed in the guest bedroom of his house. It didn’t make much of a difference where Midorima stayed though- he was still unable to get much sleep. The thought of you had occupied his mind and each day he spent without you made him realise how much of a role you actually played in his life.

Some mornings, he’d wake up and lean over to the other side of the bed to give you a kiss, but he’d soon be let down by the realisation that he was alone, and so his days would often start with his mind reminding him of the guilt within him.

After a few weeks, Midorima returned to your doorstep with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. When you answered the door and he laid his eyes upon you for the first time in weeks, his entire body felt giddy. You looked as beautiful as ever. He missed you.

“Oh, hey,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your tone as you realised that you forgot to look through the peephole before opening the door.

“Hello Y/N,” Midorima said, smiling gently as he held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

Your expression softened a bit upon seeing the flowers— he still remembered which ones were your favourite. “You know flowers aren’t going to fix everything right?” You said, building your walls up yet again as you took the flowers from him.

“Yeah, of course I know,” Midorima replied, glad that you had accepted the flowers. “But consider it a starting point.”

The scent of the flowers distracted you for a moment as a small smile creeped across your face. However, you quickly wiped it away after reminding yourself why you were so hurt in the first place. “You know, being alone for the past few weeks was awful. And what was even worse was the fact that all I could think about was how you lied to me. There’s been one question that had practically been eating me alive- what does she have that I don’t?” you said, causing Midorima’s heart to sink.

“Please don’t compare yourself to her,” he said. “You’re absolutely perfect. It’s just that, when she came onto me I was blinded by the thrill of something new. It meant nothing to me— honest. I shouldn’t have gone through with it and I apologise from the bottom of my heart. You’re the only one I want, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider for him to enter the house. “Come in. I think we have a few things we need to discuss,” you said to him, trying not to smile too much at the way his expression lit up. “To be clear, I’m not accepting your apology just yet. It’ll take me some time. But this is your house too after all.”

You and Midorima sat on the couch and talked into the night, discussing all your feelings about each other and the situation. Tears were shed and laughs were shared, and by the end of it all, you had managed to reach a point of understanding. Things weren’t back to normal, and they wouldn’t be for a while, but you didn’t hate him anymore.

You accidentally ended up falling asleep on the couch after a long silence between you two. Midorima attempted to wake you up with a light shake, but you were out cold. So, he picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, tucking you in before heading back to the living room so he could get some rest too. That sleep on the couch, albeit alone, was the best sleep he had gotten in weeks.

As the days went by, Midorima did his best to win you over. He’d pay attention to all your needs. He’d buy you little gifts from time to time and he would even cook meals for you, never asking for a single thing in return. He went to sleep on the couch every night without any complaints, even though he did get neck pains every now and then. However, he was truly displaying his resilience and commitment to change.

Over time, things slowly began to improve. Small acts of physical affection made its way back into your lives through kisses and hugs. Eventually, Midorima and you shared a bed once again as well, and he couldn’t have been happier to be able to fall asleep next to you again. He had worked hard to be able to get to this point, making you understand how important this was to him. You could never completely forget what he had done though as your mind would sometimes randomly recall the hurt it had caused. However, one look at the current Midorima was enough to remind you that he regretted what happened and that he did his best to prove how much he valued you, and it seemed like he was never going to stop trying to prove it.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg whee writing motivation

Heads Up- Part 20 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"I have so many questions!" Smokey asked demandingly as he looked at his unlikely cargo, who was now bouncing around the hideout no doubt wondering where he was.

"Yeah, sure," Caesar answered indifferently, more preoccupied with checking out the unfamiliar place he'd been taken to.

"How are you alive?" Smokey asked. "And like, how do you live, if you're, well...a head?"

"Look, kid, don't ask me how I'm alive, because I don't think it really matters. I just am, I guess, and I'm just making do with whatever life's given me."

These words struck Smokey.

"I know that feel, man," he said, somewhat apologetically.

"You've got arms and legs, so I suppose you don't," snapped Caesar back snarkily.

Smokey groaned. "No, not that way. I mean...I guess I've been dealt a bum deal by life too, I think. That's why I'm on the streets, making a living...I guess we ain't so different after all," he said, lamentingly.

"Well, if I were you, I wouldn't be out stealing stuff," Caesar answered, with a scolding tone in his voice.

"I SAID I'M SORRY!" Smokey yelled, before managing to catch his temper. "I- I mean I'm sorry," he repeated, this time softly and shyly. "I didn't mean to steal you, well...I guess I did mean to, but I was just after some goods and not something -- someone alive," he muttered, clearly perplexed by the implications of all this.

"Well, stealing's wrong either way, whether or not you stole a talking sculpture," Caesar retorted.

Smokey sighed. "I just needed some money, alright? I don't have a home to come back to. It ain't easy having to deal out in the streets. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do."

"And what are you gonna do now?" Caesar said, in a tone that harbored both scolding and regret.

"I...guess the only right thing to do is to take you home, then. Was that van Joseph's?" Smokey asked.

"No. They were...they were taking me away from him. He promised me he'd come back for me...but they took me away before he could." His nubby shoulders drooped sadly. "And there was nothing I could do about it."

Smokey gave a dry chuckle. "Then I guess me taking you from the van was a good thing after all."

"Hey! Don't try to sound like a good guy, kid," Caesar shot back. "You still stole me."

"Quit rubbing it in, head man," Smokey complained. "I'm trying to help you now."

A thought crossed Smokey's mind. "Hey, I don't wanna keep calling you 'head man', you got a name?"

Caesar hesitated to give out his name to the stranger, but felt that given they would be stuck with each other for a while, he figured he'd rather not be called by whatever pejoratives the kid made up.

"Caesar," he said reluctantly. "The name's Caesar."

"Smokey Brown," answered the young boy, holding out a hand. "Nice to meetcha."

Caesar glared exasperatedly at Smokey's outstretched greeting hand. "I have no hands, can't you see? You're a lot just like Joseph."

--------

Joseph rushed to the garage of the gallery, his heart pounding wildly within his chest.

He promised Caesar he would never lose him.

And now he was.

Suzi dashed behind him, trying to keep up with her distraught companion. "Jojo! Wait for me!"

"I can't lose him!" Joseph cried, as he burst into the garage, forcing the doors open with all the strength he could muster.

And to his horror, the garage was empty.

"They've left," Suzi muttered sadly.

"It can't be! I need to know where they went!" gasped Joseph as tears began to well up in his eyes.

He refused to let him go.

But now there seemed little hope. He made a promise and circumstance couldn't let him keep it. It was all so unfair.

Joseph angrily pounded his fists into the wall of the garage in frustration. He screamed skyward at no one in particular, at someone he knew couldn't hear him.

"CAESAAAAAAAAR!" he wailed to the heavens, tears of grief streaming from his eyes.

Thoughts of Caesar's whereabouts flashed through Joseph's head. Worst cases of what could have become of him. He was alone, and helpless, and a curio for the ill intentioned. Joseph shuddered at the possibilities of his fate.

Would he be taken apart by those who saw him not as a person but as an object to be poked and prodded? Would he be destroyed out of fear by someone who did not understand his bizarre, inhuman state?

He hoped not. But with something as unique as Caesar, who knew how the world might act?

Suzi stood by him reassuringly, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his tears. "Jojo," she said. "Jojo, I need you to calm down, alright? We will find him. And we will take him home."

Joseph glanced up at her from his position sitting on the floor, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "Thanks, Suzi. But where...where will we look?"

And as if on cue, a light flashed into the garage, catching both their attention.

It was Mark's van, returned so soon. Something felt wrong, Joseph knew at once. The auction gallery was a long way away. Something must have happened.

Joseph rushed out to the van as quickly as his feet could carry him. He rapped urgently at the window, and was greeted by the maintenance man's polite but distraught face.

"Where is he?" Joseph demanded, forgetting the pretense of Caesar's disguise.

"He? Who's he?" Mark asked, perplexed.

"I meant my sculpture," Joseph corrected impatiently. "There must have been some sort of mistake? I was supposed to take it home with me!"

Mark gave a distinct frown and Joseph's heart promptly felt heavy.

"You see, Mr. Joestar, there's been a problem," he explained uneasily, unable to look Joseph in the eye. "I'd gotten a flat tyre and left the back open..."

"...and it disappeared."

Joseph and Suzi's mouths dropped open in shock. "Disappeared?"

"Yes, sir, I think somebody took it."

Without warning, Joseph dashed to the passenger seat of the van and boarded the vehicle, ignoring Mark's protests. Suzi hesitated, but Joseph gestured urgently for her to get in, to which she relented and dove into the backseat.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Mark screamed as Joseph and Suzi buckled themselves in.

"Take us to where you'd lost him," Joseph demanded. "We need to get him back. Go!" he urged.

"All this for a sculpture?" Mark complained. "You're so obsessed with that weird head sculpture of yours!"

"It's more than just that to me," Joseph grumbled. "You'll never understand what that masterpiece means to me."

Deep down, Joseph felt like he looked deranged to outsiders. How would he explain that he loved his sculpture and felt closer to him than even a friend, without revealing Caesar was as alive as him and everyone else? He probably seemed like a complete nutjob obsessed with an inanimate object, he thought bitterly to himself.

It felt like a lose-lose scenario, of something dear to him that no one else would understand.

And yet his feelings for Caesar overwrote any of his anxieties about others' perception of his state of mind.

He was not giving up on Caesar.

Not by a long shot.

----------

It was well past midnight by the time Smokey made it back to the site of the car incident, carrying Caesar in tow.

Who weighed well more than what a young child was used to.

"Sheesh! You're heavy!" he complained to the bust.

"And you expect me to bounce all the way by myself?" Caesar countered.

"Well whoever made you didn't think it through!" Smokey snapped in return.

Caesar opened his mouth in an attempt to retaliate, but fell silent at the blow of words.

Had this kid just insulted Joseph in extension? Joseph who had made him in perfection?

And yet he had a point. Caesar depended on others. He could do very little on his own, after all. He was designed to be an ornament, not a rudimentary being struggling to his best to attain some level of human functionality.

What was he for, anyway, without Joseph?

Smokey felt a hint of guilt at hearing the bust's sudden, piercing silence.

"Hey there, I...I didn't mean it, 'kay? I'm sorry." he apologized. "Look, let's just try to get you back on the van, if it's still there--"

Smokey stopped in his tracks.

The van had disappeared.

"Great!" groaned a dismayed Caesar angrily. "How am I supposed to get home?"

"Look, if I can make it up to you," Smokey replied, "you could stay with me for a bit, I guess. It's late out, and I can help you find your maker tomorrow. I've got a shelter for now in the old warehouse, maybe some snacks--"

"I don't eat," Caesar explained. "I'm made of clay."

"More for me then," shrugged Smokey. "Come on, we better getcha inside. My arms are aching."

"Best if nobody sees me," Caesar added, as Smokey turned back down the alley and headed back to the makeshift shelter that was the closest he had to a home.

Caesar looked forlorn as Smokey set him down onto the dusty floor and sat down next to him. This strange kid was unfamiliar, and somewhat rash, but Caesar felt he could trust him.

He had to trust him. Because otherwise, he knew he might never see Joseph again.

----------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

[fangirlincorporated-blog]

The Lucky Australian

Authors note: this chapter details a panic attack (based on my own experience)  and may be upsetting for some readers. readers discretion is advised.

~~ 15 Bound ~~

 Tell a story, one that's never been told

Remembering how did it feel,

I've got letters, I've got songs that I wrote,

And a heart lined with chromium steel,

Artifacts of darker passions,

I took the fragments and buried them under my bed

And still that ferrous sun,

It shines down on the living.

 Fighting the urge to sleep, Henry showered and dressed for dinner, the heat of the day settling into the night. Aurora was so excited to take him to dinner. He never really got used to the idea of a woman paying for dinner, but she was insistent he was her guest and he found it hard to say no to her beautiful face.

Buttoning his shirt, he looked around the room. Minimal and modern is how he would describe her style, but with warmth that only a home can bring. Aurora had made a space for him in her closest. “Its not fair you live out of a suitcase for 2 months Henry” she scolded him.

“FISHY FISHY!!!” Aurora exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, he heard Pickles barking. Moving to the kitchen, he leant against the wall watching the scene before him.

Pickles was so excited for her dinner, prancing around on her paws, her eyes followed every movement Aurora made.  Aurora set her bowl down and Henry watched as the dog inhaled every morsel. Aurora looked up to see him staring; she was dressed in a short white satin dress with a blue china pattern over it, her hair pulled back with nude high heels on her feet. She looked simply divine and unable to keep his hands to himself he wandered over to Aurora. He pulled her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her. Aurora's arms snaked around his neck, after the excitement of today, she finally gave him the welcome he was looking for. His arms around her and his lips caressing hers, he almost forgot about dinner. He felt Pickles pushing her way between their bodies before she let out one single loud bark.

Aurora pulled back to look at him as Pickles continued her verbal dissatisfaction that she was not the recipient of pats she wanted.

“That, right there, is why I call her the cockblock”

Henry looked down at the dog, her expectant brown eyes looking up at him as she curled her lip, ready to let out another bark.

He turned back to Aurora.

Pickles barked again

“She’s very insistent” Henry let go of Aurora to pat her

“Yeah, she used to do it all the time before-“ Aurora stopped short.

“Anyway, dinner?” Aurora grabbed her bag and keys

“Lead the way!” Henry said, as he followed her out of the house, leaving Pickles to guard her domain.

 ~~~~~~~~

 They had finished what Henry thought was one of the best meals of his life, the ambiance of the restaurant and the company Henry had making the night better.

Henry had made Aurora promise they would go again before he left, and every other time he would visit. Aurora was only happy to fulfil his wish.

Walking back to her house, Henry was all hands, there was something about the sea air, the night and her that was driving him insane, the sooner they got home the better.

“Good thing you are within walking distance of that restaurant” Henry said into her lips, as he pinned her against the door the moment they walked in the house.

She giggled against him. Henry heard Pickles before he saw her; pulling away from Aurora he opened the back door to let Pickles relieve herself.

“Henry, got to bed, I’ll meet you in there”

“Ill hold you to that” he called to her, shedding his clothes on the way to the bedroom.

Aurora watched him go. She smiled to herself; there was no way she ever thought this possible, Henry here and wanting to be with her. She wasn’t entirely sure this creeping feeling would happen to her again. Still the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach dragged up emotions she would rather forget. They had been eating at her all day, sitting in the back of her mind, ever so silently reminding her they were there. The happiness she felt with Henry twinged with sadness. She checked the date on her phone. No wonder, it was almost that day again. Sometimes, the absence of his presence was a tidal wave she almost drowned in, other times, it was a beautiful reminder of what they shared, either way, she could never predict how it would go.

Closing and locking the door behind Pickles, Aurora turned off the lights and followed the light to her bedroom. Henry was sprawled on the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“ I think we should reschedule the festivities tonight” Aurora said, changing out of her clothes.

“The spirit is willing, but the body is tired” Henry made a move to sit up.

She looked at him as she hung up her dress.

“Why do you torture me?” Henry winced.

Aurora chuckled as she pulled on a t-shirt.

“I don’t” Aurora turned off the light and got into bed, Henry pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve flown all this way and you get naked after I’ve eaten and gotten slightly drunk and tired, this is not fair” Henry whined.

Aurora chuckled.

“Go to sleep Henners”

“You give me cute nicknames. I like it, I need to find you one,” He mumbled as sleep overtook him. Seconds later, Henry was snoring gently. Aurora felt the darkness still around her, she had the worlds most wanted man entwined around her body right now, and all she could feel was the heavy guilt that she didn’t deserve this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t how anything was supposed to work out. How was this fair for anyone?

Aurora saw him, there in the dark. He smiled at her, frozen in time. He reached out his hand to her; Aurora grabbed at him and pulled him closer. She held his hand and he pulled it from her grasp. He kept moving away from her, a smile on his lips.

Soon though, she saw him, a mess of broken bones. His mouth open and screaming in silence, the pain in his eyes boring into hers, suddenly the world came back to her and he screamed her name.

Over and over and over and over, getting louder and louder each time, his screams drowning out anything else she was hearing. The pain crushed her chest; breathing was becoming harder to do, her body shaking with every breath that became harder to take.

Aurora woke up suddenly and fell out of the bed; she knew what was happening, as tears sprung to her eyes as she tried to breathe in the dark. All of a sudden light flooded her vision and pickles was by her side.

“Aurora?” She looked up to see a man on her bed making his way to her, she put her hand out to stop him. Her brain was frenzied trying to catch up with the changes in her room, her body panicking and not holding a breath.

“Aurora”

She looked up again and recognized Henry, she shook her head as she continued gasping for air, her lungs burning with lack of oxygen.

“What’s happening?” Suddenly he was in front of her, his hands on her, she felt pickles’ nose on her chest, her dog trying to get her to move.

“Pickles, baby, move.” Henry said, tyring to push her out of the way.

“Panic attack” She rasped.

“What?”

Aurora grasped for a breath and was able to hold it fleetingly.

“Panic attack…pickles ESA” she managed to get out.

Henry’s eyes dawned with understanding. He moved her against the wall, he grabbed her hands and put them above her head, Aurora doubled over, wanting to remain curled over herself.

“No Aurora, open your chest.” He put his hand on her sternum.

“I’m going to lightly push in, I need you to breathe in and push back with every breath ok?” she nodded.

Tears streaming down her face, she looked up to the ceiling trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Slowly, she was able to drag in breath after breath, she was able to hold it in her chest and bring her body out of the trauma it was going through. Eventually, Henry let go of her hands and she fell into a sobbing heap on the floor. She felt Henry lay down next to her, holding her in his arms until the sobs subsided and the tears dry on her face.

“Sweetheart?”

“I had a panic attack. I was dreaming and I must’ve woken up mid panic attack. I’m sorry for waking you’

“Don’t be. It was scary; you sorta fell outta bed and were just terrified. I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry.”

Silence enveloped them. Henry Moved behind her.

“come on, the bed is much more comfortable” He bent down to pick up her small frame, and gently placed her on the mattress. He crawled in next to her and pulled the covers around them. Aurora stared at him.

“Thank you for helping, and not running away” Her voice small and barely audible, Henry kissed her.

“Do you need anything?” She shook her head.

Henry watched her until her eyes closed and sleep overcame her exhausted body.

~~~~~~~~

Henry woke to the sunbeams trying to break through the curtains; it took him a minute for him to catch up to the events of last night. Despite that, the beach and the heat had lulled him into some of the best sleep of his life. He turned his head to Aurora. Her breathing was steady and even, she looked a little pale, but he figured that was because her body was exhausted. He felt movement on the end of bed and looked down to see pickles looking up him. Slowly he got out of bed and pottered to the kitchen, the jangle of Pickles’ collar following him.

“Hungry?” Pickles let out a bark.

“Shhhhh! Your mum is sleeping” He looked around the kitchen and started to familiarize himself with it. He found tea, enough bread, milk and fruit as well as yogurt to fill him up. Looking in another cupboard he found protein powder and a variety of nuts, but he couldn’t find the dog food. He turned back to Pickles.

“Fluffy butt, where’s your food?”

Pickles walked over to the room next to the kitchen nearest the back door.  Henry followed her and found the laundry where he found her walking harness and the biggest bag of food possible. There was a little fridge next to it that he opened, Pickles ran straight for it and stuffed her face into a packet of doggy meatballs. Henry dragged her out of the way, so he could feed her.

Pickles settled into her bowl of food and Henry opened the curtains, the early morning sun peeking through the trees in the backyard.

Henry opened the door for Pickles as she ran outside to relieve herself. He fixed himself some breakfast, careful not to wake Aurora.

