#at least my legs are straightened now so my knees aren’t completely locking up anymore ig

[im-still-watching-anime]

my dog has decided that this is how we should sleep tonight and ngl i love him but i have some critiques here

[dreamii-yume]

I know his birthday is close, but

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

It seems like it's a trend amongst the third year birthday crumbs why stop a nice pattern

Yume’s a kinkii motherfucker, ya’ll know that, right? Darlings? (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Splendid, HOPE YA’LL LIKE SOME DICC MILK ON YOUR CRUMBS HAHA.

“Oh, my...Are you already done?” The hairs on your body stood on its end as soon as you heard Vil’s cold voice. You back straightened up out of instinct as you slowly dragged your mouth off your senior’s still hardened, seemingly unsatisfied dick. Aesthetically pleasing to look at and well-taken care of, exactly what you expect from Vil himself, but was extremely difficult to please. You started wondering if you’re really cut out for this job, or why you’re even here in the first place. “That’s quite the boring performance you gave me there, Darling.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, grimacing at the lingering taste of his precum on your tongue. You didn’t know how many times Vil had told you to suck him off over and over again, but just by the milky white substance dripping down your jaw and probably some in your hair as well since they feel so damped, you guessed it’s been quite a while. “...I-I just can’t, anymore...” His harsh criticism struck a nerve in your feeble little heart, mocking you for doing a terrible job on something that you weren’t really an expert on doing.

Embarrassment filled your core as you began wanting more than to stood up from where you were placed and walk away, but you can’t. Not when your hands are bounded tightly behind your back like this, your shaking knees can’t even carry you more than five meters away. They were but an incredibly soft strings of fabric, yet shows no signs of loosening up no matter how much you struggle against it. Obviously, it was something that Vil purposely chose himself, since the traditional ropes would’ve caused unwanted abrasions on your skin.

Despite knowing that however, you instinctively tugged on your restraints as some sort of defense mechanism against Vil’s condescending glare. “...I-I did what you asked, r-right...? Multiple times, actually…Surely, you must be satisfied no-“

“You must be so full of yourself to think something as pathetic as that can ever satisfy me.” You flinched as Vil raised his voice as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned closer to your face, enough to see your frightened expression. “Do tell me, what part of that was satisfying, huh?”

“You’re too dependent on your hands, so I binded them away. I was hoping that by doing that, you’d make the effort to do better with just your mouth, but all you gave me was disappointment, Dear.” He spoke without hesitation, drilling onto your head your flaws and imperfections. “Why do you shy away from using your tongue, I wonder? You should have the natural talent, and yet you barely used it at all. Don’t you see how wasteful you’re being right now?”

He gave out an exasperated sigh, having the audacity to act like he’s the one having the hardest time and not you. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you never swallow either.” He scowled. “You try to distract me by holding my seed inside your mouth like a chipmunk, but in the end, you spit them right back out. How rude.”

“T-That’s...” You tried to defend yourself, but stopped when he let go of your hair, patting them a bit to flatten some strands that’s been sticking out.

“Enough, it’s fine. I don’t need your excuses.” He said as his hand reached for something on a nearby desk, giving you a mesmerizing view on how long they really are. However, upon glancing down at you and seeing your pitiful expression, eyebrows scrunched up together and in the verge of tears, his eyes did soften up a bit. “...But I understand, you’re still my adorable little potato right now so, I don’t expect you to reach a professional level any time soon.”

You heard him giggle, which caught your attention and looked up at him, only to see an amused smirk formed in his lips. “So, I’ll just have to train you more until then.” He said, licking his lips seductively as you widened your eyes once you saw that particular item in his hand. “Be grateful, Honey.”

Once he saw you starting to recoil back nervously despite your restrictions, Vil grabbed you by the back of the head. “...You’ll do that for me, right? After all, it is my special day.” He cunningly whispered out as he revealed his special item close to you; a mouth-opening device. You let out incomprehensible, protesting noises as he forcibly clanked them onto your mouth, attaching them from the back of your head until it gave a satisfying click as a lock. Your jaw tightened, not used to having your gums pried open this far wide.

Content with being on his two legs alone, Vil chuckled down at you, who looked back at him fearfully. You tried to talk to him, to try and beg your way out of this, only to end up releasing panicked meekly sounds as drool began to drip down your jaw. “How adorable, keep making sounds like that and I might end up confusing you for a livestock that’s about to be slaughtered.” He mocked as he grabbed both the sides of your head as soon as you started shaking your head in defiance. “...You’re completely at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Open your teeth for me.” His dominating voice demanded, making your body weaker than it already is. His sharp glare didn’t leave your teeth clattering against each other for too long, you soon opened a trembling entrance for his excited dick to pass through. He chuckled at your obedience, despite the hesitance and sense of unwillingness expressed through your actions. “...That’s a good girl.”

You let out one last squeal as he wasted no time in practically shoving his whole shaft inside your awaiting mouth hole. Closing your eyes shut, you desperately tried to ignore your activating gag reflex as you felt him rub against the roof of your mouth. He was long and thick enough to have you chocking as he hit the back of your throat. You already had many instances where Vil ‘trains’ you to take him more confidently like this, but you just don’t believe that this was something that you can get used to in a short-time period. But you were sure he’d be disappointed again if you don’t try your best though and you didn’t want to start over again.

Vil sighed slightly as you nervously began to use your tongue to increase his pleasure in-take, hoping that coating him with your own saliva could make his thrusts a little less rough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was the correct decision to make as you practically heard him give out a smirk, his hands staying on your head as he moved his hips back and forth. Gurgled sounds came out of you as he repeatedly knocked on the back of your throat, saliva already slipping out of your strained lips. “...That’s right, you’re doing better now than before, you learn fast too…I like this part of you, it’s endearing.” Vil praised you as a way to encourage you on your efforts even more. “See? I knew you had this in you.”

Giggling, his thrusts began to transitioned in a more fast-paced, harsh kind of way all the while grabbing a fistful of your hair as a lever. Your teeth grazed against the base of his cock, sending shivers of pleasure in Vil’s system that could drive any man crazy. Luckily, his self-control isn’t all that weak-willed, though that’s not to say that he didn’t want it. He could at least say that it was addicting, some kind of pleasure button that he wanted to abuse constantly and bring himself to cum just by your salivating mouth alone. But he had stamina and he could go on forever if he so desired, forever locked onto the warmth of your mouth without necessarily cumming.

However, despite all of that, Vil knew better not to take too much advantage of his new-found enjoyment that it is your mouth hole. It’s not fun to play with a broken toy after all, you’re a pretty little thing too so that would be too wasteful. “I think it’s about time, Love.” Vil whispered, but you only ended up squealing in surprise with your eyes going as wide as saucers as he buried himself inside you in suffocating manner. “Make sure to take it all in, okay?”

Inhaling through your nose, you gasped out a choke as you felt his hot, thick semen exploding from inside your mouth. It filled up space really quick, since there wasn’t really any to begin with and slipped down your jaw. Most importantly, you felt the stream-like substance flowing down your throat and into to your esophagus, filling your stomach up without even trying. You whimpered once you realized that his ejaculation period had finally stopped after a while, but he kept a strong hold against the back of your head. “No, I’m not gonna pull out yet.” Vil strictly said, staring down at your teary, begging eyes. “I did say to take it all in, right? As long as there’s still cum that you have yet to swallow, I’m not pulling out.”

His eyes were testing you, mocking you to do better for yourself but you knew deep down that no matter what you do, he’ll still get the upper hand regardless. Still, you couldn’t just hang around bounded in the floor like this with his twitching dick in your mouth, your jaw is killing you. So, with a heavy heart, you tried to swallow what was left inside your mouth, even going as far as licking the head of his dick to rid it off some remaining semen. You felt disgusting, like you’ve really downgraded yourself into a sex slave, a pig, only for Vil’s personal use. You’re not quite sure on how to get out of this predicament afterwards, or even if it’s possible to do so.

As if he already knew that his dick was licked clean and cum completely swallowed by you, he slowly pulled out, dragging your saliva in a messy fashion. A thin bridge of it was connected to the head, a clear evidence that you even tried licking him off and it really stirred the embarrassment in the bottom of your stomach. You whimpered as he even had the audacity to place his wet dick on your cheek, dragging some disgusting fluids across your skin by practically slapping you with it. Soon, you heard Vil chuckle and flinched as it turned into a full-blown laughter, like a wicked queen when her everything goes according to her plan. He placed a hand on your head, patting you like a pet for a job well-done.

“Haa...That was amazing, Honey. You certainly made my day, thank you.” He said with a smile, surprisingly not a mocking one or a smirk for that matter but a genuine grateful smile. It made your stomach churn to see he could still smile like that despite what he just made you do. “Now, it’s just common sense to give you a well-deserved reward now, right? You’ve done such a good job after all~!”

He then pulled away from you, giving you a sense of relief that everything was over, that you don’t have to do any more humiliating things but...It was odd, if his so-called ‘training’ is already over, why was he not releasing you out of your binds? Your jaw is cramping from your mouth being spread open like this that it was really starting to hurt real bad. Somehow, you didn’t like where this ‘reward’ was gonna go.

Vil came back with a generous slice of his own birthday cake, carefully cut with its beautiful edible decorations still in-tact. There weren’t a single crumb on the plate, suggesting how clean the slice really was. He was smiling and you thought you saw his cheeks pinker than usual, but that could just be his make up like always. It’s kinda out of place and bizarre to see him getting flustered now of all times anyway. With a fork, he cut a piece of cake and slowly brought it close to you.

“Say ‘aah’, Darling.” You were confused at first, not trusting his all of a sudden act of kindness. He still has the mouth-opener clasped onto your gums; how does he expect you to eat that? However, just when you thought to give up trying to make sense of the situation and actually lean closer to let the delicious piece of cake enter your open mouth, Vil stopped. “Oh—“

You flinched as his eyes focused on your jaw and you panicked, wondering what it is. He then smiled eventually, but one that is clearly laced with mischief. “...You missed a spot.” He said, as his long finger traced over a line from your jaw to the one side of your lips. Lifting up his finger in front of you showed a small, yet thick bits of cum that escaped you earlier. “You shouldn’t waste such nourishment, Darling~”

Then, to your utmost shock and disgust, he scraped off the semen on the piece of cake that he was about to feed you. It joined along the other ingredients of the food in a scarily well manner, as if that tinge of white had already been one of the decorations from the start. You were left speechless, but Vil only smirked at your reaction, seemingly finding extreme enjoyment in your cute shocked face. “Alright...” You flinched, physically retracting away but can’t really go any far than you already are now as he brought the fork closer to your open mouth. “I’ll say it again.”

“Say ‘Aah’~”

Is it obvious? IS IT OBVIOUS that Euphoria is affecting the way I’m writing right now? Because YES, it is affecting me so bad OMG— I need to get it out of my system because I can just TELL that this will affect me in the future too lol

Vil reminded me of Nemu and I’m— *sob* I thought I was sinful, but Euphoria is traumatizing—

[birdsofpry]

Can I get #6 with pre serum steve 😋

I love pre serum steve and writing bratty readers so voila! I hope you enjoy <3

I’m not going to audition for your attention

x

You rolled your tongue through sticky pink, flattening the gum against the roof of your mouth and blowing thin streams of air into the candy. You folded the gum in your mouth, snapping air bubbles loudly, creating pockets of jarring popping that disrupted the silence of the room in rapid succession. Your feet were plated firmly against the wall, giving you a perfect angle to examine your fresh pedicure while you lounged in a sea of quilts and comforters. 

The room was silent other than the comfortable ambience of shuffled blankets, your huffing sighs and the soft etch of graphite on paper (and your gum, of course). 

Steve sat in the corner of his small studio apartment at his shitty Ikea desk he’d bought right out of college. His back was to you as he sketched out a rough concept for his latest commission. Worn cotton pants draped over his thin legs, soft green fabric pooling at his ankles as he worked.

His art had become quite lucrative in the past few years, thankfully. 

He had paid his dues; had been a starving artist working graveyards and busing tables, all while being rejected, underpaid and under appreciated. Somehow, in the end he got lucky. All the years of pain had paid off and the art degree that hung on his wall wasn’t just a mediocre talking piece anymore. 

During the beginning of his introduction into the New York City art world, navigating the scene with sweating palms and a shutter in his lungs, he’d met you. 

It was his first big event. A small little art gallery in Astoria that somehow had been packed to the gills with spectators and aficionados. 

Steve had been in twill black pants and a loose white button down that showed his jutting collarbones. He’d fussed with the collar and how it lay all night. Anything to keep his idle hands busy. 

Somewhere in the night while anxiety spiked his blood and doubts filled his head about the reception of his work, he saw you. 

And his heart stopped. 

Or skipped or tremmored or palpated deep in his chest hollow chest. He couldn’t exactly remember, all he knew was his heart felt so strange and his gut clenched, and something told him that this moment was important. This seconds-long glance at a beautiful stranger was somehow going to change everything. 

A flute of champagne had been cradled in your hand while you looked thoughtful upon a large canvas on the wall. Your hair was swept up off your neck, and you wore a lace dress that hit you just above the knee. A lace dress that hit you above the knee and was completely see through, giving Steve and every person in the room a perfect view of your curves and your blush pink lingerie set underneath.

For a passing moment, Steve hated you. Because how dare you come here, dressed like that, and show up every piece of art in the room? How dare you prance around so smoothly and elegantly and look more ethereal and meaningful and striking, than anything Steve could think of creating?  

He stopped hating you the second you met his gaze. You had found him by chance in the crowd and smiled. Smiled, and had flicked your eyes up and down his form appreciatively, something that made the hair on the back of Steve's neck prickle. 

(You told him later, months down the line of being his, that you had known the second you locked eyes with his blue ones, that you knew you were going to fall in love with him)

Steve still didn’t know why you had chosen him, why your heart had decided to link with his own. Or why a woman like you, eccentric, beautiful, unique, and oh so unabashedly herself, wanted to be seen with him in the first place. 

He knew how people saw the two of you as you walked down the street. You, at least a head taller than him depending on your footwear and straight out of a magazine spread; and him, all angles and bones and old sport coats rolled at the sleeve to show his waifish wrists and thin fingers. 

You looked like staggered buildings next to each other, one old crumbling brick and the other sleek beautiful stone. 

But he was learning not to care. Because you love his height and how he gazes up at you lovingly. You love his nimble artist's fingers, and never let a minute go by where you didn’t tell him. You love his eyes and the slope of his hair in his face and his perfectly sculpted teeth and his kissable lips that framed them. You love everything he disliked about his appearance, and the deep affection you showed for all his edges was starting to make him like them too. 

You looked intimidating, but you were sweet and kind and expressed love freely and wholly. You were so angelic and sauve and had large opinions, that made it hard not to cower a bit when in your presence. But once someone got to know you, learned of your heart and compassion, they knew to bask in your light and now shrink from your fire. 

You had a great capacity for love. Especially for him (mostly for him). And Steve thanked the universe every day that you loved him the same way he loved you. 

But that didn’t mean you were perfect. It didn’t mean you don’t have flaws and frustrating nuances. It certainly didn’t mean you didn’t get on his nerves occasionally… and it didn’t mean you weren’t a fucking brat sometimes. 

“Do you need something?” Steve finally asks after another pop of your gum and a petulant sight. 

“Me?” You ask in faux naïveté.

“Yes, you.” 

“Oh, no. I’m just laying here.” You reply, not sounding convincing in the slightest as you stretch your arms over your head with a whiny moan. 

“Laying there sighing and snapping your gum….” He retorts, annoyance tinging his tone. 

“Can’t I just breathe and chew gum? Or should I hold my breath and choke?” You reply, removing your feet from the wall and rolling on your stomach to face your boyfriend. 

“Sweetheart, please. Not now.” Steve set his pencil down for a moment to massage the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off a (Y/N) related headache. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” You snap your gum again, obnoxiously. 

Steve sighs, swivelling toward you to give you a stern look. You just look at him with those stupid beautiful eyes, all wide and innocent as you blow a perfect pink bubble from your lips. 

“You’re not doing anything? So you aren’t huffing and puffing and snapping away to get my attention? Even if it’s to just bicker?” 

You smirk knowingly, “You look very sexy without a shirt on, baby.” 

“And you look sexy when you aren’t distracting me from work.” 

You purse your lips into a pout and drop your chin into the clouds of blankets below you, “You can’t see me with your back turned.” 

“Well, you always look sexy.” Steve says, but without the vigor or sweetness he usually does when he compliments you, as he turns back to his work. 

Wrong move, but Steve sort of already knows this. He would love to indulge you and give in to what you want, because he really loves appeasing you in each and every way. He would love to wrap you in his arms like he knew you wanted and kiss you breathless, but this commission was due in a few weeks, and he was getting paid a large sum of money for it. 

Steve begins to work once more, trying not to focus on your silent tantrum behind him.

It wasn’t until he heard the zip of your boots that he turns back around. 

Still dressed in your nightgown, now in a blazer and pair of boots, you were searching around the apartment for your purse. 

“(Y/N), come on, where are you going?” He slumps his shoulders as he watches you. 

“Out.” 

“Sweetheart...” Steve refrains from rolling his eyes the best he can.  

“No, it’s clear you're busy. So, I’ll leave you to your work.” You stick your nose up and away from him as you speak curtly. 

“So you’re just gonna leave because I’m doing something besides you?” 

His eyes sparkle as your movements falter for a moment. 

“I don’t need to answer that.” You said, slipping the tiny shoulder bag you’d found under a pile of clothes up your arm. 

“You’re being ridiculous. Stop pouting, (Y/N).” 

“That’s why I’m leaving, Steven. I want to pout in peace!” You throw over your shoulder as you stomp toward the door. 

“It’s Steven, now?” He counters. 

He had meant what he said, you always looked sexy, no matter what you did. Including being an angry little brat. So, sue him if he wanted to rile you up a bit. 

“Yes!” You whip around and place your hands on your hips.

“Well, Steven would love you to stay, sweetheart. I know I’m busy, but I like having you here.”

“Well, (Y/N) is sick of you ignoring her for days on end. She knows work is important but you’re neglecting her!” You gripe.

“If I could make money by hanging out with you, I would.” Steve says blasé, reclining back in his chair. 

You give a frustrated squeal and start for the door again. 

“I am not going to stand here and audition for your attention, Steven! I’m leaving.” 

You took longer than needed when you finally reached the door, gripping the knob and adjusting the strap of your bag, waiting for Steve to say something before you made your dramatic exit. Which he always did in these situations, because no matter how much of a pain you were in a moment, or how much he loved to vex you, he would walk over miles of broken glass just to see you smile.

“Sweetheart? Hey, I’m sorry. I really am. I know I’ve been busy. I need to learn how to delegate my time better.” 

You straighten your shoulders and turn around, pushing a stray piece of hair from your face, “Thank you. That’s all I’m asking.”

“It’s a reasonable request.” Steve adds, smiling wider as you slowly start to inch toward him again. 

“Well, I’m known for being reasonable.” 

Steve lets the comment slide, because he’s started to lure you back to him like the angry kitten that you were (you know, the ones who hiss and meow but purr so pretty when you win their trust and give them creme?)

“Then let’s be reasonable and compromise?” He asks as you near in his deep timbering voice.

“I’m listening.” You said, now pressed against his desk, flimsy silk pressing into the skin of your thigh as you lean over his art on the tabletop.

“Let me work an hour more, then we can do something you want.” He proposes. 

He already knew you’d say yes, but you ponder his request like you need too. You jut your knee out toward him, the slit in your nightie parting and reminding Steve you were wearing nothing underneath. He reaches out to wrap his fingers around your knee, tracing your buttery skin and smooth creases as you think. 

“Just an hour?” 

“You can time me.” 

A small smile starts to spread over your lips and you nod. 

“Yes?” 

“Yes, that works. Thank you, Stevie.” 

He internally beams at the return at your beloved nickname for him. 

You lean down to his level and press a sweet kiss to lips, short enough to express that you were taking the compromise seriously, but long enough to remind him to hurry up. 

As you pull away, Steve stops you with his thumb and forefinger on your chin.

“But give me the gum. It really was driving me insane.” 

You roll your eyes, but there is no anger or disrespect behind it. With two fingers you take the pink bubblegum from your mouth and place it gingerly in his outstretched palm. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” You say, kissing his cheek sweetly. Bad mood dead and gone. 

Steve shakes his head good naturedly, and once more turns back to his work. He listens to you start to strip off your acquired outside layers, throwing your mark all over his place (something he adored).

“It’s no biggie anyways now that I know I get to taste something sweeter in just a measly hour.”

His cheeks heat up profusely and he grips his pencil a bit tighter. He can hear you cocooning yourself back in the layers of softness on his bed and all feels right again.

x

prompts are open! pls one at a time with bucky or steve (: 

(also obvi have to direct you to queen of brat readers @venusbarnes ‘ brat series) 

[personasintro]

Hope World | 06 [jhs]

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; You’ve decided to try dancing class, but the one who teaches you how to dance actually hates you.

⏤𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.3k

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language, mentions of eating disorder

⏤𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌⏤𝒌𝒐-𝒇𝒊

“Fuck, I never really had a thing for dancers but seeing him... Gosh, I think I’m in love, he’s–“ you don’t hear the rest of the girl’s sentence as she walks away with grin plastered on her face, her sport bag thrown over her shoulder as she happily talks with someone on the phone, which you assume is her friend. There’s no doubt that she’s talking about one and only Jung Hoseok and you can’t help, but roll your eyes at it.

Yeah, he’s hot but his attitude is repelling. You’ve spent the last few days without seeing him, thinking about what Namjoon told you. The fact that he made sure you’re safe and taken care of while being drunk, didn’t set with you well. You actually felt the need to talk to him about it and thank him for that, but you promised Joon you wouldn’t. He told you that Hoseok doesn’t want you to know, for some weird reason. Namjoon even hoped that you would see Hoseok in a different light after knowing this, but there was a set of curses following when you got a message from Hoseok himself, telling you to come sooner. You talked on the phone with Namjoon at that time when you got the message, his sigh of disapproval sounded from the phone.

‘Just be nice for fucks sake.’ he told you when you hang up the phone with frowned face.

You walk up to the door, where on the other side is Hoseok, waiting for you. You eye the door for a moment but quickly roll your eyes. Why does it take you so long to open the freaking door? Snapping the door open, you’re immediately slapped with the smell of something good — food. Your stomach scrunch and you automatically go down to reach it and give it a small pat before you locate the source of the good smell. And there it is. Hoseok sits down with crossed legs on the floor, a plastic containers in front of him, as he patiently taps his knee. Once he hears you there, his eyes snap to yours and he straightens up.