He sat down on the porch watching Pickles wander around, it was starting to get hot already, and he wanted to go to the beach. Finding Aurora’s keys he then strapped Pickles into her harness and made his way out of the house. For a 14 year old, Pickles was a lot stronger than he thought, she practically dragged him down the street.

 ~~~~~~~~

An hour later, they made their way back home, Pickles very much satisfied; for once she walked at Henry’s side. He looked down at her, she was tired, and she’d probably nap for the rest of the day.

He unbuckled her harness as he opened the door, Pickles lazily walked inside, and took up residence in a sunny spot by the back door, and she lay down with a huff, not intending to move for the rest of the day. Henry smiled at her. Closing the door he noticed the TV was on, he turned to the couch to see Aurora sitting there, looking at him. She smiled weakly at him as he made his way to her.

She looked at him as he sat next to her.

“Henry, I need to talk to you”.

[etherealhoneybee777]

My first ever fanfiction! (Work in Progress)

Summary:

Mikey has been feeling depressed for weeks, but mean comments about his cooking send him over the edge. Leo comforts Mikey and talks to him about his feelings, and he realizes the impact that words can have on his little brother. 

I wrote this fanfiction because I have a history of mental illness, and I project pretty hard onto Mikey. I wanted to see what it would be like if Mikey was depressed, and how his brothers would help him cope. Please excuse the potential bad writing! This is the first short story I’ve written in a long time :) TW for depression.

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13941733/1/Small-Words-Tumbling

The fanfiction:

Small Words, Tumbling

Mikey was curled up on his bed, watching small slivers of light stream through the blinds of his window.

Worthless. Screw-up. Good-for-nothing. Waste of space. Everyone would be fine if you were gone.

He had spent the better part of the day in his room, only coming out to train and prepare meals. Although his brothers would often make fun of the disturbing things he would eat—like anchovy jellybean pizza-Mikey knew that they relied on him to cook practically everything, since they were hopeless in the kitchen. Mikey loved cooking because it made him feel valuable to his brothers. Mikey always had the unshakable feeling that he wasn't as good as the rest of his family. Donnie was a tech genius. Leo was the leader. Raph was a badass fighter. And Master Splinter was, well, Master Splinter. The rest of the family had something specific and valuable to contribute, and all Mikey could do was cook. Cooking was Mikey's talent. No one else in his family could do it. Sure, he wasn't the best fighter, but if Mikey didn't cook, no one could eat. Mikey had been feeling deeply depressed and worthless for months now, but the fact that he could cook made him feel valuable to his family. It was the only thing that made him feel valuable anymore, if he was being honest.

That's probably why what happened that morning hurt Mikey so bad.

That morning, Mikey strode into the kitchen confidently. He had the best idea in the world: grape French toast. Grape soda was delicious. French toast was delicious. So why not combine them?

And so Mikey labored in the kitchen, stirring flour, egg yolks, butter, and sugar until it made a smooth mixture. Then, he pulled the grape soda out of the fridge and poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl.

"Yeah!" Mikey screamed to the empty room, "This is gonna be awesome!"

Thirty minutes later, there were four plates piled high with vivid purple French toast. Mikey pulled out a can of whipped cream and a bottle of syrup and placed them on the counter next to the plates.

"Hey guys, it's time to eat!" Mikey bellowed into the layer. Raph, Donnie, and Leo, who had been watching some morning Space Heroes, got up and sluggishly walked to the kitchen.

"Thank God, I'm starving," Raph said, rubbing his plastron. As he walked into the kitchen though, his slight smile turned into a scowl. "Mikey," he growled, looking at the purple pieces of toast, "What the fuck is this?"

"It's grape French toast, dude!" Mikey said as he tried to hand the stacked plate to Raph. Suddenly, Mikey lost grip of the plate, and three pieces of grape French toast went flying towards Raph's lap.

"Seriously, Mikey?" Raph sneered. Then, he picked up a piece of the purple French toast and waved it in the air, "Whatever this is…it's disgusting!" Raph lowered his voice to a hesitant grumble. "I just wish we'd order takeout instead of letting this genius cook. Honestly, I don't know what to do with him sometimes."

Mikey felt hurt blaze through his chest, for reasons he couldn't explain. He was used to being insulted by Raph, even though he was grumpier than usual today, but no one ever insulted Mikey's breakfasts. Sure, Mikey's cheesy jokes were often met with annoyance, and he was often belittled for being unfocused during fights, but no one ever insulted breakfast. Breakfast was Mikey's one sanctuary, the one place where the things he did could be appreciated.

Mikey looked at Donnie and Leo for some reassurance, but he couldn't find any. Leo was silently flicking his pieces of toast into the trashcan and reaching for a granola bar. Donnie was reluctantly sniffing his pieces of toast but refusing to take a bite.

"Maybe you should go back to cooking the regular breakfasts, you know?" Donatello said, not unkindly. Mikey's heart felt like it was about to burst as he watched Donnie scrape his toast into the trashcan and wash his plate.

"I'm sorry, guys," Mikey said, looking at the ground sheepishly, "Eggs and bakies tomorrow, I promise!" he continued with forced cheer.

Raph grumbled as he walked out of the room and sat on the couch to continue watching Space Heroes. Donnie scurried off into his lab. Leo moved to walk out, but not before he caught a glimpse of the hurt in Mikey's bright blue eyes.

"Hey, Mikey," Leo said, lips bent downwards in concern, "Raph is just a little grumpy today."

But the damage had already been done. As Leo turned away, Mikey's eyes started stinging, and all of Mikey's negative thoughts came flooding to the surface. You're not good enough. You're not as good as your brothers. You can't get a single thing right. Screw-up. They would never miss you if you were gone. Mikey ran to his room, making sure that his brothers couldn't see the tears welling in his eyes.

He stayed in his room for most of the day, only coming out to train. When Mikey trained that day, he only spoke to answer questions and say Hai sensei. He didn't see his brothers trade looks of concern with each other. When training was over, Mikey walked briskly back into his room.

"What's wrong with Mikey?" Raph asked, a tone of annoyance veiling his concern.

"He'll probably come out and tell us soon enough," Leo replied, looking anxiously towards Mikey's room.

Mikey sat in his room for hours. It was so impossibly lonely, not being with his brothers, but how could he face them now? He wasn't good enough, and he didn't want to be a burden to them. He had cried his eyes out for an hour, until he felt like he couldn't cry anymore. It was so stupid that he felt this way over an offhand rude comment Raph made about his cooking. But, the truth was that Mikey had been feeling pretty worthless for weeks, and Raph's comment seemed to validate Mikey's feelings. Mikey desperately wished he could be someone else, someone focused and attentive during battle, someone who knew how to talk to people. He wanted people to laugh with him, but they only laughed at him. Like he was some big joke.

Mikey didn't want to be a joke. He wanted to be a leader, a badass, someone with a purpose. But he was just a burden. A screw up. And his brothers were left to pick up the pieces. Honestly, they would be better off if he wasn't around.

Mikey slowly felt himself sinking deeper in his bed as his thoughts consumed him. He almost didn't hear the slow, methodical knock at the door.

"Mikey, can I come in?"

Leo.

Mikey didn't answer. He had started crying again, and besides that, he just really didn't want to talk to Leo. Mikey was surprised when the door squeaked open and golden light filled his room anyway.

"Mikey!" Leo's eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks on Mikey's face. "Oh my god."

Mikey felt Leo place his weight on the bed. He turned to look at Leo's eyes. Cool and calm. But Mikey could tell that beneath his collected exterior, Leo was panicking.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Leo said, a little too gingerly. Leo was used to comforting Mikey after his nightmares when they were young, but, now that they were older, Leo no longer knew the words to make his brother feel better.

Mikey stared at Leo. He felt like there was a huge blank expanse between them, like a black sky with no stars. Mikey desperately wanted to reach out and close the divide, but Leo would never understand how Mikey felt. Leo was a fearless leader. He always knew what to do, and people took him seriously when it counted. Meanwhile, Mikey felt that he was the last person anyone would trust in an intense situation.

Leo furrowed his brow in concern at Mikey's silence. "Talk to me, Mikey. Was it the thing that Raph said this morning? We didn't mean to hurt your feelings by not eating the breakfast you made for us."

Mikey shifted his eyes to the floor. "Uh…it is and isn't about what Raph said this morning," he said finally. "I just…I don't know. I just feel like everyone has their thing, you know? Like you're the leader, and Donatello is the smart one. Raph is super good at fighting and Master Splinter has taught us everything we know. But no one really needs me. And I always screw up our fights, too." Mikey's mouth felt dry now that he had said what he had been feeling for months out loud. Surprised that it came out that fast. But he had wanted to say it, needed to say it.

Leo's bright blue eyes widened in surprise. "Mikey, we do need you." He put a comforting hand on Mikey's shoulder. "And your thing is being Mikey. The team wouldn't be the same without you. And sure, you've messed up our fights sometimes, but you've saved us more times than I can remember," he looked down and continued gravely, "We are all equally valuable in this family."

Mikey refused to look at Leo. Leo's words were comforting, but for some reason, Mikey's throat felt like it was filling with clay. It was only when his vision blurred that he noticed he was crying. The crying quickly evolved into full-on sobbing. It felt like a torrential storm, punctured only by the choked sounds of his shaky breaths.

"Oh god, oh god. Mikey…"

Before Mikey knew it, his head was buried in Leo's chest, and his body was wrapped tightly in strong green arms. Leo rubbed Mikey's head, which he usually only did when Mikey was seriously injured. Mikey should have felt closer to Leo, but he felt the black, starless expanse between them getting wider and wider.

Mikey pulled away, wiping his eyes. "You just wouldn't understand."

Leo's eyes flashed with hurt, but he quickly replaced it with his signature practiced calmness. "Wouldn't understand what?"

"You're the person that everyone needs. You're our leader. If you were gone, nothing would ever be the same. You don't understand being worthless. You don't understand what it's like to be the kind of person that could disappear forever, and no one would ever miss. That's my life, dude," Mikey said, his voice strained from all the crying.

Mikey looked at Leo. And he was surprised to see that the pantomimed calm patience that usually occupied Leo's eyes be replaced by an intense, gripping fear.

"You're not worthless, Mikey. You mean so much to all of us," Leo said. "I love you, little brother" he continued. Mikey could tell that wasn't all that was on his mind.

Leo paused a long time before finally speaking again.

"Mikey…you haven't ever thought of hurting yourself, have you?" Leo's voice was shaky and deeply sad. Even though Mikey had been crying, for some reason Leo sounded sadder than he was.

"No," Mikey answered quickly and with certainty. Truthfully, he had never even considered it, at least, not in any real way.

"Promise?"

"Promise." Mikey gave him a slight smile.

Leo pulled him into a second embrace, squeezing Mikey even harder than he did last time. This time, Mikey didn't pull away. He just stayed there, leaning against Leo's neck, feeling a million times lighter than before. The black expanse between the two brothers had vanished, and he felt closer to Leo than he ever did.

"Mikey…" Leo started, and then paused. Mikey could tell by the strained choke of his words that Leo had started crying.

"Mikey," Leo began again, "If anything ever happened to you, I would miss you for the rest of my life."

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty Five

Before he knows what’s happening, he collapses onto the chair next ti her bed, body overcome with sobs. Hell, he's wailing, blubbering like a sodding baby at the mere sight. 

Never in all his life has he ever been overcome with so many emotions. Love, fear, relife, guilt, a fierce need to protect her, and so much heart break he can almost feel his chest ache. 

Emotional range of a teaspoon my arse. 

It isn’t until he’s calmed considerably Merlin knows how much later that he debates peeling his hands from his eyes. He’s afraid seeing her that she’ll vanish right before him or that he just can’t take it. 

After settling from harsh cries into silent tears, Ron leans closer to the bed ridden girl. He’s careful not to touch her, but he’s close enough that he can make out every contour on her face under the cuts and bruises. He’s close enough that if she was awake his breath would surely tickle the edges of her hair, blowing it slightly into her face. And if he was lucky enough she’d scrunch her nose the way he loved whenever her hair got in the way. 

Merlin I miss her. 

He can feel the twisting of his gut curl further as he thinks of everything he wants, no needs, again. Before he can let it worsen, he wills himself to speak. 

“I’m here now love, I’m here darling.” He whispers throatily. 

Ron resists the urge to stroke her hair, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to… 

So, he continues speaking, “I’m never leaving you again Mione, you hear me?” Of course she doesn’t. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again love, never.”

He swears he sees her brow twitch the slightest bit. At this, he goes on. 

“And that includes me.” he admits raspily, “I’m so sorry darling for all the times I’ve hurt you. I swear I’ll never do it again. I’m going to try so hard each and every day to make it up to you, to protect you. From Lavender, Cormac, from anyone who crosses you. I’m going to make sure you never see a dark wizard again, okay love? I’ll even-” 

“Hermione.” A broken voice floats from behind. 

Ron has half the mind to pull his wand, just in case, but soon settles as his eyes meet the looming figures. 

“Merlin.” Harry says in the same tone as he saunters forward.

In his eyes is the same look Ron had only moments ago. Heartbroken. Guilty. 

Weasley opens his mouth to comfort Harry, but the words die on his lips. He just can’t. No words fit. Nothing he could ever say would be enough to make the painstaking feeling diminish. Nothing but Hermione herself. 

“What did I do?” The Boy-Who-Lived cried out. 

Now that, Ron wouldn’t take, “No.” 

His glassy green eyes snap to blue ones in surprise at how strong Ron’s voice sounded. 

He shook his head, “don’t say that Harry, please. It happened and even though I’d give anything to take it back, we can’t. We just can’t. That’s not how things work, so please, don’t make this any harder than it is.” He pleads to his best mate. 

The air is silent and tense for a moment. Harry’s gaze never waivers from Hermione’s form, and Ron’s stare never diverges from Potter. 

And what Harry says next shocks him like no other, “okay.” He says simply, walking to the other side of the bed. 

Harry understands too. He understands that Hermione is all that matters now. 

As he plops onto the chair he gently places his finger tips atop the small strip of exposed skin between the cast on her arm and the part of the gown covering her shoulder. 

Ron looks away quickly, unable to do what Harry is at this moment. It’s all too familiar. He can’t lose her again. 

Needing a distraction, he soon remembers his trail of thoughts from whispering to Hermione. He gulps, preparing to share them with his best mate. “Harry, I need to be honest with you right here, right now. I promise on my last breath that I will kill them. Bellatrix, Greyback, Malfoy, Dolohov, all of them. I’ll do it, or I’ll die trying.” He said with so much conviction, eyes never leaving Hermione’s battered form. 

“Ron-“

“Don’t give me that crap. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise. You may be the Chosen One mate, but no one, and I mean-“

“Ron,” Harry said harshly, “I was going to say I’m with you.” He finished a little softer, but still with an edge. 

“You’re with- what?” He questioned a bit taken aback. 

“I said I’m with you.” He repeated steadily. 

“You are?” Ron doubted. Normally Harry would adamantly refuse a claim, fearing for Ron’s safety. 

He nodded after a moment, “yeah I am. Too many people have suffered because of-“

“Don’t say because of you.” He cut off. 

“I wasn’t.” Harry assured, “I was going to say because of all this- him, the war. Something needs to be done, for the future. For Sirius, Cedric, my parents, and especially for Hermione.” 

Ron can’t do anything but nod slightly in agreement as he allows himself to rove over Hermione’s stil form again. Everytime feels like a small part of his heart cracking slowly and painfully. 

His fingers twitch as he physically longs to reach out for her, but again, he can’t. 

Needing a distraction from his own thoughts and from the questioning gaze Harry’s throwing him, he goes on, “They found a wand. Not hers.” 

He nodded in response, “Bill said as much. Do you really think she apparated? We haven’t even had lesson yet, even if she did-” 

“She’s bloody brilliant, Harry.” Ron insisted, “so much that she’s always five steps ahead. I mean, I wasn’t even quick enough to save her before she went off and did it herself. Useless.” He mumbles the last line. 

“Hey,” Harry says sharply, “just like I’m not allowed to blame myself, neither are you, okay? We’ll have all the time in the world to feel sorry for ourselves later once we know she’s gonna be alright.” He finished softer. 

And Ron doesn’t have the heart to argue. He’s so mentally drained and he’s so dead set on prioritizing Hermione, that all he can do is nod feebly. 

They fall into silence. Both just watching the subtle rise and fall of Hermione’s chest. They’re almost transfixed by the sight, to have her back it’s almost like a dream. 

But that’s exactly what Ron’s afraid of. 

All while these fears run wild, Harry can see Ron’s hand unconsciously itching to lay atop hers. 

“Go on Ron.” He whispers. He knows he doesn’t need his permission, but he can sense his friend needs a nude. 

He snaps out of his state at his best mate's voice. The ginger seems to know what Harry means and looks like he’s about to break down all over again, “I-I can’t.”

“Yes you can. You won’t hurt her, we both know that.” 

Ron pushed down the urge to fight with him on the topic and spoke, “It’s not that.” He croaked. 

Well, not entirely anyway...

“Then what?” Potter questioned. 

“I’m so scared Harry. I’m fucking terrifed that if I touch her this will all fade away. It won’t be real. Just another nightmare.” He shakes, tears streaming down his face. 

Harry premivley wipes his eyes as he fgeels the moisture build, “It’s not Ron, I promise, please, trust me. It’s real. You found her.”

“No I didn’t-”

“Please.” Harry pleads from across the bed, making a show of taking Hermione’s other bandaged hand gently. 

With a shaky breath Ron extends his lanky fingers as they slowly come in contact with the back of her other wrapped hand. 

He nearly doubles over when he doesn't phase through. 

Her hand is so small in his own. Smaller than it’s ever been before. And it feels almost fragile. 

Though sometimes Ron may treat her like she is, never has he associated Hermione with being fragile. She’s tough as anything and the bravest Gryffindor of them all. But now, sitting here, all he can think is how that’s the very thing that they tried to strip away from her. 

It makes him sick. 

So much so, he feels a bile rise in his throat. 

Not wanting to lose his shit anymore than he already has, he gently caresses the back of her hand, using the soft skin to anchor his thoughts. 

It’s amazing that even though she was tortured, broken down, and beaten, she still was so soft, so insanely beautiful. 

Her cheeks may not have the same flush. Her skin may be paler and dotted with horrible hues of purple and slashed red. Her shape may be disfigured by the protruding bones, but she’s still her. She’s still Hermione and that’s all that matters right now. 

The thought alone makes him break down all over again. 

This time he allows himself to rest his head on the edge of her bed, right next to her thigh. He cries at the feeling of her hand in his own. At the feeling of his head pressed against her. Because she’s real, she’s here, she’s finally here. 

“Son.” A soft voice calls as a gentle hand finds itself atop his shoulder. 

Ron looks up through misty eyes to find his father hovering over him. As he surveys the room he realizes Harry is gone. 

Merlin, he must’ve been blubeering like a fuvcking baby longer than he thought. 

“Dad.” He croaks, wiping at his runny nose with his sleeve, “did you find anything?” 

“How is she?” He averts. Ron notices. 

“Exactly how she looks, I reckon. I’m sure Mum already told you about what the healer had to say.” He shrugs. 

“Yes.” Arthur nods, “yes she did. I just can’t help but wonder-”

“Dad,” Ron cuts off, “Did you find anything?” He repeats surprisingly calm. 

Mr.Weasley sighs, his boy has grown more than he cares to admit. It’s almost frightening. 

“Yes, I did.” he says sitting on the chair Harry once occupied. 

“And?” The younger boy presses. 

“And tonight the Department of Magical Transportation did in fact get a notice that an underage witch apparated to Diagon Alley the same time your brothers found Hermione.” 

Ron huffefd, they all suspected it, but to hear that Hermione really did it. Well, let’s just say he would be more amazed if she was awake to hear his praise. 

“However, while we know for certain it was Hermione, that information didn’t actually show up in the Ministry report.” He informed. 

“What? Why?” Ron questioned with a furrowed brow. 

“Well since the wand she used was registered to someone of age to perform apparition, it could only notify the service that someone did apparate. If it’s not on an underage or unlicensed WIzard’s wand, it's trickier.” Arthur elaborates. 

Ron had no time to focus on the logistics. Only one thing stood out. 

“So you know whose wand it is then? Whose?” He prones. 

His father eyes him wearily before speaking, “The wand-” he stops, voice scratchy, and clears his throat, “the wand belongs to Narcissa Malfoy.”

Ron blinks a few times in disbelief, mouth falling in an ‘o’, “Wha-how?” 

“Only Hermione could tell us that son.” 

If she remembers. The words are unspoken, but Ron can see his father fighting the urge to say it. Like they still think they could protect him from everything.  

“You have to understand Ron, wands, they’re very sacred things. Especially to old Pureblood families, especially to people like the Black’s and the Malfoy’s. Neither will like the idea that a Muggleborn was able to best them and use one.” Arthur spoke in a hushed voice. 

The weight that lifted ever so slightly at the sight of Hermione soon falls back on him. This time ten times heavier than before. 

“So what you’re saying, is that you think they’ll come for her?”

Arthur nods sadly. 

Ron turns red with anger. 

“We’ll do everything we can son. The Order will be around, the wards-” 

“The wards?” Ron yells, “The Order? Please! Where did they get Hermione, where did they get her parents?” He boomed. 

“Ronnie please-” Mr.Weasley tries as he notches Hermione squirm slightly from over his son's shoulder. 

“Everyone needs to do better! Everyone! Do you even-” 

A strangled sound makes him halt. “Mmm…” 

His wide eyes flick to the bed as Hermione’s face tightens into a painful scowl. 

From behind, his father leaves, feeling that he’s intruding. The door squeaks in his wake. 

Ron falls to his knees and grasps her hand, “That’s it love, you can do it. Come Mione. Come back Darling.” He pleads through glassy eyes. 

“C…” The noise sounds like a hiss. 

“That’s it, come on love.” He encourages as he strokes her hand hoping that somewhere inside her brilliant mind she's registering all of this. 

“Cissy.” She barely manages through the pain. 

Ron’s eyes find his fathers in nothing but confusion. Was it just mummers of nonsense or could it mean something? But what?

Whatever it is, he just hopes she remembers when she wakes.

[nctsiren]

🌹🍒 🔥 🍑 🧡🌳🌠🔮💜🌸🌺 for Evie sorry again for how many there are

madam do NOT apologize!! i def went overboard w answers but!! hope u like guysss~~

🌹: evie is charismatic asf and finds it super easy to befriend people!! that doesn't mean she tries to befriend everybody, though- in fact, she's picky with friends (that sounds bad i promise it isn't) because The Vibe Needs To Be Right. people can piss her off but she never makes enemies- however, she'll speak up if someone is bein ridiculous or annoying, so people will get mad with HER. she doesn't have anyone she hates, she's chill. nd she can talk to anyone at a party- but if she isn't into it, she'll vibe on her own or do what she wants.

🍒: evie doesn't really expect things from people persay- she just wants to be treated kindly, fairly, and she wants people to show her respect. and the people she's friends with/in romantic relationships with are the same way, because the people she surrounds herself with are also of that mindset. in friendships, she wants a friend, y'know? healthy friendships, fun, vibing, etc. in romantic relationships, she doesn't have a type, really, and she likes to mesh with people depending on the situation. she is versatile in many senses and can get with all the love languages. she just wants either fun (she doesn't strictly date to marry or anything) or love (again depending on the person). she isn't demanding, nor is she a doormat.

🔥: (am answering the likes nd dislikes from the prompt only cuz brain is mush today) evie wears dark colors (like 80% of the time) but loves all colors- she's an artist, after all. she hates the way gravel and sidewalks feel on her bare feet, but she loves being barefoot, so she'll overlook it. socks make her feet feel too restricted. she likes feeling free, and although she will wear anything as long as she's feeling it, she likes loose things when she's relaxing. she likes to walk around with minimal clothing- but, like, i mean underwear and a big shirt, or loose pants and a sports bra. she likes feeling air on her skin. she listens to ALL music, but she's really into indie, britpop, 70s, and other shit i can't think of words for. mainstream bops & also really obscure shit- putting her music on shuffle is like whiplash tbh. nd she LOVES snowy weather oh my god she thinks all weather is gorgeous (she will see beauty in literally anything, she LOVES nature) but cold weather smells good and something about snow awakens this beautiful wonder in people- evie ADORES that

🍑: her room. listen evie isn't a homebody or anything, but her room is her creative space. and london, of course, where she grew up, but that's a bit more... broad. hmm... another is this little meadow she found (in england) where sh would go to sketch, nap, meditate, listen to music, and just lay in the sun. she feels a little bad about it, but that's what she misses most from home- tied w her missing her little brother and sister (they're nine and twins). her meadow, to her, was like. the freedom to just exist and observe and enjoy. sometimes she's confused why she chose idol life- it's restrictive, and not really her style- but tbh she enjoys it and wouldn't change it. anyway on the flip side, evie HATES being in really tall buildings. she isn't even afraid of heights!! i mean she can handle it, it's not too big of a deal, she just hates it for some reason.

🧡: honestly, evie doesn't have a singular favorite person... she loves all of her family, her members, her friends. but it is worth noting that mila is her best friend. she's close to all the girls, and a lot of the guys (hyuck, lucas, ten, yuta, taeil, taeyong, johnny, hendery, yangyang in particular) OH AND KRIS (as in kris wu, her cousin) SHE LOVES HIM. but mila is just. basically her other half LMAO their bond is crazy and they're truly bff's, ride-or-dies, despite their differences. they bring out the best in each other. nd she doesn't hate anyone- the people she actually dislikes tho are certain members and people in the industry/company that are like. the corporate ones ig

🌳: T/W- TOXIC PARENTS, MENTAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF WEED

evie has always had a strong self identity (for the most part) and has def gone through some shit (gifted kid burnout too omfg she was in advanced EVERYTHING but that shit kinda wears you out and her parents were horrible with school & her career). her biggest issues growing up? the pressure from her parents and basically just them shitting on her. they were mentally/emotionally abusive and she was really depressed during her adolescence. she doesn't have clinical depression or mental illness tho. she also didn't have MANY friends because her parents were horrible and wanted her to study nd not be a disappointment- which they said a lot. she started going out regardless when she was a lil older- not even sneaking out, just straight up walking out. her parents literally DRUG TESTED HER. but she is a social, bold person by nature so she wasn't having it. she has a higher sense of self worth now because of how far she has come and she doesn't bat an eye at her parents- in fact, she's mostly cut off from them. she's in SUCH a better place in her adulthood, in korea. her parents still don't support her career choice and do NOT stream ddd >:( she just worries about her little brother and sister... if they get the same treatment as she did, she WILL go batshit. she calls her siblings a lot, facetimes them, sends gifts and money- they love her and she is ITCHING to see them again. she was always close to them. anyway, she'd tell her younger self to not give a fuck about what her parents said, as much as it hurt. you can CHOOSE your family. she'd tell little evie to pursue her passions, and that she was gonna be doing great things one day. nd she'd tell teenage evie to smoke more weed 😌

🌠: evie's first friend was this kid from first grade who she doessn't remember anything about, she just remembers that they were her friend for a bit, and their face LMAO. she hasn't really lost contact with people persay? like during her nine months of training she couldn’t talk to them HEH and then apologized and it picked right back up. her girls in london MISS HERRRR and she misses them too :(

🔮: star gazing or cloud watching? hand-holding or snuggles? early mornings or late nights?

💜: music or silence? swords or spells? cities or nature?

🌸: her voice sounds like yuqi's (her face claim, if no one knew) in terms of singing and speaking! deep and charming and lovely. she's also... pretty loud. her laugh is also like yuqi's, but the specific laugh that's like BIG and it's like a barking(?) laugh. she laughs with her whole ass body too. OH YEAh BUT her speaking voice is yuqi's, like i said, but with a british accent. the london accent.

🌺: she doesn't have any birthmarks, and she only has little scars from various stupid shit she has done (idk if anyone remembers but in her profile i said she loves adrenaline, is kinda reckless, and will do any dare). she doesn't have any tattoos YET but is planning some (just wait omfg lily is a BIG tattoo/piercing person- her stuff is coming soon, evie is HYPED ASF to get her tattoos, and hyeyoung has a few- getting more too)

TAGLIST: @aqueenieme @moonbeamsung @atinygracie @jinsoulorbitzen12 @btshook @1-800-enhypenbibi

[elisaphoenix13]

Dreams Of Routine

Dust.

It was everywhere. Around him, on his hands, and in him with every breath he took.

It was a nightmare Tony had often and had him waking in the middle of the night and staring up at the ceiling as he got his thundering heart to slow down. When it finally did, that's when he braved looking around the bedroom. Sometimes he didn't have to look to know that Stephen was sleeping beside him because Tony would hear him breathing first. One usually had to strain to hear it but Tony was accustomed to the soft breaths his spouse took while he slept. The next thing he did was look past Stephen's side of the bed and find the crib against the wall with their infant daughter sleeping soundly in it.

One kid accounted for. Now for the other six. Tony turns toward his nightstand and grabs the tablet laying on the surface and mutters to Friday to bring up the 'Baby Monitors'. Six separate camera views popped up silently and Tony sighs quietly when the other six kids are shown sleeping in their beds. Tony's nightmare of watching Stephen and Peter turn to dust in front of him was constant enough that he needed a better way to check on the kids without getting up and wandering the tower to look in on every single one of them.

Harley, Peter, Diana...all asleep down the hall. Cassie was safe in her room downstairs, and so were Thomas and William. The kids knew about the cameras and Tony made sure to tell them they were specifically for moments like these. If they were getting dressed or otherwise...occupied, Friday would inform him they were safe but keep the video off. It was an electronic version of Quill's Celestial gaze, but for all the kids. Tony of course included Cassie because he had raised her for those five years and she turned into an honorary kid that he very much wanted safe just as much as his actual kids.

With another shaky sigh of relief, Tony turns off the tablet and places it back on the nightstand before turning back over and wrapping an arm around Stephen. He pulls the sorcerer close and buries his nose into dark hair, smelling a light trace of…flowers? What the hell was Stephen washing his hair with? Tony wasn't complaining, it smelt nice, but he definitely wasn't expecting flowers.

"Nightmare?" Stephen mumbles sleepily and Tony grunts in response. "Need to cuddle Athena?"

Tony chuckles. "No. Just you. I don't think she'll be real happy cuddling me anyway."

Stephen merely chuckles quietly and Tony falls asleep a little while after the sorcerer dozes off. Hearing him breathe was soothing to his nightmare frayed nerves and it was enough to lull him into a thankfully dreamless sleep. When he awoke again, sunlight was streaming through the windows that he cleverly made so that it would dim the otherwise blinding morning sunlight. Tony also woke to Stephen exiting their bathroom fully dressed for the day and walking over to Valerie's crib. The infant was rubbing her eyes as she yawned cutely, waiting patiently for Stephen to retrieve her for their morning routine.

It still amazed Tony how quiet Valerie was. She hardly cried, and whenever she did, it was for one of two reasons. Either Stephen was off for some Sorcerer Supreme duty or a stranger made her extremely uncomfortable and she wasn't with anyone she trusted. The second very rarely happened. She didn't even cry when she was sick or if she fell and scraped her knee.

Her not crying when she was sick had it's pros and cons, and right now it was a con, because just as Stephen made it over to her crib, Valerie let out a bark like cough that had Tony sitting up in worry. Worry fills Stephen's eyes as he immediately scoops her up and places a shaky hand against her forehead to check her temperature.

"Victor, scan for her temperature and any other abnormalities." The sorcerer commands immediately as Tony gets out of bed to join him.

"She's showing symptoms of croup Doctor. I recommend running a hot shower and standing in the bathroom for her cough." The AI responds.

Stephen rolls his eyes. "I know how to treat croup Victor, but thank you anyway."

"Povero topolina." Tony mumbles as he gently brushes Valerie's hair away from her face. "I wonder how she got it."

"Likely the park." Stephen says as Valerie lays her head against his collarbone and coughs again. "William put her in one of the swings. I thought I had made sure she was washed up afterwards."

"She'll be okay. Her mommy is the best doctor in the world." Tony smiles and kisses Stephen's cheek.

"I was a neurosurgeon Tony, not a pediatrician."

"Oh please, you could be a pediatrician. I've seen you studying every available text in child healthcare because we have six kids and you want to be able to take care of them whenever they get sick. You're already listed as their doctor." Tony scoffs and Stephen blushes.

"You know, I still think Peter's teacher thinks I'm a joke."

"He won't go against any of your notes anymore because he knows I'll sue him if he does. Are you staying up here with her?" Tony asks as he walks over to the bedroom door.

"I'll have to until at least her fever breaks or she can give it to the other kids." Stephen says as he walks over to the bed and sits down. "We'll watch a movie and I'll take her into the bathroom if I need to."

"Breakfast in bed it is." The engineer says as he leaves the room and walks down to the kitchen.

To his surprise, he found Bucky cooking breakfast, and the twins munching on some strawberries at the breakfast counter as they watched.

"What are you two doing up so early?" Tony asks as he heads straight for the coffee machine behind the soldier.

"Just one of those days." Thomas shrugs. "Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs with the baby. Val is sick." He answers as he sets the coffee up and presses the button to start brewing it.

William frowns. "Should I go help?"

"Nope. The baby has croup and Stephen doesn't want anyone else to get it. If you want to help, you can sanitize everything." Tony answers quickly and William actually nods before getting up.

Even Thomas followed. William was always happy to help with Val and bonded with her like Cassie had with Diana, so seeing him get up to sanitize Valerie's toys wasn't a surprise. Thomas on the other hand wasn't as close to the girls, but he probably wanted to help in some way too. Tony watched briefly as they grabbed the things they needed and then cleaned every perceivable thing that the baby could have touched while being careful not to touch themselves until they washed their hands. With William's magic and Thomas's speed, it was done within ten minutes and the boys were washed up by the time Tony was pouring coffee into his mug.

"Want me to put something aside for Mama Bear?" Bucky asks and Tony nods.

"Would you? I did promise him breakfast in bed. Why are you up here anyway?"

"Steve is still on that recovery mission. It got a little too quiet." Bucky says quietly.

"There will be plenty of noise up here soon. Crash on the couch until Capsicle gets home if you want." Tony offers.

"Yeah. Thanks Tony."

The next couple of days passed that way. Tony kept the kids downstairs, and Stephen stayed upstairs with Valerie until her fever broke. The first night had been the worst. The baby woke up multiple times coughing and Stephen got up more than half the time to take her into the bathroom and start a shower so he could stand in the steam with Valerie to help with her cough. Tony took over after the third time because Stephen actually groaned the fourth time Valerie woke up with a whimper and another barking cough. He was exhausted, and thankfully the baby didn't mind being taken care of by her father.

The second night, she only woke up a couple of times and Athena stood with both Stephen and Tony dutifully when they cared for her. The wolf, like Levi, had taken it upon herself to be a self appointed nanny much to the parent's amusement. Levi blanketed a sick child, and Athena alerted Stephen if one of the kids fell ill. The sorcerer already had a sixth sense about that kind of thing, but ever since Athena joined the family, not a single kid (or adult) could get away with lying about their health.

Valerie's fever broke the second day and her cough was nearly gone by the third day when Stephen deemed her well enough to rejoin the family. She was back to her early morning routine with Stephen and Athena, and was eating some cereal puffs in her highchair while Stephen prepared breakfast for not only the wolf but also Flynn. Getting the fox to leave Quill's side long enough to take advantage of the portal to the lake house (for business) had been a chore the first couple of weeks. Athena eventually had to scruff the kit and carry him through to the lake house, teach him what it meant, and then scruff him again to take him back through the portal to the tower for breakfast. Flynn cried and struggled in the wolf's grip the first few days, but when he realized food was part of the deal and that Athena would promptly return him to Quill after breakfast, he stopped fighting.

Now he just chirped sleepily and hung half asleep when Athena scruffed him for the morning routine. When breakfast was devoured, he was either scruffed or walked back to Scott and Quill's floor.

"'thena?" Valerie asks as Stephen sets both bowls on the ground for the animals when they returned. The small portal sitting open by the entryway.

"And Flynn." Stephen says as he washes his hands and starts on a proper breakfast for Valerie.

The baby giggles when Flynn scrambles through the portal to his bowl, practically burying his face in it to eat as Athena came through at a much calmer pace and Stephen closed the portal with a flick of his wrist. She joined Flynn to eat and as soon as they finished, Stephen watched her lead the kit to the door to the stairs and open it with a button Tony had installed for her.

Athena liked to patrol the tower occasionally when the kids weren't all in one area, and it especially came in handy when Flynn glued himself to Quill and came home with him.

"Please tell me you have some coffee going." Quill groans the second he steps off the elevator, dressed in his station outfit.

Stephen wrinkles his nose. "You smell like smoke."

"Gee, wonder why." He snarks as Stephen starts the coffee maker.

"Your leech just went back upstairs."

"Eh, he'll find me." The Celestial sighs as he sits at the breakfast counter. "It'll be a nice two minutes not having him attached to my leg."

Stephen snorted and gave Valerie a bowl of baby cereal and a spoon to feed herself as he started breakfast for everyone else, and true to Quill's estimation, Flynn and Athena came back a couple minutes later. The kit yipped loudly and ran over to Quill, only hesitating briefly when he smelt smoke on the god before jumping up and climbing onto his lap to nuzzle Quill affectionately and obnoxiously.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey buddy. Missed you too. Lay down." Quill grouses and Flynn immediately curls up in his lap.

"At least he's listening more." Stephen observes as Athena lays at her usual place at the end of the counter.

"He's still got a ways to go."

"He'll get there."

"He'll be a little terror the entire time." Quill laughs. "No doubt afterwards too."

"The pet truly reflects the owner." Stephen smirks.

"Hey!"

[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Paper Cranes

 A/N: I swear that I’m working on the first chapter of LSaD, I plan to have it out by THIS Saturday! I promise that it’s coming! In the mean time, I’ve been working on this piece for a hot minute and it’s kind of just been sitting around in my drafts and in the back of my head. So~ while you wait, here is a little something something to keep the waters calm. And I needed a little something to deal with quarantine. 

Pair: Bucky x Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: Y/N is an empath... More specifically, a healer with empathic abilities, which leads to from very severe trauma for y/n but you’d never stop helping your team for the world. Even when that trauma leads you to spend a night on to roof in tears and a very heated talk with your best friend Bucky.

Masterlist

Warning(s): angst (I’m a sucker for it...), an alarming amount of fluff, as usual.

Word Count: 3,931

The Tower has been bustling with life ever since the city closed down, or more aptly, the world as it seems. Every single one of the Avengers, other than Barton himself, was closed up in the same building for the last three weeks, and the air was becoming more restless every day. And the more anxious it became inside of these walls, the world was still doing worse for wear. 

You, feeling all of that, felt all of your own worries too. Not that you let anyone in on that little fact. You’re the personal on-site doctor to the Avengers along with being one of the hero’s themselves, though you had no real special power to name in the ways of fighting. You simply were rather good at kicking bad guy butt and were a rather well-known assassin with the Black Widow herself.

And though the two of you are as close as sisters, she doesn’t even know about your ability.

“Lady Y/N!”

You whipped your head around so quickly at Thor’s booming voice, you could have sworn that you’d given yourself whiplash, but you managed to give the large man a large grin and match his excitement.

“Thor!”

Laughing, he scooped you up and off of the floor in a tight hug as if you were light as a feather. If there was anyone who, throughout the entire time of being shut up in a building with the worlds most lovably irritating heros, could keep spirits high, it was Thor. The man was like a giant teddy bear, to be frank. You could swear that the only time you ever see him get intensely serious about an issue is during a mission, and it surely wasn’t anything you were going to start complaining about now.

Letting you down again to stand on your own feet, he grinned widely and with mischief.

“I require a bit of aid, I’m afraid. Sparring with the two super soldiers seems to be only a tad bit more interesting without the use of powers.”

“Don’t let him fool you, doll. We pummeled him and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Bucky said from the doorway. Steve was coming up from behind him with a smile too.

“Well, it seems you boys have had an eventful morning then.” The humor was obvious in your voice and they all laughed, Thor of course boomed.

“Indeed!”

“Well, how can I assist you three then?”

“Just Thor today, actually. He thought it would be funny to go easy on us old geezers. Lessons learned,” Steve said grinning as he passed you with a pat on the shoulder to the kitchen.

Thor after, another, belly full of laughter, showed you the bruises that now littered his arms and torso. There were no major wounds, and it looked like it was just hand to hand sparring, though if it were anyone other than Thor the damage would have been far worse coming from the two super soldiers.

Shaking your head, you smiled and pointed him to the couch. “You might as well get comfortable while we do this. You’ve got enough bruises to keep me busy for a week,” you joked and sat down beside him. “You know the drill, eyes closed and deep breaths.”

He followed your orders without complaint and you rested your hands against his chest first and matched your breathing to his and felt the steady stream of power flow through you. It was light, airy and cool, shining a beautiful gold from your fingertips in waves. But as gorgeous as it looked, this amazing power to heal the injured was a double-edged blade.

As soon as the marks on his skin began to fade and return to its normal color, images of their match flashed in your mind. Every punch and kick that Thor received felt like a blow of your own. Needless to say, you figured it hurt a lot more for you than it had for the god in front of you. Even if you knew that you didn’t physically attain any of the damage, it didn’t dull the sharp pains that coursed through your body.

The reason you always made them close their eyes before healing them of anything, an illness, battle wounds, haunting dreams, or trauma, was because it was easier than trying to force down every wince and grimace. Sometimes it just seemed impossible, which is also the reason you tried to keep healing sessions like this to more personal settings, not that that was always possible.

After a few measured deep breaths to match with Thor’s, you moved onto his arms and repeated the process. It didn’t take long, and by the time you were finished the sharp pains had faded into something of a dull throbbing. Though you didn’t imagine that would stop anytime soon.

“I feel like a brand new man! Thank you, Lady Y/N!” He grinned and launched himself into another suffocating hug before turning to the men in the kitchen. “I will remember to not pull my punches with you two the next time around!”

“We’ll look forward to your next challenge then. But don’t go crying to Y/N next time you get your ass handed to you,” Bucky hollered back.

“Hey! Language!” You exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Steve grumble and say something about needing to forget that moment ever happened… Not that any of you ever would, of course.

You all sat around for a while before Steve went off to speak with Tony about something or another and Thor decided to find and pester his brother. ‘Which I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure to hear about later from Loki himself’, you thought with a chuckle. And soon enough it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen sharing a peaceful silence and tea for several minutes.

The two of you had grown particularly close over the time since he’s come to the tower and in Wakanda. He was one of your closest friends next to Natasha. Because of that, you took extra care of him not that you’d ever tell him that. You took extra time with him in the evenings and during routine checkups to help him with his nightmares and the general horrors his mind puts him through. You’d be sure to brush your hand across his skin periodically throughout the day subtly to draw out any built up worries and anxieties and he usually stayed pretty close by when he was feeling extra tense.

Of course, there was a part of you that dreaded his checkups and the late nights. Not because that you didn’t want to help him, but the pain that it caused you was sometimes almost to much for you to handle. His memories that flooded through your mind when you touched, the phantom pains you’d feel... You couldn’t understand how anybody could ever do something so absolutely horrible, least of all to another human being. And it was almost incomprehensible how Bucky had managed to survive so long after all of it, but you had managed to tie that to the fact that he was the strongest man you knew.

But no matter how much you may dread those visits and the things that followed, you would never stop helping him. And you would never tell him the truth about your power. You doubted that he’d ever let you continue if he knew what it did.

“I think everyone is going out for joyride tonight, you plan on joining?” He interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice and kind smile. 

“Not likely. I think I’ll just take the evening for myself. If everyone goes out, it might actually be quite around here for a change,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but Steve is trying pretty hard to get me out this time around.”

“So, probably then?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do they plan on going, anyway? Everything is shut down right now, so there isn’t much to do,” you asked. And it was true, with a global pandemic going around, everything was basically closed down until further notice everywhere. 

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling, “Who knows. Stark thought it would be a good idea to get the quinjets out and running before they sit around to long and need a toon up. And he thought it would be good for moral if we weren’t all cooped up in the tower again for another night together.”

You guffawed and shook your head. “Oh? And having everyone cooped up in the jets is going to be so much better for team moral, huh? Tell me how that works out for him.”

                                          »»-———————-««

It was roughly 11:30 now, and everyone was still out of the tower and flying around Lord knows where and you were in the tower alone. It had been nearly two months since these halls last ran silent except for the sound of your own footsteps. Nearly two months sinces you could freely express all of the pent up rage, and fear, and pain, and anxiety that has been building up inside of yourself.

On most if not all occasions, you were a very happy person. You enjoyed your work and the people you work with. You loved your family and friends, and the world even with all of its problems... And there were a lot of problems. And normally it would just be enough to spend a day to yourself with a book or a blank canvas and paint to release everything. You tried to always look toward the brighter side of things, but recently- without a way to vent out everything you’ve been taking in, things were to much. 

So you found yourself up on the towers roof at almost midnight with tears running down your cheeks and finding it hard to catch your breath. Your chest ached. The instant that the door closed behind you and you were hit with the cool night air it was like everything just rushed out in waves. 

You screamed, and wailed, and cried. You let yourself feel everything that you had been burying. Every last punch, kicks, knife and bullet, nightmare. It all came out in coughs and harsh please and grief. For yourself and for the people who went through it all. 

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair!”

After what felt like an eternity and your throat was coarse from the yelling and sobs, you felt like there was nothing left to cry. You’d gotten it all out and let go of everything, finally. And you knew you would be able to face everyone tomorrow as yourself rather than the shell of a person you have been until now. 

What you didn’t know, was that Bucky was there to witness it all.

                                         »»-———————-««

When you woke up the next morning you felt a great deal better than you had the previous night. Let alone the previous week. In a rather bright mood, you woke early and decided to make breakfast, nothing special because let’s be frank- you weren’t any Gordon Ramsey. But you could make a mean stack of pancakes and eggs.

An hour later, the kitchen was flooded with tired heros and grumbled good mornings. Though you were aware that Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway a little to long and continued to stare at you throughout breakfast. You could practically feel the discomfort and tension poor off of him. He didn’t mention it though so you assumed he wasn’t ready to come to you yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to try and handle himself first, be it a nightmare or his own thoughts he tried to take care of it first. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But you never wanted to try and take that chance from him, so you let him be until he decided for himself.

They all happily ate their share of pancakes, gave thanks in some form or another; hugs, verbally, a slug to the shoulder, the usual. And then everyone dispersed to go about their own day. 

By the time that a week went by, you started to become genuinely concerned about Bucky. He was still tense and sticking close to you, but he wouldn’t let himself get close enough for you to touch him and draw out whatever it was that was causing him to be so worried. But he never left your side either. Everytime you left a room, a few minutes later he would follow. It was becoming so apparent that even Natasha said something over dinner, but Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

You didn’t want to take away the option of helping himself if he felt like he could, but he’s never gone longer than two days before saying something to you. It started to make you wonder if you had done something wrong or if he really felt like he didn’t need your help anymore.

Either way, you had to figure it out. The worry was beginning to choke you if you thought about it for to long. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table and waited in the hall for Bucky to follow. 

Sure enough, after a minute he started down the hall too searching for which way you disappeared to.

You showed yourself to him and ignored his apparent surprise, “Are you okay, Bucky? Did something happen?”

His face changed, he looked hurt and sad. Like he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything or absorb what you asked. You waited patiently while he grapled for an answer. 

“What?” Was all that he managed to get out. 

“Well, you’ve been following me around a lot recently, and you only really stick to my side like this when you need to talk or help with something. But it’s already been a week and you haven’t said anything yet so I was starting to get worried that it was worse than usual or that maybe I did something wrong or that you-”

“That’s supposed to be my line!” He exclaimed, efficiently cutting off my nervous rant and giving me a turn at being confused. 

It must of been written all over your face because he quickly continued, “I was there. I saw- I heard you last week on the rooftop! How can you possibly be asking me if I’m alright!?”

Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face. You didn’t even know where begin to explain why or what happened last week.

“Oh...” you trailed off and stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you went with Steve,” you have a humorless chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, I’m alright. Can we just forget about it?”

You knew it was a pathetic attempt to get him to let the problem go, you knew that there was no chance he was going to now that he’s been thinking about it for a week. 

“You were begging out there, Y/N. Begging! You can’t just tell me you’re alright and expect me to just let it go like this is nothing!”

You were silent for a long time, taking deep and long breaths to keep yourself calm before taking the corner of his sleeve and dragging him to your room. “We should go somewhere private so we can talk freely.”

He followed you without question.

                                        »»-———————-««

The two of you sat silently for nearly half an hour in your room. You felt completely uncomfortable in the situation. Usually, you were the one who was patiently waiting and comforting someone else while they thought over what they wanted to share or compose themselves. You were used to that, but being on the opposite end of that was new and something you came to learn within the first five minutes that you weren’t particularly fond of. 

Finally, Bucky decided to break the silence. “Why do you have so many origami cranes hangin’ in here?”

Your room decor was a bit unconventional, compared to that of everyone else in the tower that is. The room was covered in your own oil paintings, all the ones you deemed should never see the light of day but didn’t get rid of, couches and chairs, bookcases, and of course, countless bunches of paper cranes you’ve hung from the ceiling. Unconventional, maybe. But you loved it anyway. 

“There is a myth,” you nearly whispered it but you were sure that he caught the words anyway when he turned toward you. 