“You said I should come sooner?” you ask unsurely, dropping your sport bag next to his, and not in your usual spot, which is on the other side of the practice room. And there you see it. The fried chicken with rice and kimchi beside it causes your mouth to salivate. Gulping, you look at Hoseok instead. The only food you ate today was a cereal with milk, which is definitely not enough to fill your stomach, you know that. But you need to go on a diet.

“I did,” he nods, motioning for you to sit. You do, eyeing him carefully as he starts to open the last box, revealing another container with rice. “Let’s eat.” He says, pulling out chopsticks from plastic bag.

“What?”

You don’t get it. Aren’t you going to dance?

“Let’s eat.” he repeats again casually, already handing you your chopsticks. Hesitantly, you take it because you’ve the feeling you kind of have to. He seems to be satisfied by your reaction, but you still sit in front of him dumbfounded.

“Aren’t we suppose to practice?” you ask him, watching him stuffing his mouth with fried chicken.

“We will, after we ate.” he answers with full mouth and chews on it. Is he serious right now? What’s going on? He continues eating for a few seconds, before he notices your frozen state. You’re holding chopsticks still in its plastic bag, your eyes focused on the food before you. Your stomach hurts, because fuck, you’re hungry. You really are. But your mother’s constant nagging and voice fills your mind and your stop yourself, before you can taste delicious food.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumble with a gulp followed right after, before you toss the chopsticks on the floor.

You don’t see Hoseok’s eyes frowning at you, staring at you as he swallows the food and exhales a big sigh. “You’re so skinny.” he almost barks when he feels the anger inside of him. Is she fucking dumb? he thinks when he glares at you.

“What?” You’re shocked by his reaction, noticing the way he glares at you and locks his jaw.

“You’re too skinny, you should eat.”

The first thing what washes over you is surprise, but the next thing you do is let out a loud snort, not even caring how unattractive that just was. Hoseok looks at you with slightly doe eyes, not getting what just amused you.

“Yeah, right,” you chuckle again, looking away from his curious eyes. But he doesn’t budge and you’re kind of forced to gaze up to be met with his burning eyes. He lifts his one brow, not hidden by his usual bangs. “Is this skinny for you?” you ask him, pinching your stomach fat with your fingers underneath your loose shirt.

You’re so fucking self-conscious right now, even though you’re showing him your fat through your shirt, but the simple fact that you’re even showing him this, is making you uncomfortable. But you’re not letting it show on your solid face, showing nothing else than flatness on your face. You don’t know what’s racing through Hoseok mind, because he hides it perfectly under his nonchalant features.

He sighs, taking a bite from his chicken. “Just eat.” He grumbles with full mouth and you frown, simply sitting there while watching him chewing the soft flesh.

When you don’t eat as he requested he looks up, small crumble in the corner of his lips cutely sitting there, as he frowns. “I’m not hungry.” you lie straight through your teeth, avoiding the big take-out he ordered. It smells freaking delicious and looks probably even better, but you can’t look at it. You’d salivate right after.

“Am I complete fucking idiot for you?” His loud voice booms through the empty practice room, making his voice echoing slightly causing you to flinch. You definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction and definitely not the venom in his voice.

“Yes.” you answer before you can stop yourself, regretting it right after his voice darken. You just couldn't help it. Despite your doe eyes and puppy like expression you still manage to be savage, making Hoseok even more irritated with you.

He harshly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with so much hatred that you start to feel intimidated. Not scared that he would do something to you, but scared of what his next reaction will be. Hoseok can be very harsh with his words, you learned it from the beginning but you're no saint in this. You’re both so irritated with each other, but you’re both still here – in the same room, while he is still your instructor.

“You irritate me so fucking much, I don’t know whether I hate you or fucking despise you.” he spits out, his words digging harshly into your chest.

“Yeah, same.” you spit back, not letting the hurt on your face being shown.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he scoffs, his face twisting in disgust and hate. “I’m actually trying to be nice and you’re just being an ungrateful bitch.”

His words cut deep but and you bite the inside of your cheek not to let his words sink in, so your eyes wouldn’t water. You’re awful, you know that. You’re not stupid, at least not stupid enough to notice his concern on the dinner you had with Namjoon and his friends. He heard your mother, he heard how she treats you about your body image, your weight. He even stood up for you in front of her, despite of her intimidating aura – or it’s just you who thinks she’s actually intimidating. He made sure you got home safe while you were pissed drunk, called his friend to take care of her. He did so many nice things to you, but he never told you. He never openly talked about it with you, but it doesn’t change the fact he��s done all this for you. And you feel ungrateful, just like he called you. But why is he still being an asshole about it? Why can’t you both seem to get along together?

“I never asked you for anything!” you suddenly snap at him, raising your own voice this time. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out shaky breath to calm down yourself. “You’re suppose to be my instructor, Hoseok. You’re not supposed to be meddling with my life or eating habits. I’m fine!” you end up screaming loudly, causing his own eyes widen for a split second but the fire in them is back right away.

“You’re not!” he screams and you flinch, completely thrown by it. He was never this loud with you. “You’re not fucking fine! You’re starving yourself because of your mother! I’m your instructor, but I am also a human being who cares about his students, clients, call it whatever! You’re not fine!”

You’re not fine. He repeats it so many times that you can feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I–I’m fine!” you try to scream back, but it comes with shaky voice instead and you can’t hold it anymore. Your vision gets blurry and the last thing you see it Hoseok’s softening features and the look of pity he gives you, causing you to abruptly stand up and escape from this freaking humiliating situation.

But Hoseok has other plans. He doesn't let go you so easily. Not when he knows this might be the last time he sees you and you end up hiding in your home, telling him you’re quitting with your dance lessons. Yes, he’s irritated with you, probably the most he’s ever been with someone in his entire life. But the kindness in his heart wouldn’t allow him to.

You’re stooped and twisted right away, bumping into his chest as you quickly wipe your eyes with your free hand, the one which isn't grabbed by Hoseok’s long fingers.

“Y/N,” he calls out your name so softly, that it almost has calming effect on you. Your eyes set on his surprisingly clean Adidas trainers. “Look at me.” he says, nudging your chin with his free hand. You slightly roll your eyes, but you listen to him to your own and Hoseok’s surprise.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re not fine,” he says, not letting you go. He knows the second he lets you go, you will took off.

“What are you? A therapist?” you scoff, not letting his soft behaviour to affect you. At least not visibly.

“Stop being so rude, I’m trying to be nice.” It doesn’t come bitter from him, making you feel like the biggest asshole when you see and hear nothing than plea.

But that’s it. It would be easier for you to leave if he was just an asshole to you. You feel uncomfortable and embarrassed by your previous behaviour. He has seen a different side of you, a different side no one has ever seen. And you hate the fact it’s Hoseok.

“What do you want me to say? I’m not fine, okay? I-I’ve my own insecurities, mainly caused by my mother. Is that what you want to hear? I’m pathetic.” Despite of the lump in your throat, your voice remain strong.

“You’re not pathetic,” he says softly, his thumb caressing your skin slightly, but he still holds you tightly in his grasp. And surprisingly, you’re not pulling away. You stand there, looking into his brown eyes as they stare at you with pity and sorrow. “You shouldn't listen to your mother.”

At this, you bitterly chuckle at the mention of her again. “She’s my mother. I can’t really avoid her.”

You know your mother. As many times you actually tell her that you’re comfortable with your body, she will still keep nagging you about your weight. She doesn’t care what you think. She keeps hurting you, because she is your mother after all. She is supposed to make sure you’re loved no matter what, instead you’re entitled to fit her image of perfect daughter.

“That doesn't mean you can’t stand up to her.” he says gently, making it sound so easy and letting you feel pathetic. You know all of this. But why can’t you do it? You feel awfully weak and it’s even worse since it’s in front of Hoseok.

You’re opening your mouth to say something, but you’re cut off by the door slamming open, revealing Jungkook standing there. He grins with his bunny teeth which you would find adorable, if this was a different situation.

“Yo, I smelled food so I came to visit. What do we have here?” he hums, already striding to the both of you, or to the delicious food laying on the floor, with the same huge grin. But the grin falls down as soon as his eyes flicker to your flushed face and watery eyes. He sees Hoseok holding you and he freezes on his spot.

“What did you do to her?” he asks, looking at Hoseok who seems to be taken back for a second by the little assumption.

Hoseok doesn’t react with words, slowly letting you go, his warmth disappearing from your skin and it oddly lets you feel empty.

“He didn't do anything.” you speak up, your voice awfully raspy and you quickly cough to get rid of it.

Jungkook frowns, his long hair falling to his eyes but he doesn’t move to brush them away, simply watching the whole situation in front of him. He knows something isn't right from the way you both act, he just can’t put his finger on it.

“Can we reschedule this?” you ask quietly, eyes flickering to Hoseok’s which hold some emotion behind them, you just don’t know what kind of emotion that is.

Hoseok breathes out, almost like a sigh of relief, before he opens his heart shaped lips. “Of course.” he says softly, before you nod and don’t waste any more time to snatch your things, while walking out of the practice room quickly. You’re pretty aware of the two pair of eyes watching you, until you’re hidden by the door which slams closed.

“Before you snap at me, I thought you still have some free time.” Jungkook speaks up in hope to ease the tension on his friend’s face by joking, which isn’t complete false. He really smelled delicious chicken and he just had to visit and annoy his friend before his training starts.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Hoseok grumbles under his nose, before he turns away and sits on his previous spot. This time he leans against the wall and sighs while closing his eyes.

Jungkook simply watches him while sitting not so far away from him. “What was that about? She seemed upset...” Jungkook says carefully, knowing Hoseok is in his weird phase between fuming and feeling sad.

For a few years he knows Hoseok, he has never seen him being so tense and just not like himself like for the past weeks. Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything, because Hoseok isn’t the type to bribe about his problems or personal stuff, unless it’s something positive and extremely happy, but he thinks it has something to do with you. He has never seen him being so hard on someone, until you came. For some reason, Hoseok doesn’t seem to like you.

And just like he thought, Hoseok’s eyes snap open to glare at Jungkook. He wants to explain him, that it wasn't entirely his fault. He just wanted to do the right thing. No matter what he feels towards you, no matter how annoying you seem to him, he can’t let you starve and destroying your whole life. Not when he did the same thing a few years ago. But he didn’t have anyone to save him, to tell him that there is another solution to that. You’re his student and he can’t bare to watch you being so weak and exhausted by not taking care of yourself. And he feels angry because of that, because you’re an adult. You’re suppose to take care of yourself. So naturally, he wants to tell Jungkook that this time he just tried to be Hoseok they all know. He still feels hurt by Jungkook’s assumption. What did you do to her? It hurt hearing it from his friend, but he partly deserved it. He didn’t treat you right. But instead of explaining it to Jungkook, he keeps his mouth shut. He could easily make him look like the good guy tried to be, be he doesn’t. He won’t tell about your personal business to him. The hell, even Hoseok doesn’t feel like he should know such a private thing. How did he even meet your mother? Right, he came to your place. He already seems to be too invested in your life to go back to normal and it bothers him, because you’re on his mind. It doesn’t matter that it annoys him and it’s negative.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Hoseok manages to grumble, putting a distance between him and his friend. Jungkook isn’t stupid, he can see the way he tries to distance himself right now. And he knows it’s best to not be too curious about it, so instead, he tries to be there for his friend until he has his own training.

“Come on let’s eat.” he speaks up, already reaching for the chicken just to be met with Hoseok’s deathly glare. That food was supposed to be meant for you. But then he sees the innocent doe eyes with little bit mischievous behind them and he can’t seem to be angry with him.

“You eat, I’m not hungry.” he tells him, leaning his head against the hard wall behind him, staring at the high plain ceiling. He just hopes you will reschedule the practice.

“Why are you being so quiet?!” you exclaim, your voice cracking at the end from how long you've been talking.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to yours, sighing as he tiredly scratches the back of his head. You called him as soon as you bursted from the building and away from Hoseok, in desperate need to talk to your best friend. But he partied last night so he deals with the biggest hungover in his short adult life, listening to your hour blabbering about Hoseok meddling with your personal life.

“I’m trying to be your best friend right now.” he speaks, his own voice hoarse and even the tea you made him, with too much sugar isn’t helping. But he doesn’t mention it when he sees the fire in your eyes. You can be scary.

“By being quiet?” you ask him, getting frustrated with him as he didn’t mutter a single word ever since you started to talk.

“No, by not saying something you won’t like.”

It’s like a slap to your face as you stutter over your words. “W-what do you mean by that?”

Namjoon knows about your mother and how persistent she can get, he also knows about the pressure she puts on you. Maybe not everything, but he kind of understands the situation and your relationship between you and her. You also conceal the fact that you stopped properly eating to get rid of some weight. He doesn’t need to know that – not when you have an idea of what might his reaction be.

“It seems to me like he’s just trying to be nice. Is that so hard to believe?” he asks confidently, but still choosing his words carefully. You even see it when his warm eyes how nothing than friendliness and warmness in them. He is not here to fight, but you can’t help to feel slightly irritated by it.

“Yes, it is,” you nod stubbornly seeing Namjoon let out a disappointed sigh. “Why is he suddenly caring about what I think about myself? He is suppose to teach my how to dance, not to care abo--”

“You know, he isn’t such a bad guy and I’m not saying this just because he is Jin’s friend. I got to know him little bit more and he really is friendly. You should give him a chance and be nice as well.” he cuts you off, not really in the rude way but you still open your mouth in shock.

You feel weird. Maybe it’s because Namjoon always took your side, no matter what. And now he says the complete opposite, not agreeing with you and it hurts and angers you at the same time. Maybe it’s because he is basically taking Hoseok’s side. Just another reason to feel irritated with your dance instructor.

“I will be nice, once he starts to meddling with my personal life.” you mutter and Namjoon groans.

“Goddamit, you’re so stubborn!” Namjoon exclaims suddenly causing you to flinch and his own eyes widen before he sighs in exhaustion. “I get what you’re talking about. But instead of focusing how he shouldn’t do it, just appreciate it.”

Ungrateful bitch. That’s how Hoseok called you and that’s how you feel at the moment.

When Namjoon leaves to go back to sleep off his hangover, saying goodbye with a warm hug nevertheless of what he said to you, you fish out your phone from your bag.

Hoseok’s name stares at you almost mockingly, challenging you of your next moves.

“hey are you free today or someday?”

You send it quickly before you can properly regret it, cringing at the words. He doesn't text back even after an hour you keep checking your phone, waiting for a reply. He probably has other classes to deal with other than your single pitiful message.

You’re mindlessly cutting an apple, your stomach growling almost as if it is angry for you to eat it again when your phone vibrates with notification. Putting down the knife, you wipe your wet hands into the kitchen cloth on the counter. Your eyes almost fall out when you see Hoseok’s name on your screen.

“I just finished, what’s up?”

There is no anger or too intense emotion behind his message. But why does your heart keep beating so fast?

“I thought we could meet up to talk” you answer back, praying you don’t sound too desperate.

“yeah sure”

Two words but you screech like some hormonal teenager, causing you to shut your mouth right after. What the fuck was that?

“can you come to my place?”

You don’t know why you just suggested that but you came to conclusion you should apologise for your previous behaviour and attitude towards him. It wasn’t fair from you and even if you won’t admit it loudly, there was some truth to his words. He was partly right, you know that. Where else you should apologise? You feel like you need to do it as soon as possible, in case you will change your mind and you will back out like a coward. And what is the better way than to do it in the comfort of your own home? Plus he's been already here, it doesn’t matter.

“yeah on my way”

He replies and you hurry to tidy your messy clothes on the floor, just to throw it mindlessly into your closet. You spray some air freshener with strawberry scent just to feel better when he comes in. What if it stinks here and you can’t smell it?

You can’t even eat the freaking apple which sits on your kitchen counter, the nervousness scrunching your stomach as you impatiently wait for Hoseok’s arrival. You have no idea how much does it takes him to knock on your door, even though you just spent your time eyeing the clock. But when you hear the soft knock on your front door, you jump on your spot trying to straighten up your plain shirt and red sweatpants you’re wearing the whole day. Great, you could at least put something more presentable on yourself, but it doesn’t matter now. Why the hell you even care how you look in front of him? He saw your red flushed and ugly face today, it’s not like a nice outfit will change his opinion about you.

Shaking your head at ridiculous thoughts going on in your head, you go to answer your door. You straighten your hair as well and clothes for the last time, before you open it revealing Hoseok. He looks up, straight into your eyes and you’re speechless. He wears the same grey sweatpants with loose black shirt while some of the strands of his hair are wet. His cologne fills your nose and it’s like another slap back to reality.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to shower. Came straight from the practice.” he apologises, shifting on his feet slightly with his sport bag draped over his shoulder.

Was he rushing to your place? No, no, don’t overthink this.

“It’s fine, you don’t smell.” you tell him with a wave of your hand but quickly widen your eyes at what you just said. He chuckles, he freaking chuckles at that and you blush looking down.

“I hope so, I think I used the whole bottle of my cologne.” he jokes and you look up to be met with his grin.

Is this how it feels like to be on Hoseok’s good side? It’s not like you are, but he still grins at you. That’s a win, right?

“Come in.” you take a step back and open the door more to him, so he can step in. He does, putting his sport bag on the floor before he carefully shifts his eyes to you, almost as if asking if it’s alright. And he probably does when he hesitantly lets go of the strap on his bag and you snort.

“You can put it there, it’s not like I’m gonna bite you.” You’re the one who chuckles now, but still put a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

Fuck. Why are you so nervous?

“Nobody knows with you.” he jokes but still watching you in case you will burst.

It’s suppose to be a joke, you know that, but you still feel bad after hearing it. Are you such a bitch?

“Let’s sit.” you tell him instead and he awkwardly nods, not knowing whether he already crossed a line or not.

You ask him if he wants something to drink but he politely declines, sitting on your sofa. He feels sweaty and uncomfortable, not wanting to stain your coach with potential sweat. But even though he told you he didn’t shower, he still smells so fucking good and maybe you should feel repulsed by it, but he even looks good with dewiness on his skin and hair. Snap out of it, Y/N!

“I bet you were surprised to get a message from me, asking you to meet up.” you chuckle, the air between you two awfully awkward. It’s almost funny how you’re both trying to tolerate and be kind to each other.

“Actually, I was glad,” he speaks up, coughing right after to mask the embarrassment on his voice but you hear it nevertheless. You’re mostly surprised by his sudden confession. “I thought you would disappear and only text me that you’re done.”

You know what he’s talking about. You already done it.

“I want to apologise for my previous behaviour. I shouldn't have been so ungrateful because you were right. I was ungrateful bitch--” he opens his mouth to say something but you motion for him to wait, so he slowly closes it. “That’s why I want to say thank you. Thank you for taking care of me, even when I was blind to it. No matter what we have against each other I-- just thank you.”

Your cheeks are on fire by the end of your small monologue and thankfully, when you look up you see Hoseok giving you a gentle nod. He’s acknowledging your apology.

“I probably shouldn’t have invest in your personal life, that’s just who I am.” he speaks up, his voice surprisingly friendly and gentle.

After that, you both become quiet and just stare at each other. You blink, and then he does, and then you again and you both awkwardly look away from each other.

“Y-yeah, that’s what I wanted. Thank you.” you speak, awkwardly straightening your clothes again.

Hoseok stares at you, probably thinking about how idiotic you look right now, before he stands up and gives you the faintest smile he can muster. “See you next week?” he asks with a slight hope in his voice, but maybe you just imagined it, when you nod. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

You feel like the meaning behind his words is something much more than just him saying the casual ‘take care’, he actually points at something without saying it and you’re not stupid not to notice it. You both know what he’s talking about.

And with that he simply leaves, any other exchange happening between the two of you even when you gently close the front door after him, his figure slowly disappearing in the hallway.

Your heart beats like you just ran a freaking marathon, but satisfied smile appears on your lips but not before your stomach grumbles, reminding you of its need. So slowly padding to the kitchen, an untouched apple lays there as you eye the cupboard with all the ramen you managed to buy a month ago. You should be embarrassed by the big amount of the packages of ramen. Hesitating you reach for one of them, already putting out a pot to eat it, hurrying when your stomach calls your attention again.

See, Hoseok? I can take care of myself.

“Y/N, seriously?” Hoseok annoyance booms right next to your ear as he pulls away with annoyed sigh, while you can’t hold your giggles.

“It’s not my fault, it tickles!” you exclaim through your giggles which slowly dies when you see the firm line in between his brows. He looks pissed and kinda hot at the same time.

When you both ‘made up’ or whatever that was, you both hoped you would go back to your practices without any bad blood between the two of you. And so far, there isn’t any except for you ruining the dance for the past twenty minutes making Hoseok frustrated.

“This dance is supposed to be danced with passion, it’s supposed to be sexy.” he speaks with nonchalant and slightly irritated tone, but still manages not to raise his voice. You kind of start to feel bad for giggling all the time, not taking this lesson seriously, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. He’s basically tickling you on your stomach and hips! What sexy about that?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just, it tickles.” you chuckle, ending with a small voice which causes Hoseok to soften his features with a low sigh. It’s better to laugh at his ticklish hands on your waist, instead of focusing how good it feels to feel his touch even through the material of your thin shirt. Because originally, you were doing that — getting unfocused because of his skillful hands grabbing your hips, leading your moves — until it started to get ticklish.

All the hotness you felt, where his hand held you, you ended up squirming in his hold for too many times to get on his nerves. It’s probably better, at least you won’t end up thinking about how hot he makes you feel, the tingling between your legs slowly awaking.

“Come on, let’s do it again.” he lets out that one low sigh that makes you bite your love lip, unconsciously, of course. You release it as soon as you feel the pressure on your lips.

Before you can say anything to that, he already stands behind you. He doesn’t touch you yet, but his breath fanning onto exposed skin of your neck is enough to give away his close proximity. Your insides shudder at that but you manage to keep solid posture.

“This time, no giggling.” he speaks lowly with a hint of strictness — not too much to sound rude, but enough to let you know he’s taking this seriously, as he should. He’s your instructor in the first place.

But when he lowly starts to count as his hands appear on your waist, his scent hitting your nose due to his closeness, your whole body shivers with goosebumps. Fuck. It’s just dance. He doesn’t wait for you to start dancing, leading your hips with his hands. You feel like a fucking lifeless doll in his hold and you’re sure he probably think that as well, so you decide to move your body slightly.

“There you go.” he murmurs, putting some distance between you two so he wouldn’t grind onto you too much. You completely forget the next moves, Hoseok ending up to put your arm up as his fingers start to slowly graze your skin. Fuck, you should’ve worn long sleeve T-shirt. This skin on skin contact isn’t doing you any well. He slowly tugs you, letting you know you should use your body, but it only causes you to stumble and grind onto his soft bludge hidden underneath his Adidas sweatpants.