“Tell me about it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s an old Japanese legend. It says that anybody who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some of the old stories even say that you are granted happiness and eternal good luck instead of a wish. But you can use the wish on anything, a recovery to illness or injury for example. Usually they’re made as gifts for special friends or family.”

Standing, you grabbed one of the many strings of cranes and gave it to Bucky. “Cranes in Japan are considered holy creatures and supposedly live for a thousand years. That’s why a thousand cranes are made, one for each year of their life. And there are some stories that even say that all have to be folded within a year and strung together on the same string by the one who is making the wish for it to actually work.” You drifted off and smiled at the strand he held and shrugged. 

He stared at you for awhile before he looked around your room again. “All of them are stung on one sting.”

“So the legend goes,” you answered. 

“But you have at least a hundred of these hanging around your room,” he awed and shook the his gently. 

“53 to be exact. There are 53,142 cranes in this room. I’m working on another one now,” you laughed as his face grew in een more amazement. 

The strands all hung next to each other. Currently you had two rows of 25 and one of three. Honestly, it was rather beautiful in your opinion. It created a sort of curtain on one of your walls filled with different colors and stories. 

“Why?” He asked softly.

“Because I have a lot of wishes?”

“No. Don’t dodge. You wouldn’t have gone through all of this effort,” he waved toward the curtain, “for yourself alone. So why? How long have you been doing this for?”

“Nearly 15 years? I usually try to fold 10 every night before I go to sleep. You would be disgusted by how much I spend on paper,” you joked but he didn’t break. You groaned, “Fine! It’s because I didn’t know what else to do, okay? People were sad and hurting and scared, I felt it, and I didn’t know what I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And so I started to make wishes for strangers mostly, people I felt needed it.”

“Felt?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Or saw depending on the person. And it’s not like I’d ever do it on purpose, I’d just bump into someone and see everything! And I wouldn’t be able get it out of my head. I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do, Bucky. So I wished and wished and wished for them. For everyone.”

He looked at you incredulously, “Y/N... What do you mean, “See everything”?”

You blinked rapidly a few times and grabbed three more of the strands from the wall. “These,” you handed them to him, “are yours. These are the wishes I made for you. And before you say anything, just... Don’t freak out, okay? I didn’t make all of those to upset you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m a healer, that’s always been who I am. But for me to be able to use that gift, I have to make physical contact with my patient. And I’ve been blessed to be able to mend body and mind! There isn’t anything in the world that would make me want to give up that gift, Bucky. But when I... touch people- anyone, Wanda, Nat, Thor, a stranger... You- I can see exactly how they got hurt mentally or physically. And I can feel the hurt too, like it were my own.”

You could barely bring yourself to say that last part, and it was barely a murmur as it were, but you knew that he heard it by the way that the color drained from his face and he slouched back a bit.

“Bucky,” you reached out for him but stopped when he flinched away from you. You swallowed harshly and continued, “I don’t hate it Bucky. I prefer it this way, really! It makes it easier for me to understand who I’m helping and more than anything else it brings me closer to them. I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Stop telling me that you’re okay! How could you possibly be after-” he paled more if that were possible as he looked at the four rows of cranes he carried now, “Oh my God. Four years, you’ve seen everyth- You’ve felt everything for four years! Y/N, I-”

“Don’t you dare try to apologise or regret coming to me, James,” you interrupted in a hurry. “If I can breathe then I’m fine. And I will never regret helping you when you needed me. You’ve never done anything wrong. And what you saw last week wasn’t usually how I deal with... Well, everything that gets piled up. Usually I go out for a day to breathe and just let go. It’s just that with everything closed down right now, I hadn’t had the opportunity in months. It got to much, that’s all. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Everything you said seemed to go in one ear and out the other with him. He simply grasped the cranes tighter and refused to make eye contact. 

“Bucky,” you whispered again and reached for him one more time and this time, he didn’t turn away. His wave of emotions hit you hard, there were to flashes of images or memories, just feelings of regret and horror and shame and fear. “It’s okay,” you breathed and raised to give him a hug. “It’s okay Bucky.”

Slowly he calmed down, and his emotions subsided into ripples rather than waves. His regret eased along with his fears. He pulled away from you eventually and offered a weak smile, that didn’t necessarily confirm any suspicions that you may have that he was lying or otherwise. 

He held up the cranes and smiled, “Thank you, so much, for these.Y/N I can’t ever thank you enough for these, let alone everything else that you’ve done for me. I understand why you would’ve kept this to yourself, if I’d known sooner I’d never had come to you. But because I did- God, I can do things without begin afraid. I can go out with Steve and not freak out, or go through the night without nightmares. I’ve you to thank you for that. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that but-”

You smiled and shook your head, “This, Bucky, is plenty.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #309

“show me how to lie - you’re getting better all the time  /  and turning all against one is an art that’s hard to teach.”

Have you ever played Jackbox Games? If so, which ones of their party games are your favorites? No, but I looooove watching Mark and The Boys play them on charity streams. They can make up the funniest shit. I can't recall the name of the specific one I'm thinking of... but I enjoy watching most of them. I do think one or two are boring, though. Do you have artistic friends? If so, have you got their artwork displayed? I have some very talented friends, but I don't have anything of theirs displayed somewhere. Have you ever considered pole dancing? Why/why not? No. It takes an incredible amount of strength, plus confidence I don't have. That and I'm just not into it. What's the last thing you fixed yourself? Uhhhhhhh bitch I couldn't tell ya. Are there any CDs you've held onto for sentimental reasons? No. Did you read the Barbie magazines with comics made with the actual dolls? "I didn’t know that was a real thing." <<<< Me either. What's the last thing you knitted? I've never knitted before. Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') She was the first person who joined my RP mob back in the Animal Planet forum days. Why do you take surveys? Be honest. Boredom, distraction, and sometimes I just wanna ramble about whatever. Does mail get delivered to your door or do you have a mailbox outside? Our mailbox is by the side of the road at the end of our driveway. Your doorbell rings out of the blue. What's your reaction? Let Mom answer it. I don't answer the door ever if I don't expect someone or can peek outside and don't recognize them. Are all the lamps in your home LED or other energy saving lights? I don't know. Do you prefer writing by hand or typing? Typing. I can't write very long at all before my carpal tunnel flares up. Think of one of the biggest decisions you've had to make in your life...If you made a different choice, how different would your life be now? I'd be dead, that simple. Have you ever taken a course on CPR? No. What makes you laugh most effortlessly? You can guess it pretty easily. What makes you cry most effortlessly? I make it a rule that I "can't" listen to "Eternally Yours" by Motionless In White because there hasn't been even ONE occasion where it hasn't made me cry, even when I was stupid enough to binge it because it's just a good song. I've broken that "rule" before because I do just genuinely enjoy the song, but I know the pain truly isn't worth it, so I haven't heard it in a decently long time. What is the best smell in the whole world? Cinnamon rolls, probably. My body wash is currently that kind of smell, and Jesus Christ it's the best part of showering. Do you wear a watch? No. Can you tell time from an analog clock? Yes. What a time it'll be when kids can't anymore... Is there a number or a combination of numbers that feels important to you? Only dates, but not numbers themselves. What is the most socially awkward thing you've done? *gestures at my life as a whole* Is your computer decorated in any way? No. If your old class was to have a reunion, would you attend it? No. No. I don't want to relive my high school experience; it would be too painful for me to willingly walk into. What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you? I would say "the breakup," but technically it was letting him basically own me and my every neuron of joy. Not by his will of course, but my own. I was stupid and just... handed those rights over without really realizing it. I can harp forever and ever and EVER about the importance of making sure you own yourself and your emotions. Do you ever donate money to charity? If so, which charity and why? Blah blah blah, I don't get an income, you know this. Whenever I do, I 100% plan on donating to every charity stream Mark ever hosts again, as well as some other people's. I'd love to donate to a lot of places. Would you ever want to get married? If so, why? Yes, because society has made it too instilled in me that it's just like... this ultimate validation of "forever" with your partner, even though I know you can be just as or even far more invested in your relationship without marriage. The only *true* benefit of marriage imo is for legal and financial reasons, but yeah, I still want it. Like I said, it's too deeply embedded in that brain of mine that it's a relationship goal. Why do you live the way you do? I'm not even living the way I want to, so... Have you ever abused an animal? No, and I say "fuck you" with every ounce of sincerity and loathing if you have. Do you think animals are less important than humans? If so, why? Nope. We share this earth and grew from the same roots, so what *really* makes us better? We might be smarter (generally) and more developed as the apex predator, but that does not equate to being more important than, say, even a gnat. That creature has the exact same level of rights to be here as the human species does. I could go on and on and on about this topic. How close was the last person close to you who has died? Not extremely, but she was still important to and loved by me. Grandma and I were very, very different and butted heads more than once, but her love was unconditional, and she showed boundless kindness to others. She showed a courage I see as unmatched in the face of death. I truly, deeply, in the very core of my heart hope she is at peace and experiencing all joys she ever wished for. How does death in general make you feel? Well, it depends on how I'm looking at it. I fully accept it is an inevitable phase in simply existing that none of us will ever evade, so it's not exactly terrifying to me, though of course I don't want it anytime soon. If I'm thinking about people I love dying, I definitely get sad about it and scared of that possibly eternal separation. Is there a person you absolutely loathe? If so, why do you loathe them? Not that I know personally, no. Has anyone ever told you that you're rude? If so, what caused it? No; I think I'm very mannerly, honestly. Have you ever seen a therapist? I've regularly seen therapists since I started middle school. I advocate for everyone to have one, honestly, whether you have a mental illness or not. Have you ever been homeless? In technical terms, yes, but a friend let me stay with her until Mom and I settled into a new place. Have you ever been completely broke? That's the actual story of my life. Well, not me personally considering I've never had to take care of myself financially, but my mom struggles very, very badly with this, and mind you, she's frugal. Just disgustingly underpaid when she worked, and her current status with disability isn't exactly incredibly generous. I live under her roof, so. Have you ever had a steady job? No. Have you ever needed a loan? If so, what for? Have you paid it back? Yes, for school, and no. I do NOT want to know how in debt I am with schools. Have you ever wanted to go to space? Not seriously, no. What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen or heard? I am 99.99% sure mine and Jason's old roommates were having some ~kinky~ sex once while I was alone on the couch against their bedroom. Preeeetty sure the girl was making meowing sounds. They were furries (who I want to emphasize have zero judgment from me; I actually think they're very brave and creative), so that was... something I definitely wasn't used to hearing, haha. What has been the most exciting moment of your life thus far? Probably when Mark N O T I C E D me on Tumblr by reblogging a gif I made of him and his pupper, and I LITERALLY struggled to sleep for three days lmfaoooo. How many birds can you name just by looking at them? Uhhhh a pretty decent amount, I'd say. Which birds are most common around your neighborhood? Crows, sparrows, cardinals and bluejays if you're lucky, robins... pretty basic stuff like that. What do you think is the most interesting sea creature? Octopi are absolutely fascinating with their intelligence. How do you reset your head to zero, so to speak? Take a nap. That usually works. Have you ever gone exploring an abandoned building? Yeah, I love that shit and really wish I could do it more. Bring my camera, too. Are there any foreign television shows you enjoy watching? Some animes. Do you have any clocks in your house that chime when the hour changes? Do those types of clocks annoy you? No. I actually quite like them, though. Has anyone ever let you borrow some of their music, promising you'd love it, but you really didn't? Did you lie to the person and agree, or tell the truth, that you hated it? My dad lent me his Shinedown CD once clearly without thinking I could just look up the album online, haha... He's an old clueless man, leave 'im be. But anyway, of course I listened to it for him and I enjoyed it; I especially loved "The Human Radio," "Kill Your Conscience" and "Pyro." Have you had the same doctor pretty much your whole life, or have you went to a bunch of different ones over the years? Have you ever been to the doctor thinking something was horribly wrong with you, but it turned out to be something minor? Mine has changed a few times, but I haven't had "a bunch." As for the second question, not to my recollection. Is the background on your phone a default picture, or a picture you took? What is the picture of? The lock screen is a pastel-styled list of mental health reminders: "i am strong, i am loved, i am enough." My home screen has been some adorable meerkat pups for a while, which I didn't take. What is your favorite type of print (ex: zebra, stripes, argyle)? Do you have a lot of things with this print on it? Ummmm maybe plaid? No. Are there any stores you feel uncomfortable going into (ex: if you dress girly, do you feel uncomfortable going into Hot Topic)? Are there any stores that you refuse, or just never go in to? The only situation I could think of would be a sex shop. That'd be so fuckin uncomfortable. What is your favorite brand of clothing? Is this a brand that is sort of expensive, or is it pretty affordable? I'm heavily biased towards Cloak, haha. I just support anything and everything Mark takes part it, and it's his and jacksepticeye's business. I have one shirt and it's genuinely great quality and reall comfy. I wouldn't call its products expensive, but they're not cheap, either. What person do you text the most? My mom or Sara, depending on the day. Do you have any pictures that always make you laugh, or cry? Are they digital pictures, or printed pictures? What is the significance? No. Not pictures I have anymore, at least. Have you ever eaten raw pumpkin? Omg I would never. I hate the flavor of any sort of pumpkin food. Does your car have a name? I don't have my own car, but Mom jokingly calls hers "Olivia." Who was the last person you made plans with? One of my sister's in-laws that's actually the mother of one of my closest friends contacted me to plan some family pictures. What is the rudest thing someone has done recently towards you? I can't think of anything recent. How do you feel about your hair right now? It needs to be trimmed and dyed. How fast have you driven a car? I think accidentally leaning towards 80 on a highway. When you're hanging out with friends + you become bored, do you just leave or endure the boredom? Given I can't leave without a car, I deal with it. What did you last plug into your computer? What were you doing with this? The charger for obvious reasons. What color(s) have you dyed your hair? Red, purple, black, then red, purple, and lighter brown highlights. I really wish I could dye it more and actually have the color stick... Was your first kiss perfect? It was to me. What song did you hear last? I have "Over The Mountain" by Ozzy on now. (: Does anyone have any blackmail on you? No. Have you ever walked into the guys' bathroom? HA, once during a teacher work day (my mom was an assistant) at my elementary school. My sisters and friends went in there to be little "rebels." I remember being mega confused with urinals, haha. Then as a teen and adult, I've been in the dance studio's boy's restroom as well as a church's to help Mom clean. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? My therapist. Are you shy? I am VERY shy. Are you talkative? Generally, no, but when I'm in a very good mood, I tend to be. Has your most recent ex ever seen you cry? Oh jeez, she saw me wail once. When was the last time you were called "cute"? I'm not sure. Would you rather be called "hot", "cute" or "beautiful"? "Beautiful." Do you have a little sister? Yep. Definitely not "little" anymore, though. About to have her Master's in social work... How many arguments have you had with the last person you kissed? Given our childhood, we've fought a lot, but mostly just as kids over very, very stupid things. As adults, we've had a serious argument once or twice and then just some very minor disagreements sprinkled in there. Do you know anyone who's been arrested? Oh yes. What're you planning on doing after this? Another survey. What time did you go to sleep last night? Damn, it wasn't even 8:00. I was EXHAUSTED and actually slept decently for once in my life. Do you like waking up to good morning texts in the morning? I mean, I'd think most people would. It's a sweet, easy way of someone showing they care and think about you. Have you left some things unsaid with a certain person? Yeah. What was the last thing that made you happy? We had syrup to add to my breakfast, haha. I don't know if these are a thing everywhere, but I looove what we just call "pancakes on a stick," which is like a corndog, but with sausage and pancake batter. Dipping it in syrup is amaaaaaaziiiiiiing. Do you like the smell of rain? I don't love it, but it's refreshing sometimes. It's mostly just associated with a bittersweet memory, so it can be triggering to smell. I know, that sounds immensely stupid. What was the last thing you took a picture of? A very, very relatable meme to show Sara, haha. She doesn't have a Facebook, so that'll do. When you go to McDonald's, what drink do you usually get? I always get a Coke. What’s the nickname of your home state? Tar Heel State, from discovering tar in the since aptly-named Tar River. Have you ever thought about your wedding? I mean duh. What’s the worse type of weather in your opinion? Hot and humid, ugh. Especially right after a summer afternoon thunderstorm. It's unbearable. You can't fucking breathe outside, and you set one foot out of the door and it's soaked. Do you have a Kindle or iPad or neither? Neither. Would you rather read or write? Write. When was the last time someone took a picture of you? The time Misty visited last month and we were taking family pictures. Would you rather see Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood in concert? I wouldn't pay for either or even willingly go to one or the other, but if I had to go for whatever reason, Carrie. She has a beautiful voice as well as a good handful of songs I actually like. I'm not a Taylor fan; there are only like, two old songs by her I enjoy. When someone screws you over, do you get back with revenge? No. I may not be the best at adulting, but damn, I'm not that bad. Name something negative that you hate about yourself? I overthink like a motherfucker. About everything. Is there a dead end road near where you live? I live on one. Huh, that's actually been the case three times... wow. Four if you count the apartment. Who are you tired of seeing in the news a lot (celebrities)? I don't care. I don't even pay attention to the news, other than Covid updates. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Name something positive you love about yourself: I care a lot about people. Can you smell anything right now? No, besides however my house naturally smells that I'm numb to. Have you spoken to a relative on the phone today? No. How does alcohol affect you? I flush in my face very obviously, and I become more outgoing and talkative. Have you ever eaten tofu and if so, did you enjoy it? I've never tried it, but I very much doubt I'd enjoy it. What was the last type of meat you ate? Pork. What colour is your toothpaste? Blue and white. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Have you ever inhaled helium? Once, I believe. Are you a fan of Adam Sandler? Yeah, I think he's pretty funny and a talented actor. What was the last fruit you ate? An apple. A candied apple for Valentine's Day, but still an apple, haha. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation? With Sara's family, yeah. It was fine. Have you watched a movie this week? I haven't watched a movie in many months. Have you set an alarm today? Yeah, just to ensure I was up for group therapy today. Have you asked someone for advice today? No. What was the last website you were on, other than this one? YouTube. Have you ever been to Hawaii? No, but it'd be cool. Well, thinking about the humidity... Have you watched more than an hour of TV today? No; I haven't watched television in a long time. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. The last time you got dressed up, where did you go? I got my makeup done and put on a dress for a Halloween "witch" shoot with my friend and some other people. The pictures pretty much don't exist because they're blurry as shit and way too dark because we left too late. I don't know why we even left the house to do it by the time everyone figured their shit out. I was really disappointed because I thought Summer made me look really, really pretty. ;_; Did the one person who hurt you the most in your life apologize? Yes, but I don't know if he really meant it. He might have just wanted me off his back, but I kinda feel now that he meant it, at least regarding how it happened. Are you proud of who you are? Only in the sense that I think I have a good heart. Otherwise, no. I've accomplished so little. Have you ever been to Costco? We don't have those here, so no. Do/did you have to wear a uniform to your high school? No, thank Christ. Only in middle school. How many video games do you own? A whole lot. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. How many sets of keys do you have for your house? One. Do you give spare keys to your place to your friends and family? Our landlord/family friend has one. Then obviously my sisters do, too. Have you ever ridden a bicycle through a busy city? Oh hell no. Do you use Instagram? How often do you post there? Yes, two for each of my photography "styles." I don't post a lot myself, but I react to stuff. When was the last time you high-fived someone? I believe the last time I was at my sister's and my nephew caught a Pokemon on his first throw in Pokemon GO. He and his sister LOVE that game; that's the first thing they ask to do when I come over, haha. Their dad doesn't like it because it's "evil" (which he finds most things, really...), and it's something I could roll my eyes into the back of my head about, but I still have to respect his parenting and ask if they can play it first. He let's 'em, just not long. He also took away the Pikachu plushy I gave Aubree because it's her favorite one. :^) Guess who doesn't fuckin like him lmao. Do you like writing? How often do you write? I love writing! I don't do it very much nowadays except through surveys, though. RP is kinda on pause, so surveys is really how I just get stuff out, even if it isn't creative. Are there any posters or artworks hanging in your living room? Artwork and family photos, yes. What's your favourite place to get pizza? I'm a basic bitch that loves her some Domino's. How many times have you been to the beach? Quite a few times. We live only like two hours away, and considering Myrtle Beach is a common dance competition location, we've been a couple handfuls of instances. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. No. After we moved out of my childhood house though that we actually owned, the fucking idiots who were moving in completely roasted it to pitch by setting boxes on the goddamn stove and accidentally turning it on. The house had to be entirely rebuilt. My parents were livid considering it was THEIR house. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No. What was the best school project you remember doing? I actually really enjoyed the huge essay I did on toxic masculinity the last time I tried college. I've always been very firm about letting men be humans and not emotionless robots, but I learned a lot more while researching and writing. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus is #1. I've beaten it at least 30 times, maybe even 40+; it's been too long since I've seen the save files. It's a relatively short game (you can beat it in less than like, four hours if you know what you're doing) and just very relaxing yet simultaneously absolutely epic to me. God, I want a PS4 to play the remaster, like beyond words. It looks incredible, and I want to try to get white Agro. Have you ever petted a cow, a sheep, or a pig? A pig, yes. I love pigs.

[wincore]

heartbreaker | na jaemin

pairing: jaemin x reader

words: 8.9k

genre: ’’’bad boy’’’!au, high school!au, fluff, angst

warnings: jaemin breaks hearts, mentions of underage drinking

a/n: this is cheesy and very long ur welcome (not really!!!)

There’s a simple rule you and the rest of the students at your school follow. Do not fall in love with Na Jaemin unless you can handle getting your heart broken.

But of course, even the simplest of rules are hard to follow sometimes. Especially when the danger you’re warned against is so enticing, so charming and sweet, so warm. School isn’t a place that likes to harbour friendliness or even the slightest of warmth, no matter what they try showing on the outside. No, it’s competition and silence, loneliness and the cold. But human beings, especially children,  somehow have a way of finding light in the darkest of systems, and you’ve adjusted yourself with close friends and people to rely on early. However, it isn’t really possible to be satisfied with just that; no, everyone is missing a softness, a warmth that they’ve tried to live without for so long.

And it’s people like these who fall for Na Jaemin. People who are kind or sweet or shy, people who are tough or bold or frayed on the edges—all of them fall for Jaemin no matter what, because he has the warmth they think they’re looking for, the glow they haven’t seen in a while, feelings they haven’t experienced. Even though his reputation screams danger, his charms are undeniable, his smile stupendously blinding, and his eyes pure and soft. He’s dream-like, and his movements are gentle and caring and kind. Jaemin has everything you want, and everything you didn’t know you wanted till you met him. He just has his way of roping people in, tangling them in his red strings of ill fate, blessing you with his lies. Yet, at the end of it, you’ll be blaming yourself.

You and Jaemin have…a complicated relationship. You knew him when he was just Jaemin, the boy next door, the boy you used to play tag with, the boy you shared secrets with, and not Mr. Heartbreaker, a playboy, the boy you don’t want to get too close to for your own sake, the boy with thousands of hearts in his grasp. You don’t know how and when the boy with the sweetest of words started using them as a weapon, but you guess it was two summers ago. You remember his first victim, Park Jiwoo, easily the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, with long lashes and an innocent smile. You remember how it had morphed into an empty, lifeless one after the breakup. Jaemin’s first relationship was also probably his longest, and the ones after had ended in a quick trail of several broken hearts.

But people still fall in love with Jaemin, and you don’t blame them. He’ll smile the purest of smiles when you confess your feelings, take you on dates, talk with you on the phone for hours. He’ll hold your hand, sing his ‘I love you’s, look at you like you’re everything. But that’s it. Then it’s over with an ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re meant to be’ and a small, sad smile. That’s how every story with Na Jaemin goes, and to say you’re not curious would be an outright lie. You’ve always been curious since the boy you called your friend stopped talking to you, and the fact that you’ll never get that boy back is upsetting. But as your mother says, friends come and go—you’re the one who’s supposed to keep the light alive within yourself. It makes you wonder how many lights Jaemin has stolen.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you sit up straight. “I zoned out.”

“And missed the entire chemistry lecture,” Jisung shakes his head.

You did miss the entire lecture. But it’s not like you ever listened anyway. You take your bag and get up at the same time as Jisung, when a figure passes by, ruffling Jisung’s hair into a mess. Jisung glares at Jaemin but responds to his grin with a reluctant smile anyway. You still don’t know how Jisung manages to get along with Jaemin of all people, but you assume the beginning had something to do with Jaemin’s persistent stream of affection towards the younger boy.

When your eyes meet Jaemin’s, he grants you a wink, and you ignore it with a sour expression, making your way to your next class. You can almost picture Jaemin pouting, but he should be used to it by now. He should know the fact that there are people like you—too afraid of what their heart will do in Jaemin’s presence, too afraid of the betrayal it might present, and most of all, too afraid of collecting and joining its broken pieces. And there’s your story. You have to pretend you never knew him in the first place—never knew how fast he spoke when he was being stubborn, never knew the mole on his arm you used to complete with a smiley face, never knew how funny he looked with his mouth hanging open watching TV, never knew the secret handshake you made up. No, you don’t know Na Jaemin anymore, because he isn’t Jaemin; he’s the worst kind of person you’ll ever encounter, or so you tell yourself. He’s the kind who takes a heart with a promise and handles it with nimble fingers till he finds a new one, till he no longer cares about the promise.

“Are you going to ignore me all the way to the next class? We have the same class, you know,” Jaemin’s voice snaps you out of it. Ah, speak of the devil and his unrealistically sweet smile.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you shrug. Of course you’re ignoring him; you want nothing to do with him.

“Ah? I thought you were,” Jaemin tilts his head to think, but follows you at a steady pace.

You’re just a bundle of nerves around him sometimes, as you process all the questions that run through your mind every time. Does he even remember? Does he think of you in same detailed way you do? Does he think of you the way of you think of him, with the fondness of old memories and secrets shared? You almost scoff. Of course not. Does he look at you as another heart to break, a nameless soul to be charmed? You don’t want to think about that, but it’s very frequently you find yourself running the same thoughts through your head. You want to know what happened; two years are a long enough time for questions and bitter feelings to pile up.

You exit school to face the end of yet another day, the uncomfortably hot breeze doing little to lighten your mood. You’re often glad your house is far away, and you have a lot of time to think and be with yourself, before you have to do homework and be rooted to the real world again. The walk home is either the best or the worst part of your day. It depends entirely on your train of thoughts, the weather and the events around you. Today, however, weather is incredibly shitty and the events seem to take lead as they present a rather out-of-breath Jaemin by your side.

You almost jump at the sudden contact of skin against your palm, and Jaemin looks you in the eyes with panic written all across his face. They think he’s too easy-going, stress hardly ever showing across his features, but you remember the expression he had made when he had kicked the soccer ball into your grumpy neighbour’s house with a loud crash.

“Help me out just this once please,” he whispers in a rush, and drags you by the hand, almost running.

“Wh- what is going on?!” you huff as you take quick steps to follow behind Jaemin without tripping over your own feet.

“I’ll explain when we’re out of sight,” he says, looking back at you once.

Soon enough, you’re at the entrance to your house, and doubtfully glancing at Jaemin while unlocking the door. Is he really going to stay here? You’re not very sure about the strange appearance of your school’s infamous heartthrob right by your side.

Jaemin sighs in relief once you’re both safely inside, before turning to look around with wide eyes and his lips parted.

“Wow,” he breathes, “It’s still the same.”

You’re slightly taken aback as you repeat, “same?”

“Yeah, your house,” Jaemin says, casually.

“You remember?” you ask, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft and eyes shifting elsewhere.

There’s a pause before you remember the dilemma at hand.

“Are you- is there a reason you ran for like fifteen minutes holding my hand?”

“Don’t take it personally, love,” he says, a teasing smile on his lips before they’re pulled to a frown. “I have a stalker. A few probably, but this one’s persistent.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

Jaemin grins. If he is in such a case, he doesn’t show any fear or worry as you would expect. He almost looks as if he’s joking, largely in contrast with the display he put on while approaching you a few minutes ago.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried?” you ask.

“Well, I mean. It’s not that scary, and it’s not exactly unusual, but I don’t like eyes on me.”

You almost scoff. The entire school has their eyes on him, and he basks in the attention, flashing his winning smile to any crowd waiting to see him, winking at some poor soul who’s been staring at him for too long.

You let out a short, sardonic laugh instead.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s hard to believe when you say it like that,” you say, still sceptical.

“I appreciate the love and time they give me, I really do,” he says, his features peaceful. “But I like being by myself sometimes.”

“Please, Jaemin, you break their hearts too easily for me to believe that.”

Jaemin frowns, a deep frown, but places a hand over his heart as a show of mock hurt, his lips turning to form a pout.

“I don’t think you should be treating your guest like this.”

“Who said you’re a- you invited yourself!”

Jaemin laughs as he pinches your cheek, “Ah, y/n, you’re still so cute.”

Your ears feel hot and you quickly turn your face elsewhere. You can’t even talk to him for the shortest of time without him giving you reasons to flush hot red. It makes it very clear that your childhood means nothing whatsoever to him; you’re just another heart waiting to be a part of his collection.

“Whatever- just um- just- don’t touch anything.”

“So I have permission to stay?” Jaemin’s eyes light up as his lips quirk upwards.

“Sure,” you respond, a little unsure yourself.

You’re not sure how you end up with Jaemin sitting on the floor of your bedroom, him looking around with curious eyes, but it makes you a little heartsick when you think you were like this at some point in your life. You don’t know why the wound hasn’t closed yet. You don’t know the boy in front of you anymore; people change in the strangest ways and perhaps you were too unprepared. That’s why you’re still baffled by these thoughts.

“You still have the stars we stuck?” Jaemin says, squinting at the ceiling.

“That my dad stuck because we were too short to reach the ceiling,” you correct.

Jaemin chuckles. “You looked cute trying to jump around and reach it.”

You roll your eyes, and divert your attention to the windows of the house next to yours, the familiar blue of the curtains contrasting with the reds of the boy in front of you. His eyelashes flicker up and down as he scans you, an unreadable expression on his face, and you feel yourself getting more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Are you really here till evening?” you try to distract yourself.

“Getting excited?” Jaemin asks, moving closer to sit beside you.

You fight the untimely blush, and glare at him. “Excited for what?”

Jaemin smiles at you, a smile the Devil would claim to be his own, as he places his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you. You almost feel the air leave your lungs, with Jaemin far too close for liking and no sign of his blood-boiling smile disappearing any time soon.

“I can hear your heart beating from here,” he continues smiling, looking straight into your eyes.

In a flash of a second, your mind restarts and you push Jaemin with as much force as you can muster. He lands backwards on his butt with an ‘oof’, and rubs his back with a pained expression.

“I was just teasing, love, you didn’t have to get violent,” Jaemin explains, placing his hand on his hip.

“Well, that’s called harassment and I am going to stay far, far away from you now,” you say getting up and sitting on your bed with a scowl.

“You’re adorable when your cheeks are all pink,” Jaemin says, a certain twinkle in his eyes.

You face away from him, getting grumpier by the second. Jaemin doesn’t stop asking questions, and you wonder how anyone could fall for this idiot. His grin fascinated you once, but it just reminds you of all the girls and boys that feel their heart flutter seeing it for the first time. You’re nothing special; you’re just more cautious than the others. His lips are chapped although you’re sure he came in this morning with his lips pink and soft. You remember his mother scolding him for not taking care of himself in middle school. His eyes are still unreadable, but they’re strangely kind. You wonder if it keeps that warmth even when he’s off crushing someone else’s heart, winning another easy game.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Jaemin’s lips quirk upwards. “Wanna tell me something?”

You scowl again. “You’re so full of it.”

“I like the compliments.”

Jaemin winks. Is he being extra just because its you, his old friend, or is he this way with everyone? It’ll always confuse you, the way he behaves around people; you’re never sure if he’s painting an image for himself, or if he’s really that sweet, or nice, or funny. Looking at him now, he’s getting on your nerves more than anything, and your old resentment probably adds fuel to the fire.

Your mother is delighted to see Jaemin in your room again, and her stream of compliments (“You’ve grown so handsome!” “Ah, you must be capturing hearts every day!” “Such a sweet boy!”) brightens his wide grin, as he speaks to her politely and sincerely, like he doesn’t have a notorious reputation at school, like he doesn’t ruin lives daily.

Jaemin leaves with a curt goodbye, and his dazzling smile; and you’re met with a slap to your head by your mom for rolling your eyes at him. It would be a waste explaining Jaemin’s situation to your mom, and it’s not like she’d want to meddle with your life too much anyway. Besides, you wouldn’t actually want to ruin his perfect image, no matter how much he annoys you.

Jaemin goes home with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. He tries to fight the smile making its way onto his way that started with the onset of the flutters. It’s been quite a while since he’s felt this way, and he should be afraid, he should run already but the feeling is strangely addictive. Jaemin sighs when he enters his room. He pats his cheek a few times, Get it together, Jaemin, you can’t lose.

Maybe it’s because he’s been uneasy the past few days; the heavy feelings being replaced by the surprisingly light-hearted ones because of you probably caused this sudden dilemma. You aren’t even a player in the game to Jaemin. He could have tried sweet-talking, flirting, all of his other naturally attractive habits on you, but he always refrained. It felt wrong to let you fall; it always feels wrong when someone falls for him. Jaemin knows he won’t be able to help his fears, and he’ll have to run before he loses, before his own heart takes damage. Even if it’s the same fear he gets with everyone he’s dated, he’s been careful enough for you to not be one of them. He’s never known why, but the idea of it felt worse than the others.

Jaemin sighs again. Today felt different with you. It felt right. Right for him, his heart and his feelings. He wonders if that’s what all the people he’s dated felt for him in the beginning, still feel for him. That’s not a good sign. It means he should stay away. But the feeling resides in the pit of his stomach and he can’t wipe the idea of you.

Jaemin sometimes hates who he’s become, and the feelings associated with him. It’s comes naturally to him, all that he does, but he gets the feeling in his gut that it’s wrong. Jaemin doesn’t know why he still does it. Fun? Sometimes, but not really. Out of boredom? Again, same answer. Fear? That might actually hit close. He doesn’t mind the reputation he’s made if it will keep people away from his own heart, as they approach him with theirs. Jaemin just doesn’t find love beautiful anymore. Feelings are messy and unclear when they’re your own, even if you see them clearly in others. He’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep his prized possession safe. But it’d be a lie if he said he didn’t like showering his affections on someone else; he’s got a lot of it, but he never seems to be able to help the ending.

He’s been more distracted, perturbed these days, especially after Yangyang found his own pet to play with. But the weird thing is, they aren’t a pet at all, they aren’t a way to pass the time, aren’t a result of an inability to exercise self-control—the fact that they’re genuinely in love makes a sick bitterness pool in Jaemin’s stomach. He doesn’t want to feel this way; he’s never wanted to feel this way. It just so happened that the tide rushed in and he got stuck in the current.

Jaemin scowls at the ceiling, lying on his bed. If he can’t sleep, he might as well do something, he thinks as he gets up, running his fingers through his hair. He exits his room; he’s never liked staying inside for too long—it gives him a headache and makes him nauseous.

The night is slightly less hot than the day, but Jaemin likes this kind of weather. He could get something to eat now, hopefully Red’s Diner is still open, although he doesn’t necessarily have to worry about that. The manager gives him a free pass up till two in the morning. He plugs in his headphones and starts walking.

What Jaemin doesn’t expect is trouble, although he should by now. He barely escapes some burly guy, brother of one of the seniors he’s dated, with a bleeding lower lip and possible bruising in his chest. Jaemin hates getting hit in the face. His friends might be able to take a beating, but he prefers staying away from fights; it’s just not his kind of thing. He’s only learned defence, and picking physical fights just seems too childish for him. He sighs and hopes he can still buy something, and then he can go home, clean his face, and then eat.

You massage your temples, sitting alone at a table for two. You just wanted to breathe, you thought, as you had made your way towards Red’s, the unfinished book in your hand. The diner’s still fairly empty as when you had arrived, and you’re glad it is. No one’s there to witness the darkness under your eyes, or your parched lips as your eyes scan the words on the pages. Sleeplessness has given you a mild headache, but you don’t stop reading. It’s an otherworldly experience—to read your favourite book at a diner at midnight, but your peace is disrupted soon.

Na Jaemin stands at the entrance, a look of surprise across his face when his eyes meet yours. His lower lip is swollen and there’s dried blood by the side of his mouth. You can see a few cuts here and there if you squint, but before you can decide what to do, Jaemin takes a seat across you.

“Did I get hit that hard or are you really here?” Jaemin says, mouth dropping open.

“What- What is that supposed to mean? Jaemin, what happened?!”

“So I’m not hallucinating,” Jaemin leans forward.

“Are you- are you flirting?!” you look at him incredulously. “You really did get hit too hard, didn’t you?”

“I don’t really wanna discuss this right now,” he whispers, pointing towards his lips and frowning.

“Well, it doesn’t look too good to me,” you whisper, equally aggravated. “You should get it cleaned.”

You mentally curse yourself for letting your worries show. You’re supposed to stay away from this one guy, but you surely can’t leave him when he’s this hurt like this.

Jaemin snorts. “Yeah, right. I’m getting my food first.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but anger rises in your throat and all the way up to your forehead. You feel a sudden rush of energy as you grab Jaemin’s hand, and place the money for your food on the table before leaving, grumbling about how stupid someone can be.

“Where are you taking me?” Jaemin asks from behind you, his steps reluctant but complying.

“My house. It’s only two minutes away.”

You hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way, and that this is the last you see of him. He owes you at least this much, to stay away from your heart.

You stumble to your bedroom in the darkness, hands roaming around for the light switch. You feel glad as soon as you find it, and place a finger over your lips facing Jaemin. You push Jaemin inside, and close the door behind you, turning to rummage through your first aid.

“You have a really strong grip, you know?” Jaemin comments, standing a few feet away from you.

“Just sit,” you sigh. He follows and waits patiently as you gather all you need and stand in front of him.

“I didn’t even get food,” Jaemin complains. He’s about to open his mouth again when you glare at him, and he makes a show of shutting his mouth up.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see the look on Jaemin’s face. His eyes are widened, his lips barely parted, as he gazes at you with an unreadable emotion. It’s not a common expression you see every day at school, but you ignore the intensity of his gaze as you press the cotton against his lip. He flinches at first, but stays still for the rest of the time you take working.

It’s silent the entire time all the way up till you put on a band-aid on his jaw, and dab some antiseptic cream on his lower lip. Jaemin doesn’t speak even as you place your first aid kit away, and halt in front of him. You’re unsure of what to say as you clear your throat, but Jaemin opens his mouth instead.

“Will you patch me up every time?” he asks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No,” you respond immediately. “I just- I felt bad for you. That’s why. I’m not- I’m not doing this again.”

You stutter out your words, and Jaemin notices, his smile only spreading to his eyes. Why did your impulse have to bring him here?

“I like it when you worry about me. Remember when I sprained my wrist and you stayed over?”

“I’m being nice,” you say, crossing your arms. “And why do you even remember that?”

“Don’t you?” He looks at you curiously, and you sigh.

Jaemin pouts as he stands up, and he flinches ever so slightly, but you notice it anyway. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Did you get punched in the chest?” you ask, maintaining your stance.

“Hu-huh? I- I might have. I don’t really remember.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” you sigh.

Jaemin tilts his head, eyes not really focused. Does he even know how bad a chest injury can get? You curse yourself for caring this much. You could send him off like this; you’ve done enough, but no, of course not. This sort of impulse always get the better of you.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Woah. No one I’ve dated has been that bold before.” Jaemin’s eyes widen as he fakes a scandalized expression.

“It’s not like that, you idiot,” you flush red at his unnecessary comment.

You find flowers of bruises on his chest, and a few scratches. You get your first aid again and treat him once more, complaining about how stupid he is. You’re not very rational right now, you’re much too sleepy and you’re only running on adrenaline. Your grumbling isn’t even the worst you could do.

After Jaemin slips his hoodie back on, he flashes you another smile, accompanied with a wink. It’s like he teases you on purpose. You scowl, and look the other way. You don’t even want to think anymore; you’re just keeping it together till he leaves and you can crash. A part of you is still curious, though, unfortunately.

“How’d you even get beaten up this bad?” you ask, the words coming out reluctantly. Just who could beat up your school’s most adored boy?

“The…the boys,” he answers, his pitch slightly higher as he gulps, “They ran into some trouble.”

You scoff. “I didn’t think you were this bad at lying, Jaemin.”

“And how would you know?” he retorts, eyebrows twisting in confusion.

“I know that face,” you mumble.

Jaemin falls silent as he looks down at his hands on his lap. He looks back up after a few seconds, and opens his mouth but closes it soon after. Why does he look so guilty?

“It was some guy…the brother of someone I dated…I don’t really remember.”

Jaemin looks away, and you feel a mixture of anger and pity. You’re not sure if it’s the tiredness speaking, but you chide him, “If you don’t know how to fix something, don’t break it.”

Jaemin holds a small smile for a few moments before responding quietly. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Whatever, Jaemin, get some rest,” you say, patting his shoulder.

Jaemin stands up with a sweet, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

You find yourself smiling back for the first time; it’s present even as he leaves, and you send him off with a note to be careful as you watch his figure carefully make his way through the streets. You smile in your sleep too that night, but you don’t remember what you dreamt of in the morning.

“You look chipper today,” Jeno notes as Jaemin breaks into another grin.

“I do?” Jaemin’s eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t elaborate although he’d really love to.

“Stop pretending,” Renjun shoves him. “You know you want to, so spit it out.”

Jaemin shoots a look at Renjun, and massages his shoulder. “I’ll tell you if I want to. Stop glaring at me.”

“Let me guess,” Renjun says, a teasing smile on his face. “You’ve found the love of your life!”

Donghyuck snickers from behind Jaemin, and even Jeno looks amused. Yangyang resorts to shrugging, a sly smile making its way onto his face. Jaemin turns around to look at Donghyuck first.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” he glares while Donghyuck responds with a ‘hm’, his cheek pressed to the desk and eyes closed. Sometimes even Jaemin doesn’t get Donghyuck and his sleep schedule. Does he sleep in class to piss off the teachers or does he really not get sleep at night?

Jaemin turns to look around at the rest, still shooting Jaemin bemused looks.

“What? I’m not going to date anyone right now,” Jaemin shrugs. It’s true. He doesn’t feel like going through the process all over again. He hopes it’s not because of you.

“Do I hear correct?” Yangyang quirks his brow up, mock surprise on his face.

“I heard it too,” Renjun interrupts, mouth open in an exaggerated gasp. “Na Jaemin, Mr. Heartbreaker, isn’t going to date? How are you supposed to keep up your reputation?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “You guys are something else.”

Renjun grins, while the rest look equally amused after poking fun at their friend. However, as soon as you walk into class, Jaemin suddenly finds him staring after you. He finds it interesting how you never spare him a second glance, like you didn’t clean his wounds and treat him with all your care last night. He found your touch warm, soft and very, very real.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Renjun interrupts Jaemin’s train of thought. He feels uneasy at the comment—is he being obvious? That’s the last thing he wants.

“Why don’t you just use your usual tricks on them? If you’re that interested,” Yangyang suggests.

Jaemin isn’t interested, he swears he isn’t. But the more he promises himself the more the dreaded realization dawns that he probably is, that he might break your heart. He scoffs internally. It’s too soon, and he won’t date you, certainly. He made that decision a long time ago, and even though you don’t talk to him anymore, he couldn’t do that to his old friend. The ones who come to him pleading with their hearts, the ones who readily give it up when he shows the slightest interest—they never felt like anything to Jaemin, just a shadow of the warmth he could have felt, that they probably felt with him. Na Jaemin doesn’t fall in love easily, no. It’s what his reputation says, and it’s what he decided two years ago when…he shudders at the memory.

“How do you even make all of them fall for you, Jaemin?” Yangyang asks, not paying a lot of attention. “It’s like you speak magic.”

“Seems like they like the look of danger,” Renjun laughs.

“Then girls would be all over Donghyuck,” Jaemin declares, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy behind him from the corner of his eye.

“I heard that,” Donghyuck grumbles, propping his face up on one arm. The others laugh; Jeno is the only one who shoots Jaemin a concerned look, before turning back to his notes.

Jaemin takes one last look at you and decides, no. He’s going nowhere near your heart. But he’s allowed to rekindle old friendships, right?

You don’t get why Jaemin keeps buying you chocolate milk after lunch. Is this his repayment, or is he looking for something more? You shake your head at the latter idea; even if he did, you’re going to be strong and ignore him. You already have some of the answers you were looking for—yes, he remembers, and yes, he knows who you are, he hasn’t wiped off your history entirely from his brain. You don’t have as much curiosity left, and you can be on your own path now. Without him popping in at random.

You almost groan out loud as Jaemin sits beside you, chocolate milk in hand. You don’t show any distress, opting for a small smile and a polite ‘thank you’. Jaemin frowns.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says.

Yes, Jaemin. You.

“I think I look a little bothered all the time,” you say, looking elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t question further. You’re not sure why he’s being nice, and it’s scary. You don’t know what he’s like these days, whether he has other things in his mind now. It’s scary because you don’t know what he’s up to; you’re afraid because you can’t trust him. He’s in the middle of explaining how Renjun almost got caught with his artwork once when you interrupt.

“Jaemin,” you say, “Why are you doing this?”

“What- what do you mean?” Jaemin tilts his head.

“This.”

“I thought being nice is a good thing,” he pouts.

“Jaemin.”

Jaemin falls silent, and you think he’ll crack another silly joke and avoid the issue. But he stays quiet for what seems like hours before finally parting his lips.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, the same deep look in his eyes that he had when you were cleaning his cuts.

You scoff. “Who’s afraid of you?”

You’re not about to tell the lion you’re afraid of him and then walk right into his den. Jaemin smiles bright as usual before looking down at his hands.

“It’s nice talking to you,” he says.

So you let him talk to you. That’s all he does every lunch break, and you don’t know why the wall you put up shakes at the foundation so often. It’s nice talking with him, in fact. You’ve also somehow become Jaemin’s medic, and every time there’s a fight, he ends up at your house with you swearing at him while treating his wounds. You don’t know why he does it, why he keeps showing up even if his face is the last thing you want to see. You don’t know why he keeps getting into fights, if they’ve always been this regular an occurrence.

When Jaemin shows up once more, this time accompanied with more than some gashes and bruises, you’re almost overtaken with panic. He looks as if he’s about to faint, and whispers a “please” before stumbling right into your arms. You carry him to your room to inspect his wounds. As you lay him on your bed, you discover he still has some consciousness left in him as his eyes follow your every movement. You do your work, realizing he might have a mild concussion although there’s no sign of bleeding.

“What happened this time?” you whine, worry seeping into your tone.

“Baseball bat,” Jaemin manages, voice low and raspy.

“You stupid boy,” you almost hit him yourself. “You never fight back, do you?”

Jaemin smiles before fluttering his eyes closed, leaving you on the verge of a heart attack.

“J-Jaemin? Oh my god, are you dead? This isn’t right- what if I get sued? Wake up you crazy—”

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Jaemin’s eyes open once more. “I feel like I’m getting hit in the head again with your yelling.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you grumble. “You must have one hell of a skull to not have died.”

“Of course,” Jaemin smiles despite the obvious pain. “Just let me sleep here tonight.”

You comply, patching up his wounds and applying the necessary. The look on Jaemin’s face is enough to convince you to give him your concern. After all, he’s a friend. But that’s all he is, right? You mumble a ‘good night’, not sure why, as you take your pillow and blanket to the living room.

Jaemin knows he shouldn’t but he keeps coming back to you. He likes the way your thumb brushes across his cheek when you check the bruises on his jaw, or the way your eyes focus on him entirely. He loves hearing the concern in your voice, even as you’re scolding him. But most of all, he adores your touch. It’s a warmth he’s feeling after a very long time, and he’s finding himself addicted.

It’s no good, Jaemin tells himself, The damage is done. Ah, but there’s always more to suffering, isn’t there?