Gasping, you move too quickly wanting to apologize, ending up elbowing him in the face. You don’t realize it until he groans, backing away from you while holding his brow bone. “Fuck, not again.” he grumbles and you gasp, ready to comfort him but he only shoots you glare. Well, the old Hoseok is back. It took you only one hit to bring him back. You want to laugh at that but you can’t, not when he is giving you that look which indicates he’s pissed off, and when he seems genuinely hurt.

“Fuck, it wasn’t on purpose!” you quickly exclaim, wanting to look at his eye but he only slaps your hands again causing your mouth to fall open in disbelief.

“Why would you react like that?” he mutters under his breath, clearly done with you while still holding his eye.

“You were grinding your dick into me! I was caught off guard!” you exclaim, telling the truth but still cut out that part what he made you feel.

“It was an accident! It’s not like I grind my dick onto you purposely!”

You scoff, a small facade not to show your true emotions, because his words dig into your heart more than you were ready to admit. Of course, he wouldn’t grind his dick onto you. You’re nowhere near his type, he likes his girls skinny and flawless, which unfortunately, you’re not. You know it wasn’t comment about your weight and figure in general, but your insecurity makes you feel self conscious again. It feels worse coming from Hoseok, which you’re quickly irritated about. Since when do you care what he thinks about you?

Maybe it’s because you always cared what others think about you, but you never admitted it.

“Why are you suddenly being so quiet?” he murmurs, your eyes adverting from the floor to his. You spaced out without you realizing. There is something weird, almost like a worry, in his eyes as he scans your face. Fuck, can he read your mind? “I didn’t mean it like--“

”How did you mean it then?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. Well, confidence is a key, even if it’s a fake one. He’s surprised that you cut him off, and even more by your sudden attitude. You can see it from the way he slightly widens his eyes along with his mouth.

“I didn’t mean it like you’re not pretty or something, because--“ he pauses himself with a gulp. “I mean, you’re not that bad,” you raise your brows and he panics with widening his eyes even more. It’s funny, you’ve never seen him being so caught off guard, and you’re going to enjoy this while it lasts. “I mean--“

“Wow, thanks,” you scoff with sarcastic chuckle and he opens his mouth, gawking at you like a fish. This time, you’re not able to hold back a small snort coming from your lips as your shoulders shake. At first, he thinks you’re crying but then he notices your crinkled eyes as you start laughing. “Calm down, I’m not a cry baby.”

He frowns, not appreciating the small prank you just did on him. He was genuinely concerned that he made you cry, although, he used to be way more rude to you. It was weird that you’d start to cry at that. But he doesn’t voice his thoughts, not admitting loudly and definitely not to you, that he was started to get concerned.

“Dude, I have never seen you being so caught off guard.” Your laugh has calmed down, but you still can’t help to chuckle every now and then.

“Don’t call me dude,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes off. “I thought you got mad at me.”

You’d react somehow, but you notice him not holding his eye anymore and you quickly go to inspect it. “There isn’t even anything,” You tell him but he smacks his lips in annoyance, almost letting a growl at you and you raise your brow. “It looks like I’m not the one who’s crybaby.” you sign out and he groans.

“You’re annoying, woman.” he murmurs under his breath and you give him a grin, as you go to drink some water.

He watches you grinning at him, this time he’s not able to hold a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.

[ceciliavonwrites]

Clownmom and Sonboy

"Sweetie?" Harley Quinn lifted one of her ratty couch's throw pillows. It was too small to hide anyone under, but she had to be sure. She'd only gotten home a few minutes ago. "Where are you?"

She got down on her knees to check under the couch. She was pretty sure that he hadn't gone out; the front door was still locked when she got home.

That, and she knew by now how he functioned. Shadow had a lot of trouble expressing emotion. He internalized things. Multiple times he had chosen to hide and nurse his own pain alone (sometimes literally, with his headaches) rather than let her know that he was struggling.

In theory, with time and with patience, he would emerge on his own. Harley, very worried and tearing apart her living room, was not currently capable of patience.

Now she marched into her bedroom, leaving the living room behind her in more disarray than it had started with. Her room was equally messy, even though half of her things were still in boxes. "Darn it, where is he?" She said to no one in particular. "He'd been doing so well lately, too..."

She heard a noise. Harley stopped, managing not to make any sound for a moment. She glanced around the room, trying to figure out where it came from.

There it was again. A soft shuffling, from under the middle of her bed.

She dropped to the floor, so low that her cheek squished against the carpet.

There he was. A little black and red ball between some of her boxes of stuff, curled up so tight she couldn't see anything but the big red stripe on his head and his ears. He was so small and his little ears were drooping and sad.... She wanted to dive in, drag him out, and hug the shit out of him.

Okay, probably shouldn't do that. She took a deep breath. Stay calm, Harleen. Don't come on too strong. Use that big smart talky psychiatrist brain you have.

"Sweetie?" She said gently. "I can see you. What's wrong?"

He didn't move. Harley waited, as hard as that was.

Then slowly the stripe moved backwards, and Shadow's eyes came into view. The whites of his eyes glowed just slightly, making them very visible in the darkness underneath. In her opinion, he was trying too hard to keep whatever he was feeling from showing on his face.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

"Nothin'? Well...okay." Arguing just made him defensive. "Come on out from under the bed, though? It's almost dinner time. Help me make mac n' cheese."

Shadow glanced down, thinking. He did like macaroni and cheese. "Hm." He uncurled some more, pushing out his limbs and jostling the boxes next to him; it was an awkward motion in such a small space. "Alright."

Harley lifted her head off the floor and scooched back to give him room. It took Shadow some ungraceful army-crawling and squirming to get his head to pop out from under the bed. She offered him a hand to stand up and he ignored it, getting up on his own.

"I'll get the pot and the water," Harley said, "if you set the table."

Shadow nodded, and trailed after her into the kitchen.

So Harley got the mac n cheese box and the pot and the water in the pot. Shadow helped, obeying whenever she asked for something without any enthusiasm. Not that he was normally enthusiastic about chores, but the lack thereof was usually active, scowling, you-can't-make-me rebellion.

Shadow trudged across the kitchen to her side. He handed her a requested big spoon without so much as looking up.

"Thanks, sweetie." With the un-spooned hand, Harley ruffled the bristly fur on his head.

He let her do it in silence.

She lifted her hand and uneasily returned to the stove. He usually hates that.

Oh, she really REALLY wanted to just smother him in cuddles and make him stop being so gloomy and quiet, but that wouldn't actually help. She would know, she's tried. Gotta be patient. He has to initiate the conversation.

She sprinkled some salt into the water to make it boil faster. "So. It's gonna take a bit for the water to boil." Just a little. A pinch. A teaspoon. Half the shaker.

Shadow hadn't moved away, and didn't now. His quills brushed against her leg. "I can't see it from down here," he said.

"Well...no?" What did that mean? Did he want to be picked up? She LOVED holding him. He, less so. "You want up?"

Shadow, staring at the floor, bobbed his head in a tiny nod. Her psychiatrist brain and her holding-cute-things brain, for once, were in perfect agreement. He's seeking comfort. It's good that he feels secure enough to do that.

Harley knelt, and scooped him up, supporting him under his legs with one arm, like she would a baby. Shadow cooperated, leaning against her with his head over one of her shoulders.

She stood up, bouncing him once to adjust him. He still couldn't see the pot, but she suspected that wasn't really the point.

Okay. She's gotten him here. Harley decided to chance it. "How're you doin'?"

It was a moment before Shadow tried to answer. "I'm..." He paused. "I don't know."

She pat him on the back. "That's okay." It was a step. Getting away from complete denial of his negative feelings, which was good.

Still, it means more waiting. That wasn't too out of the ordinary for him.

She passed the time walking around the kitchen and straightening up some of the ever-present mess on the counter, occasionally adjusting Shadow on her arm. It wasn't too long; the water boiled shockingly fast for a crappy apartment stove (the small mound of salt at the bottom of the pot might've helped).

Harley hummed while stirring the boiling noodles. It wasn't any tune in particular. She just didn't like the quiet.

Shadow took a breath. "Doctor...I remembered more about that girl." He said quietly. "Maria."

Oh. That kid he saw get shot. She held him a little tighter. "Yeah?"

"She was... We were friends." He paused. "Last night I received a memory of her and I reading together. This morning I saw us playing hide and seek."

Harley thought about this for a moment. He hadn't had any idea who she was, just that her name was Maria and she had been shot. Unfortunate, and probably disturbing (Harley herself was blasé about violence at this point), but nothing personal. Now that was changing.

"How does that make you feel?" she asked.

"It hurts. She felt...important." He sounded like he was having trouble talking. "They were...happy memories. I should be happy. I don't...know why I..."

He trailed off, and didn't finish the sentence.

Harley set down the stirring spoon on the counter, and pat him on his prickly back. "I think you're sad because now you know she was your friend." She said. "Like, you're discovering that you and her both had some good times together. But you're also aware that she died sometime after that. So it's like now you know that you've lost something, you know?"

Shadow's voice broke. "Oh."

He buried his face into her shoulder. Harley abandoned the spoon and wrapped her arms around him.

The only sounds in the kitchen were the bubbling of the boiling water, and Shadow's quiet, muffled attempts not to cry.

Harley teared up. Broke her heart, every time. "It's okay, hun," she said, gently rocking him back and forth. "Cryin' helps. Honest it does." She turned in place; if she couldn't do anything else she at least wanted to be moving. "Balances your brain chemistry and stuff. It's healthy."

He made a noise into her shoulder. "Mnh..."

Harley stopped turning in place, her back to the stove. "I know, it's not fun. I know. I'm sorry. But I'm proud of you!" Harley snuggled him. "You're doing it. Meeting your memories and your feelings head-on. Doing the not-fun thing."

She could hear and feel him breathe in, the lungs in his little body pushing out against her embrace.

"...I miss her." His voice was almost steady. He paused before speaking again. "It shouldn't hurt this much."

It's working! He's talking! Harley contained her excitement, and asked, "Why do you say that?"

"I should be stronger."

"Strong?" Harley played dumb for a moment. "You can lift a bus over your head. You're plenty strong."

"Not...that."

She waited for him to elaborate. It took a few minutes for him to speak again.

"I hate that new memories can...do this to me." He said slowly. "Knock me down."

"Yeah?"

"I am the ultimate lifeform." He spoke ruefully. "And I end up hurt by something as intangible as my own memories."

Oof, the implications there. If that was a big part of his thinking... "Well, heck, anybody would be rattled by a vision of somebody dyin' popping into their heads. An' if they aren't," she added, "all they are is wayyy too used to seein' people die. That's not a strength, that just means they're fucked up. They're prolly the ones causing all that death in the first place."

She had drifted to an unpleasant subject. Harley hurriedly corrected herself. "Er, but, that ain't the point, that ain't the point. You're not like that. Make sense?"

"You are trying to say that I am not..." Shadow paused, and tentatively shaped his mouth around the unfamiliar phrase. "'Fucked up'."

"Yeah!" His formal little voice saying swears would be funny if they weren't having a serious feelings discussion right now. Actually, no, it was still funny. "Could be a lot worse. You're capable of feeling! That's more than a lotta crooks in this city can claim."

"Hm."

"And, you know, I cry all the time," Harley said matter-of-factly. "Just 'cause stuff happens and I'm emotional. Maybe I do cry more than other people. I don't really care! It helps me be peppy the rest of the time. It ain't me being weak, it's just...you know, feeling."

She softened her voice. "You're doing great, honey."

He was still and quiet for a moment. His breathing wasn't hitching anymore.

Then Shadow leaned back, pulling himself away from her shoulder. Harley adjusted her arms to keep holding him up, smiling at him. He looked tired, but calm, his eyes dry.

"...Thank you."

"No problem, sweetie." Aw, she'd probably have to stop holding him now. "Eh...do ya want down?"

He glanced aside, thinking.

Then he nestled back into her, re-resting his head on her shoulder. "In a moment."

Harley could have cried again, she was so fucking happy. Her baby trusted her enough to talk to her! And to hold him! She was bouncing. She loved him so much!!

Shadow choked. "Y-You're crushing me...!"

"Sorry!" She hastily loosened her grip. "Sorry, sorry...are you okay?"

"Y...Yes."

He caught his breath.

"Doctor?"

Shadow sounded like himself again. Phew. Harley felt a lot better. Everything was okay now. "Yeah, hun?"

"The noodles are drying out."

"What?" Shit, that's right, she had been making mac n cheese! "OH, FUCK!"

[empressxmachina]

Sideline - “iii”. by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me)

Also on Wattpad

   “Madi?”

   The girl in question gasped and shook at the reverberation of her name – Jake’s already orotund voice ringing even more from proximity and can dynamics. So focused on retrieving her phone, she didn’t detect his approach, but the anything but quiet query brought her back to reality. This grossly fucked reality. Just like how Jake reacted to her, Madi knew this made all too much sense to not be real, even though the results were terrifying on her end rather than worrisome. Nevertheless, safety was right there like what she wanted, so she had to be grateful and get it.

   Madi took a breath before retracting her hand from the soda spout and rising from her hunched-over position to see her supposedly giant savior. She already knew there was nothing to allege about his size; she had felt him before seeing him earlier. However, standing erect and seeing that her head couldn’t rise over one of the smallest soda cans that she had ever seen, let alone it being on its side, was quite disheartening. It was made worse, especially now, as there was undoubtedly another body behind it for reference: an above-average body in all respects but still a normally human body. So, she had a few expectations that kept her from passing out again upon sight of Jake.

   She didn’t pass out, but maybe that would’ve been easier to handle.

   Madi could practically see the redness of his blood drain from Jake’s skin when she fully came into view. Any more translucent, and she probably could’ve seen the cogs in his head trying to figure this out and how else to react. He knelt down on a knee and focused his eyes on her fairy-like frame, uncaring of any approaching soda anymore, unaware of the tremor he sent through his tiny friend while doing so, recognizing and scanning all her diminutive details.

   She was a sight to behold to him, and he was, too, to her. However, before she could really absorb his scale like he was, a hand just as large as his planetary, light-eclipsing head began heading right for her. Already having accepted it as her best way out in her lonesome, she was calmly prepared to just let it take her away. Tumbling for so many years had already made her used to rapid altitude shifts, so that wouldn’t have been an issue, even like this… probably.

   But, in a sudden wave, the residual reality of their risk hit her, reigniting her panic.

   She had already been dealt cards from a bad deck, and those cards were still on the table, all over and around her. Even if it would’ve brought her an empathizer to her situation, she couldn’t bear someone else being given a bad hand… and by their own hand.

   So, she didn’t.

   “Jake, no!”

   Madi felt the air blow by from Jake's branching fingers stopping at her yelp. Thankfully, no contact was made with her drink-dampened self. They continued to hover in front of her along her length, letting the risk of touch hang in the air. Following the digits up their tree trunk of an arm to a shoulder and then a head, a colossal, concerned face with dark brunette locks pouring out of a beanie stared at her.

   “No?” Jake repeated, keeping his hand up within grabbing distance of her. “What do you mean ‘No?’ Look at you, Mads. You’re so—”

   “I know what I look like!” she projected up to him, assertiveness replacing her awe for the moment. “You don’t have to tell me. I know it’s bad, but I’m serious. Don’t touch me!”

   Jake winced at her demand, partially from its surprising subject matter and partially from her voice. Despite her diminutive dimensions, he could hear her with clarity – too much clarity if his math was right. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his days blasting music in his ears, his training with sound for his media classes, the endless coaches respectfully lashing out at him all throughout his school years, or him just having sensitive ears, but Madi’s voice was loud to him. It made absolutely no sense, but then again, neither did her size.

   Anatomical anomalies aside, Jake didn’t approve of her seemingly spontaneous surge of pride, either. But at least he could say she was definitely the Madi he knew.

   “You called me here to help you,” he tested, throwing his arms up. “You called me, and now you don’t want me to?” He saw many a flaw with her logic, and if she didn’t catch that through his tone, then his raised eyebrow and head tilt showed her.

   “Yes!” she confirmed with a stomp. Then, she thought about what he said. “No!” Noticing the contradiction, she juggled his words and her own words again, only to puzzle herself in the end. “What?”

   Perhaps it was the stress that complemented her new physique, but she couldn’t tell if Jake was messing with her or not. With him being a televised, Division I athlete rather than ‘just a cheerleader’ like she was as the media tended to say, Madi assumed that he would’ve been informed of the soda recall first. Considering that she was drenched in the stuff – its aroma couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else – she couldn’t comprehend how he could’ve possibly been confused.

   “You know what I’m trying to say!” she pushed, believing the trickster option. “It’s too dangerous!”

   “Danger—? What are you—?” Jake stammered, not believing what he was hearing due to not being on the same page. “Did your new size come with insanity, too, or something? How the fuck else am I supposed to get you out of here without touching you? You know you can’t make it on your own. You said so, yourself! Now, come on.”

   Jake attempted reaching for her again, only for Madi to scuttle backward away from his hand and into the thankfully dull edge of the can.

   “I-I know what I said!” she affirmed, not stopping her retreating until Jake halted again. “But can’t you see my reason why?”

   Jake took a couple of seconds to look her over, and, to her surprise, he eventually concluded a truth that Madi hadn’t realized until he mentioned it.

   “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” he guessed, barely making out the tiny girl’s eyes widening and lowering his hand to his side because of it. “Madi, I… I’m not going to hurt you.”

   “Oh, my God, Jake. I’m talking about you hurting yourself!” Before Jake could ask any questions or deny her claim, she continued briskly, not bothering to confront his presumption. “I opened this fucking recalled soda, and then this happened to me. The correlation should be obvious, so you touching it head-on could be just as terrible for you if not worse than me right now, right!?”

   Hearing her blunt anecdote, Jake quickly straightened up, pulling his hands back. He had tried making connections between Madi’s new look and the mess around her, but after hearing it straight from the source, the scene around said doll of a damsel finally made complete sense. Now, he had a new challenge: saving her without screwing himself, too. Luckily, a sight in the corner of his eye on his way to her had burned itself into his mind, and it’d be his luck if what he thought was there actually was.

   There’d be no touching soda. In fact, there’d be no soda to touch. But it’d only work if he found what he wanted, and he’d only know by looking first.

   Jake constructed a plan in silence, leaving Madi to try reading his expressions in the dust. He had always had a bit of a cryptic side, seemingly bothered by the most unexpected things. They all came to be fairly sensible once she had managed to get context – it usually being pointed to one all-too-encompassing reason – but she had nothing here. She had nothing to go off when Jake suddenly directed,

   “Don’t move. Not until I tell you to.”

   There was exigency in his tone, similar to that when he thought someone had hurt her over the phone. With the firmness of his face and how it, itself, was no longer facing her, she knew he meant what he said, and she wasn’t going to press him. Still, being a catalyst for tension didn’t sit well with her, even if that tension was most likely going to help her. Jake may not have wanted her to move, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t speak, still. However, he soon took that opportunity away from her, too.

   Before she could mutter a word, Jake blasted upward onto his feet with his head in the clouds again and zoomed away out of sight. His flowing hairs painted speed lines behind him, and his acceleration nearly toppled Madi over. Though, seeing him build into a tower right in front of her without a care, except doing so to help her, of course, made her legs weak on his own. From what she could tell, she couldn’t even reach his ankles. Hell, his Achilles’ was probably thicker and longer than her, now. But at least he didn’t seem to think of her as less of a person because of her lessened height.

   Aside from juggling emotions sprouted from her watching her tree of a friend walk away, Madi had no time to ponder Jake’s doings before she heard a cacophony of random sounds fill the room, bouncing off its tiles. Water running. Plastics being knocked around. Something being scrubbed or washed. Even if she wanted to ask what he was doing, because she hadn’t the slightest idea, Madi conjectured he wouldn’t have heard her over the noise. It all eventually stopped, though, first blending with each other before gradually softening into nothingness and being replaced by Jake’s returning paces and their squeals.

   Rapid footfalls… and they were speeding up.

   “Mads, I know how you are,” Jake called out over his podiatric drums and what sounded creepily similar to a sloshing, filled bathtub, “but don’t fight me on this, alright?”

   Nothing about his query sounded good, but Madi didn’t have any ideas of her own. Someone, at least, was trying to make moves. She couldn’t put him down for that, and she didn’t.

   Knowing fully well that he couldn’t hear her if he had to yell, she replied anyway. “Uh, okay?”

   Jake wasn’t an idiot, so he surely wouldn’t do something stupid. Her confidence spoke volumes, yet she didn’t get a lot of time to debate that if it hadn’t. In what felt like a split second after, Jake kept his word, giving her the directive that he promised once he passed the locker row before hers,

   “Turn around!”

   She was quick enough to put her back to him just as his treads came to a skidding stop. However, despite all of the lower body strength she had, mostly displayed during floor runs in gymnastics, no amount of sturdiness could’ve blocked what Jake was about to send her direction.

   The moment she thought she would finally remain dry for the rest of the night was dashed as her backside was ambushed by an abrupt rush of a liquid custodians’ closet. The tsunami of cleaners and suds, luckily without an aroma of ammonia, broke her balance, knocking her down into the strong flow and sliding her and every other loose object and substance on it down the row of lockers.

   A minnow trying to traverse a waterfall, Madi soon felt like she was instantly inserted into a scene from one of those video games with a treasure-hunting protagonist doused with quick-time events. Inside the main objective of ‘Don’t drown and die’, there was needing to weave in and out to get away from the massive can halves coming at her like loose guillotine blades and having to grab her still music-playing phone, loose clothes, and the rest of her bag before they got out of reach. By the power of the divine, she managed to re-obtain all her tiny things and put them in front of her to before she made her hard impact with the wall in seconds that felt like hours.

   If she wasn’t composing herself with deep breathing and stillness, then the subconscious fact of the tumbling mat-like buffer of crashing water she met at the wall was the only thing preventing her being permanently paralyzed would’ve been filling her mindscape. That and how hard she was going to ruin Jake from this when she got back to normal.

   Meanwhile, Jake stood from afar with a now-empty bucket dripping the last of its contents onto the floor by his boat-like feet. Empty because he launched the liquid mix much harder than he expected. Getting over the initial thrill he imagined being in a wave head-on like that would be, he soon turned not sure of how to feel seeing his pocket-sized pal being tossed around like a salad. In his caused surge, his goal of the floor and her body being cleansed of the evil elixir simultaneously came to fruition.

   He wanted that, and he got it. It worked. But at what cost?