You find yourself at a quaint café you’ve never visited before, on a Saturday afternoon. The walls are beige, and there are pink sticky notes in the shape of hearts on it. The lighting is mild; it’s mostly sunlight doing its job, but Jaemin manages to shine brighter.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. You don’t know why you still refuse to be too long in his presence. After all, you’re not exactly doing the job of staying away too well. Might as well give up.

“You keep saving my life, and I can’t even repay you?” Jaemin makes a face. “What kind of a man do you think I am, y/n?”

“A very extra one,” you scoff. He’s still the overly cheesy goofball you knew in middle school. The thought warms you as you eventually smile back at Jaemin. Every time his excitement shows up as random spasms of energy, his eyebrows moving with the tone of his voice, every time he laughs at his own joke, or when he apologizes for all the cringe that escapes his mouth, not really meaning it, every time he rolls his eyes and gets all sour if you ignore him—you’re reminded of Jaemin, the boy you know, your friend. His smile, by far, is the most reminiscent of your childhood, your friendship. It hasn’t changed one bit.

Jaemin offers to walk you home but both of you get distracted by the dog park on your way back. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been apart for two years, like Jaemin has a different reputation altogether now, like Jaemin is the last person you should be hanging out with. It’s the Jaemin you know, a bit more mature at times maybe, but the same in the end. You find a twinge of a feeling unknown in your chest as you watch Jaemin play with a little pug, trying to get it to give him a high-five. You’re not supposed to be feeling this, right? This is what you’ve been afraid of so far, isn’t it? But then, why does it feel so sweet?

“Is that Na Jaemin’s new sweetheart?” your ears catch onto some whispering behind you, as you sit with Jaemin on a wooden bench.

“Wah, I’m so jealous,” another voice whines.

“Don’t worry, he’ll dump them soon enough. You could try then.”

The voices bring you back to your bitter reality. 

You breathe in. What were you even thinking? You should never have let Jaemin open his mouth in your presence. You’ve let it happen; whatever you were afraid of is already beginning, and there’s no helping it now. You start to turn your head, but Jaemin suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer, and you feel a certain dread rising in your throat. The voices behind you disappear, probably disappointed, and you feel worse.

“Don’t listen to them,” he whispers, his voice strangely worried.

You can’t stop the flurry of thoughts that pass through. Is he treating you like another toy to play with? Just a way to pass the time? Of course, he’s just trying to add your heart to his collection. There’s no other explanation as to why he would start talking to you again after so long. If he really wanted to rekindle your friendship, he would have contacted you sooner. 

You don’t know how to trust him at all, do you? Your heart hammers in your chest as you turn to face Jaemin.

“Are you playing with me?” you ask, looking him in the eye.

“What- I- Of course not!” he looks taken aback.

No, no, no. Na Jaemin is a liar and you should never trust him. That’s the one rule you have to follow. He looks nervous, that you can tell from his face. You can’t believe how you fooled yourself for this long. Friends don’t treat you the way Na Jaemin has for the past few weeks.

“I…have to go,” you tell Jaemin before getting up and walking away as fast as you can.

You don’t understand the sudden settlement of panic, but you can’t think, can’t breathe. You feel like an idiot; this is what you get for letting your guard down. Jaemin can’t possibly want to be your friend - every single thing he does adds up to his schemes, plans you don’t want to get caught up in. You ignore his calls from behind you, but he catches up to you eventually by the side of the lane that leads to your house.

“You walk too fast,” Jaemin pants. His hair is in disarray from the running, his jacket halfway off his shoulder, and his cheeks flushed red.

“Jaemin,” you say as you stand there, frozen, “You’ve changed. And I don’t know you now. I’m sorry, but I think I really am afraid of you.”

You’re afraid of Jaemin, yes, but you’re also afraid of your heart.

Jaemin’s sharp intake of breath draws your attention, and you stand your ground as he walks closer to face you.

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin reasons, “It really isn’t.”

“When is it not like that, Jaemin?” you say, your voice heavy, “I’ve seen too many people cry by their lockers to believe that.”

Jaemin falls silent, and maybe you imagine it, but a flash of hurt makes its appearance across his face.

“Why do you do it?” you ask, your brows knitted. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Jaemin’s frown deepens. You know he probably won’t answer, that you’ll probably have to walk away soon. But he steps forward, his face barely a feet from yours as he speaks with uncharacteristic fear and sadness.

“Because I don’t want my heart to break,” his voice cracks, eyes shaking and looking down at his feet, and you feel pity among the mix of emotions stemming in you.

Before you can respond, Jaemin steps back. An almost inaudible ‘sorry’ escapes his mouth, as he turns around and leaves. And you let him leave, too confused with his answer, too confused with his actions, his smiles, his words, everything he does. You enter your bedroom with a heavy heart, and a nagging thought that you might have hurt Na Jaemin, a heartbreaker and a friend once upon a time.

Jaemin sighs as he hugs his pillow tighter, laying on his bed. Does he ever do anything right? Is he really as horrible as you think he is? He’s got so many questions he doesn’t have the answer to, and a hole beginning to form in his chest. Jaemin sighs once more, feeling anguish for the first time in a long time.

“Do you wanna talk about it? This is like- the eight hundredth time you’ve sighed,” Jeno says, not taking his eyes off his phone screen.

Jaemin sits up. He knows he called Jeno over; he’s the only one that listens as closely as Jaemin likes, but right now, he doesn’t feel like talking at all. Besides, Jeno’s too busy with the stupid game and it’s irking Jaemin even more.

“I messed up,” Jaemin says, finally.

“When do you not?”

Jaemin throws the pillow at Jeno, which effectively stops his gameplay. Jeno grins at Jaemin, who barely returns a smile before lying back down on the bed.

“Y/n should be the one here right now, not me,” Jeno says, “That is, if you want to talk it out.”

“I can’t do that,” Jaemin furrows his brows.

“Why not?”

“I’m- I’m not even that interested. Why should I waste any more time? It’s not like I’ll die without them,” he scoffs. “Maybe I should finally text that girl back. What’s her name again? Yoojung? Yoosung?”

Jeno stares at Jaemin, almost sighing. “You’re rambling out of bitterness now? You really did get feelings, didn’t you?”

“I did not!” Jaemin says, pitch a little higher.

Jeno sighs, leaning back against the wall. “I know you promised yourself you wouldn’t after…that. But I think it’s a good thing. And it’s y/n too! They know you best out of all the ones you’ve dated.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Which is surprising. This is the first time someone hasn’t fallen for you within two weeks.”

Jaemin makes a strangled noise, somewhat resembling a dinosaur as he turns the other way in his bed.

“It’s also surprising how you’re not running away,” Jeno says, raising his phone once more.

Jaemin turns his head at that.

“You’re afraid of real feelings, right? That’s why you run,” Jeno continues. “This time you’re not even facing reality.

“That’s not true! I…” Jaemin’s voice fades. It is true. He’s usually honest with himself and his feelings. And he knows real from fake. But this time, he’s not sure if he’s deluding himself for you. Is it because he missed you, missed being understood? Or did he decide he’s ready to fall in love again? Fear swells up in his chest at the thought. Absolutely not. He’s not giving away his own heart that easily, even if a part of him is ready to. But maybe, maybe he can let himself do it; maybe you’ll keep it safely with you.

“Talk to them,” Jeno repeats, attention already back to his game.

“Why did you bring me here?” you complain to a nervous-looking Jisung, shifting in his place.

“I- uh. I just thought- that uh, you know- maybe you’d socialize more um,” Jisung stutters.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re telling me that?”

Jisung looks away, and when he finds Chenle calling him, he looks almost relieved. He scrambles to his friend with a quick ‘bye!’, leaving you all the more suspicious.

It feels strange to be dragged to a party. It feels even stranger to be dragged to a party by Park Jisung. And to top all of it, it’s Na Jaemin’s party, the last person you want to see.

You contemplate leaving, but it’s Jisung who brought you here; and if he’s making an effort to socialize, the least you can do is appreciate it. But the music’s too loud, and there are too many people smelling like alcohol, too many couples making out and having fun for you to enjoy your time. Jaemin’s house might be more spacious than average, but it still feels too crowded, too suffocating for you to be in there. As the last of your patience fades, you make your way upstairs and into any quiet room you can find.

The bedroom you enter turns out to be Jaemin’s. You think you should leave; it’s not right to disrespect someone’s privacy, but you have nowhere else to go either.

The ticking clock gets on your nerve as you decide to walk around the room. The mirror is right by the window, and you remember drawing a moustache and a beard on it to substitute actual face painting. Jaemin had taken the marker and drawn spirals over your cheeks, as you whined at him to stop. You almost smile at the memory.

One of the drawers beside the mirror is left open; Jaemin’s still so careless, you realize with a huff. You turn to close it, but the sleek black diary catches your attention. Is it the one you and Jaemin used to draw in? You can’t help yourself as you take it out, promising you’ll keep it back immediately.

But the notebook you take out barely contains any drawings—it’s full of letters. There are hundreds, maybe more; each page is a short letter to someone and there are a few loose pages stuck hastily. It’s the words, however, that catch your attention.

Dear Chaerim,

I honestly do think your laugh is the sweetest. Please don’t feel insecure. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Haeun,

I admire your intelligence, your hard work. I know you have the brightest future ahead of you, don’t you worry about it. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Seohyun,

Your eye makeup is always lovely, as are your clothes. Don’t fuss over them too much. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Minsoo,

I loved making you smile, especially when your dimples showed. It looks much better than when you’re frowning. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Every line you read gives you strange sense of pain, like you feel the emotions the words were written with. Are these Jaemin’s words? Does he feel like this every time? If so, why does he still do it? After going through half the letters, you’re still nowhere near an answer. Midway through, a loose paper falls out. It’s a light shade of pink, contrasting with the faded white of the notebook pages, and the letter is only one line.

My dearest Jiwoo,

Why did you break my heart?

You sit on the bed, trying to understand Jaemin through the words he’s written. Is this Jiwoo the Park Jiwoo, Jaemin’s first real relationship, and perhaps… first love? An unknown feeling settles in your chest as your brain tries to figure out the boy you swore you wouldn’t care for anymore.

Footsteps break you out of your trance as you hastily shove the notebook into the drawer, shutting it close. You’re a little terrified to find Jaemin enter, his eyes shining as they meet yours.

You’ve never wanted to hold someone as much as you want to hold Jaemin as he looks at you with the sweetest, purest of expressions. When you watch him slowly make his way towards you, you let your fear reside. It’s just you and your feelings, and you have barely a few seconds to just let it be over with.

“Jaemin,” you gulp, when he sits beside you.

“Don’t,” he whispers, a faint smell of alcohol mixed with perfume wafting towards you.

Jaemin places a warm hand over your cheek, thumb moving in circles as a source of comfort. You breath hitches in your throat when he leans in, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You realize with a thud in your heart that you want him to kiss you. He stops a few centimetres away, not close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, but enough to see him eye to eye. Jaemin sits back straight, the warmth of his hand leaving your face and you, disappointed at the lack of touch.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asks.

You pause before nodding reluctantly. A defeated smile forms on his face.

“I never really want to, you know?” he continues, “But I’m always so afraid.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” you say, looking at your hands. “For overreacting that day.”

“No, no. You weren’t wrong.”

You look up back at Jaemin, and you can still find a hint of fear in the way the corner of his lips tremble.

“You’re worse than her, you know?” Jaemin smiles bitterly. “I’ve never been so afraid before.”

Jaemin takes your hand in his and slowly places it against his chest. His heart is hammering faster than yours, and you wonder how he’s keeping up his breathing. No matter how guarded you are, you think, Jaemin is more guarded.

“I am so, so afraid,” his breath hitches in his throat.

Jaemin leans in again, and this time you know your lips touching is inevitable. But he moves slow, and you find the fear in your heart spilling out the questions.

"You're...you're going to hurt me," you whisper, your eyelids flickering down halfway.

"I'm not playing this time," Jaemin's voice breaks, his words coming out as a whisper over your lips.

"Why?" you ask, doubt pooling in your chest.

"Because I'll lose."

Jaemin looks at you for a moment, and then he leans in once and for all, your lips meeting in a pending kiss. He pulls away several times to press more and more kisses against your mouth, as if he can't believe it, can't believe that he's actually kissing you. His grip around you tightens as he pulls you closer, and he hums against your mouth when you kiss him back.

You pull away with the need to breathe, and Jaemin begins to lean in again when you cup his face to stop him. You’ll admit this felt perfectly right, but there are things you have to make sure of.

“Jaemin,” you breathe. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“One drink isn’t enough for that, love,” he replies with a small smile.

“It’s still illegal,” you grumble before pausing. “You can promise me something, right?”

Jaemin looks at you, expecting you to continue.

“Don’t break my heart,” you say, your voice small.

“I should be telling you that,” Jaemin says with a laugh before placing his mouth over yours once again. You smile into the kiss, and he does, too. Whatever this is, you’re willing to give it a chance. You think it’s time your heart is let out of its cage.

Everyone starts school the next day with a letter in their locker. There are mixed emotions—mostly bittersweet, some forgiving and some upset. But Jaemin still stands with a polite smile and apologetic words, and an added gaze full of affection towards you. If it’s for you, he thinks, he’s willing to start fresh. Besides, he’s wanted to apologize for a while now.

Jaemin finds that once he starts kissing you, he can’t stop. It doesn’t matter to him anymore, the others. He can only see you, hear you, feel you, and it’s a new yet much longed for feeling that he’s experiencing. Jaemin isn’t afraid anymore, even more so after a few months, even during graduation. It’s like learning to trust all over again, like experiencing freedom for the first time. Jaemin finds himself smiling often, happy smiles. His heart that was once broken into pieces, that he once had to glue back all by himself now has you and your heart to take care of it.

[supimjustwriting]

Existing but not Present

Flare OneShot (Featuring my self OC Francine Kirkland/Fern)

Trigger warnings: Themes of Anxiety, Self hate, Depression, Mental Illness in general

If you have been feeling anything similar to what is written below the cut or in the warnings above. Please seek help. Professional help. Yes, talking to friends can help but sometimes it’s not enough. It’s okay to ask for help and if you ever want to talk I’m always willing to lend an ear. Remember to Always keep fighting.

Summary: I can’t let people worry about me. Their feelings and safety come first. I must do everything alone and show them I’m as strong as they believe I am. Will I ever be found? I don’t want to be found. Happiness is a lie at someone else’s expense. As long as they can smile. I don’t mind dying on the inside.

Requested by @flaredarkstorm Based off the Song Purity ~ Slipknot Listen to the song Here. Warning Explicit. 

‘How long has it been since I last went out of bed?”

Everything comes in flashes and blurs. Screaming, sobs, gun shots, the earth falling beneath my feet. It’s so vivid, yet here I am just laying on my fluffy bed. God, I can’t even tell who’s screaming anymore.

A familiar ring tickles my ears causing me to look over to my bedside table. Pushing aside loose papers and the odd trinket, I groan softly from the bright light. 6 new text messages and 1 voice mails. All under the name Francine Kirkland.

Monday 10am Sup daddyo! How’s it going? I haven’t heard from you in awhile.

Monday 3pm Cinder, Sunshine and I are going for a walk. Want to come? I don’t mind waiting around the park for you. I’m sure the dogs would love to see you as well. I hope you’re eating well. Love you dad.

Wednesday 6am The cats are begging for breakfast an hour early. Send help and by help I mean cat treats. I hope your morning started out much, much better. Take care papa. I worry about you, you know.

Wednesday 6pm Having dinner with the pets! Been sneaking them all some steamed broccoli. Some have been just storing it and stinking up the house. (I’m looking at you Sunshine.) Any who. Is it alright if I visit soon?

Thursday 8am I’m taking the silence as a yes! I’ll text you an hour before I get there. Please be alive. I love you and I miss you a lot.

Today 2pm

You’re in luck! I’m running late but I’m coming for a visit alright? I apologize in advance if you’re busy. I don’t mind a hi and goodbye. I just want to see if you’re alright. See you soon! You have one unheard message. Press one to listen to them. *beep*

Wednesday xx at 6:13am

*angry meows could be heard in the background* Since my messages didn’t wake you up I thought a phone call might. *yawns*

God, I’m tired. Though I hope you’ve been well. The fur babies have been keeping me busy and the house lively.

So, I thought some noise might’ve been good for you. Take care dad, love ya.

I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head at the sight. ‘She acts more like a mother than a daughter at times. Fern really shouldn’t waste time doting on me. I know her intentions are for the best but her smile is sometimes just a slap in the face. I can’t let her see me like this.’ Shaking myself from my thoughts. I try my best to tidy myself up.

~

Around 3:30pm, a knock could be heard upon my door.

“Papa! Are you home? I brought food!” called a cheerfully familiar voice.

I open the door with a closed eyed smile, ruffling the short girl’s hair.

“How’s it been? I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. I’ve been busy,” I mentally curse at my throbbing head. Why the hell did it have to start now. I clear the lump in my throat before letting my daughter inside.

The young one quickly made herself at home, taking her shoes off at the front door before heading to the kitchen table to place her gifts.

“I can help-” “Not another word. Don’t think I wouldn’t catch you not being 100%! So, please papa. Just sit down and relax. I’ll be sure to take care of everything,” the dark haired girl gave me a playful salute before herding me to my sofa. ‘Such a mother hen,’ I thought to myself, rolling my eyes.

“My house. My rules. I’m at least gonna make the tea and then rest, alright?”

Her puffed up cheeks cause a chuckle to escape my lips. ‘Did I really deserve to laugh after everything I’ve done? Even Francine is treating me as if I’m-” Shaking myself free from the intrusive thoughts. I head to the kitchen, prepping our favourite drink. Peppermint tea.

~

Brown eyes gazed up at me expectantly. An arrangement of sweets between us, followed by two cups of steaming tea.

“So, papa. How’s life?”

‘Suffocating. My head’s been throbbing since you got here because of all the past bullshit I’ve been through and here you are smiling as if nothing is wrong. So, swell. Life is simply swell.’

“It’s going well. Same old. Same old. How are you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kids? New pets?” I mirror her bright smile, taking a sip of my tea. Mentally chuckling at her flushed cheeks.

“Same-Same old. Same old as well. You know I’m not one for dating anyways,” she chastised gently, stuffing her cheeks with cake. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a brow raised, “Are you sure everything is well? You always give me the same answer and it’s starting to feel scripted,” a nervous chuckle escaped Fern as she raised her hands in defense. “Of course you don’t have to tell me! I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. I know I won’t understand everything but at least talking about it could help, right?”

Finishing off my tea. I stand up ruffling away Fern’s doubts. “I promise you if anything comes up I’ll tell you. I love you Fern.”

“I love you too papa,”

~

Hours of chatter later and she’s finally gone. A breath I never knew I was holding escapes me as I watch the brunette head home.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I enter my cage I call a home. Slamming my fist against the wall causing it to crack.

“If only I could destroyed as easily,”

A bitter laugh escapes me as the annoying smile flashed through my head again. No matter how many times you ask. No matter how many times I tell you. You’ll never understand. All you ever do is repeat the same kind words and flash that same damn smile.“

“There’s something in you I despise. Purity” 

[vantaestummy]

Morning Sickness V.S. Stomach Bug 😣

The request: Hi, I just wanted to say I absolutely loveeeee your taegi fic it is absolutely precious!!! After reading it I couldn’t stop thinking about if yoogi was having a bad bout of morning sickness and tae starts to feel really sick and he thinks it may just be sympathy sickness but it turns out he has the stomach flu so they have to take care of each other while watching little Tasesong! I love all your writing by the way it is so amazing and I always look forward to your new stories!!!

TW/// emeto, mpreg, minor scat

Yoongi woke up just knowing that he was going to be puking his guts out today. The baby inside of him was acting up and of course, on his one day off this week, he was going to be sick.

He gets up slowly, as to not wake his husband from his sleep before attempting to make him something to soothe his stomach. The doctor told him to try and eat first before resorting to the pregnancy pops because sometimes, the nausea in the morning is just a fluke.

But as soon as Yoongi gets a whiff of his ingredients for breakfast, he’s off and running to the bathroom, a hand clamped over his mouth to trap the sick that has somehow built there so quickly.

Yoongi gags over the toilet, trickles of last nights dinner flowing freely from his mouth. He burps, the floodgates opening as a thick stream of undigested meat and bile plops into the toilet. He suddenly feels a hand on his back, rubbing calm, soft circles into the fabric of his shirt as he chokes and gags.

“Good morning love.” Taehyung murmurs sympathetically. Yoongi spits into the toilet, his breathing labored as his breaths send ripples through the murky toilet water.

“Morning...” He exhales, his arms crossed over the toilet seat. He should be really disgusted right now but he’s so nauseous that he can’t bring himself to care about his placement on the toilet.

The pitter patter of tiny footsteps echoes throughout the halls, their little baby awake and lively. Yoongi places a hand against Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Go feed him, I’ll be okay.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem too convinced as he notices the wince that crosses his husband’s features.

“Love, are you sure?”

Yoongi nods, his nausea building up once again, ready to take shape in the form of more puke.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Taehyung sighs before kissing Yoongi’s hair, knowing that he has to step up and take care of their child.

“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Let me know if you need anything.”

Yoongi swallows thickly as Taehyung makes to leave. “And Tae?”

Taehyung stops in the doorway, his hands curled along the frame. “Yeah baby?”

“Don’t let him see me like this, okay? I don’t want him to be worried.”

Taehyung simply nods, knowing he can’t make any promises, but will promise to do his best.

“Okay.”

Taesong is playing with his toys in the living room when Taehyung arrives. As soon as the boy lays eyes on his father, he’s on his tiny feet, running toward the man who looks as tall as a skyscraper, begging to be closer to him.

“Dada!”

“Morning tiger!” Taehyung growls playfully as he picks his son up and spins him around, the boy giggling immensely and squealing in excitement. Taehyung can’t help but to be a little, dizzy. “How does your stomach feel baby?”

Taesong was to taken to the children’s hospital a day ago because he had eaten something so bad, that he had been throwing up all night. Yoongi and Taehyung both were worried sick, the pregnant male couldn’t stop crying even, and the sight made Taehyung feel just terrible.

Thankfully, it was only a 24 hour thing.

Taesong begins to beam. “Good. Where’s Papa?”

Taehyung’s jaw stiffens. “Papa is a little sleepy, but he’ll see you soon, alright?”

Taesong pouts but, nods anyway, patting his father’s shoulders.

“Pancakes!”

Taehyung laughs before kissing his son on the nose.

“Yes, pancakes.”

Once breakfast is through, Taehyung checks to find Yoongi still hovering over the toilet, his head buried deep into his arms. Taehyung shuts the door.

“Baby, are you still feeling sick? Why don’t we try some of those remedies that the doctor gave you?” Taehyung asks, his own stomach feeling a bit... funny. Perhaps it’s the smell of vomit that inhabits the bathroom.

Yoongi groans, the sound of despair making Taehyung’s heart wrench with hurt.

“If I even try to swallow something I’ll just throw it back up Tae... I’m gonna be in here all fucking day.”

Taehyung sighs as he sinks to his knees, running a hand up and down Yoongi’s spine and waiting for the inevitable. It doesn’t take that long, as Yoongi is gripping the toilet again, a grated heave ripping through his throat and echoing off the tiles as he pukes up another bout of chunky vomit.

The sight however, for some unknown reason, really gets to Taehyung, and the other male finds that his own stomach is convulsing. He doesn’t even have time to think before he rushes to the sink, a mouthful of saliva spilling from his lips and draping down his chin. Through the haze of confusion, Taehyung gags, puke spurting from his lips and landing in the sink.

Yoongi coughs. “Babe... did you just throw up too?”

Taehyung sniffles, wiping the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand.

“I think I’m just a little sympathy sick love. Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

Yoongi frowns, still nauseous but, his stomach empty for now.

“Tae... you don’t get sympathy sick.”

Taehyung coughs a bit, his throat feeling sore and the rancid taste in his mouth nearly sending him over the edge, the sour taste of undigested chocolate pancakes forcing his stomach into overdrive. He retches, spurts of vomit sprinkling into the sink as his shoulders roll and his spine curves. Taehyung sputters, a quick attempt to breathe.

“I know b-but... I did just eat... I should have waited a little while longer...”

Yoongi blows his nose with a wad of tissue before flushing the toilet, slowly standing with a slight waddle, his round belly throwing him off kilter a bit. He pats Taehyung’s back as he gets sick again.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Papa? Dada? I wanna play...”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, the realization dawning on him quickly.

Shit.

No wonder Taesong was throwing up like crazy a few days ago. He didn’t have food poisoning.

He had a stomach bug.

But it seems to have affected Taehyung in more ways than one.

“Baby, I gotta use the bathroom, not only that but... I can’t get you sick. Please, look after Tae for me?”

Yoongi doesn’t feel right, leaving Taehyung alone. His husband was always there for him when he was stuck in the bathroom, throwing up because of the the baby. Now he’s just asking Yoongi to leave like it’s nothing?

“Tae I don’t want to leave you in here alone.” Yoongi argues.

“Hyung, please.” The look in Taehyung’s eyes is so sorrowful, so desperate, that Yoongi feels no choice but to comply. He quickly rinses his mouth out before kissing the taller man’s cheek and coming face to face, or rather, face to knee, with their baby boy.

“Papa!” Taesong squeals. Yoongi picks the baby up, holding him close and truly missing the sight of him this morning as he balances the child on his hip. He can hear Taehyung moaning and groaning through the door so, he carries the baby away from the noise so that he doesn’t ask questions.

But their son has always been curious at heart. He’s just like his father after all.

“Is Dada okay?”

Yoongi forces a gummy smile. “Yeah baby. Dada is okay. He was helping take care of me. Why don’t we watch cartoons?” Yoongi asks, not really wanting to distract their child with technology like many improper parents, but he doesn’t feel like he has a choice in this situation. Thankfully, Taesong’s eyes light up.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet as his stomach wreaks havoc upon him. He is holding the trash can in his lap, steadily burping vomiting into it for who knows how long, the bin nearly filled as he heaved over and over again. After what feels like forever, there’s a knock on the door.

“Tae? Baby? I just put Taesong down for his nap. How are you doing in there.”

Taehyung gags uselessly, his stomach seemingly empty but sore and aggravated.

“I think I caught his bug baby... I don’t want you to catch it too.” Taehyung whimpers. He can hear Yoongi sigh through the door.

“Can I come in love? Let me take care of you. I already throw up all the time. A bug won’t bother me that much.” Yoongi teases lightheartedly.

Taehyung feels humiliated, pathetic even, having his pregnant husband care for him like this when he should be the one helping the whole family. But right now, in his ill state, he can’t help but to say yes.

“C-Come in...” Taehyung groans as the door slowly squeaks open. Yoongi pouts, quickly grabbing a washcloth and dabbing Taehyung’s sweaty forehead.

“Oh Taehyungie... you must be feeling awful... Let’s wash you up so that you can sleep too.” Yoongi says with a soft smile. The sight makes Taehyung’s heart flutter, even when feeling so nauseous and constipated.

Together, they wash Taehyung up with a quick rinse of the shower head before dressing him into a fresh pair of clothes. As much as Yoongi would love to cuddle with him, Taehyung asks that he also take a quick shower so that he doesn’t catch whatever bug he has.

Taehyung chooses to sleep on the couch, much to Yoongi’s dismay, but the next day, not only is he feeling better, but Yoongi is feeling fine too, and they all take a family trip to the park, the sight of their son so happy and making new friends, that they forget all about the retched stomach bug that plagued their home.

[movedkagen]

it’s  always  snowing .

kenta  doesn’t  remember  the  last  time  he  saw  fresh  grass .  he’s  so  far  north ,  snow  is  a  near  constant  on  the  mountains ,  a  light  dusting  even  in  spring .  the  grass  is  prettier  in  the  warmer  months ,  but  with  less  clouds  in  the  sky  obstructing  the  sun ,  he  rarely  gets  to  see  them  in  full  bloom .  

it’s  snowing  today .  he  knows  that  today  is  a  day  where  fuyumi  may  be  a  little  weaker ,  may  be  a  little  sicker .  he’s  by  no  means  an  intelligent  man ,  but  he’s  become  fluent  in  the  study  of  his  only  neighbor .  when  it  was  snowy ,  cold ,  or  windy ,  she  would  become  plagued  by  coughing  fits .  work  would  be  harder  for  her .  the  pallor  in  her  cheeks  would  bloom  in  deep  pinks  and  reds ,  and  her  hands ,  frigid  and  almost  cyanotic  at  the  tips  of  her  fingers ,  would  tremble  as  they  concealed  the  spasming  of  her  lungs .

he  would  worry  about  her  immensely  during  those  times .  she  would  insist  she  was  fine ,  that  it  would  pass ,  but  kenta  understood  sickness   ---   he  knew  that  it  would  until  it  wouldn’t ,  that  every  coughing  fit  brought  her  closer  to  her  last ,  and  then  she  would  be  gone  and  he  would  be  alone  again .

it  didn’t  seem  fair  to  him  ;  fuyumi  was ,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned ,  a  good  person .  she  was  kind ,  if  not  a  little  sad .  good ,  if  not  a  little  lonely .  she  made  wonderful  stews .  when  she  laughed ,  her  cheeks  would  always  tinge  with  rose  in  a  way  that  his  never  had ,  causing  spring  to  bloom  in  his  chest ,  and  her  laugh  . . .  it  was  lovelier  to  him  than  the  sound  of  birds  in  the  morning ,  lighter  than  the  evening  zephyrs  that  would  wake  him  from  sleep .  he’d  never  seen  someone  so  wonderful ,  and  while  she  was  the  first  human  he’d  ever  met ,  he  was  sure  she  was  the  most  breathtaking .  

taking  care  of  fuyumi  had  become  his  own  task  to  carry ;  losing  his  father  had  been  hard ,  but  if  the  world  had  her  in  it ,  it  was  still  good .  he  could  still  be  of  use  if  he  could  make  her  life  a  little  easier  ---  and  so  he  had .  without  being  asked  ---  and  more  often  against  her  own  protests  ---  kenta  had  made  it  his  personal  duty  to  care  for  her .

he’d  found  her  collapsed  after  chopping  firewood ,  so  he’d  ensured  she  never  had  to  chop  wood  again .  every  week ,  he  would  run  up  and  down  the  mountain  two  or  three  times  collecting  the  wood  he’d  gathered  and  storing  it  for  her .  when  he  noticed  how  hard  it  was  for  her  to  get  a  hold  of  meat ,  kenta  would  spend  his  nights  (  and  the  days  that  would  allow  it  )  hunting  pheasants  and  boars .  when  he  noticed  cleaning  them  would  take  her  hours ,  sometimes ,  he  would  come  with  them  decapitated ,  skinned ,  and  bled ,  and  then  he  would  insist  on  being  the  one  to  cut  them  into  pieces .  and  then  she  would  lie  to  him  ---  she  would  say  he  didn’t  have  to  do  any  of  those  things ,  that  she  had  no  way  of  repaying  him ,  but  every  time  he  would  come  down  the  mountain  he  would  be  greeted  with  a  smile  that  would  pay  him  in  full .  for  that  warmth ,  that  favor ,  he  was  certain  he’d  explore  the  mountains  a  hundred  times  over ,  combing  every  crevice  for  something  to  bring  home .  

kenta  knew  she’d  always  found  him  strange ,  in  that  regard .  she  claimed  no  man  ever  did  anything  like  that  for  free  ---  but  it  wasn’t  for  free .  the  warm  bowl  in  his  hands  and  the  company  she’d  offer  was  plenty  payment ,  she  just  never  realized  its  value .  even  when  he  tried  to  tell  her ,  she  would  insist  he  was  still  strange .  he  could  never  understand  why .  after  all ,  she  couldn’t  finish  most  of  her  chores  without  fighting  to  breathe  ---  why ,  then ,  was  an  allergy  to  wisteria  so  far - fetched ? it  made  his  throat  burn  so  badly  he  felt  as  though  he  couldn’t  breathe .  his  allergy  to  the  sun  was  admittedly  much  stranger  . . .  but  with  her  so  pale  her  fingers  were  almost  blue ,  she  ought  to  have  understood  that .  i’m  not  strange ,  he  would  think . i’m  just  different .  i’m  like  you .  that’s  why  we  need  to  stay  together .  because  if  we  don’t  take  care  of  each  other ,  who  else  will ?  

odd  as  she  found  him ,  she’d  accepted  him ,  nevertheless .  and  from  there ,  things  only  became  easier .  her  smile  only  became  warmer .  he’d  stopped  aching  for  morning  because  his  days  had  become  brighter  ---  he  preferred  the  soft  glow  of  her  eyes  to  the  rays  of  the  sun .  what  was  the  difference  between  a  spring  day  and  the  warmth  of  her  hearth ,  anyway ?  it  was  nothing  that  mattered  to  him .  

she  would  be  his  spring ;  her  smile  would  be  the  sun .  her  cheeks  would  be  the  flowers .  her  tears  would  be  his  rainfall .  her  voice ,  saying   “ welcome  home ”  would  replace  the  morning  songs  of  birds .  ladybugs  and  caterpillars  would  crawl  over  his  skin  in  the  form  of  her  fingers  on  his  arm ,  shyly  creeping  up  from  his  knuckles ,  fluttering  away  before  he  could  catch  them .  the  smell  of  sweet  nectar  rose  better  from  her  skin  after  a  bath  than  any  flowers  he’d  ever  encountered .  and  suddenly ,  despite  his  fear  of  the  sun ,  spring  was  his  favorite  season .  

the  snow  and  the  clouds  no  longer  offered  him  security ;  no ,  they  smothered  his  sun ,  his  flowers ,  his  rain ,  his  birdsongs ,  his  ladybugs  and  his  nectar .  he  hated  winter ,  for  that .  but  he  would  still  stay  by  her  side ,  on  cold  nights  like  these ,  because  he  would  not  allow  winter  to  hurt  her  anymore .

they’re  smoking  fish  when  the  coughing  starts .  already ,  he  counts  this  as  a  failure  ---  he  should  have  known  and  prepared ,  better ,  but  in  the  very  least  his  reaction  is  quick .   ❛  ---  fuyumi ?  i’m  sorry .  here ,  let  me  ---  ❜   he  rushes  to  open  the  window ,  then  grabs  a  cloth  and  stumbles  back  to  the  ground  to  press  it  to  her  nose  and  mouth  so  that  she  doesn’t  inhale  any  more  smoke  while  the  room  clears .  the  smoke  makes  his  eyes  water  a  little ,  but  he  doesn’t  worry  about  it  ---  this  is  his  fault ,  anyway .   ❛  i’m  awful  sorry ,  fuyumi .  it’s  all  my  fault .  i  was  just  thinkin ’  about  keepin’  you  warm .  ❜  fuyumi  looks  at  him  incredulously ,  and  he’s  sure  it’s  because  she’s  thinking  that  he’s  a  real  fool .  he  smiles  sheepishly ,  because  she’s  right .

the  smoke  fills  his  lungs  and  makes  his  chest  tight ,  but  he  knows  it  will  be  over  soon .  he  pulls  her  closer ,  presses  the  cloth  a  bit  tighter .  if  it’s  affecting  him ,  he’s  worried  about  what  it  will  do  to  her .  after  all ,  he’s  strong  ---  smoke  and  fire  almost  never  bothered  him .  this  smoke  was  worse .  he  knows  it  because  there’s  real  fear  in  fuyumi’s  eyes ,  now .  he  feels  it  making  his  eyes  water  profusely , all  of  a  sudden ,  the  tightness  in  his  chest  feeling  crushing .  it’s  getting  hard  for  him  to  breathe ;  all  he  worries  about ,  however ,  is  fuyumi .  he  has  to  protect  her .   ❛  . . .  i  think  we  should  go  outside .  hold  that  napkin  tight ,  now .  i’ll  carry  you .  ❜   he  reaches  under  her  knees  to  hoist  her  up ,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life ,  he  can’t .

he  falls  backwards .

suddenly ,  the  room  spins .  kenta  feels  ill ,  really  ill  ,  like  he  does  when  he’s  around  wisteria .  what  was  in  that  smoke  . . . ?  he  doesn’t  realize  the  smoke’s  been  cleared  for  a  while ,  now .  he  doesn’t  realize  that  fuyumi’s  stopped  coughing  since  the  beginning ,  and  a  surge  of  panic  washes  over  him  as  she lowers  the  cloth  from  her  nose ,  exposing  a  horrified ,  pale  face .   ❛  fuyumi  !  what’re  ya  doin’  ?! you’re  gonna  get  sick  ---   ❜  he  rushes  to  reach  for  the  napkin,  only  to  realize  the  hand  he’s  stretched  forth  is  half  missing .  

that’s  new .  where  are  his  fingers  going  ?  he  forgets  his  concern  for  a  moment  to  bring  the  hand  closer ,  watching  his  pinky  and  ring  finger  crumble  and  float  away ,  carried  by  a  gentle  breeze  out  of  the  open  window .  he  looks  back  at  fuyumi ,  and  realizes  the  horror  isn’t  from  the  smoke .  it’s  from  him .  something  is  happening  to  him .  something  . . .  something  is  happening .

he  doesn’t  speak  again  until  she  opens  her  mouth .  ❛  don’t  go  breathin’  it  in,  you  dummy  ---   ❜   but  he’s  interrupted  by  a  scream .  her  scream .  these  tears  aren’t  his  gentle  spring  showers  ---  they’re  a  tsunami ,  a  violent  wave  of  emotion  washing  over  her ,  and  he  feels  himself  go  dizzy  when  her  hands,  usually  so  shaky ,  grab  him  and  yank  him  closer .  when  did  she  go  and  get  so  strong ?  she’s  clutching  him  to  her  chest ,  begging  every  god  he’s  ever  heard  of  in  a  fit  of  sobs . no ,  no ,  not  him .  please ,  not  him .  he’s  not  supposed  to  die  ---  i  am !  don’t  take  him ,  please  !  not  him ,  she  repeats ,  over  and  over ,  and  while  her  tears  fall  onto  his  skin ,  he  finds  himself  even  more  confused  than  before .

wasn’t  he  the  one  protecting  her  ?

fuyumi  buries  her  face  into  his  chest ,  hysterics  seeming  to  have  no  end .  she  clings  to  him  with  such  tenacity  that  kenta  thinks  not  even  death  could  tear  him  from  her  arms .  but  with  every  second ,  he  feels  himself  get  weaker ,  feels  himself  wither  away .  his  legs  are  gone .  whatever  is  happening ,  it’s  happening  quickly .  he  doesn’t  know  the  what  or  how  or  why  ---  just  the  when ,  and  that  it  is  any  second ,  now .  ❛  fuyumi ---  come  on ,  look  at  me .  ❜

his  gentle  plea  wills  her  to  look  up ,  tears  streaming  down  her  face ,  eyes  and  cheeks  red  with  agony .  he  doesn’t  think  he’s  ever  seen  her  so  sad .  ❛  you’re  breakin’  my  heart ,  fuyumi .  i’m  gonna  be  okay .   ❜  kenta  watches  her  lip  tremble ,  knows  she’s  going  to  argue  with  him  ---  so  he  kisses  her .  he’s  always  wondered  what  that  would  feel  like .  he  never  did  because  he  was  afraid  she  would  push  him  away .

her  lips  are  soft  and  warm,  but  he  thinks  the  kiss  shouldn’t  be  this  wet .  he  pulls  away  gently ,  licking  her  tears  away  from  his  lips .  ❛  don’t  say  nothin’  about  me  not  knowing .  i’m  fine ,  fuyumi .  i  am .   ❜  he  reassures  her ,  then  lies  back  in  her  arms  and  smiles  a  little .  despite  being  a  little  weak ,  the  smile  is  genuine .  somehow ,  right  now ,  he  feels  happy .  giddy ,  even .  he  thinks  kissing  fuyumi  might  have  been  the  best  thing  in  the  world .  ❛  i  feel  really  good ,   ❜  kenta  promises ,  and  fuyumi’s  tears  still  fall ,  though  she’s  quieter ,  now .

she  looks  so  sad  ---  he’s  never  seen  her  quite  so  crestfallen ,  and  he  can’t  stand  that  he’s  causing  it .  ❛  don’t  look  like  that ,  okay  ? smile .  i’m  smilin’ .  see ?   ❜  and  she  hiccups ,  her  voice  small  and  broken : how  can  i  smile  right  now  ? ,  she  asks  and  he  hears  that  it  may  be  impossible .

❛  you  should  smile ,   ❜   he  says ,  his  voice  peaceful .  the  world  is  cruel , she  whispers ,  but  he  knows  she’s  coming  around .  fuyumi  just  needed  a  little  push .   ❛  ---  the  world  ain’t  cruel ,   ❜  kenta  replies .

❛  the  world  is  good .  it  has  you  in  it .  and  it  has  me ,  so  i  could  be  with  you .  ‘fore  that ,  you  n’  me  were  alone .  but  the  world  let  us  be  together .  i  can’t  think  of  anythin’  more  wonderful  than  that .  so  i’m  happy ,  fuyumi .  n’  you  should  be ,  too .   ❜  he  sounds  so  wise ,  but  then  he  pauses .  ❛  ---  sorry  i  kissed  you ,   ❜   he  adds ,  and  the  footnote  is  so  ridiculous ,  she  laughs .  it’s  a  sad  laugh ,  but  he’ll  take  it . it’s  okay , she  says . i’m  sorry  i  got  tears  in  it .

he  smiles  again .  ❛  it’s  alright .  i  shoulda  done  it  when  you  weren’t  cryin’ .   ❜  he  wants  to  reach  for  her ,  but  his  hands  are  gone ,  and  most  of  his  arms  are  following  suit .  ❛  smile ,  fuyumi .   ❜  he  urges .  he  feels  one  eye  is  gone ,  and  before  he  loses  the  next ,  he  just  wants  to  see  her  smile .  thankfully ,  she  does .  it’s  tear - stricken  and  weak ,  but  he  knows  it’s  genuine .  good .

i  love  you ,  kenta .

what  was  there  to  be  sad  about ?  he  felt  like  he  was  floating .  maybe  he  was .  he  grins  .  he  wants  to  say  it  back ,  but  . . .  time  is  not  his  ally .  gone  is  the  grin ,  gone  is  any  solid  piece  of  him  left .  he  wanted  to  tell  her   . . .  he  wanted  to  tell  her  so  badly .

he  hopes  she  knows .

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 54

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Fifty-Four CHILL-ax during Happy Horse Week!

The decorations were approved by other clubs while the few votes against them were roundly ignored. It helped that gave everyone a goodie bag and had a snack table set up with their treats and cups of apple cider mixed with ginger ale. The marble balloons had been turned into arches and pillars. She’d borrowed the flag banners from Jorvik Stable to show off what things would look like complete with hay bales.

The Councilman hadn’t been too happy about the hay bales, but Kate had promised to clean.

Everyone was relieved that Lily was okay. And they were more than willing to take shifts at the council house in order to help make the decorations they needed between breaks in training. Training that was more important than they realized.

In fact, it was Herman that clued Lily in as she waited her turn to run through the show jumping event set up in the Arena.

“Really looking forward to seeing all you girls at the County Fair this year,” he said with a big grin on his face. Leaning against the fence of the riding arena he looked almost lazy as he watched the girls.

Lily looked down at him and put a hand on her horse’s neck. “Herman, I think you’re forgetting that most of us have never lived here before. Or should I be asking Linda or Pauline?”

Herman glanced up, the grin didn’t fade. “Didn’t forget. Didn’t know you didn’t know.”

Lily rolled her eyes. Her stallion tossed his mane.

“There’s an eventing contest held at the County Fair every year. It’s the first qualifier for the Claymore Challenge. Every club comes and tries out. Course, last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, was just the Bobcats and the Bulldogz. Be nice to see them have a bit of competition.”

Lily’s brow furrowed. “But we’re collecting ribbons,” she said slowly drawing it out.

“Gotta train your horse and get it into condition so it knows what it’s doing. Practice is one thing, Lily girl, doing exhibition is another. The lights, the crowds, you don’t know how your horse is going to react. Depends on the crowd too.” Herman sucked his teeth. “Yep, some mighty fine riders in practice can’t make it through exhibitions.”

Lily pressed her tongue to her back teeth and looked off to the side as her brows furrowed. “Qualifiers,” she said after a few moments and not coming into any conclusions.

“Yep, helps me winnow it down. I know you’re all doing well in your ribbons. You can’t all go to the Claymore Challenge as much as I’d like to send you all. One Club per county. Thems the rules.”

Lily looked down at him. “I wasn’t given any rule list when I made the club. How many members are we allowed to have maximum anyways?”

“Fifty.”

Lily blinked. There went the plan to merge clubs to get around that pesky rule. “Well, we’re a bit beyond 100 people, Herman. I think we’re hitting closer to 200.”

Herman grinned. “And you wouldn’t believe how proud I am of that, all of you choosing to leave Moorland and form clubs to help out the district. Brings a tear to me old eyes, it does.”

Lily snorted. She shifted her attention. Tracey rode around the track keeping her posture upright as her stallion took the turns.

“You’re doing good things,” Herman rocked back and forth on his feet.

“If you say so,” Lily glanced back at him.

“You don’t think so?”

“I think I’m doing what needs to be done whether it’s good or bad, I can’t say.” Lily gripped the reins in her hands turning them over between her fingers. “I’m doing the best I can or we are, or I hope we are. One never knows. You have a lot of things you don’t tell newcomers, like, qualifiers being at the County Fair.”

Herman chuckled. “You’re revitalizing this county.”

“You didn’t need me for that, you just needed to act.”

“Mrs. X of CHILL wants to meet you,” Herman said.

“Fancy that,” Lily said in a dry voice. “I’m not surprised.”

“Alone.”

“Of course,” Lily murmured. “Because what other way do you meet the leader of a secret organization that,” she paused. “What does CHILL do?”

“Put nails in the road for G.E.D.,” Herman said.

“Your horse idioms are so lovely, Herman,” Lily said. “Where is she?”

“Observatory 12 in Epona.”

Lily backed her stallion away from the fence. “And let me guess, she wants to see me as soon as possible.”

“You know how this works.”

“Way too many crime shows, way, way too many.”

Herman laughed.

“How cliché can you get?” Lily muttered and nudged her horse into a trot. The nearest transport to the Observatory was in Crescent Moon Village she thought. Hillcrest and the Dews Farm in Epona were getting transports set up still. Hillcrest’s was in need of a major repair since someone had tried to use the truck to ram the wall. (It hadn’t worked.)

She took the transport to Crescent Moon Village and went directly down the road through the Marsh and up the side of the mountain to the Observatory perched on the edge of the Cauldron opposite of Hillcrest.

Dismounting, she opened the huge doors of the observatory a crack and slipped inside.

It wasn’t as dark as she’d thought it be. Sunlight streamed in through the small windows illuminating the place.

“I’m glad you came,” Mrs. X said from the middle of the room. She smoothed the skirt of her ankle length green dress, but a deep hood obscured her face.

Lily stepped closer. Mrs. X’s face was also covered with a mask. Crossing her arms, Lily stopped. “I don’t deal with people who hide their faces.”

“My identity is a closely guarded secret, one I’d like to keep that way.”

Lily pressed her lips together. “You’re either trying to recruit me. Or, you have a message for me. Spit it out one or the other.”

“You’ve impressed me.”

“Funny, you don’t sound impressed.”

“You’ve interfered with a major operation. Hillcrest is only a small part of the G.E.D.’s plans for the Harvest and Epona Districts. You’ve set me back months of work.”

“You, lady, are a vigilante.” Lily lifted a finger off of her arm. “You run around in the shadows not sharing information with the authorities, and causing more problems than you solve because you won’t work within the boundaries of the law.”

“The law has failed us.”

“So, Bernie Winterwell didn’t want to leave his house and was happy to be bribed. Was it a moral failing? Or is House of Winterwell in dire straits? Or is there another reason? I don’t know. I don’t care. If Baron Winterwell isn’t doing what you need to do, you go to Count Marchenghast.”

“He’s ill. The Countess is overwhelmed. They’re too young and inexperienced to handle the G.E.D.”

Lily’s lips parted. “Really? Because, Mrs. X., I’m what, sixteen, and I’ve handled them just fine by oh, seeing that they don’t have the proper paperwork or you know, put people in actual danger and taken this to the people in charge like the Rangers and the nobles who run this county and they’ve managed to take care of things with the information me and my girls have provided them. I do not feel that the people of Hillcrest are an acceptable sacrifice so you can try to stop the grander scheme and get the higher ups.”

“You are too young to understand.”

“I understand that right now you’re no better than the druids, most of whom, also wear hoods and also, who I will not have anything to do with unless they show their faces. Here’s my message to you, it’s the same one I gave to Elizabeth Sunbeam. You lead and take action instead of observing and waiting. You follow. Or you get the hell out of my way. The people of Hillcrest will not thank you for standing by and watching.”

“Jarlaheim is in great danger. You don’t understand how great.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yes. We know. You remember Mayor Elaine. She was in Hillcrest. She knew what Ms. Drake was up to. Ms. Drake has been arrested. Given her lawyers, she probably won’t be in there for long. But it’s a good way to stall them and give time for Mayor Elaine to recover and take control over Jarlaheim.” Lily turned on her toe and grabbed the door. Pulling it open, she looked over her shoulder. “Come out of the shadows, Mrs. X, and into the light.” She walked out shutting the door gently behind her.

“People,” she said to her stallion.

He whuffled.

Lily mounted and turned him around down the mountain. “Vigilantism, peh.”

He nodded his head.

“Jarlaheim is in great danger,” Lily mocked. “Gee, you think? I mean, there aren’t four dig sites around the place, probably illegal dig sites, run by the G.E.D. if it’s not in great danger. Like, I don’t have girls in every stable and town and farm in this county by now. And do you know what we teenage girls like to do?”

He knocked his ear back seemingly interested.

“Share information. People might call this gossip. Because they only hear about who is dating who and who is fighting and what embarrassing thing happened to so and so this week. But there is important information among the trivia.” She patted his neck. “Sometimes, if the mare is fat, it’s not that she’s actually fat, she’s pregnant.”

He whinnied.

“Exactly, you get it.” Lily let him trot down the road. “Diabolical corporations. Aliens. Witches. Ghosts. Aliens running diabolical corporations. Druids. Chipmunks and squirrels as spies. Magic horses. Now vigilantes.”

He nodded his head.

“Nahnahnahnahnahnahnah, Batman!”

Her horse whinnied again.

She quieted as she got out of the marsh and into the village. She hummed “Spider-man, spider-man, does whatever a spider can,” under her breath as they passed Hayden’s house.

She took the transport back to Jorvik Stables.

When Herman asked her how it went, she replied with, “It went.”

--

The decorations were ready in time for Happy Horse week, if barely. Barney had helped them by using the vinyl wall art to make plywood versions of the horse silhouettes with his wooden scroll saw. He’d also made them horse heads to vary up the horse shoes and hang their smaller horse garlands from. They weren’t allowed to touch his saw. They could lose fingers if they weren’t careful. Plus, he was making the silhouettes five or six at a time to save time. Each stable and town had at least one of each galloping, show jumping, and dressage silhouette. Carney Summers had been busy making race signs for everyone.

But everything was painted, glittered, glued together, whatever needed to be done in time to decorate for the week. Metal and plastic buckets had ribbons and bows on them. Plastic helmets also had bows and rhinestones and gold trim. They wrapped fancy striped ribbons in Jorvik national colors around every extra haybale they were strewing about for decorations. (And handy seating for the tired parents.)

So, the day before Happy Horse Week was also busy instead of training, they were decorating and making sure everything was out and just so. They’d put together plenty of snacks for the tables and had decided that mint candies went in predominantly blue favor cones, and granola went in predominantly green favor cones.

Putting together the selfie walls had been a bit easier now they were at the third time around. They used the triangular and horse shoe garlands to drape the circle. Put plenty of championship ribbons on the upper left hand side. Put together a pillar or arch out of marble balloons and made sure there were hobby horses and stuffed plushies (fresh from Fort Pinta) out for people to use as props.

Agnetha has pursed her lips at the arches of balloons in front of the rose archway and on each side of the bandstand, but she hadn’t said anything dire.

Thinking ahead, they set up the pavilion so people could decorate their own buckets and helmets if they wanted to do so. They even had championship ribbons for name badges.

They had to rearrange the jumps in the riding arena. (That gave them time to decorate it.) Though the Rose Arches remained firmly in place. And put together the special race tracks for the cross country races through the grape fields.

It was a good thing that they had extra decorations and banners, because just in time for Happy Horse Week, the Silverglade Oval Track was ready to open and it needed to be decorated as well.

Pia and Ingrid sent pictures of the Art Show and Flea Market respectively. Everything was horse themed! Pia had plenty of exclamation points. She never asked for it to be that way!

They had to help transport the cake from Ma Anna’s Pastry Shop in Firgrove all the way to Moorland. They transported it in separate tiers thank goodness, but they still wanted an escort for some reason. When it was put together, the bottom three tiers were sold colored, there was a blue tier, a green tier, and a white tier. Then the top two tiers, one had stripes, and the smallest was white with green and blue polka dots. They stuck a large golden harp in the top of it as a topper.

The tables for the Moorland feast were set out. And there were extra tables so they could set out the grab bags, horse masks, party hats, and horse ears for the kids. The Farmer’s Market bustled with happy people who were more than happy to put up another tent for the Carnival games of bobbing for apples, pig pen, horse shoes, hobby horse races, and pin the tail on the horse. They had a special spot for the pinatas (and plenty of them.) And a booth all set up so everyone could get their face painted.

Realizing they’d forgotten prizes for said games, Kate and her club ran to Jorvik City to get more of the prizes like they had in the grab bags. (Because why not try to collect them all, according to Regina. She was roundly reminded, again, that this wasn’t Pokemon!)

The Timber Wolves escorted Andy’s petting zoo down and helped him set it up at the same time they brought down the cake.

It was quite the whirl of activity.

No one was sure who exactly hid the Golden Horse Shoes, only, that they were hidden.

So, everyone was excited the first day of Happy Horse Week, despite the fact that they’d had to make a schedule so there were people minding the races, giving beginning riding lessons, doing the lunge informational event, the craft pavilion, and the snack booth.