   Only after throwing the blend did Jake think that it might not have been a good idea to do so, not considering any chance of Madi being poisoned, suffocated, or drowning. He would’ve hit himself for it if he didn’t think that putting the bucket down would’ve endangered her more, so the chastising only came from the inside. Inside until Madi got a voice again, based on how their history ran.

   Baking soda, detergent, a bit of bleach, and water for days. Those ingredients and bits of many others made up the cleanser concoction leaking down the aisle, and it was only a miracle that none of it got in any of Madi’s orifices. Coating her and her stuff, along with the tiles, to loosen and lessen the dregs of vexatious soda was the goal. But to replace it with poison for her was poison to him. Despite the avoided risk, once the spill dried and the can bits were disposed of, it’d be like nothing happened on the floor. Nothing but a living doll and her accessory pack, of course. He just felt lucky that she didn’t appear to be hurt when her white-water rapid ride came to an end. He hoped that his rashness wouldn’t bite him in the ass later, but he was just glad enough that she was alive, wee wheezes and all.

   Madi, on the other hand, sure didn’t feel lively, still catching her breath after a minute, so much so that she again didn’t detect a shadow coming her way, swiftly cupping and wrapping her along with her things within an endless field of fluff. After a few seconds of flailing around, trying to keep track of her stuff including her composure, she realized that she was within a towel Although she was drier now and smelled fresh, whether she truly was or not, she still hoped it was clean and, even more, hyperventilated that she was in safe hands.

   Jake took heed to not be rowdy or rough with such a fragile item – person – in his hands, but he couldn’t hide his excitement and intrigue at the thought of doing so. Nevertheless, he figured that this must’ve been frightening or maddening for her, especially without giving her notice of anything. So, when he thought that he had done enough dampness removal, he hesitated with removing the bends of the towel that shielded her from view, shakily moving her small weight to one hand and pinching an edge of the towel with the other.

   Shaken silly in an enormous encapsulation and put somewhat under the influence of the heat and, unknowingly, the musk its core gave off, Madi had a bit of delirium when her fabric sky disappeared to reintroduce the brightness of a white-light lit room… and her handler within it. When his sizeable silhouette came into view, showing off every chiseled feature and enhancing his already bright, brown eyes and his hair of slightly darker hue, Madi wasn’t confident in whether she was alive, having only visualized people so heavenly in dreams and holy books. Plus, the warm look of awe and security he sent back down to her without saying a word, almost as if he couldn’t speak or she wasn’t worthy to hear his voice, didn’t help.

   Only when he did speak again did she, again, get shaken out of her trance back into the puzzling and perilous reality with her past emotions retiring to be replaced with something new, all from him saying one word through the plush mattresses that were his lips,

   “Hey.”

[killerqueenmachine]

Wonderwall - Gwilym Lee x Reader

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader Words: 3685

Prompt: Wonderwall by Oasis

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, ANGST - turns to fluff. Note: This is my contribution to @rogerina-deacon writing challenge!

Lyrics to the song are written in cursive. Lines marked with * __ * is a text-message.

A big thank you to @imsusx and @brianandthemays for BETA reading this. I really truly had a hard time making this one work out and you really helped me out. Thank you so much! I couldn't have done this without you guys. ❤️

__________________

Today is gonna be the day That they're gonna throw it back to you By now you should've somehow Realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do, about you now

"It's been going on for way too long already. It's too late to do or say anything now, and you know it! Besides... I think he might be in love with someone else." The words barely left your lips before you started to feel the heat rise to your face as you argued with your best friend. She was the only person in the whole world who knew about your crush on Gwilym and, as things were going, she would be the only person in the world to ever know. You had met Gwilym through your old classmate about a year and a half or so ago. He had invited you and Gwilym to the same party a while back. You hit it off instantly and became really good friends. But never more than that. Just friends.

Gwilym had brought you along for a lot of things that had to do with his work, though. Premiers, shoots, red carpets even a few interviews where you weren't on camera at all you were just there as moral support and because you really wanted to be there with him. Today was no different. He had invited you to a big release party for his newest movie, at least a thousand guests would be there, he had said. You had agreed in a heartbeat, taking up any opportunity to be with him.

"But you know today is going to be the best chance you have to tell him!" your friend whined, clearly as frustrated as you were.

"I don't have to tell him anything. It's just a stupid crush and-"

"A STUPID CRUSH?!" she yelled, cutting you off.

"You've been completely smitten with him for at least a year! That's not a stupid crush!"

You sighed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The feeling of hopelessness flooded through your veins. You knew she was right. At the bottom of your heart, you just knew. Every night for the past year you had fallen asleep pretending to be laying next to Gwilym, his arms wrapped around you and having his soft snores lull you to sleep. You had even started kissing your pillow, pretending to be kissing him instead.

"Hello? Earth is calling! You can't just back out of this by not answering me!" Your friend continued after a few moments.

"I'm... I know. I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do." you whined, walking backward until your back hit the wall behind you, allowing you to slide down until you were situated on the floor. You pulled up your knees and wrapped your arms around your legs, trying to become as small as possible.

"Then listen to me" she sighed, clearly getting fed up with the constant struggle with you being too shy to admit your feelings and her having to deal with all your emotional breakdowns. "You go to that fucking party, you turn it the fuck out and you get your sorry little ass together and tell Gwilym that you're in love with him and then you deal with whatever outcome there is!" she listed, pointing at you after every step in her plan.

"Yeah yeah yeah" you replied, resting your forehead on your arms.

"No! Don't 'yeah-yeah-yeah' me! Listen to my advice and do as I tell you. I love you - but man am I getting sick and tired of listening to your complaints about being single and how much to fancy this guy! Go out and do something about it!" your friend was still fuming.

"I know, sorry," you said and lifted your head, obtaining eye contact with your friend.

"Thank you for being there for me, though. Even though you are being a bit harsh right now” you continued while not-so-elegantly getting up from the floor again. “Are you hungry?"

"Yeah... I'm a little hungry. Hangry even, maybe" she laughed and shook her head.

"Thought so - let's go out. I'll treat us to some nachos, yeah?"

She agreed and the two of you quickly popped out for lunch before returning to your flat. Your friend had offered to help you get ready before Gwilym would come and pick you up so you could go to the party together. Now that you knew that this was going to be the night that you finally told him about your feelings, you wanted to look your best. Mainly because looking your best coincidentally also made you feel your best.

The sound of your doorbell went off and you knew exactly what that meant. Gwilym was finally here and you couldn't wait to see him. Quickly you downed the last of your drink and made your way to the front door. You pushed up your boobs one final time and straightened the front of your dress before slowly opening the door.

"Well well well, hello there little missy - aren't you a treat for the eye!" Gwilym said as he saw you. His words made the blood rush to your cheeks and a goofy smile made its way over your lips.

"Oh Gwil, you're too sweet" you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug.

He hummed in a non-verbal answer and placed a soft kiss to your cheek as he pulled away from the hug.

"Are you ready for a wild night?" he asked, offering his arm for you to hold on to, as he lead you away from your flat.

"Sure am, Sir. Sure am," you laughed and locked your door before following him to the car.

The car ride to the event went smoothly. Whenever you were alone with Gwilym it felt like it was the most natural thing in the world - like everything had fallen in to place. Yet, you still didn't dare to tell him how you actually felt. You just barely hinted at it during your conversation but he didn't seem to catch on - or if he did, he brushed it off.

You arrived at the party and Gwilym graciously lead you inside where you greeted all of his friends; friends that you had become very well acquainted with at this point, due to all the events you had been at, at this point. Within an hour or so Gwilym had left your side to go chat with someone else, while you stayed with Ben and Lucy.

"So how're things between you and Gwil?" Lucy asked, taking a slow sip of her drink.

"Things?" you asked, slightly confused, quickly scanning the room to see if Gwilym was anywhere close.

"Yeah? Aren't you guys like... A thing? I mean you've been to every single get together for the past 6 months?" she asked obviously more confused than you were.

"No, God no - we're absolutely just friends," you stammered, feeling a slight panic race through your body.

"Just friends, yeah?" Ben chimed in.

"Yeah, yeah. There's never been- uh... Never been anything," you said and your eyes darted to the floor, desperate to avoid any eye contact.

"Never? Really?" Lucy asked sounding almost flabbergasted.

"Yeah," you admitted with a defeated tone of voice.

"Do you want anything to be there?" Ben asked cautiously.

You kept your eyes glued to the floor, clearly spending way to much time thinking about your answer.

"I..." you said and sighed deeply. "I don't know. He's lovely, really - and I've thought-" you started. "No - no. Forget it. It doesn't matter" you sighed again deciding that it was better to keep your feelings a complete secret.

"It absolutely does matter! You have a crush on him, don't you?" Lucy said, sounding way more excited than you wanted her to.

"I.. Lucy I don't know how to-" You finally looked up from the ground and as your eyes searched to obtain eye contact with Lucy you accidentally looked over her shoulder.

Behind her across the room was Gwilym with some woman you had never seen before. Her hands on his bicep and cheek, his hands around her waist and their lips absolutely glued together. Your breath got caught in your throat and a million thoughts and feelings rushed through your mind before everything went black. Nothing mattered anymore.

"I'm sorry... I have to- uh- go," you whispered, feeling the tears starting to well up in your eyes.

"(Y/N) wait! What's-" Ben started before he saw Gwilym. "Oh," he gasped.

"Oh no," Lucy whispered and looked after you, only to see the very back of your head as you disappeared out of the front door.

The tears had started freely flowing down your cheeks ruining your make-up in no time. Frustration rushed through your veins and the uncontrollable urge to break things started filling your consciousness. At this point, you couldn't even be bothered to call a taxi. You need the fresh air, the break, the silence. In your fury, your hurt - and your stilettos - you just started walking, running almost, in the direction of your home. You managed to walk for an hour before the physical pain of wearing stilettos got too much and you had to call a taxi for the last few kilometers.

When you finally got home you slammed the door with a force you didn't even know you possessed. Kicked off your shoes and threw your purse on the floor. You stomped your way to your bedroom and violently got out of your clothes and right before you slammed on to the bed, a heartbreakingly primal scream left your lips, finally allowing you to collapse on to your bed. Your brain went crazy, running over every memory you have of you and Gwilym, causing you to violently sob and cry. The only thing that stopped your crying was when you finally fell asleep.

Backbeat, the word was on the street That the fire in your heart is out I'm sure you've heard it all before But you never really had a doubt I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do about you now

It had been 3 months since the last time you had spoken to Gwilym. In the days after the party, he had desperately trying to get a hold of you, calling you, texting you - he even showed up to your flat. Yet you gave him no answer. Ben had been your main source of finding out what was going on with Gwilym and he had truly been there for you, allowing you to empty your heart and mind right onto his shoulders. Through him, you had found out that the woman Gwilym had been kissing on the night of the party continued to pop up alongside Gwilym, and at one point, Ben finally confirmed that the two of them were a couple. The message had broken the final piece of your heart, leaving you a sobbing mess once again.

Today you were woken up by a new text from Ben simply saying 'It's over. They're over'. You read the text and felt your heart started to race. Within a few minutes, you had gained control over your breathing and partly some control over your thoughts and you decided to call Ben. Luckily he picked up his phone quickly.

"It's me," his dark voice beamed through your phone.

"It's the mess calling," you softly said with a voice dripping with self-pity.

"Hello, Miss Mess. How are you doing?" he asked sounding genuinely worried about you.

"I'm... Okay. I think. Uhm, I actually called because of your text. Are they really? I mean have they broken up?" you nervously asked, fearing what Ben might tell you.

"Absolutely. Gwilym just popped over earlier. Apparently, she cheated on him but he didn't sound as upset as you would think someone who had just been cheated on would sound. He said something about their ‘thing’ never really 'feeling right' - whatever that was supposed to mean. He didn’t even refer to her as a girlfriend or well, ex-girlfriend.."

"Uh-huh. Well, that’s great - or, you know. Not great but.. yeah," you softly laughed. Ben always had a way to make you feel better, even on your darkest days. Well, almost. "Thank you so much for telling me, Ben. I'll call you back some other time okay? Miss you - bye!" You said and hung up once he had said his goodbyes too.

A strange feeling started to soar through your body. On one hand, it felt really good to know that Gwilym was no longer with anyone and on the other hand you felt bad for enjoying someone's misery. Even though you had felt like your heart had been shattered all those months ago your crush on Gwilym never disappeared. He was still the only man on your mind. Just as your thoughts started to wander another text ticked in on your phone.

*Are you ready to talk yet? I miss you so much. Please*

The text was from Gwilym and just seeing his name on your phone again made your heart skip a beat.

*I’m so sorry. I miss you too, can I call you?*

It didn’t take long before your phone rang and after a few deep breaths you picked it up.

“Gwilym?” you asked.

“Yes, God I’ve missed you so much,” he whined.

The conversation between the two of you wasn’t very long. It just didn’t seem right to have such a serious conversation through the phone. Just hearing his voice again made your heartache. Instead, you decided it was better to meet up, face to face, which ended up with you inviting him to your flat as soon as he had time to sit down and really talk. Three days. In three days from now, he would be over.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding And all the lights that lead us there are blinding There are many things that I Would like to say to you but I don't know how

The three days seemed to be longer than any other days you had ever lived through. You spent a lot of time tidying and cleaning your flat to hide the fact that you had barely been able to leave your bed out of pure self-pity for the past few months.

The nervousness of finally meeting up with Gwilym again started to spread throughout your body. For 3 whole months, you hadn't seen or talked to the man you once considered to be your best friend. But before the nerve-numbing feeling of panic managed to spread too far, you heard a very familiar voice call your name and a few subtle knocks on your door.

"Gwilym… Hi," you whispered softly as you opened the door, finally seeing him again. The look on this face made your body instantly fill with guilt and shame. The guilt of just leaving him behind and flat out ignore him for all those months, without even telling him why.

"I've missed you," he whined. He had already had quite the day and seeing you were the cherry on top of a very miserable cake.

"I'm so sorry. I'm just the wor-"

Gwilym took a single long stride forwards and scooped you into his arms, pulling you in for a rib-crushingly tight hug.

You could feel yourself melt into his touch, desperately trying to forget that the past 3 months had happened. You just wanted everything to go back to normal. After a few moments of silence, and just the two of you glued together in your doorway, you pulled out of the hug, finally inviting him inside and closing the door slowly behind him.

"Gwilym, I'm so so sorry for being such a bad friend. There are so many things I'd like to say to you, I just don't know how," you started to apologize as you turned around to face him again.

"God, I've missed the sound of your voice," he said in a laughing sigh.

"Listen, we've got a lot to talk about. Do you mind if I make myself a cuppa?" he asked quickly afterward.

"No - no, let me do it. Earl grey, no sugar, a splash of milk, yeah?" you said, making your way to your kitchen, quickly getting a pot of water ready for boiling.

"Please. That would be perfect," he said and dumped down on one of your kitchen chairs.

A few moments of silence passed through your tiny kitchen while the pot started to boil and you made two cups of tea. You slowly walked over and handed the milky one to Gwilym and sat down opposite from him.

"I.." you started but ended up sighing, not knowing how to word all the feelings you wanted to tell Gwilym about.

"No, let me," he insisted.

"I went by Ben's place earlier today and he told me about... Some things." he started and placed the cup of tea on the table.

"That party. I.. I just feel so bad. I didn't even realize you had left until three hours after. God, I felt horrible when I found out. I tried to call you but... You didn’t pick up - for three months," he said. It stung - bad. He hadn't even noticed that you had left.

"Listen, Gwil. You don't have-"

"No, please don't interrupt. I have so many things I need to say." he laughed softly, holding up his forefinger as if to shush you.

"But why now?" you said. You knew why he came by now and not earlier, but you wanted to hear it from him.

"She... I mean you know, the woman from the party, we... uh," he seemed to fumble with his words. "Erica was her name. Well, it still is, she isn't dead. Uh. We sorta.. Oh, you know already don't you?" It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I know.. Some things. Ben really loves his gossip doesn't he?" you laughed. "You guys were a couple and now you're... not?" you softly said, taking a sip of your tea.

"We were never an official couple... We dated, sure... But it never really... Felt right, you know? We just didn't click."

"And that took you three months to figure out?"

"Yeah- well... She cheated on me. So I guess it didn't feel right for her either" Gwilym sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear," you softly said, offering a bit of sympathy, even though you didn't really have any.

"It's okay, really. I wasn't ever meant to be, was it?" he laughed.

Before you got the chance to answer him, he cleared his throat and started talking again. You took in a deep breath of air and slumped back in your chair allowing Gwilym to say what he needed to say.

"Anyway - I didn't.." he paused for a while, clearly unsure of how to word his next sentence. "Listen. I didn't know that you felt like that... you know, the- uh... the crush and all. But if I had known, of course, I would've never gone after someone else. I thought that... what we had was simply platonic. That's how I thought you wanted it. I spent so much time trying to hint at us becoming something… more. But since you never picked up on any of the hints I just thought you weren't interested." He sighed defeated stopping for a moment to take a sip of his tea.

You didn't say anything. You focused on breathing steadily and not pouring your tea into your lap.

"I'm so sorry for... everything you've been through. I just wish I had known - I wish you would've told me instead of just... Freezing me out. I get it - I really do. Couldn't have been easy seeing what you saw." You could clearly see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on that night.

"Gwilym…" you chimed in, only to be cut off by him again.

"No - listen. I just want to let you know that… I'm not mad at you. I unknowingly broke your heart - yes, Ben talks too much and let me in on everything. He was my only source to check in on you," he admitted, lowering his head in some sort of shame.

"You checked in on me?" your voice was fragile and barely louder than a whisper.

"Of course I did. You're still my main squeeze." He softly said placing his hands down on the table, open and inviting you to place yours directly in his. And so you did.

"Gwilym I'm-"

"I'm not done"

"I don't care - it's my turn now," you laughed and squeezed his hands. "Listen," you started and sighed "What I did was wrong. It was bad. And I feel so ashamed of the way I've been acting. You didn't do anything wrong, really. I just overreacted and I realized that fairly quickly but... I was way too ashamed to tell you that."

A soft laugh emitted from Gwilym's mouth as you finished your sentence.

"God this is a strange conversation to have," you sighed through a soft laugh.

"Yeah, it really is. But I think I understand what the main point of all of it is," he said and stood from his chair.

You followed his lead and rose to your feet, not exactly knowing why you did it. It only took him two long strides to move around your table and stand right in front of you. He quickly grabbed a hold of your hands and held them tight to his chest.

"I might have misinterpreted something now, so tell me if I'm all off," he started and squeezed your hands a little tighter.

"But it's always been us, hasn't it. We've just never… dared to act upon it," he continued, scanning your face for some sort of confirmation.

The tension between the two of you grew rapidly. The air almost felt thick and the sudden silence seemed deafening. You wanted him more than ever. To just jump into his arms and forget anything bad had ever happened. But you hadn’t spoken in three months. A slight twinge of fear soared through your body. A fear that he was merely using you to get back up after been cheated on. Not that he ever struck you like the type of person who would just go about and mindlessly play with other people's feelings.

"Gwilym, I don't want to be your stupid rebound." At this point, you were almost crying.

"You're not! Absolutely not!" he protested and pulled you a little closer to his body. "I know my timing is awful, but you're the reason things between Erica and I never got really serious. You're the reason it never felt right. I thought about you every single day and these few months have been hell for me. Please just believe me. You're not a rebound. You're so much more than that. I'll show you every single day for the rest of my life - if you'll allow me into your heart again"

He looked at you with the most vulnerable and pleading eyes you had ever seen from him. His warm hands still covering yours had started to shake just a little and his energy had changed. You had never had him so raw and vulnerable before and it broke your heart, but in a good way. Slowly you took a step closer to him, to the point where your feet were between his and your hips almost touched - almost a hug without arms.

"I'm still in love with you," you whispered softer than ever, scared of what would happen next.

Gwilym sighed and you felt him melt into you. His sigh made him sound relieved and he seemed to be more relaxed than before. The two of your shared a moment of the most intense silence and the deepest eye contact you had ever had with anyone before. The moment didn’t last too long before Gwilym finally let go of your hands and instead cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours.

You stood completely still barely even breathing.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, lips hovering just above his.

“Oh, I’m planning on it,” he laughed softly before he finally closed his eyes and leaned forward to close the tiny space that had been between your mouths.

His soft lips slowly moved against yours, kissing you softer than you had been kissed before. It felt like it was your very first kiss. The butterflies in your stomach started to spread and you couldn’t think about anything other than Gwilym’s mouth against yours and the feeling of his stubble against your chin.

“You’re right,” you said, just as you broke the kiss.

“Right about what?”

“It has always been us. It really has.”

“Thought so,” he laughed and slid his hands down your body, bringing them to rest on your lower back, just above your butt.

“Now this might seem rushed, but I have one final question I need to ask you today,” he said and pulled your body closer to his.

“Yeah?”

“Would you do me the utmost honour of becoming my girlfriend?” His voice was calmer than you had thought it would be by now. But his calmness gave you a boost of confidence. He felt safe around you and really wanted you in his life - wanted you, as his girlfriend, and he wasn’t scared to ask you or to admit his feelings to you.

“Yes - Oh my, yes! Gwilym, yes!” you whined, almost crying again.

You placed your hands around his neck pulling his face close to yours again before desperately crashing your lips against his. It felt like he was the only thing on the planet that you needed to survive. Finally, everything felt as if it had fallen into place.

Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me And after all, you're my Wonderwall.

[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Nine

Summary: Luigi and Peasley hide out in Sarasaland.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

Captivated in horrified awe, the four audience members were frozen still. 

Princess Peach instinctively brought her hands to her mouth, mumbling out soft and terrified murmurs. She inhaled shakily, glancing back and forth between the rest in the room.

Gently sobbing and sputtering into the hushed silence, Luigi appeared completely numb. His blue-eyed gaze was glossy, unfocused, demeanor completely shattered. He fidgeted weakly at times as he tried to regain any signs of composure. He’d fallen to his knees halfway through the video, numb, gaze still set upon the screen that had displayed such horrible atrocities, such unjust thievery of life, only moments ago.

“Luigi...” Peasley’s voice was hushed, crouching down at his husband’s side. He wiped his tears away, trying to comfortingly clutch his hand. “Please try and stand up, my darling.”

Luigi didn’t respond. Peasley persisted, words hurried.

”W-We… we have to go, dear, we can’t let him find you...”

“Well, it’s a little too late for that!” Daisy retorted, anxieties turning into anger. She scowled, placing her hands on her hips as she approached Peasley. “HE knows where we are, obviously!”

”Daisy, I think I know what’s best for my husband.”

”Okay, sure! But listen! I know you may THINK this is best, running away from danger, but-” Daisy exhaled, trying to calm down. She crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “You guys have been doing this all backwards!”

“Daisy, with all due respect...” Peach whispered out, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I do believe we should go… it’s for Luigi’s safety and comfort.”

“No way!” Daisy confidently shouted, glancing at her three guests defiantly. “You three should stay here.”

“What?”

“D-Daisy, please.”

“No, I’m being serious here!” Daisy exclaimed, exiting the room confidently. She threw open the now-unlocked doors, unafraid of whatever that could be lurking in the corridors. She gestured to the open hallway. “Obviously, he’s going after the people you hang around, right?”

Luigi nodded, not moving from his position.

"So, thinking logically, he's gonna go after you no matter where you run to, right? He knows where you're headed all the time, even if we try to keep it secret." She gestured to Peach, grabbing her friend by the hand and guiding her out of the small room. "Heck, he's probably listening to us right now!"

"Daisy, please, at least try to lower your voice...”

"I don't care if he hears me!" Daisy raised her voice, walking further down the hall as she cupped her hands over her mouth. "You hear that, freak?! You don't scare me! Come out here so I can fight you! If you aren't a coward-!”

"Daisy!" Peach scolded sharply, shushing her friend.

Daisy huffed. She released a drawn sigh, lowering her hands. “Sorry, I'm just..." 

Her hands twisted into fists, knuckles going white as she trembled with rage, her glare only deepening. 

“I can't imagine why anyone would ever hurt Luigi. He doesn’t deserve this.” Her voice softened, trailing off. “No one deserves this…”

Peach nodded, sighing. “Then, what do you suggest we do?”

“You guys should stay here. I'll keep you safe, I swear. And, mark my words, if I so must as catch a glimpse of that weirdo’s sorry masked face here, I'll punch him so hard he'll already be halfway to the Underwhere-!”

"Daisy, that's a little violent."

"Who cares?!”

Luigi couldn't help a gentle chuckle escaping him as he sat up to face Daisy. Peasley quickly noticed the change in his demeanor, smiling as he lifted Luigi to his feet.

"So… Good plan, then?"

"I suppose." Peach affirmed, lifting a gloved hand to her tear-stained face. "I'm just exhausted. This all has been so much to take in, it's rather overwhelming..."

"I just want it to be over." Peasley finished Peach’s thought, hugging Luigi's side closer to his. “I mean, all I truly want, more than anything, is to find Dimentio and lock him away for the rest of eternity…” He exhaled, malice coating his words. “We simply can’t let him keep taking lives like this.”

Daisy glanced down at her calloused palms, exhaling with a short huff.

"Yeah. But, it’ll be okay, ‘cause... we’ll find him, and we’ll stop him.” Daisy smiled, putting her hands on her hips. “I promise.”

Luigi made a meek sound of acknowledgement.

"Well!” Daisy clasped her hands together. “You all should get some sleep, then. I'll have someone look into the security measures around the country,” her voice lowered. “a-and then send off a courier to Pi'illo Island… to tell them…”

"Knowing Dimentio's sick mind," Peasley grimaced as he cut in, noticing Luigi shrinking back. "They most likely already know of their prince's fate."

Daisy lowered her head.

"I... I don't know what to believe anymore." She whispered after a moment. "I just know you guys should get some sleep. And... just try to relax. I-I guess."

Daisy escorted her friends away from the vicinity, leading them off to their private rooms before disappearing to her own. She mentioned she'd be there to greet them all in the morning, and sent forth wishes for them all to sleep well.

As soon as Luigi and Peasley entered the room that had been prepared for them, they were immediately met with slobbery kisses from Polterpup, who had been waiting for them all day. The spectral pup barked excitedly, yipping as he jumped onto Luigi’s legs.

“Oh! They must have dropped him off here earlier,” Peasley deduced, picking up Polterpup and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble for the servants…”

Luigi barely responded, simply humming a murmur before he went to empty his suitcase. 

He stopped slowly, eyebrow raising upon noticing something new and unfamiliar resting upon his open bag.

The angular item was concealed, carefully wrapped in shining yellow tissue paper.

Luigi’s grim expression tightened, stiffening as he picked up the rectangular gift and tore away at the paper. A label displaying the number 4, acutely placed upon a tape, greeted him.

And that sight only furthered his festering rage.

He grit his teeth, clutching the unwrapped tape with both hands. Trembling with anger, he effortlessly broke the tape in half as a lingering SNAP filled the room, silence surrounding each of the inhabitants at once.

Peasley glanced up worriedly, Polterpup flinching and jumping from his arms to go comfort his owner.

”Luigi...? Are you alright?”

”I’m okay, Peasley.”

Luigi exhaled softly, dropping the remaining pieces of the tape to the floor as he tried to wipe away at the tears forming in his eyes. He huffed, his entire body violently shaking with pure unadulterated rage. Kicking the pieces aside, not wanting to give it any more recognition, Luigi strode away from his suitcase. He knew what the tape contained, and he wasn't going to let Dimentio know he was scared.

He passed by Polterpup, who was sniffing the broken tape curiously and pawing at the remains, walking up to the windows. Luigi glanced down at the desert region below, wincing gently as he shut the blinds.

Peasley, having prepared himself for bed, approached Luigi and delivered a small peck to his cheek before walking back over to the bed and crawling under the fluffy duvet.

Luigi followed suit, swiftly burying his head in his pillow to muffle his silent sobs. Peasley tried his best to comfort him, whispering sweet nothings to Luigi to try to coax him into calming down. After awhile, Luigi’s pained sobs diminished to sputters, moving and leaning on his side to avoid Peasley’s concerned gaze.

But, ultimately, Luigi fell into a hazy slumber. 

And sleeping was still no easy feat.

The remains of the tape haunted his dreams. He suffered from horrible nightmares of shattered bones and leaking organs, of streams of blood and decapitated heads, of never-ending ropes and chains and terrors that kept him trembling all throughout the evening.

He didn't want to wake up to face another day of torment.

He just didn't want to wake up.

He wanted this all to be over.

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

Mornings in Sarasaland were incredibly, almost impossibly, bright.

Luigi was forced to squint as he made his way down the grand staircase of the Birabuto castle, the open windows practically blinding him as he passed. Peasley followed close behind, yawning dramatically while appearing mainly unfazed by the shining light pouring in through the windows. Polterpup followed his owners closely, obediently walking by their sides as they went.

And true to her word, Princess Daisy met them at the bottom of the stairs, greeting them while lazily rubbing at her eyes.

"Good mornin', you guys..." Daisy spoke in half a yawn, lifting a hand. She stretched, her spine audibly cracking as she straightened herself.

"I take it you slept soundly, Princess?" Peasley inquired as he approached.

"Heh, not, uh..." Daisy chuckled, caught in a yawn as she tried to fix her hair. "Not exactly..."

"Hm?” Peasley murmured, concerned. “Did something happen?”

"No, not really. I mean, sorta. Well, I... there was... something kinda happened last night, after you guys went to bed... but…” Daisy paused, licking at her dried lips as she ran her thumbs over her knuckles, exhaling before she continued. “Well, apparently half of my militia, a-and my staff, just... vanished into thin air yesterday. I-I have no idea where they went, and neither do any of the other servants...”

Peasley went to respond, but paused. He quickly turned to Luigi, noting his paled and panicked expression.

"Do… Do you think...?"

"-Yeah, but I really don’t want to think about it right now, okay?" Daisy sighed, rubbing at her temples. 

“But...”

"I just... I don't want to think about the fact that someone may have murdered my staff...” Daisy held her sides, shivering as her gaze was hidden behind her locks of hair.

Peasley nodded slowly. “I understand it must be hard to think about... I can’t even imagine.”

The hall fell quiet.

“Daisy! Luigi!”

The three jolted at the sound of Princess Peach’s delicate voice. She quickly broke the tension as she appeared at the top of the stairs, rushing down the steps. She appeared refreshed, a smile on her face. It was a peculiar sight, but a welcome one nonetheless. 

”Peach?”

“I… I finally received a letter from Mario!”

“What?” Luigi gasped out, eyes wide.

“It was left right outside my door, it must have come in overnight!” Peach’s bubbly tone didn’t falter as she met up with her gathered friends. “He’s… He’s okay!”

Peach held back abrupt tears of joy, wiping at her face as she chuckled. She couldn’t hide her apparent blush.

“You okay, Peach?” Daisy allowed a smile to creep on her face as she addressed her friend.

“I’m just so glad to know he’s okay...” Peach exhaled, relieved. “O-Oh! And, Luigi…! Mario said, i-in the letter, that he’ll come back to the Mushroom Kingdom soon!”

“Really? M-May I see it?”

“Oh, of course!” Peach handed over the letter to Luigi without hesitation. He opened it quickly, Peasley and Daisy peeking over his shoulder to read it as well.

The note was short in length, looking as though it was written hastily. But, just as Peach had said, it contained the basic message indicating Mario’s soon-to-be arrival to the Mushroom Kingdom. He repeatedly wrote about how worried he was regarding Luigi’s wellbeing, and how sorry he felt about not sending a message earlier. He avoided listing off excuses, saying he’d explain everything later.

And, most reassuringly, Mario’s handwriting was his own, written in familiar red ink.

Luigi didn’t even realize he was crying until Peasley asked if he was alright. Luigi nodded, handing back the note to avoid getting it covered in his fallen tears.

”Need a tissue or somethin’, Weeg?” Daisy questioned with a smirk. “You okay?”

”I-I’m fine… I just thought… it was a-another trick…” Luigi sniffled. “My brother’s okay…”

Peach nodded. “I did too… but, it’s really him, I could recognize that handwriting anywhere...” Her tone fell to a hushed whisper. “I… I just can’t wait to see him again…”

Putting the letter away, the princess glanced up at her friends. 

“I-I’m sorry, if my entrance interrupted anything…” She mumbled sheepishly.

”Not really.” Daisy reassured. “I just have to do some, uh... stuff. Boring, political, running-a-country kinda stuff… nothing too much.” Daisy waved a hand.

”Do you need any help?”

”Nah. I can do it on my own.” She smiled confidently. “Come on. When do I ever need help, Peachy? I got this! You guys can go into town or something while I’m busy. Whatever you wanna do.” Daisy’s eyes lit up, lifting her hands. “Oh, maybe you could drop by the Easton Kingdom today…! The locals will be happy to help you out with stuff.”

”Sounds lovely.” Peach clapped her hands together, smiling sweetly. She turned to Luigi and Peasley, tilting her head slightly. “Are you two alright with that?”

”Certainly!” Peasley turned to Luigi, whose face was still red from crying. After allowing Luigi time to compose himself, Peasley once again asked for his approval of the plans, Luigi nodding hastily.

”Then, it’s settled.” Peach turned, picking up her dress and starting toward the doors. “Let’s be on our way.”

Luigi followed at the back of the group, Peasley striking up a quick conversation with Peach as they went. Peasley pulled open the castle doors for the other two, allowing them passage with a polite nod. 

The two walked out, immediately bracing themselves for the warm burst of air the outside offered upon their exit.

Before the doors shut behind them, however, Luigi glanced back over his shoulder.

He could see Daisy standing in the middle of the main hall, looking lost. Her expression was dull, her body drooping sadly as soon as her friends were out of sight, like a wilted flower.

Luigi wanted to run back and comfort her, to help her in any way he could. He wanted to help her find her missing people. They were her subjects that she was supposed to protect under her rule, and now they were gone...

He knew her feelings all too well.

But, his two companions pressed onward without pause, beckoning Luigi to follow.

Luigi jolted as Polterpup pressed himself against his legs, whining. Luigi bent down, running a hand over his ghostly pet’s back before standing tall, following behind his friends.

                                              - - - - - - - - - -

For every day that passed from then on, that routine continued.

Every morning they would wake and meet Daisy in the main hall, her greetings to them growing more silent and subdued with each meeting. She sounded tired, swaying slightly whenever she spoke.

Upon being questioned about it, she swore she was getting ample sleep. It soon became clear the Sarasaland Princess was not very good at telling lies.

Luigi grew increasingly worried about her health, trying to coax her into getting more sleep, but the stubborn princess refused. Whenever the concerned questioning returned, she explained simply that she’d promised to protect her guests, and her way of doing so involved the sacrifice of some sleep.

But, despite that, the days following their initial arrival passed by without incident. Nothing of note occured, and every day seemed to be familiar. Nothing out of the ordinary befell upon Daisy’s guests. There were no signs of evil jesters or tapes containing acts of murder under the guise of a show.

Everything was relatively peaceful.

About half a week into their stay, Luigi and Peasley woke tiredly, walking down to their usual spot sluggishly. They paused at the staircase, however, realizing they were alone.

Both Daisy and Peach were missing from their usual spots.

Upon the two’s intial panicked confusion, Daisy appeared in a rush to greet them, darting in from a nearby corridor. She breathed shortly while trying to fix her hair as she held back a yawn, running into the main hall without stopping, nearly crashing into Luigi.

“Sorry- ! Sorry, sorry. I slept in-... lost track o-of…” She huffed, placing her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. “Time…”

“It’s okay… Are you feeling alright?” Luigi questioned, reaching to steady his best friend.

“Me? I’m great! Better than ever!” Daisy forced a smile, crossing her arms as she tried to keep from falling over. “I’m… super!”

“Glad to see you’re alright.” Peasley spoke, folding his arms. “But, do you know where Peach is?”

“Peach? She didn’t tell you?”

Luigi and Peasley shared a puzzled glance.

“...No?”

“Oh, weird. Yeah, she went back home last night. She got some letter from Toadsworth saying that she needed to go back to the Mushroom Kingdom for something, I dunno. So she went back last night…” Daisy yawned again, stretching. “Oh, and don’t tell her I told you this, but I think it was just a made-up ploy to go back early so she can see Mario as soon as he shows up…”

Peasley laughed shortly, but Luigi’s expression didn’t change.

“I think Mario’s gonna send a letter here once he gets home, though, and then we’ll send you two back on your way. Until then, you guys can still stay here as long as you need. It’s been going pretty good so far, right?”

The two nodded, almost simultaneously.

“Great… I’m glad to,” Daisy’s eyes shut for a moment. Luigi ran to help keep her steady, holding her upright. “H-Hear…”

“Maybe you should get some sleep, Princess. Luigi and I can handle ourselves today.”

”You’re sure…? But, what if he-”

”He won’t. So long as we’re together.” Peasley grinned, turning to face Luigi and hold his hand. “Right?”

Luigi didn’t respond. But, a thin smile eventually appeared on his face after a moment’s hesitation. He nodded.

Daisy stretched her arms once more, releasing a long yawn before loosening up. “Then, I guess we’ll meet up later…? Lemme know if anything comes up…”

”Certainly.”

Everything went back into routine.

Since Peach’s departure, Peasley and Luigi often had to find ways to entertain themselves while Daisy was busy. Days of uneventful activities led into weeks, every afternoon and evening filled with mindless noise to keep them distracted from reality.

But, no matter how much time passed, there was still no signs of Dimentio. And the silence and tranquility quickly got under Luigi’s skin. He had to be constantly moving or doing things, much to his husband and friend’s dismay. He tired himself out, just for the purpose of not thinking about Dimentio, and when the mad jester would strike next.

Upon the third week after their initial arrival to Sarasaland, Peasley led Luigi outside of their room balcony on one particularly cool evening. The two leaned against the balcony’s railing, sharing nothing more than glances for a passing moment before Peasley spoke.

“Are you okay, Luigi?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, really, are you okay? Darling, you know you can talk to me, right...?” Peasley questioned, moving away from the railing. “I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself like this, keeping all your emotions to yourself. I don’t like how much I can see you hurting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, I know you’re thinking about it.” Peasley insisted, trying to reach for Luigi’s hand. “And as long as you’re thinking about it, it’s going to bother you. You should feel free to talk to me.”

Luigi sighed, pushing Peasley’s hand away. “I just... I just don’t want t-to...”

Peasley sighed. “It’s alright, my love.” He quietly spoke, brushing his hair back with both hands. “Take your time.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, letting the breeze of the approaching evening ruffle their hair and nip at their skin.

“Is there anything, anything at all, I can do to help make you feel better, Luigi?” Peasley’s voice was soft.

Luigi was silent. He opened his mouth to speak, before quickly clamping it shut, as though he were rewording the response in his head.

”...You should go back home.”

”What?”

”If you leave me alone and j-just… g-go back home, then maybe he’ll leave you alone. Maybe I-I should just go back to the Mushroom Kingdom, and go back to my house, and sit there and wait.” Luigi’s voice went quiet. “He’ll show up eventually and he’ll do what he wants. He’ll kill me. But, you’ll be okay. You’ll be safe, in the Beanbean Kingdom.”

Peasley’s voice trembled, terrified at his husband’s tone. “W-What are you talking about?”

”You should’ve never married me… you s-should have just left me alone…! Now, you’re in danger and it’s a-all my fault!” Luigi buried his face in his hands, letting a sob tear past his lips. “All I am is a b-burden-!”

”Luigi, please… you aren’t a burden…”

”He’s not g-going to stop until everyone is d-dead, and there’s nothing I-I can do…!” Luigi sobbed noisily, his face a mess as tears rolled down his face and seeped into his gloves. “I-I did this-! I was weak, that’s why he’s d-doing this! I’m so stupid, I should’ve-!”

”Luigi, this isn't your fault. None of this is your fault.” Peasley’s voice was firm. “You may convince yourself it is because you want to find some reasoning, or some way to blame yourself. But, this is not your fault. It’s all HIS fault. He’s the one who did this. You didn’t do any of this.”

”B-But… he’s going t-to… he…”

Without warning, Peasley pulled Luigi into a hug, Luigi’s pained sobs going silent.

”I’m not going anywhere, darling. I’m going to keep you safe, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that jester is locked away or better yet, at this point, slain. Do you understand?”

Instead of answering, Luigi just buried his face in Peasley’s shoulder, sniffling and sputtering. He moved his head, motioning he was nodding, clutching Peasley tighter.

”It’ll be alright… I promise, my dear.” Peasley whispered. “No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. It’ll be oka-“

The two jumped as a firm knock sounded on the door of their room.

Polterpup, who’d been sleeping on the bed, immediately woke and jumped down to bark at the door. Peasley rushed back into the room from the balcony, approaching the growling Polterpup from behind whilst shushing him gently.

”Who is it?” He called.

”Daisy.”

Luigi ran ahead to open the door, immediately meeting Daisy’s tired gaze. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever, her face pale.

”Peach just sent me a letter. She wants you guys to come back to the Mushroom Kingdom, as soon as possible.” Daisy’s voice, though quiet, was still serious. “She said it’s urgent.”

                                              - - - - - - - - - -

Their goodbyes were quick.

Daisy had lost most of the energy to give a bombastic send off to her guests, but she still hugged them, wishing them the best of luck. And for them to tell Mario she said hi, if they saw him.

The private jet Daisy had gotten for their use certainly wasn’t as large or lavish as Peach’s, but it was just as functional. Peasley and Luigi sat next to each other, and due to the limited space, Polterpup sat between them.

Luigi settled in uncomfortably, fidgeting, bouncing his leg anxiously. His expression was horribly nervous. He didn’t know what to expect from their return to the Mushroom Kingdom, but he knew it couldn’t be anything desirable.

Peasley noticed his husband’s apparent worry, leaning against his side.

“Darling, there’s no need to assume the worst. What if it’s something good? Maybe your brother just got home!” Peasley smiled, trying to invoke a positive reaction out of Luigi, but nothing happened. “Luigi...”

”We’ll be taking off soon, sirs.” A stout uniformed worker spoke to them, averting their attention from their thoughts for a moment. “Is all in order?”

”Luigi?” 

Luigi nodded. 

“Quite.”

The worker walked off, leaving Luigi and Peasley alone. Luigi turned his attention toward the window at his side. He waved goodbye to Daisy, who was also motioning her goodbye, her movements frantic as she waved energetically from the runway.

”Luigi?”

Luigi turned. Peasley clutched his husband’s hand, kissing him gently on the cheek.

”It’ll be alright. I promise. Nothing’s happened as of late. I’m sure nothing will happen now. We just have to remain hopeful, my love.” Peasley smiled warmly. “Just try and think positive.”

Luigi sighed, before smiling softly. It wasn’t forced, but it was very slight.

”I’ll try.”

And that was all Peasley needed to hear.

The plane ride didn’t take long at all, Sarasaland’s location rather close to the Mushroom Kingdom. It was rather ideal for Daisy and Peach to keep in touch, and the short distance gave Peasley and Luigi a fine amount of time to just talk back and forth, comforting one another.

As soon as the plane landed, Luigi exited with a new hope in his heart. If Peasley was right, then maybe Mario was here. Maybe Peach had thrown them a party to celebrate his arrival. 

Maybe the urgent thing wasn’t bad at all, and he was overthinking things. 

He then realized his questioning of the situation only made it all worse, silencing his rampant thoughts.

The Mushroom Kingdom was as lively as ever, which was a refreshing sight to see. Toad Town looked unchanged, aside from a few emptied houses and a sign indicating Tayce T.’s shop was under new management. A memorial for her passing was placed outside, with a plaque indicating she’d died from unknown cases.

Luigi fought back the urge to inform the mourning Toads what had happened, continuing to march onward toward Peach’s castle.

The stained glass display of the fair Princess Peach glimmered in the morning sun, just as dawn had risen completely over the far horizon. Toads scampered about in the grassy fields, greeting Luigi and Peasley eagerly.

The two walked across the stone bridge leading up to the castle’s doors, approaching the gates cautiously. Peasley went ahead, firmly knocking on the doors before he stepped back, allowing some space.

With a creak, the doors opened.

”Master Luigi? Prince Peasley?”

Standing in the doorway was Toadsworth, his frail aging face turning upward upon realizing who was at the door. Shocked, he fixed his monocle and examined the two exhausted men, squinting.

”What are you two doing here?”

”We’ve come here under Princess Peach’s request, as informed to us by her Highness, Princess Daisy.” Peasley explained dutifully. “The Princess said it was an urgent matter.”

”My Princess? She what? What in the world are you two talking about?” Toadsworth shook his head. “I haven’t seen the Princess in weeks. I thought she was vacationing in Sarasaland. She was supposed to be…”

His expression paled.

“She was supposed to be with the pair of you!” He pointed an accusatory finger, huffing.

”What? But… Wait. D-Didn’t you ask her to come back home?”

”I did nothing of the sort.”

Luigi felt his stomach drop, his eyes widening in terror.

”You mean…?” Peasley was just as horrified, coming to the same conclusion as Luigi. “Peach isn’t-?”

”The Princess isn’t here.”