“Where do we want to go first?” Was the biggest question. Firfall was having a jousting demonstration at their medieval fair. There was the County Fair to check out too with all the food, and booths, and games, and they had to keep an eye on the competition up there with the eventing qualifiers. Or, they could go to Moorland and get a slice of carrot cake or apple spice cake (or both) and go straight to the Farmer’s Market to do games there. Or, they go to Fort Pinta and grab Token Takes Jorvik, buy a horse plushy if they didn’t already have a stuffed lovie of their own and start on the different challenges, plushy vacation pictures, Andy’s Geocaching, and Hayden’s Spider Hunt.

More than a few of them though were bowing out of Hayden’s Spider Hunt.

“No thank you,” they said.

They knew they’d see all of it. It was a matter of did they want to watch a pie eating contest at the County Fair or not? There was going to be a demonstration of a flat track oval race too that sounded interesting. They all agreed that they wanted to see the horse rubber duck race. That sounded too funny not to see.

The last day was the Light Ride.

It was with light hearts that they made their schedule and took to explore the county during Happy Horse Week. (They had Golden Horseshoes to find!) The first place they had to go was the Silverglade Oval Track ribbon cutting ceremony!

--

Loretta shifted her weight on top of her white stallion, the pink of her showjumping jacket setting off her fair complexion. Lily cynically thought that was the reason why the Bobcats colors happened to be pink. Loretta looked good in it. Loretta glanced over at her. “What are you doing here?”

Lily tugged down the sleeves of her own showjumping jacket, light purple. (Thought she’d the option of a dark purple or mulberry color.) “Same as you, I suspect. Claymore Challenge qualifiers.”

Loretta’s eyes widened. “No. No. You can’t. Your clubs are too,” she trailed off.

“Too what? We’ve qualified. We’ve earned the ribbons.” Lily looked down her nose at her. Had Loretta forgotten about the fact that more clubs meant more competition?

“You haven’t been around long enough to train your horses to be competition ready,” Loretta curled her lip. “You’ve been too busy doing other things.”

Lily leaned forward a bit resting her weight on her folded hands. “Not for the last month, month and a half. You don’t want to train for more than a couple hours every day and risk hurting the horse.”

“But you couldn’t have earned enough ribbons.”

Lily smirked at her. “I did.”

“That’s not right.” Loretta frowned.

“Take it up with Herman.” Lily shrugged. She tilted her head.

The Announcer’s voice rang out. “President of the Bobcats, Loretta.”

“You’re up,” Lily told her.

Rattled, Loretta nudged her stallion into a trot to take the arena.

Lily narrowed her eyes and watched. Either Loretta wasn’t as good as she claimed to be or Lily’s appearance as the next competitor after her had truly rattled her. She missed several jumps knocking down the bars.

When Loretta came off the field she looked furious. She stopped her horse by Lily. “If someone like you who isn’t even from Jorvik keeps me from going to the Claymore Challenge again,” she started.

“Again?” Lily raised a brow. “Last I checked the rules, Jorvik citizenship wasn’t required to compete, only belonging to a Riding Club in Jorvik in good standing.”

Loretta sucked her cheeks in and trotted off. “I won’t be defeated.”

Lily watched her go and put a hand on her horse’s neck. “And President of the Silverglade Equestrian Center’s Silver Drakes, Lily,” The Announcer said.

Lily squared her shoulders. She had an event to do. She could wonder who had beat out Loretta last time. Lisa. Linda. Or Anne?

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

[p-artsypants]

Bad Day (3) Night

Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien's luckiest day ever! Except it wasn't, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

Ao3 | FF.net

Part 1 Part 2

Sometime, when it was dark out and the house was quiet, Adrien roused from his sleep. It was raining now, the thunder softly rumbling in the distance. He felt gross, having slept in his clothes. His toe hurt, his face ached, and he was so goddamn tired.

But he was also hungry, and his stomach growled loudly.

“…skipped dinner…” he mutter to himself as he sat up. Plagg was passed out next to him, his little tummy bloated.

Adrien changed into his pajamas, intent on going back to sleep after he got some food, and slipped on house slippers.

With a small smile, Adrien scooped Plagg up and deposited him into the pocket of his sweat pants.

Quietly, Adrien left his room, and began to head down the stairs, but stopped, just as he was about to round the corner.

Nathalie and his father were still awake, and they were talking.

“If she’s making these kind of lies up about Adrien, it would be better to drop her as an ally. Adrien’s in enough trouble anyways. I don’t need fabricated problems on him as well.”

“But what about her ability to facilitate akumas? She’s even better than Chloe at it.”

“It’s a shame, but the betrayal she’ll feel at being dropped will cause some perfect anger and rage. There might even be other akuma’s in store too.”

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Why the hell was his father talking about akumas? Why did he care?

“Uh, master?” Asked a very small and timid voice. “You aren’t still thinking about akumatizing Adrien, are you?”

“After the day he had, he would have been perfect. I’ll wait until he wakes up to see what kind of mood he’s in. I could always tell him I’m pulling him out of school for sure. That would put him over the edge.”

Adrien’s fist tightened, as he clawed at the banister. Without his consent, his feet started walking forward, until he was at the top of the stairs.

There, he could see his father and Nathalie seated, and two kwamis floating nearby. One that looked like a butterfly, and the other like a peacock.

He wanted to vomit.

Nathalie noticed him first. “Oh! Adrien!”

The two kwamis ducked out of sight, but it was far too late.

“What…are those?” Adrien’s voice sounded foreign. Angry, cold, hollow.

“You’re awake,” said Gabriel, nervousness leaking into his voice. “Are you hungry? You missed din—“

“You’re Hawkmoth.” He breathed. “And…she’s Mayura….”

“Adrien…” Gabriel said it so gently, reassuringly.

“Don’t lie to me!” He hissed. “I heard you! You said you wanted to akumatize me!”

“Son, come on…” Gabriel reached for him, but he backed away.

Adrien started shaking his head. “This…this can’t be happening. This isn’t real!” He wailed.

Gabriel sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Adrien, I will explain everything. I promise. I’m sorry.”

Adrien just stood and quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Plagg was awake in his pocket, nuzzling against his leg to calm him.

“Come on. I won’t hurt you.” Gabriel beckoned him towards his office.

Everything in Adrien was screaming at him to run. Run far and fast. He’d tell his Lady, and this whole thing would be over. They’d get their happily ever after and this nightmare of a day would be over.

But he couldn’t forgive himself if he went the rest of his life never knowing the ‘why’. So silently, he followed him into his office, up to the painting of his mother.

Gabriel pressed on a set of buttons, and started to descend in an elevator. He was quick to pull Adrien on with him too.

Down they went, down into the depths of the basement. A large room, with a garden at the end.

He had to still be dreaming, right? Surely this was a nightmare induced by his terrible day.

But no. At the end of the walkway laid a garden with dozens of white butterflies fluttering around in the space.

And a glass coffin, with his mother inside.

At the sight of her, Adrien began to cry, fat tears rolling off his cheeks and he was helpless to stop it.

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. “The peacock miraculous is broken,” he began. “It wears the user out, and makes them sick. Emilie, your mother, wielded it first. Soon, she succumbed to the illness and fell into a long, deep sleep. If I can get my hands on the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, I can make a wish, and wake her up. Then we’ll be a family again. Don’t you see?”

Adrien’s mouth was too dry, and his words were stuck. He couldn’t even remember to how to speak. All he could see was his mother’s sleeping face. The one he had so desperately missed in this passed year. She looked exactly the same.

“I did this all for you.”

Adrien shook his head, refusing to accept that. “No…no you didn’t.”

“Adrien…” Gabriel began, trying to explain it to him like his was thick.

“No. Because if this was for me, you would have told me right away! You would have let me know that she wasn’t gone! You would have let me see her! I—I miss her so much! And you knew that! But she’s been here this whole time! And you never once told me about it!”

Gabriel held his hand out. “But you know now, and you can help me get the Miraculous.”

“No. Absolutely not. You…you’re crazy if you think I’m going to stay in this goddamn house one more minute! I need—I need to get out of here! How do I get out!?”

Gabriel sighed. “Calm down, Adrien. Let’s talk this through.”

Adrien ran back to the elevator, and pressed an up arrow, the elevator blessedly starting to move.

Upstairs, he burst from the office and practically sprinted up the stairs to his room. In his closet, he dug out his duffle bag and started to pack up his essentials.

Plagg didn’t say a word. What comfort was there to give?

Far too quickly, Gabriel appeared in the doorway. “Adrien, you don’t need to go anywhere. You’re safe here.”

“I don’t feel safe!”

“Adrien, I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You say that now! Now that you’ve been caught!”

“Adrien—“

“You’ve akumatized every single one of my classmates! Some more than once! You constantly make me rub shoulders with people like Lila and Chloe, who brew akumas better than anyone! Now you expect me to believe I’m safe here?! Are you kidding me!?”

“Adrien, calm down.” Gabriel demanded.

“Or what?! You’ll akumatize me!?”

Gabriel didn’t deny it, but the glare on his face showed otherwise. “I forbid you from leaving this house.”

“If you want me to visit you in jail, you’ll stay out of my way.” He bit back.

That did it. The sternness in his eyes gave way to panic, and he stepped aside.

Adrien shouldered his bag and headed down the stairs.

“Your driver will take you to Miss Bourgeois hotel.” Gabriel ordered, so plainly.

“No. He won’t.” Adrien bit, reaching the door. “I’m making my own decisions now. I’m going my own way. All my life, I have done everything I could to please you. To make you proud of me. But I can’t anymore. Because you’ll keep bending me until I snap. And then you’ll walk over my shattered pieces. But I have people I’d gladly bend over backwards for, because they’re willing to bend for me too. Maybe you should learn to be more flexible, Hawkmoth.”

With that, he slammed the door shut behind him, and took off running.

—

He should have transformed.

Plagg was in his ear telling him to. It was safer. It was faster. But Adrien couldn’t muster up the nerve to do so. He felt like he was being watched. Like Gabriel had the city in the palm of his hand, waiting to strike.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t swallow, all he could do was run.

Finally, the bakery was in sight, and he didn’t stop until he collided with the door. He pounded with his fist, and rang the bell, his knees threatening to buckle.

Finally, the hall light went on, and he could see a clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Marinette, Alya, and Nino all hurried down the stairs.

The door opened slightly, Marinette’s face poking out, and then all the way when she realized who was there. “Adrien!”

“Dude, you’re soaked! What happened?”

At the sight of his lady, Adrien broke down. He threw his arms around her and just started weeping. He clawed at her skin and buried his face in her shoulder as he wailed. He was soaking her with rainwater, tears, and snot, but he couldn’t find the energy to stop.

“Dude!”

“Marinette! Look out!” Alya’s cry pierced him in the heart before a chill over took him.

He could hear his father’s voice in his head. “Adrien…”

“No!” Adrien shouted, pulling away from Marinette and keeping her at arms length. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! You ruined my life! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much! Why won’t you just leave me alone!?”

The chill disappeared, and he was himself again.

Marinette’s warm hands laid against his damp skin, and caressed his cheeks. “Hey...look at me Adrien.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, sparkling like stars. She was smiling her heartbreaking smile at him. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“You got me…” He whispered, choking.

Then he hugged her again, sobbing as the day’s frustrations rolled off of him one by one.

Nino wrapped an arm around him and brought him fully into the bakery, while Alya closed and locked the door.

He pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry...you guys were probably having so much fun—“

“Shh.” Marinette combed his bangs away from his face. “You ruined nothing. We are ecstatic that you’re here.”

“We were so bummed when you said you couldn’t make it.” Added Nino, hand still on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Marinette took his hand gently. “Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes. Have you eaten?”

His stomach growled. “I’m starving.”

“Great!” Chirped Alya, “cause we made too much pizza! Mister ‘I can eat a whole pie myself’ over here only ate two slices!”

“But they were the biggest slices!” Nino protested.

Adrien laughed. Feeling better already.

In the apartment, Alya shoo’ed them upstairs. “Go on,” she urged. “We’ll keep the pizza warm.”

Marinette blushed but took him up to her room anyways.

She closed the trap door behind her, thankfully.

“I’ve got just the thing for you.” She announced, going to the chest next to her chaise. “I was going to give you these for Christmas, but I have another gift idea in mind anyways.” She dug around, and then pulled out a pair of pajamas.

A red shirt that said ‘Bug Out!” in black ink. Then a pair of extremely soft pants, that were black with red polka dots on them. “Here, I made them myself. I even designed the logo and screen printed it. Nino let it slip that you have a thing for Ladybug...do you like them?”

He gathered them into his hands, reveling in the softness of the fabric.

His lady made these, just for him!

He started sobbing again.

“Oh Adrien...”

“I-I-I’m sorry!” He croaked. “I love them! I’m so happy you made these for me! I love you so much!”

Out of all the things he needed to tell her, that wasn’t supposed to be the first.

Oh well.

She stared at him with impossibly wide eyes. “You...you love me?”

She began to smile, before it faded into something akin to disappointment. She tried to hide it, but he was too familiar with fake smiles.

He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “That’s not what I meant to say. Not that I don’t love you! I do! I mean! You’re great! And…I’m sorry…I’m…I’m a mess.”

Marinette just wiped his face with her thumb. “It’s okay…something obviously happened tonight. We’ll talk about it, when you’re ready.” Then she glanced over to the duffle he brought with him. “That looks like more than an overnight bag.”

“Yeah...I might...I might need a place to stay for a while...” he hiccuped.

With a soft smile, she steered him to the changing screen on the other side of the room.

“We have a guest room,” she offered. “Maman and papa are gone this weekend, but I’m sure they’d love to have you. If you’d like to stay here. Unless the Lahiffe’s don’t mind if you stay on their couch.”

“Wherever I am the least a burden.” He came out from behind the screen, looking smaller than Marinette had ever seen him. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, or intrude.”

“You will be welcome here.” Marinette assured, taking his hand. “I promise.”

Tears started to fall again, and Marinette was quick to catch him. She pulled him into a hug, holding onto him tightly.

“I’m so scared, Marinette. I don’t know what to do.”

She squeezed him, attempting to crush the sadness in her friend. “Well, let’s get you something to eat. Sometimes, being hungry makes things seem worse than they are.”

“Okay…” Adrien doubted that was the case in this scenario, but he was very hungry.

Together, they travelled down to the kitchen, only to find Alya and Nino both asleep, each side of the ‘L’ shaped couch taken.

Marinette hummed. “Well, that’s fine. Let’s get you some food, and then we can sit in my room and talk. ‘Kay?”  

Adrien nodded. Not that he didn’t love Alya and Nino, but he and Marinette had to talk. He couldn’t push this aside for now.

She got him a plate, with two slices of margarita pizza, some chips, a soda, and a handful of chouquettes.

The meal looked amazing, because it was everything he wasn’t allowed to eat.

When they retreated and the trap door shut, Alya and Nino peeked at each other and high fived.

In Marinette’s room, she urged him up towards the bed. “It’s more cozy up here,” she explained, a blush staining her cheeks.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He scampered up the ladder and made himself comfortable, while she did the same.

While he ate, they made small talk. Marinette telling him all about what they did so far.

“No pillow fights?”

“We don’t really do pillow fights. That’s more of...an American thing? I think? Mostly just movies.”

He pouted, before polishing off his last chouquette. “That’s disappointing.”

“Well, then you know you didn’t miss it. Alya did paint my toe nails though.” She showed off her sparkling green toes. Her big toes had little black paw prints on them.

“Oh my god!” He sobbed, and started crying again.

“Adrien?”

“It’s so—so—cute! I can’t stand it!” He wiped his eyes. “I’m getting really tired of bursting into tears over everything. I’m sorry. My emotions are shot.”

“It’s okay,” she assured softly. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

He set his empty plate on the little shelf by her bed, and then reclined to get more comfortable. He took a little pillow and hugged it to his chest. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. Each is equally important. I just…don’t know what order to tell you them. I don’t want you to get mad.”

Marinette touched his head ever so gently, petting his hair. “I won’t get mad.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. I’m here for you Adrien. Whatever you need.”

He clutched the pillow a little tighter, gathering his courage. “I…I know you’re Ladybug.”

He was expecting an explosion. A complete freak out.

But what he got instead, was a soft exhale and, “I know.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tikki told me. She said you saw me this morning detransform. You were in the stall I ran into…and I totally didn’t notice.”

Adrien buried his face in the pillow. “I didn’t know how to tell you! I was going to! But—“

“It was embarrassing, I know.” She laughed a little. “I guess that’s what I get for panicking and running into the wrong bathroom.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Marinette. You’re perfect.”

Her voice became a little deeper, a little softer. “I’m really not.”

That grabbed his attention, and he looked up to her. “…do…you…have a crush on me?”

She sighed again, her face red and her lips pulled into a wobbly smile. “You found out about that, too?”

“I’m told Nino is a dead man if he told me, but he heavily hinted at it.”

She shook her head. “Why? Why would he tell you that?”

“Because I told him that I was in love with you.”

The disappointed look came back to her face, and she looked away. “No, you aren’t.”

“But I am!” He sat up quickly, kneeling in front of her. “I swear I am!”

“Adrien…” She took his hands, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. “You love Ladybug. And…while I am her…you never showed that kind of interest in Marinette. You only think you’re in love with me now, because you know.”

He shook his head, frantically. “No, no that’s not it at all!” He pulled her forward into him, hugging her again. “Please let me prove it to you, Mari. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left.”

Concerned, and so full of love, Marinette hugged him back. He was shaking in her arms, and holding her so tightly, like he was afraid she’d disappear.

Gently, she pulled away just enough to look at him. “Okay, I believe you.” She assured, even though she wasn’t completely convinced.

He managed a weak smile, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” The joy and sunshine that seemed to live inside of him was completely snuffed out. “If you really love me, and found out I had a crush on you...you wouldn’t be upset like this.”

“No, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. The luckiest, actually. So…I only had bad luck the rest of the day.”

She thought back to what she had seen that day. Him limping around, his failed test, his ‘dump king’ status…all of it seemed to pile up.

With a thoughtful frown, she pulled him back with her against the pillows, so that he could rest his head on her chest and she could pet his hair.

“Okay. I’m not going to talk. Pretend I’m not Marinette or Ladybug. Pretend I’m not even here. Just tell me everything.”

He relaxed against her, snuggling into her hold.  

“It started this morning. I grabbed the first stall, which I knew didn’t latch properly, but I forgot until I sat down. I couldn’t close the door, so you didn’t notice that I was in there. But you ran in, dropped your transformation, and then left. It was only a couple seconds, but I recognized you immediately. I…I was elated. Ladybug, one of my best friends! The love of my life was right there!”

He hid his face, so he couldn’t see her reaction.

“I was so happy about it, even though it was super embarrassing, and then Plagg had to go and ruin it by mentioning that it was likely that all of my good luck was used up for the day.”

Marinette stopped petting him, but she didn’t move away.

From his place on her chest, he could hear her heart rate increase. He swallowed, waiting for her reaction.

She just exhaled slowly, shakily, and said, “Continue.”

Letting out his own shaky breath, he proceeded to recap the day. Starting with breaking his toe, and being humiliated in front of the class, then going into the threat from Lila and being suspended from work.

Then he grew tense. This stopped being a therapy session, and now it was a business meeting.

He sat up, straddling her legs. He wanted to hold her hands, but he didn’t dare touch her. Just met her gaze, so she could see how serious he was.

“I woke up not long before I came here, and went downstairs to get some dinner. But…I saw my father and Nathalie talking…and…”

The moment came back to him, the horror of what he had learned, the very idea that his whole life had changed. Things wouldn’t be okay for a long time. His eyes started to water again.

But Marinette just sat there patiently, listening with an easy smile on her face.

“I saw…they had…my father was saying…that he wanted to akumatize me. And both Nathalie and him had kwamis. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop myself. I confronted him.”

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his arms. “My father is Hawkmoth. And…Nathalie is Mayura.” He sniffed. “He tried to recruit me, and he showed me why he was doing this. My…my mother…she’s still alive. She’s in a coma, in the basement. He thinks if he can get both of the Miraculous, he can use the power to wake her up—“ He choked and covered his mouth with his hand.

Marinette watch him, as his eyes grew wide and he began to spiral into self doubt.

“Then what happened?” She urged, trying to get it all out now before he completely shut down.

“I told him I…I didn’t feel safe being there. So I packed a bag, and threatened not to visit him in prison if he didn’t let me go.” He swallowed. “And then I ran here. Because…I knew it was safe. You were safe.”

“You didn’t transform?”

“I was too afraid to. I assumed he sent an akuma after me, to see where I went…and I was right. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, and reached out for him again.

“You’re being awfully calm about this.” He noted.

“One of us has to be.” She eased him to lay on her again, resuming her petting. “I freaked out enough today as it is.”

“Because I saw you?”

“Yeah. And because I walked in on you in the bathroom. Talk about embarrassing.”

“I think I out-embarrassed you today,” he said with a weak smile.

“It’s okay, kitty.”

He hummed and began to purr.

Suddenly, she shoved him off of her with a little scream.

“My Lady?!”

“You really are him! You are Chat Noir!”

“I mean—yeah? Did—did I not mention that?”  

“Not explicitly! You just brought up Plagg a few times and the pigeon thing, but I was trying to separate myself from the situation to stay calm, but the second you purred it was like…it finally clicked! You’re Chat!”

He hunched his shoulders. “Is…is that a bad thing?”

“No! No no minou not at all! I’m so happy! I’m just—shocked!”  

“Then why did you look so disappointed when I said I loved you?”

She blushed. “Because it’s like I said…I thought you only loved me because I was Ladybug. And Adrien didn’t really know Ladybug. They had only met a few times, but Marinette…I was always there. But knowing that you’re Chat softens the blow, I guess. Because I know Chat really does love me.”

“Let’s stop talking like we’re different people.” Adrien said softly. “I love you, Mari. Both parts of you. Yes, I fell in love with Ladybug first, but Marinette was always important to me. Finding out that you were the same person was just this moment of ‘oh duh’. Ladybug can’t be anyone but you, My Lady.”  

“Adrien…”

“Even before I knew, I called you our everyday Ladybug, right?”

She gave him a shy smile. “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

“Good.” He tackled her back to the mattress, trapping her in his arms. “Because I’m going to start crying again any minute now, and I need you to pet me again.”

“Oh kitty cat…” She softened at his tone and got to work running her fingers through his damp hair.

“Marinette,” He purred, settling on her collar bone. “I’m so glad I found you. I didn’t know what to do and I—“ he choked.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re partners, right? We always have each other’s backs?”

He nodded.

“Then tonight, don’t worry about your dad, or any of that other crap that happened. Let’s just…enjoy each other.”

He melted. His purr growing with each stroke, his heart began to settle and the ache startled to subside. “I love you.”

She didn’t respond immediately, pausing her pets. Then she licked her lips and confessed, “You were the other guy.”

Adrien pushed up on his arms, looking down to her. “What?”

She flushed. “The reason I kept pushing away Chat Noir…was because I was desperately in love with Adrien.”

He blinked. “Desperately?”

“Desperately.” She whispered.

They were already so close. Their noses almost touching.

She could smell his cologne. The spicy scent surrounded her, sending goosebumps over her arms.

“And…does that change now? Now that you know…” his voice deepened, as his nose brushed against hers. “This handsome model…is also your silly kitty?”

Her voice was just a whisper. “It makes things easier.”

“Yeah?”

“It means…I can love, and I don’t have to pick between the two most important boys in my life.”

“Mari…”

She could feel the heat from his lips, so tantalizingly close. She raised her hands, one cupping his cheek, the other playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled, a huff of air fanning on her lip. “I’m just savoring the moment, My Lady. I know this is nearly routine for you. But this will be my first kiss that I remember.”

She smiled back. “I’ll be sure to make it memorable.”  

“Every moment with you is worth remembering.”

He crashed his lips onto hers, snaking his arms around her to hold her.

Desperate is what she said, and that’s what this kiss was. Giving so much, and receiving more in return. Short kisses that started again before they ended, peppered with little smacks and moans. Tongues that, nervously at first, darted out to tease. Then slowly, long, languid dances and tug-o-wars. Adrien inhaled her, savoring her scent, her taste, her silky smooth feel. His hand rode up her shirt, and he moaned at the flawless skin of her back.

Her hand skirted up his neck and into his hair, her nails scrapping against his scalp.

His purr came back, vibrating between them like a shared heart.

Almost effortlessly, he rolled, flipping them over so she was on top. It didn’t even break the kiss.

Marinette broke away with a squeak when his hand went down and grabbed her butt.

“I’m sorry!” He blushed, still so close. “I…I had just been thinking about that adorable butt of yours all day and…sorry, I sound like a total pervert.”

She shook her head, before pecking him gently. “Nah, I think your butt is pretty cute too.”

“You check out my butt?”

“Honey, in that leather, it’s hard not to.”

He barked a laugh that almost startled her. “You’re too cute.”

“I’m not the one with the full page magazine spreads.”

“I’m pretty sure Ladybug was on the cover of Time Magazine.”

“And Chat Noir was on the cover of Vogue.”

“Leather’s in, baby.”  

She kissed him again to shut him up. When she pulled away, he was just smiling softly at her.

“I never want to stop kissing you.” He admitted. “That was awesome.”

“You can kiss me anytime you want. You just have to do one thing.”

“Anything.” He breathed, earnestly.

“Let me be your girlfriend.”

“Psh, I’d let you be my wife this second if I could. But I guess I’ll settle for girlfriend.”

She kissed his nose. “Seems like your luck finally turned around.”

“The luckiest I’ve ever been.” He beamed, then he froze in horror. “Shit!”

“What?”

“I used up all my good luck in one go again!”

“Thats okay. You’ll just have to borrow mine.”

Aw, who needed luck anyway?