[imagines4abrokenheart]

The Chase

@twobucksworld I hope this is more of what you wanted! I made sure to write more since I misinterpreted what you had originally wanted. This ~ means a POV switch, as I couldn't help but want to write in both the perspectives. The human male is a soldier stationed on a planet similar to earth and he wanders into a females territory. I hope you enjoy! CW: Fear, Blood, Percieved death, being chased, the wrestling move ‘Stinkface’.

The Yautja, though bipedal, was an expert on all fours. Should it need to run it just lowered its forepaws to the dirt and sprang away as fast as any wolf in the darkness. This was one of those times, accelerating on all fours toward a human foolish enough to be wandering by moonlight in her territory. She stops abruptly, her clawed foot scrapes over the jagged edge of a small cliff. With lungs full of this humid air her salty breath creates clouds of vortexes; while her head moves side to side to assess her territory. One would think she hasn't the brain for reason, but instead, simply a primal sense of rage twined with an indomitable will to survive. They wouldn’t be all wrong at least. Then she spots him, the rigged stature of the human male, a soldier of the Earth’s military with no weapon in sight- far to easy to be a real threat but an annoyance nonetheless. 

~

Through the darkness came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the boulder it stood on. They moved with a slight sway as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The soldier stopped. The eyes did not, with rapid acceleration and a more bounding motion they came right for him. A string of curses unraveled from his tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the creature advanced. Every step it took rattled his bones and struck his heart. He tried to dodge a swing from its massive claws, but it struck his side and he tumbled into the dirt. All he could do was feel. Feel the cold ground pressed against his form, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of his heart like a drum crescendoing down to a languid thump. The things nascent roar fills the space between my ears and speaks straight to my own primal center. Despite the ambient temperature, my skin is icy, all blood diverted to core organs.

That's when the adrenaline hits such a fever pitch that “freeze” isn't going to cut it anymore. Apparently “flight” is the new order of the day, but not slowly like a conscious choice. My legs explode into violent motion. The kick against the dirt and my fingers with dull claws scrabbling for purchase into the soil before I swivel onto my stomach and launch myself forward. My brain, barely registering what just attacked us, belatedly relays all information on the beast that attacked and I stumble on the words echoing through my mind. A Yautja. ~ She relished in the way the male scampered, ever amused by the show of dominance humans tried to give off while they were nothing more then sucklings just learning to crawl. This human, however, seemed inexperienced in even that and she could feel the amused chuckle leave her mandibles as she watched him disappear. She had laid her first strike, like feline playing with her prey she stood straight, keen eyes watching in the darkness as he disappears with a limp. The prey would be allowed to run if only to give him that hope of safety- this was just a game to her. She was no hunter by want or need, females of her kind never needed to prove themselves like the males. She would then descend to all fours, before bounding off after him, her own pounding heart echoing the thrill of the chase. She wondered for a moment what it felt like to be hunted by something like herself but made a click deep in her throat- she realized she didn’t care how he felt. He was in her territory, she would teach him a lesson all Yautja learn at a young age- do not enter a female’s territory unless you wish death. ‘The chase is only sport for me but means everything to you. For me, taking your life is just a small part of a wider game. I know you have been told that victory is assured for your side, it is, of course, a lie to bring hope where there should be none. You are in a dark cave being granted the illusion of light, no more. There is no spark of hope, there is no rescue coming, it's just me and you little rabbit. So run, let your whitetail bob high as you scurry to save your own skin. You aren't a hero, you are nothing, less than a cold raindrop on a scorching desert. What you bring will evaporate into the sky leaving the landscape unchanged, barren and desolate, a playground for my delight alone.’

~

He hides, quaking and sweating with fear as the footfalls tapper off into soft little pats on the ground. In the tall grass, pressed against the base of a tree with nothing but his weeping side; he wished to be anywhere else. In boot camp, demoted from his rank, which was clearly wrongfully given, and yelled at for his incompetence. He had seen the signs, the skulls, he should have known- but he half expected the tells of Yautja to be just that, tells. To be fiction spread around like campfire horror stories to new recruits to scare them into not sneaking off. But the shifting of branches above him with the accents of clicking had his heart stuttering in his chest. 

He would not suffer himself to look up, perhaps if he denied the thing any acknowledgment it would kill him quickly. It doesn’t. It drops before him, all rippling muscle and extended claws. It wore no armor, simple furs and beads- this one wore added fur on its chest and he realized it must be a female. A scientist once said they were more aggressive but rarely hunted- he must be lucky. She crouched down, far taller than any human he had ever seen, far taller than the pathetic 8 feet he thought her to be. Her head tilts and he swears she is speaking- he can’t clearly hear what language she speaks in over the sound of his own heartbeat and ragged breaths mixing into a funeral march in his mind. His eyes follow as she straightens, clenching her clawed hands to fists and he thinks she is readying a punch. ~ She watches him as he regards her with the horror all whelps experience when they first meet an angered female. She finds it amusing, humans truly are whelps compared to her species- it would be dishonorable to kill him while he did not even try to defend himself. But she never allowed anything to get away without punishment, without showing her complete dominance over others. She had claimed this forested part as her own and she knew how to disgrace any who she deemed unworthy of honorable death. She stalks forward, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling a knife from her thigh. She gave an amused chuckle as he scrambled to push her away, now he fought. How pathetic. She slams the knife into the tree, catching his clothes and pinning him to the spot. She stepped back, releasing him and watching his declawed hands paw at the knife, knees slightly bent and he stared with wide-eyed horror up at her. She throws her head up, eyes still locked on his form before moving closer again. She then turns herself, pressing her ass to his face. For Yautja, to be shown this treatment was disgraceful and by the way, the male gave an anguished cry for mercy and he tried to claw at her hips, she knew her punishment was received. She stayed like that a moment longer before moving away, clicking as she turned back to him. Tears glistened his face as he gasped, body trembling like the whelp he was. She ripped her knife from the tree and he fell to the ground with a thud, slinking down back into the roots and earth to try and appear submissive. An annoyed click left her as she slides her knife back in its place, her back turned to him again. His cry as she did so had her chuckling, her hand moving in a flick motion to tell him to leave, he is of little importance to her. She then descended back to all fours, bounding forward through the tall grass soundlessly. She could feel herself purring, the omega having ignited something more carnal in her and she knew she would be visiting him again, if only to humiliate him further. ~

As he watched her disappear without a sound he realized she had been toying with him, allowing him to hear her to heighten his fear. He sobs, collapsing down into the soil and trying to regain himself as he fumbled for anything to defend himself. He had left camp for a smoke and piss, his pants soiled with his fear and his face burning in shame. He was close to camp again, he could hear the yells of his teammates and called back, using the tree to help him stand as he waved to their flashlights.

[serpienten]

something sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky can’t stop thinking about the cute nurse in the Tower. She, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be that into him.

Warning: reader being under a lot of pressure, some language perhaps

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Well, fuck me this is long. I’m actually scared it’s gonna be boring but I genuinely hope it’s not. Some of this dialog was pretty therapeutic for me to write actually so this fic is a tad close to ma black empty heart. This was for @sgtjbuccky ‘s End of Year writing challenge and I hope I’ve done the prompt justice, Salina. Thank’s for letting me participate :D Please leave some feedback if you like what you read!

* italicized parts are flashbacks

“You’re a punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one out here whining like a baby, maybe you should shut up.”

“Do you need reminding why I’m ‘whining like a baby’? I didn’t shoot myself, that’s for sure.”

Steve rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I had it under control. No need for you to play the hero.”

“Yeah, right.” Buchy scoffs. The movement makes the wound on his bicep - no, correction, it makes his whole damn body sting like a bitch. He winces slightly and a groan rumbles up his throat. “It sure didn’t look like it. Forgive me for trying to save your life.”

"I don't need you to save my life."

“Don’t play the hero, Steve.”

“I’m serious. Thank you, but no thank you."

Bucky sighs. Bruises, black and purple blotches, scrapes and gashes litter his body and if he weren’t in so much pain, and under the influence of the strongest, most useless painkillers in Bruce’s possession, he’d deck his stubborn as fuck friend in the face. The only thing giving the brunette some sort of satisfaction is that Steve doesn’t look much better than him. Just with one bullethole less.

Bucky doesn’t mind being injured.

In a twisted kind of way, every hit he takes in the field frees him more than it weighs him down. He takes every cut, each drop of blood, every twinge of pain, the ripped skin and the scars and he tries to get better because, at this point, it’s all he can do.

But that still doesn’t mean he opens his arms like Jesus and welcomes rains of bullets or a storm of flying knives to hit him full force. He doesn’t have a death wish. Anymore, at least.

But this time, this injury, is Steve’s fault. And Bucky’d rather die than not take the chance of annoying the righteous, golden boy, I’m-the-standard-come-try-getting-on-my-level Captain America.

“Aren’t you at all worried about me? I could be dying. I could be dying and it would be your fault.”

“You can call it payback for Coney Island if you want.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky huffs indignantly, “It’s been seventy fucking years. I lost an arm and am about to lose my life, I think that’s enough.”

“Of course I’m kidding.” With a sigh that revealed nothing but exhausted irritatioin, Steve fell down next to him on the bed. “Stop being such a diva about it, you’ve been through worse.”

“You li-”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Bucky’s head whips to the side and instantly, he grimaces again. Eyes flying shut, he gently re-adjusts the ice pack on his right thigh. He hears footsteps coming closer and his posture straightens a little.

“You two look like you got hit by a plane.”

He opens his eyes to see a woman wearing a white, light coat looking down at a clipboard in her hands. A lovely shade of lipstick colors her lips, which are curled up in a teasing smile, in a beautiful tint of rose. The woman’s eyes flicker over what’s in front of her quickly and even the stupidest person in the universe could tell that she seemed to be more than just an expert in her field. Her legs are spread slightly in a confident, stable stance, soft locks of hair framing her face which - Jesus Mary and Joseph - gives him a whole new reason to feel weak in the knees.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve lifts his hand and gives her a little wave, as much as the gash on his forearm allows.

The woman, Y/N, looks up from the clipboard and grins. Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest. “’Sup Steve.”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Bucky looks to his side and furrows his brows at the lopsided grin on his blond friend’s face. How on earth does Steve know her and Bucky doesn’t? He gets injured tons of times more often than the man jumping out of airplanes without a parachute (a fact that, in retrospect, should definitely worry him more) and he’s never met her. Bucky’s eyes narrow and the mechanics in his left arm whir slightly as he clenches his fingers to a fist.

“Sergeant?”

“What?”

They’re both looking at him now, with equally anticipating expressions. Y/N must’ve said something because she re-adjusts to clutch the clipboard to her chest and clears her throat.

“I was asking if you’ve obtained any other serious injuries aside from the bullet wound on your bicep. I’ve seen a few cuts and scrapes, do you need me to take care of them right now or do you want to wait for Doctor Cho?”

“You- You want to look at my wounds?”

“Oh, uh, is there an issue?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised as she looks at him, taken aback.

“Wha- oh, no that’s not- I didn’t mean it to sound like that. There’s no issue. I...” he quickly explains, yet again reminded of his injuries when pain shoots through the backs of his thighs as he hastily scoots forward a little.

Y/N’s confused frown morphs back into genuine concern when he flinches. Something inside Bucky cramped painfully at the urge to make that expression disappear. She of all people, someone as breathtaking as her, shouldn’t be concerned about someone like him.

And then, she takes a step closer.

Bucky’s eyes widen. Simultaneously, he leans back. She notices it instantly and stops in her tracks, a helplessly puzzled expression on her face. “Don’t you want me to take a look?”

His breath hitches in his throat imperceptibly at her proximity. Bucky’s quick to realize that having her touch him when he’s already making a fool of himself without her hands on him wouldn’t be the best idea. He feels his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he shakes his head slowly.

“No, no it’s fine. I’m fine. Peachy. Perfect.” Internally, Bucky cringes hard.

Get your shit together, fuck’s sake.

The image of that white, fluffy cat thingy spreading its arms in a ‘What the fuck are you doing’ kind of way flashes through his mind and for a split second he clenches his jaw.

Steve next to him almost successfully stifles a laugh.

Y/N takes a quick step back and nods. “Okay, I’ll... I’ll tell Helen to hurry.”

She shoots Steve a look of complete and utter confusion, who in return replicates the exact pose of that damned cat Bucky’d just been thinking about, before turning around and leaving the room.

Bucky sharply lets out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in the first place, deflating like a balloon filled with too much air. “Oh my god...” he mutters under his breath, over and over again, voice tainted with disbelief.

“What on earth was that?” Steve regards his friend with raised eyebrows. Bucky’s slumps forward, the ice-pack scrunching weakly, wedged between his abdomen and his upper legs, and both of his hands, one silvery metal and the other tanned flesh obscuring the view of his face.

“That was me being you.” His reply is muffled, just like the low whine he lets out right after.

Bucky’s eyes are focused on the long glass wall separating the kitchen from the living room. It’s only Steve and him sitting on one of the grey, soft couches, the former flipping through a book, glasses perched on his nose.

The blond glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Quit it, will you?”

“Quit what?”

“You know what I mean. Quit it. It’s creepy.” Steve focuses his attention back to the black ink on the book’s pages.

“Fuck you, you’re creepy.”

His friend lets out a breath. “She’s not interested. Quit it.”

“Maybe you should change the record, I think it’s broken,” Bucky says dryly, flopping down on his back, flinging one leg over the backrest of the couch. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the glass wall, or rather, what’s behind it.

Steve doesn’t deign to look at him. Instead, he simply pushes the glasses, as useless and unnecessary they may be, up his nose and continues reading.

Some of the team members are sitting around the dining table, chattering and laughing faintly. There’s Natalia. Wanda, Sam, Tony. And Y/N.

To Bucky’s chagrin, Steve had told Sam about what had happened that day he first saw her. Ever since then, there isn’t a day Bucky doesn’t see Y/N around somewhere.

And it’s torture.

He can’t seem to be in the same room as her without embarrassing the fuck out of himself and quite frankly, it’s annoying. Steve’s and Sam’s giggles in the background don’t help at all. He constantly fumbles for words, acts insanely clumsy and, according to Tony, looks at her ‘with hearts flying out of his stupid eyes’. In his defense, he can’t exactly help it though. Her presence is addicting. She’s smart, makes him laugh (which isn’t an easy feat to achieve), smells like heaven and has a smile and laugh that threaten to make his knees buckle over every single time. 

Bucky’s so into her, Steve’s started to call Wednesdays ‘Whinedays’ because Bucky has been using the blond’s free day to his whiny advantage.

Of course, all of this would be a hell of a lot easier if she were into him too.

The only issue: She isn’t.

At least that’s what he thinks.

Y/N never fails to amaze and confuse the crap out of him. She flirts with him and shoots him down the second it looks like he might make a move. She touches him sometimes, gentle brushes of knuckles against knuckles or a soft squeeze to his bicep, but as soon as he steps a little closer, she’s jumps back like he just attempted to slap her. It sort of puts a damper on the rapid beating of his heart.

Bucky heaves out a sigh and closes his eyes, raising his hands to rub them over his face.

”Are you coming tonight?”

“To Tony’s rooftop soiree? No, thank you.” Bucky tilts his head to look at his friend.

“You might enjoy yourself. Once in a while, you really should show up.” Steve says it so nonchalantly and so smoothly Bucky has to furrow his brows. Ever since the brunet had joined the team, he’d been largely given the control over when and where he wanted to go. It was a well-known fact that the former Winter Soldier disliked parties for many reasons and most people had accepted that not ten horses could drag him near big crowds. And Stark’s parties were infamous for their loudness and for being on a whole other level of anxiety-inducing. Almost everyone had accepted his wish to not be forced to attend events like that, except for the Captain.

“No,” Bucky replies, a finality in his voice that would’ve put an end to most conversations. Most.

There’s a pause. Then, Steve pushes out a sigh and puts a colorful, completely scribbled over piece of paper to mark the page in his book, setting it down on the table. He shifts his sitting position so that his whole body is now turned into the direction of his sprawled out friend.

“I know you’re strictly against parties. And I respect that- I do.” Steve says with more urgency when Bucky snorts. “But this time, it’s not that big of a deal. There aren’t many people invited, just some field agents, the team and a few others. It’s a small event. I know you can handle that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Y/N leaving. Sam waves at her just before she exits the room. His mood instantly darkens a little. With one smooth movement, both of Bucky’s feet are planted on the ground and he sits in an upright position. “Quit it, Steve. I’m not interested.”

“Go out with me. Just once. One time‘s all. Whaddaya say, doll?”

“Bucky, I...”

Serenity settles in the tower the second the little party on the rooftop starts.

It’s how Bucky likes it.

Calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

All the commotion he dislikes with a passion is safely up on the roof, far away from the living quarters and anywhere Bucky wants to be at anyways. He likes being by himself. Alone but not so lonely, wandering the seemingly never-ending hallways of the more than large building absentmindedly, until the never-ending hallways end and his absent mind decides whether to go left or right or straight ahead. Bucky’s discovered many things about the tower that way. Empty rooms that might’ve been discarded since the day the structure had been built, storage spaces, rooms with unused training machines and high windows that give a breathtaking view of the city Bucky calls home and also not.

He’s discovered many things on walks like these but, still, he’s nowhere near having discovered everything.

Tonight, he’s somewhere on the seventh floor.

He walks with the shadows dancing around him and tranquility following wherever he goes. Gaze lowered, his footfall is silent as a cat’s. Bucky knows his way around darkness like the back of his hand. After all, it’s where he’s spent most of his life. Out of sight. Surrounded by cold, calculated silence and darkness.

Left. Straightforward. Right. Right. Left.

The only source of light is the low gleaming neon emergency exit sign at the end of the hallway.

Right. Straightforward. Straightforward. Left.

That’s when he hears it.

Bucky stops in his tracks.

Furrowing his brows, he strains his ears, listens into the darkness. There’s nothing at first but then the sound’s back. It’s far away but if there’s one thing Bucky can rely on, it’s his hearing.

The brunet follows the sound, hearing it rise in volume with every step he takes and every corner he rounds. Delicate notes conjoined in a gentle melody wrap around him the closer he gets until they’re all he can hear and all he can feel, and he stands in front of a door that’s slightly ajar. There’s no light peaking through the slight crack.

Who on earth plays a piano without any light?

The melody still floats around his head and curiosity takes the better of him, prompting him to quietly push open the door.

Like countless other rooms in the building, this one has floor to ceiling windows. The city lights illuminate the room eerily and throw long shadows across the floor, but the view is something to die for.

Just like the person Bucky notices in the room next.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can...”

“No, don’t apologize, I shouldn’t even have...”

His breath hitches in his throat when he recognizes her and he’d very much like to hit himself for the stupid, loud gasp that leaves him because it startles her and cuts of the beautiful melody. Y/N whirls around and looks at him with wide eyes while Bucky takes a step forward and raises his hands reassuringly. As soon as she recognizes him, she lets out a deep breath.

“Jesus, Buck, you almost just gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Sorry, doll,” he smiles, sheepishly. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“What was your intention then?” she sounds amused and her heartbeat is still going a little too fast and Bucky’s thankful she doesn’t seem to think he was creeping on her or anything.  

“Definitely not scaring you,” he grins and takes a few tentative steps closer to where she sits at the piano. It’s the only thing in the room and for a split second, Bucky makes a mental note to ask Tony if he even knows that this room exists. “Did you walk here in the dark?”

She shakes her head and points at a flashlight lying next to her on the floor.

“Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she says, “Usually, people don’t have an easy time sneaking up on me.”

“Jumpy?”

“Just very attentive. You wouldn’t stand a chance when my guard is up, Barnes.” Y/N looks up at him teasingly when he’s next to her and scoots a little to the side, making space for him on the piano stool. Bucky sits down and the stool creaks precariously under his weight. Y/N giggles softly at the skeptical look on his face. Bucky’s heart shoots to his throat at the sound.

“If it breaks, you’re buying a new one, beefy man.” She snakes her arm through his and pulls him a little closer. It’s a close fit, Bucky’s ass is half on the stool and half off but he can’t and would never want to complain about being so close to her.

“Did you just call me fat?” He feigns offense and feels his heart jump in his chest when she giggles again.

“No no no, you’re all muscle, sweetheart.” She says, a wide grin on her face as she squeezes his bicep teasingly. “I like it.”

“Really.” Bucky looks at her with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided, silly smirk on his face. “Well, aren’t you something sweet.”

On the outside, Bucky’s surprisingly calm. On the inside, however, he’s freaking out. Y/N’s so close and she’s calling him sweetheart and giggling like a literal angel and if Bucky doesn’t get up and run away right now, he’ll probably be stuck on her for all eternity. Not that he’d mind, but his heart can only take so many rejections.

Y/N’s only reply is a soft smile and she rests her head on his shoulder as silence settles once more. Bucky lets his eyes wander over the piano. She’s been playing mere seconds ago but what’s notably missing are the notes.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was a child,” she replies, gently pressing down the keys while she talks. “I used to practice every day but now I only do it once in a while.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m just too busy now. Being a nurse is more stressful than one would think.” She pauses for a moment and Bucky thinks she hesitates before continuing. “It’s not just physically, you know? Mentally, it’s no walk in the park either.”

She’s not looking at him, instead, she’s fixing her gaze on the black and white keys of the piano.

“I think you’re handling it amazingly,” he confesses, looking down at her.

Y/N chances a glance up at him, seemingly searching for something in his eyes. Perhaps she’s looking for a glint that reveals dishonesty, something that signals her that he’s making fun of her for being so weak. When she finds nothing, though, because why would Bucky be dishonest to her of all people, another sigh leaves her.

“Thanks.” Her reply is a faint whisper that he surely would’ve missed if his hearing wasn’t so advanced.

“You know,” he lifts his right hand to touch her arm that is linked with his left, “if you need someone to talk to... I just- I- I’m here if you need anything. I just want you to know that.”

All of a sudden, tears well up in her eyes. It catches Bucky off guard. It was supposed to be sweet but apparently, he’d said something wrong. He’s about to apologize but she cuts him off.

“God, Bucky, I know. I know... Thank you so much.” She buries her face in the crook of his neck and Bucky can feel her tears dripping hotly onto his skin. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t even be crying right now. It’s so stupid.”

Her sniffling and stifled sobs break his heart into millions of pieces. “It’s not stupid, Y/N.” He disentangles his arm from her to wrap it around her shoulders, voice urgent and leaving no room for protest. “It’s natural. Besides, I’m no one to judge, you know that. I’m a mess.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Buck. If anyone’s a mess here, it’s me,” she says. “I mean, I feel guilty even being around you sometimes because all I want is to talk to you because I know you’d understand but it’d make me feel so fucking guilty. Unloading all that crap on you that literally sounds like a luxurious vacation compared to what you’ve been through.”

Y/N lifts her head to look at him and Bucky sees the streaks of tears on her cheeks. He can’t help but reach up and cup her face in his flesh palm, softly brushing over the skin of her cheek with his thumb. “Stop. You hear me? What happened in my past is the past. I’m not suffering anymore, thanks to everyone around here. You’re suffering right now. And I’ll be damned if I let my past stand in my way of helping you. Do you understand?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and Bucky feels her leaning into his touch. His heart skips another beat. “You know what else?” he says after a short pause. Y/N hums, opening her eyes to look at him questioningly. “You help me too,” he murmurs. “Just... you. I feel better when you’re around. You help a lot.”

A wet chuckle bubbles up Y/N’s throat and she lets her head fall forward, a wall of hair shielding her beautiful face from his eyes. She wraps her fingers around his right wrist and Bucky swears to all the Gods and the devil down below that he feels her lips pressing to the palm of his hand. “Charmer.”

“Nah, darlin’. Just bein’ honest.”

It’s in another moment of silence they spend in each other’s arms that he realizes something. “Hold on, is that why you said no to going out with me?” he asks tentatively, because it’s such a stupid thing to ask in a situation like this. Y/N’s cheeks blush in an adorable rosy color.

“I’m just not really doing this stuff right now. It’s not you, please believe me.”

Instead of answering, she shrugs in embarrassment. “Maybe.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief. “Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge for thinking I wouldn’t want to listen to you.”

“Can I pick?”

Quickly, he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

Y/N squeals in surprise at both actions and laughs while wrapping her arms around his torso.

The city lights give the room and eery glow and large shadows wrap around them like a blanket. They’re in a room on the seventh floor in the Avengers Tower while everyone else is up on the roof partying but Bucky’s never been happier than with her in his arms.

And he doesn’t think that’ll change anytime soon.

[mainly-kpop]

Kappa Beta part 5

Final 

You know what that means lads. VIAGRA SERIES IS ON ITS WAY. 

thank you for all the love on this series, i cant wait for yall to read the next one <3

She straightened out her dress knowing this was a bad idea, that she was 100% being set up right now. Did he know? Was he even aware of anything going on around him? God why would he be, it’s not as if she made it obvious. Letting his whole frat house dick her down probably wasn’t the best way to say “hey you’re really cute, let’s date!” If punching herself in the face was an option right now, it’s one she would accept with open arms.

‘And are you sure everyone will be there?’ She questioned, one last time for good measure. Lara rolled her eyes, overtly sick of all these damn questions. In reality she knew she would be alone with him, she could see it in her best friends eyes. She was a shady bitch, but one terrible liar, especially towards her.

‘YES, 100%, I promise everyone will be together tonight.’ Technically that wasn’t a lie, nor was it the whole truth. Lara was finally meeting the boys tonight, Jimin excluded, but the boys all the same. She looked at her skeptically trying to find a lie, unable to fine the wavering she shrugged grabbing her purse.

‘Fine, let’s go then!’ She chirped, grabbing Lara’s hand, staying rooted to the spot she shook her head, causing a frown to form on the latter’s face.

‘Yea, no. Look at me, I am no where NEAR ready to meet these men!! You go ahead, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.’ She replied, easily letting the bullshit fall out her mouth. Frowning she shrugged, muttering a small ‘well okay…’ before exiting the house. Lara slipped down onto the couch sighing with relief texting the boys.

‘She’s on her way, get out of there now!’ She got a few emojis in response, confirming they were making their exit before locking her phone and chuckling to herself.

‘JIMIN, WE ARE GOING OUT TO GET STUFF FOR TONIGHT! WANT ANYTHING?!’ He rolled his eyes, looking exasperatedly at his door.

‘NO JUNGKOOK, AND HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS, stop screaming on the other side of my door. It ain’t that thick dude.’ He spoke, swinging the door open glaring at the taller boy.

‘Oh I just thought maybe YOU thought it was thicker.’ He spoke, smirking. He didn’t want to ask, but curiosity killed the cat and all that shit.

‘Why would I think that Kook?’ Pushing his hair back with his hand, he sighed. Jungkooks smirk still plastered on his perfect fucking face.

‘Just how loud you are, you know. Do you always think of Y/N or is that just nights you want to-‘

‘FUCK OFF JUNGLECOCK!’ He screamed, slamming the door in the younger boys face, sometimes he really couldn’t stand living here.

Yes he really liked this girl, fuck ever since she sat down on that couch, all bashful and shy, he had a thing for her. All the boys talked about destroying her, about wanting to fuck her until the only word she knew was their name. Not Jimin, he wanted to take care of her, to cuddle and watch movies. He wanted to go to parties and look for her in a crowd, he wanted her and only her. Sensing she had different plans however, he stayed out of her way, making sure that whatever she wanted she got. Whether it was him or not.

He recalls vividly Hobi talking about fucking her, his brags about how well she took him, how amazing she felt around him. Jin’s brag quickly after that of ‘You’re not the only one who got her yesterday’ making all them groan in want. He remembered Namjoon entering the living room, followed closely by Jungkook, talking about how much fun they had. How they hadn’t expected to enjoy a threesome with each other so much. About how rough they had been, about how well she took it all. By this point he was angry, watching everyone else get a go, and not him.

For a while he questioned if it was him that she didn’t want, but then she had come over recently, and never went to bed with anyone. That gave him comfort, that maybe you just didn’t want that anymore. Then he came home that night, all the boys crowded around Tae and Yoongi, begging for details, juicy details. They turned around to him, pity on their features, he was the last one. The only one left, and judging by your lack of attention towards him. It would never happen.

SO like any normal boy, with a bruised ego and a pained heart, he did what he knew best. Burying his dick in the prettiest thing that looked his way and avoiding her at all costs. Truthfully it wasn’t the smartest idea, but it helped for a while. That was before every face he looked at he saw her, every smile was dull compared to what he remembered of hers. Every moan, or groan, every whimper they made, there was no way it was near what he imagined hers being.

A swift knock at the front door brought him out of his thoughts, he didn’t know how long he had been sitting there so he assumed it was one of the boys.

‘What did you forget Nam-‘ He stopped his sentence, taking in her appearance. She was dressed for a party, he would give her that. Her hair was done to perfection, not a hair out of place, flowing in curls down her back. Her make up looked, yeah, to be honest Jimin didn’t know much about that, he just knew she looked fucking amazing. The tight black dress she picked hugged her body, stopping mid thigh, he couldn’t stop his eyes trailing the length of her legs settling on some sneakers.

‘Smart casual, they’re also comfy.’ She spoke, fearing she was being judged, she couldn’t see why he would be though considering he was in a hoodie and sweats.

‘Na it looks hot- I mean I’m hot, are you hot?, It’s hot in here wow.’ He stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck, she giggled watching him curiously.

‘Can I?’

‘Oh shit yeah, sorry!’ He fumbled once again, stepping to the side. How had he not thought to let the fucking girl inside.

‘So where is everyone?’ She questioned curiously, they said they would be in? Jimin shrugged, not knowing the time or anything.

‘I’m not sure, they popped out about half 6 maybe? Said they would be back soon.’ She sighed. She knew this was a fucking set up.

‘Jimin, its half seven, they aren’t coming back, well not tonight at least.’ She sounded disappointed, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was that sad when he wasn’t here. The times she showed up and he was no where in sight. He wondered if she was this upset when it was him. Not them.

‘God I should just go, I’m sorry for-‘

‘Why? You don’t have to leave because it’s just me.’ He whispered, she could hear the hurt in his voice. She looked at what she could see of his face, he looked upset. Why was he so sad when it’s him that’s avoiding her?

‘Jimin it’s not like that.’ She stated, sitting back on the couch she had raised her body from, as soon as she knew this was a set up. He turned his face to look at her, eyes hopeful and inviting, god he was so beautiful.

‘Then what is it like?’ He questioned, curious and ever so slightly ticked off.

‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you seem to avoid me.’ Eyes popping out his head, he shook it violently. Yes it was sad the speed he replied, but he didn’t want her to feel like he was avoiding her.

‘Oh god no, I couldn’t, I would never. I just-god how do I explain this without sounding like an idiot?’ The question, directed at himself, was answered by her anyways.

‘From the heart Jimin, tell me how you’re feeling.’ She soothed, placing her hand gently on top of his, rubbing soothing circles. The motion was made to sooth, to calm, but all he could think about was how close their bodies were. How the length of her legs were incredible, how their knees were touching. How this was the closest he’d been to you since that night, that started it all.

‘I uh, I’m technically avoiding you yes, BUT NOT FOR THE REASONS YOU THINK, god I’m so bad at this, you look so pretty tonight.’ He babbled, blushing slightly. She smiled tucking a stray hair behind her ear, thanking him under her breath, urging him to continue.

‘I like you, like more than just wanting to have sex with you. I avoided you because I didn’t want to be like the others, but then you never even tried with me so I just assumed…’ trailing off he replayed the confession in his head, yeah that sounded coherent. She smirked, letting out a little snort like laugh, he looked up quickly confused at her reaction.

‘Jimin you idiot boy, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want you. Lord knows I wanted you, but I wanted you as more, like you’re saying I never wanted just sex from you. You never seemed down to do anything, the others were so…’ They looked at each other in stark silence for a moment before both giggling, she fell into his body sighing and trying to calm down.

‘Idiots, the both of us!’ He exclaimed, wrapping his arm tightly around her body. He rubbed his thumb along her shoulder, causing her to relax into him slightly more. She smiled breathing in his aftershave, snuggling in closer.

‘You can say that again.’ She hummed, wrapping her arm around his waist. Planting a small kiss on the top of her head, he smiled content to a certain extent.

‘So, what do we do now?’ They turned to each other, she considered the question for a moment before a sparkle danced in her eyes.

‘I can think of a couple things…’ She murmured, pressing herself closer to his body, fingers trailing up his torso resting gently on his shoulder.

‘Oh really and what are those?’ He questioned, already knowing where this was leading. He pushed his body into hers, she lay back going with the motions. Body hovered over hers, he pushed her thin strap down her shoulder, leaving it completely bare and open to him.

‘We could watch a movie, maybe order some take out?’

‘Oh, that sounds promising, a little boring though.’ He replied, planting sweet little kisses on her cheek. As he reached her jaw and neck the kisses became more hungry, nibbling and nipping between kisses.

‘Okay, maybe you’re right, we could go for a nap? I hear that’s a thing people do these days.’ His lips smashed against hers, in a hungry and heated kiss. The months of avoiding each other, staying far away all coming down to this moment.

‘That sounds good, one problem. This isn’t really a bedroom setting, the boys could come home and disturb our nap.’ He whispered through kisses, pushing her dress up her hips. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his hands trailing up her body, gripping everything in his path.

‘We could move, to the bedroom I mean.’ He cocked his eyebrow, fiddling with the hem of her panties.

‘Would you want that baby? The bedroom instead?’ He queried, voice huskier and deeper than before, she bit her lip jerking her hips into his crotch.

‘Fuck no.’ She gasped, slamming her lips onto his one more time. He yanked her panties down her legs, the cold air hitting her wetness, breath stuttering in her throat. His fingers traced up her inner thigh, sparking goosebumps in their way. His finger finally reached where she needed him, gasp pouring out her mouth. He chuckled seeing her already so pent up, ripping open the top of her dress her breasts bounced free.

‘This was one of my favourite dresses.’ She pouted, looking down at the now destroyed item of clothing.

‘I’ll buy you a new one baby, a better one, a sexier one.’ He smirked, pushing a finger ever so gently inside of her, she whined at the feeling reaching out to grab his shoulders. Lowering his head, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, enjoying the low groaning noise she makes.

‘Jimin, fuck just fuck me please.’ She wanted foreplay, she really wanted it damn, but she was far more desperate to feel him. To feel what she had been missing. He moaned in her ear, not expecting to hear her say it that fast, yet he was so turned on he couldn’t say no. Even if he wanted to.

He stood up, pulling his trousers and boxers down his legs, sitting down on the couch. Patting his thighs he let her know exactly what he wanted. She smirked standing up, slipping herself out of the dress, kicking it to the side. Like it would matter that shit was destroyed. Sauntering over to him, she slipped her knees on either side of his legs scooting so their chests pushed against each other.

‘We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’ She whispered onto his lips. It was weird for her, to have the tables turned so suddenly. For her to be saying they could stop, it made her smile, lips still pressed against his.

‘I want to, fuck I want to.’ He whined against her lips, gripping her hips tighter, forcing her to grind or move or something. She nodded lightly, kissing his lips one last time before wrapping her hand around his dick, pumping gently a couple of times. He moaned, throwing his head back, looking down at her, eyelids half closed. The gaze was penetrative, causing a shiver to glide down her spine. Slipping her thumb quickly across the top of his cock, gathering some pre cum before lifting her hips and slipping down on him. She placed her finger in her mouth, sucking off the pre cum but keeping direct eye contact the whole time.

‘You’re such a tease, you know that?’ He gasped, feeling her clenching around him. She smiled cheekily, nodding in reply. He placed his hands gently on her hips, urging her to move herself on him. She bit her lip raising her hips slightly, sinking back down letting a groan out.

‘Fuck baby, you feel so good.’ He grunted, helping her move her hips up and down, thrusting up to meet her half way. She let out short moans, breathless, holding her boobs as they bounce with each thrust.

‘Fuck Jimin, harder oh my god!’ She screamed, feeling like she was balanced on the edge, needing a hard push. He let a low guttural groan vibrate his chest before flipping their bodies around, her now lying on the couch. This position let him thrust harder and faster into her, hitting her sweet spot every damn time. She trailed her nails down his back, practically screaming for him at this point. His hand slipped between their bodies, seeking out her clit quickly. Feeling close himself, he needed to push her over the edge before he came.

‘Fuck, Jimin, I’m, fuck!’ She screamed, pushing his hips tighter into hers with her feet. She came with nothing but a breathless whimper, back arching and convulsing against him. As she clenched around him he came too, the feeling pushing him that little bit further over the edge. His body collapsed on top of hers, she giggled at his sweaty body pressed against hers, running her hand soothingly through his hair.

‘we should get off this couch before they come home.’ She whispered a while after, both of them completely down from their highs. He sighed, agreeing, pulling out slowly he helped her stand, both heading to the bathroom and then to bed.

‘So do we date now?’ He asked awkwardly, tracing circles into her stomach. She hummed, petting his hair.

‘I’d hope so, I did just confess my attraction to you.’ She chuckled, causing Jimin to poke at her sides.

‘Don’t be cheeky, it’s not too early for me to break up with you!’ She gasped pushing him off, folding her arms in mock anger.

‘Ah, baby don’t be like that, you know I want you.’ He whispered, crawling on top of her body nibbling gently at her earlobe.

‘Hmm and how do I know that?’ She countered, trailing her hands over his body anyways.

‘I’m sure I can think of a few ways…’ He answered, slipping his hands slowly between their bodies.

‘Okay, 20 bucks says they didn’t fuck.’ Jungkook whispered as they walked through the living room. Namjoon picked up an item of clothing from the floor, holding it up for the boys. The top half ripped completely, all of them smirking.

‘You might want to rethink that bet Kookie…’ Yoongi replied, smirking at the ruined dress.

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Thanatos Taunts Our Minds Without Our Consent

Word Count: 2949

TW: death, abuse, transphobia, cancer, i think thats it, if theres anything else sorry! let me know!

Notes: All my children have sad stories and Virgil just has to deal with all of it for always. Poor sons. All triggers were vague simplified references for the most part because the characters are so young. This is probably really bad and i probably did a bad job at explaining their stories but you know i love this and its done now so yeah.

Pairings: none, platonic analogical, prinxiety, and moxiety.

Summary: “Damn it! This kid needs to listen, he’s in so much pain, why won’t he just let go? Huh? Rem cut it out! PUT DOWN THOSE SCISSORS BEFORE YOU CUT YOUR ARM OFF!!!” Virgil is a grimm reaper and he has to save the soul of children every night. The past month has been making his life stressful as ever. he just needs Patton to come to Neverland soon.

“Damn it! This kid needs to listen, he’s in so much pain, why won’t he just let go? Huh? Rem cut it out! PUT DOWN THOSE SCISSORS BEFORE YOU CUT YOUR ARM OFF!!!” the Grimm started chasing his pixie friend around his room. After a few seconds the scissors fall, and the teen flew up and around to avoid them. He glared at the fairy as he landed and picked up the tools.

“you are obnoxious, you know that right?” tink tink tink “yeah yeah, exercise or something, listen, I don’t need to practice flying, I’ve been flying longer than you’ve been alive!” tink tink “what do you mean I haven’t flown for years? I’ve flown everyday for the past hundred thousand years you pest! At least I don’t need to bathe in dust everyday to continue flight” tink. “oh, shut up Remy.”

At that moment a quiet knock resonated through the large wooden room. The Grimm straightened and landed on the floor, touching it barely with one toe. He glared at the pixie before calling for the person to enter. The small creek of the door barely showed the small bit of blue hair peeking behind it, followed by little round glasses and a wash of bruises covering the body of the boy. A pinch of heartache stings in the Grimm, wishing that the marks from now 3 years ago would fade, yet still knowing they never would. He managed to plaster on a smile at the child, and sat on his knees, welcoming him in.

The boy smiled brightly and rushed into the arms of the teen, happily curling up in the warm hug given to him.

“why hello there Logan! How are you doing this fine morning? Are the others still playing nice? What have you come for young one?” the boy tightens his frail grip on the Grimm.

“Mr. Virgil! I saw you came back and I wanted to see you! I’m doing good, but Roman’s teasing me again. He painted my face blue earlier and said I matched my arms and legs.” Virgil frowned before smiling again, smaller this time.

“he doesn’t understand lo, he doesn’t know why you are all blue and so he’s reacting based on what he thinks. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He really is a good kid, just like you!” Virgil ruffled the little boy’s hair and smiled wider at his childish giggles. “send him to me, I will talk to him about it. Don’t worry about it lo” Logan nods and gives one last squeeze before getting up and running to the door. He stops quickly, turns around, bows awkwardly, then runs out. The teen lets out a sigh and stands.

“who told him he needed to bow?” tink tink tink “ugh, Val and Thomas always have been ones for the dramatics. Little lo is so impressionable, geez, he was only 5! He should have turned 8 last week, but no, his parents- no, not right now, I can’t be getting so angry, Roman will be here soon and I’m not going to yell at him. Remy why is this job so hard?” tink “you know there’s a fly swatter right here if you really want to keep up with that mouth”

There’s a loud knock at the door and Virgil’s head whips to look at it and grant entrance. A taller kid walks in, looking worried. Virgil’s heart melts as he seats himself and beckons the child closer. The boy is slender, and has strong curves, matched with a pirate outfit that seemed too big at the ends and too small at the tops. His hair is long on one side and dyed bright red on the soft blonde locks, with no hair on the other side, shaved clean. The boy had his arms covering his chest tightly and protectively. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him as he walked up next to Virgil and sat across from him in a w sit while staring purposefully at the floor boards underneath him. Virgil adjusted into a criss cross and looked at the child who was still avoiding his gaze.

“Roman? Do you know why I called you here?” the boy shakes his head. “kiddo I need you to look at me ok?” he rises his head to look up at him through his hair. “so, you were teasing Logan about his arms and legs being blue earlier?” this caught Roman’s attention. His head was thrown up and his eyes looked terrified.

“NO!!! I mean, well, I guess, but I didn’t mean it in a mean way!!! He matched!!! It was just something I noticed and then I painted his face before I thought about it!!! He looks nice in blue and I- well I- I dunno… I wasn’t thinking I guess?” Virgil nodded and clicked his tongue to get Roman to look up again.

“do you know why his arms are like that Roman?” he shakes his head. “you know how when I found you your dad had thrown a shelf at you?” he nods. “for Logan, it wasn’t a one-time thing, having things thrown at him or being hit. The day I found him, he had been dealing with that for 5 years. Those black and blue marks were from where his parents hurt him” Roman gasps and covers his mouth as his eyes widen. “Unfortunately, this place pauses your body from aging, which means that those marks aren’t gonna leave him. Its not very good that you tease him on that. He’s not mad at you though, you know him, he doesn’t get angry very often and he doesn’t hold grudges. You know what he’d probably really enjoy?” Roman’s head tilts as Virgil summons a book, about 200 pages long. “if you read to him. I think you’d both really enjoy this one. Its about a secret and society protecting it from the bad guys and having to go on awesome adventures to keep the secret safe. Now, go and apologize and offer to read to him. You know you’re his favorite of the others, right?” Roman smiles and takes the book offered to him before giving him a big hug, bowing, and running out.

Tink tink tink tink “Remy I’m gonna throw you out the window.”

After that the rest of the day went rather normally and smoothly. That is until that night when he had to scoop up all those who had passed that day. 40,000 people every single day he had to convince to follow him. Adults were generally easiest, as well as super young or scared children. But at the end of the night he stopped at the little hospital room where a little boy with fluffy brown hair sat kneeling, trying desperately to watch the cartoon on the screen in front of him. Virgil flew in and sat on the uncomfortable bed before covering the little boys’ eyes asking in a spooky deep voice “guess who?” and the little kid giggled and swatted at his hands.

“Mr. Virgil!!! C’mon!!! I’m watchin tv!!!” Virgil smiles and laughs along with his eyes closed softly.

“now isn’t it a little late for little Patton’s to be up and watching tv?” he says while ruffling the boy’s hair. Surprisingly, he leaned into Virgil’s side.

“Mr. Virgil? Does my brain win against the super villain? Whys big bro so angry all the time? Ever since we moved here, he’s been grumpy. If I go with you will my head stop hurting? Can you help me?” Virgil wrapped his arm around him protectively.

“your brain can’t win Patton. But through your fight you’ll help the next person who has to fight it win. Your brother doesn’t know how to handle the fact that you’re gonna lose and that you’re hurting. Its hard for him to understand, but he loves you. He loves you so so much. If you come with me, you won’t have to fight the super villain anymore. They’ll leave you alone. I want to help you Patton, I really do, but I need you to follow me. Are you ready to go Patton?”

Patton coughs harshly and can’t look at his hand, now covered in blood. He nods, and Virgil helps clean him up and helps him get changed into his comfy outfit that isn’t the gown he’d been stuck in for months now. Jean shorts, a baby blue tank top with a cat hoodie over it, as well as thigh high gray and blue socks with his favorite white converse. Virgil brushes softly through his hair and pins it back with little barrettes. Virgil takes a look at the bed sadly, sitting there is the dying body of the boy in front of him. He waves his hand and tucks him in, he looks peaceful, the first time the kid has been at peace since he was 5. He douses Patton in pixie dust and pulls him through the window as he snaps his fingers to set off Patton’s monitor. He turns harshly back to Patton who’s flying, completely carefree even as his parents and siblings are alerted that they had finally lost him. They will be ok, they had prepared, they knew that the young boy wasn’t going to survive the massive tumor in his brain, but the loss of a child will never not hurt. He continued forward, the second star to the right, where everyone goes eventually, a place most call death.

After the long journey, they land on the beaches of neverland and Patton is quickly surrounded by all the lost children. Their excitement slightly scared Patton, but Logan snuck in between the bigger kids and looked at him quietly and curiously. The small boy picked up Patton’s hand and softly tugged him toward the shore as Virgil ushered the rest off to do some handiwork.

“look!” Logan says. “there’s a mermaid over there! Do you like mermaids? I like mermaids!” Logan sat down and messed with the water after seeing Patton’s nod of affirmation. “what’s your name? my names Logan! Mr. Vee saved me about 3 years ago! Did he just save you? Were you hurting too? Were your parents mean? Mine were super jerks, but I have cool marks that match my hair now, so I guess its alright.” He gestures at the bright blue and black stains littering his arms. “You wanna see some fairies?!”

“well uh, my name is Patton! I love fairies too!!! I dunno if he saved me, my parents were really nice!!! I was hurting, but that was the super villain in my head, that’s what mommy said. I got to wear a cool dress all the time which was cool!!! I’m sorry your parents were mean! When we go back, we can share mine!!! How old are you Logan? I’m 7!!!” Logan stills for a second then tilts his head.

“well I’m 5, or I was when he saved me! But what do you mean go back? We don’t go back! This is home now, you can be a lost boy!!! If you go back, your super villain will come back!!!” this causes Patton to start hyperventilating, he turns to Virgil who is pointedly looking away from him.

“M-MR VIRGIL I WANNA GO HOME!!! YOU SAID MY MOMMY AND DADDY WOULD BE WITH ME!!! PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME STAY I WANT TO SEE MY BROTHER!!!” Patton curls in on himself, and Logan backs away, scared at what he had done. Virgil walks over and kneels in front of the scared boy. He sets his hands on the kids’ tiny shoulder and hollowed cheek.

“Patton, I know you’re scared, but you can’t go back. This is where people who hurt go when it gets to be too much” Virgil pauses before sighing and continuing. “do you understand what death is kiddo?” he nods. “well I apologize, but you’ve died” Patton’s eyes widen. “this is where you go when you die. The last month I was trying to take you here, you were so very sick. You couldn’t eat, or walk, you were dying. My job is to get you before you suffer too long. You aren’t supposed to suffer. You won’t hurt here Patton. I promise you that everything is going to be ok now. Now, there’s a party to welcome you. Go on and have some fun. I have some more work to do, but I’ll be there soon” he cries into Virgil’s arms for a little bit longer before wiping his eyes and getting up.

“you promise?” Virgil nods. “…well, ok. Uh, bye then…” he walks over to Logan who smiles softly and grabs his hand and starts dragging him off to the center of the island.

Days like this are always hard for Virgil, but someone had to do it, and no one came around to relieve him of duty, so until then, he’d have to deal with it. Didn’t make the past 10,000 years any easier though. As Virgil walked over to his room, he sent his pens off to list all those who died that day. Though many in the world of the living will never know for certain who died when, Virgil kept a detailed list. He did a twirl as he changed out of his reaper robes and into his favorite outfit. He wore a tightly fitted purple plaid long sleeve with a patched jacket of the same colors but with a large storm cloud emblem on the back. He also wore ripped black skinny’s and dark purple converse. He lifted his hood and grabbed Remy as he left to the festival.

He walked up, seeing all the lost children celebrating and partying, even Patton dancing around. He let himself grin, at least he didn’t hate it here. He might even be able to have him become a lost boy. He stayed in the shadows, watching as his children introduced themselves one by one. He had missed most of them it seems, Roman being the only one left to go. He listened as he recounted his story.

“hello young Patton!!! I, am the great Roman, happily at your service. I have quite a story to tell. Now, I’ve been here for but a humble year. I was just 13 when I passed in such a horrible way. Now I was born as someone vile, her name shan’t be uttered, she had long golden locks and curves that were smooth like butter, but she was a witch! She wasn’t to be trusted, and I knew that. Since I was 6, I knew that she and I were opposite entities. When I turned thirteen, my loving parents, turned. They bore fangs and claws meant to rip me apart. They turned to foul predators for that night, I told them, I was Roman. I was a strong powerful man, and any who dare disagree would take me in a duel. They won, but they played dirty. They threw lamps, and tables, and knives. They were scared of me. But as I speak to you this very night, I tell you that Virgil, our caretaker, our beloved leader saved me. He swooped in, and before I felt the biting pain of the end, he swooped me away, and here, is more of a home than that ever was, because here is a place of love, unconditional. I know your story is tragic in a vastly different way, but I hope that neverland becomes your home as well” he bows and beckons Patton up on the podium. “go ahead and tell us your story darling. We are here to listen”

“oh! Um, hiya! My name is Patton, and I’m 7 years old” he clutches a stuffed dog that Virgil had replicated for him. “this is Mr. snuggles! Um, my story? Well, about three years ago I got really sick. My head hurt a lot and my emotions weren’t being good. My mommy told me about 2 years ago that I had a big bad super villain fighting my brain. And that my brain probably wasn’t strong enough to win. She said some more, but she was crying too much. We moved to this really big building and we had lots of roommates who were always checking on me. I guess we were staying with the doctors and the nurses. My parents and brother were always really upset at each other but were extra nice to me. About a month ago Mr. Virgil showed up. I didn’t wanna go, so I didn’t until tonight. My head hurt a whole lot and I could barely move, so I left with him. And now I’m here! Thank you guys for bein so nice to me!!! Is there gonna be more dancing?” the cheers erupt, and Logan is dragging Patton off to a chair with a bunch of books as Virgil shows himself and the crowd goes silent.

“hello lost children, and Patton, I see you’ve been having fun! Now that the festivities have commenced, I would like to offer a position in our ranks to Patton here. We have an elite group of brave kind-hearted kiddos who decide to join the lost children and protect the others from our enemies and those who seek to destroy what we’ve built. Would you like to be a lost boy dear Patton?”

“well uh, I dunno, that sounds scary, but um, s-sure! I’d be um, I’d be honored!”

“well that’s great news!!!” Virgil snapped and a cool sash and pin appeared around Patton’s shoulders as well as a hawk feather tucking itself in his hair. “in that case, let the party begin!”

Let me know if you want to be tagged in later days or my writing in general!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[pitifulbefore-a]

send ‘FIVE TIMES SMILED’ for five times your muse made mine smile. / I didn’t actually reblog this but @wontbelame is getting it anyways

ONE. Jeremy is nearing five years old, holding on tight onto his mother’s leg, positioned so he’s the closest to the door and she stands in between him and the rest of the classroom. Bolting briefly crosses his mind, leaving before the day can even start-- and he’s left behind in a strange new place full of strange kids he doesn’t know and strange adults he doesn’t know but he’s supposed to trust ( what happened to stranger danger? if you didn’t know an adult well, you weren’t supposed to trust them, and Jeremy didn’t know this lady so he definitely wasn��t about to trust her )-- but he isn’t sure where he could go, how to find his way home.

A soft hand in his hair is enough to pull Jeremy out of his thoughts, and he glances up to see his mother smiling softly, She bends down to his level and he reluctantly releases his iron grip on the leg of her pants. A kiss is pressed against his forehead, a whispered ‘ have fun, I’ll see you in the afternoon ’ and then she’s gone. His stomach begins sinking immediately, breath shaky the moment she’s out of view. The teacher smiles, introduces herself ( again -- he’s met her once before. does she think he’s an idiot? ) and begins some spiel about how much fun they’re going to have, and how excited everyone is to meet him. Jeremy isn’t listening, but he let’s her take his hand and pull him over to a table with an empty seat. 

He spends approximately three hours sulking ( it’s closer to 25 minutes, but time seems to creep by when you want nothing more than for the day to be over ) before someone comes to sit beside him. Doing his best to not pay attention, he focuses instead on picking at his nails ( his mom always got onto him for biting them, said it didn’t look good, maybe he should just to get back at her ), but the chair scoots and scoots and scoots ( this guy didn’t sit still, did he? ) and eventually the noise is enough for him to look up.

The new kid starts talking. Jeremy blinks and his posture straightens, as if he’s taken aback by the idea that anyone would actually want to talk to him while he was pouting. He keeps talking, eventually introduces himself ( Michael. Jeremy repeats it back to him, as conformation that he’ll remember ), and before long Jeremy’s talking too. And Michael smiles ; a big, toothy grin that can’t help but make Jeremy forget some of his frustrations with being left behind. 

“Hey, do y’wanna be my friend, Jeremy?” 

He nods, and smiles back just as brightly. 

TWO. Eighth grade is when he notices the new addition to Michael’s desk. It’s unassuming ; no telling how long it had been there before Jeremy had taken note, a little box settled among the papers and textbooks and notebooks and whatever else Michael had scattered on his desk. He picks it up and shakes it, surprised to hear stuff actually moving around in it.

It doesn’t take Michael long to return to his room, snacks in tow. Jeremy holds up the box and is told to be careful, there’s important things in there. He feels bad for shaking it ( decides not to mention that ), sets it down and asks about it’s contents. Michael is quick to explain-- it’s where he puts all the things he thinks are important from good days he wants to remember. Little things, like the ticket stubs to the concert they had attended earlier that year ( Weird Al, and for a moment the boys fondly recount the night ). Good things. 

The idea of it makes Jeremy’s heart skip a beat, makes him feel giddy and light with love for his best friend, and he wonders what he did to end up with a best friend like Michael. Whatever it is, he’s really, really happy he did it. He doesn’t say any of that out loud, of course-- just laughs, and nudges his shoulder, and calls him a sap. Michael laughs too, but then asks if he wants to look through it, together. 

Jeremy nods, and his smile could put the stars to shame. 

THREE. Exactly five days after Jeremy has started high school is the worst day of his life. The fighting-- the fighting had gotten worse, and things were bad, he knew that much, but he’s staring at the open door and the empty driveway and, jesus christ he can’t fucking breathe. She left. She just left, packed her bags, kissed his forehead ( just like she used to when he was a kid ) and slammed the door. He doesn’t know where his dad is ( he was in the house ; he’s pretty sure he’s in the house, but Jeremy hasn’t seen any sign of the man since the most recent bout of screaming had ended ), he doesn’t know where his mother is or where she’s going or when she’s going to be back ( she’s not coming back she’s not coming she’snotcomingback ), and he can’t breathe. 

He isn’t sure what comes over him, but he screams. Stomps his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum, screams, and storms upstairs. Throws himself on the bed and sobs to the point it hurts, that he can’t catch his breath, that his voice hurts, his eyes hurt, his head feels like it’s going to explode. Sure the whole house can hear him ( wherever his dad is, he doesn’t make any acknowledgement of his son breaking down ), keeps going until every drop of red hot anger is expelled and all that’s left is a biting ache deep in his chest. Doesn’t know what else to do, so he slides off the bed and texts Michael-- Michael always has a plan, and while Jeremy doesn’t think anything can be done to make this better, he still wants him to know.

Phone is quickly tossed aside as the loneliness sets in, horrible questions ( was he not good enough? was he the problem? could he have made her stay? why wouldn’t she stay? ) begin to flood his mind. Head sinks into his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he begins to sob once more-- quieter this time, softly shaking his frame, he isn’t angry anymore. 

The Heere’s must have forgotten to lock the door in the midst of family tragedy, because before long Jeremy is aware of the sound of his door slowly being pushed open, of someone silently making their way towards him. Frame tenses, expecting the intruder to be his father ( he still cares, doesn’t he? ), but only when they’re right next to him does he finally look up-- wave of relief washing over him when he sees Michael Mell, two large slushies in one hand and a 7/11 bag containing nothing but snickers in the other. He smiles sadly at him, passes a cup and settles down, resting an arm around his shoulders. 

“C’mon. Let’s watch Ghostbusters.”

Jeremy leans his head into Michael’s shoulder and smiles. 

FOUR. High school is hell. It’s a conclusion Jeremy quickly comes to about midway through freshman year, when he quits musical. It’s eight hours of torture ( sometimes more, if you decide to partake in extracurricular activities. it’s why Jeremy starts saying he quit -- why would you add on more hours of torture ) for five days a week, in which about two-hundred teachers and nearly one thousands students coexists with the intention of making each other as miserable as possible. And it isn’t an us vs them, teachers vs students ; no, instead some sort of hellish free for all, every man for himself.  

Well, maybe not completely for himself. If you were lucky enough to have a best friend like Michael Mell, you didn’t have to face anything by yourself. 

It’s been a particularly rough day ( another sucky part about high school? you can’t pick your schedules, meaning Michael and Jeremy can’t be assured they have every single class together ), humiliation sheet crumpled and scribbled to near obscurity ( at least three mortification events, four refusal to return head nods, five snickers -- why did he even try again? ) and tucked into his back pocket. Jeremy’s counting down the hours until he can jump in the passenger seat of the cruiser and just waste the afternoon playing video games. 

Seeing Michael in the hallway is like seeing some of beacon of light. He’s impossible to miss ( at least if you’re Jeremy Heere, and you spend most of the time that you aren’t with Michael Mell looking for Michael Mell ). His red hoodie is the first thing to catch his eye, and then the movement ; Michael’s always playing music, whether his headphones are actually on his head or not. He moves to his own beat, always seeming to enjoy himself, even in the hellish hallway.  He doesn’t notice Jeremy, instead in his own little world. 

“Michael, hey!” 

Jeremy calls after him, smile spreading across features as he jogs to catch up. 

FIVE. Jeremy is sixteen now, and he thinks he has a new contender for worst day of his life. He wakes up in an unfamiliar room with blindingly fluorescent lights, briefly wonders if he’s dead ; the last thing he remembers is handing Christine the red mountain dew ( resigned to trade his clear mind for her own ), and then she started screaming, and then his head-- it was the most painful thing he had ever felt, blocking out all other senses as his mind filled with screaming electricity, electricity flowing through every nerve, trying to crack his brain into pieces while the squip howled his name, it’s final stand having failed. So, yeah. He’s probably dead. 

And then he moves, and one slight shift seem to set off every pain sensor in his head, and god, he doesn’t think his brain would do that unless he really screwed up, so. Back to being maybe not dead. Probably a good thing, he thinks with a groan. 

It’s enough to alert the other in the room to his presence. Rich tells him everything that’s happened, and then some-- he’s in the hospital ( definitely not dead ), the squip’s absence is cause for the migraine on crack he’s currently suffering from, an epiphany moment results in a weird but kind of touching coming out, and some kid ( Michael, his thoughts scream, throat going dry and heart pounding against his chest ) has been by to see Jeremy a lot. Rich is still talking when he hears the door behind him opening. 

Head snaps ( too fast, everything in him protests, the pain momentarily rendering him blind ) towards the source of the noise. Michael Mell, as if on cue. Logically, he  knows it’s no huge coincidence, knows he just heard them talking from outside, but he’s too overwhelmed by the wave of relief that washes over him just at the sight to think clearly-- he’s here, Michael’s here, despite every awful thing Jeremy had done in the past few months. He was at his side, by his side, here, still with him. 

For the first time in months, Jeremy smiles at his best friend.

[fromthestyles]

dead.

Just a quick one based off of this lovely song which helped me get through a rough breakup. I highly recommend listening before/ while you read. Please send in any request you would like for this lovely man.

Request: No.

Genre: Angst.

Words: 1,181

“I gave you so many shots, but you just drinkin’ ‘em all. Baby, no more showin’ up at my front door when you’re not sober just say you’re alone tonight. Tryin’ to fuck me and my mind up, but, to remind you: you’re a liar and you know I’m right...” OR In which Harry’s drinking antics pushed Y/N to the edge and she simply gave up.

02:00am

The screen of your phone shined bright in your darkened room as you awoke to the sound of pounding at your front door. Eyes still squinted from their failed attempt at adjustment, you were quick to throw your phone onto your bed. As you sat up, debating whether or not to get out of the comfort of your sheets, your line of sight when to your bedroom door, staring as if you could magically gain xray vision and see past the obstacle of two doors and a couple walls to see who dared to disturb your sleep this late at night. You contemplated calling the police, then and there. You had just recently moved into your new flat and a very small amount of people actually knew where you resided, now. You had made sure to keep it that way for several reasons. Besides that, your friends and family who were aware of your address knew that they weren’t to just show up to your home with no warning. The rapid knocking had subsided for a moment and you found yourself exhaling a deep breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, though it was quickly stifled as the knocking started up once again. You released an uneasy groan as you reached to pick your phone up once more, typing in the numbers 9-1-1. “Just in case,” you told yourself. You kept your thumb near the ‘call’ button as you kicked your comforter off your short-clad legs. As you arose, your spare hand lifted to straighten the baggy shirt you had grown accustomed to sleeping in. You made your way to the focus of all the ruckus, flipping ever lightswitch on as you walked. With the first light turning on, the knocking had become more urgent, making your heart race. With unsteady hands, you took a deep breath as you unlocked your door, turning the knob to face your intruder. And as fast as your heart was once beating, now it felt like it had entirely stopped. 

“...Harry.”

His eyes were droopy, red with intoxication. As if that wasn’t a clear sign in itself, you cold practically get drunk off of his scent, alone. And not in the way you once were so fond of. He ran his fingers through his bronzed hair, eyes meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

They were the only words to escape his lips as his voice bubbled into soft sobs, the hand once cruising his hair now covering his face as to shield himself from both looking at her and from her seeing him in this state. As if his one measly hand was enough to stop her from seeing the mess he had become ever since she walked out the last time.

“Harry! Please leave me be!” The look of annoyance covering your face was almost enough to make Harry cringe away from her. Almost. If the vodka ruining through his veins wasn’t present. Your laptop was on top of your crossed legs as you sat on the couch, a presentation you were meant to be finishing up for your job on the screen. It was hard to do so, though, with a rampant Harry running his lips across your neck, fingers squeezing your thigh as he tried to press closer to you. “C’mon, love. You can spare a few moments for me, yeah? Need to feel you under me. Want those pretty thighs around me.” He whispered the words into your ear and your nose immediately stung from his alcohol stained breath. Your eyes flashed to the led displaying the time.

02:00am

You had had enough of this. You slammed your laptop shut, sliding away harshly from his grasp. “Why are you like this?!” You stared at him with pleasing eyes, his own furrowed brow matching yours. “Like what?” He said it so nonchalantly. Like he hadn’t been coming home in the wee hours of the morning plastered off his face for nearly the past month. The first few times didn’t bother you as much. In fact, we he had finally made his way home, you found comfort in the way he immediately fell into your arms, showing you more affection in one night than he had in weeks. It wasn’t until you had begun to realize that these were the only moments he seemed to be fond of you that you had been taken aback. It stung. Only to be shown love when he had too much of what ever had been filling his cup, that night. 

His words were met with silence. You confidently arose from your spot on the couch and headed to the room your shared at his own, straight to the closet to pack whatever belongings of yours that would fit in your single suitcase. It wasn’t long before he had followed you, leaning against the open door frame with a wicked smirk grazing his lips. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m leaving. I’ve can’t do this anymore. Not your drinking, not your emptiness when you’re sober. Not you only loving me when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. We’re done.” 

Much to your suprise, all you received in reply was a cold, humorless laugh. Your tears stung almost as much as his next words.

“Then leave. You’re right, you know. It takes at least a pint to make you even attractive to me, anymore.” 

You weren’t expecting the sob that left your lips as you paused your packing to turn to him. He seemed to unfazed by what was happening. How could someone who you once thought was the love of your life be treating you so cruelly?

“Be careful what you say, say only what you mean, Harry.”

You gave him one last pleadful look just to have him scoff in your face and turn away, calling out as he walked back into the living room. “Don’t forget your toothbrush.”

You couldn’t believe the man who had treated you like the dirt on his shoe was now nearly kneeling on your doorstep. Two months later. Two months of you pulling yourself together. Two months of you telling yourself you would be okay. Two months of sleeping on family and friends’ couches until you could find yourself a new apartment. Two months of pitiful looks. Two months later, here he is. His hand dropped as he locked eyes with you once more. Only then had you realized you had stayed completely silent since you opened the door. 

“Please say something. I can’t live without you, Y/N.”

You winced at his words. Honestly, you had felt the same way those two months. Sixty days of you waking up in an unfamiliar setting, tears forming as you looked to your side and remembered he wasn’t there. Sixty days of you watching couples at the local coffee shop hold hands and remembering that used to be you. Sixty days of torture from this man who now stood before you. Crying on his knees. You shook your head, beginning to close the door, but not before saying the words that would surely end them for good. 

“Then why aren’t you dead, yet?”

[hoqwarts-library]

war stories: china doll

also on hpft | hpff | ff.net | ao3

summary: you were once a delicate china doll, but now you’re cracked and broken. 

warning: the content below the cut is intended solely for mature audiences. advisories for violence and ptsd. 

You are a plant.

Look at you, lying on your bed uselessly, curled up like a baby. You spend your whole day in that bed, staring at the ceiling—if you’re not crying that is. In this state, you really aren’t much better than a plant. Are you trying to hide from the world? Why? Are you afraid of the world? Since you’re a plant, I guess you should be. You’re going to get eaten alive, as useless and weak as you are.

What was that pathetic whimper? Were you trying to say something? ‘I’m not a plant’, hmm? Not-plants don’t lie in bed crying all day, and they don’t sound like dying horses. You do, so you must be a plant.

Ah, so you haven’t completely lost your backbone. Don’t be so offended, though; I’m only saying the truth. You’ve been like this for the past two months. Staring aimlessly at the ceiling, hardly eating—you’ve lost so much weight, I can barely see you!—with the curtains closed and the lights turned off. It’s like you’re trying to fade away. Why? Are you too weak to live anymore? Really? Where’s your strength, war hero?

Pfft! You say you still have it, and yet, here you are, lying in your bed like a plant. Even your voice is weak; I can barely hear you. Speak up and clearly too. I did not raise a daughter who whispers; if you’re going to whisper, better not say anything at all—that’ll save everyone’s breath.

Well. At least you haven’t lost your sarcasm.

When Cho turned eleven, her mother sat her down on her living room couch. Cho was confused by her mother’s somber expression; from the moment she had received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, she’d been practically walking on air. It seemed inappropriate for her mother to be so serious and yet here she was, with her familiar fear-inducing expression that had Cho scrambling to her seat.

“Now that you are almost a woman,” her mother started, “It’s time I tell you the story of the Chinese women warriors.” Cho stared at her mother with an intrigued expression; the Chinese women warriors? She had taken to reading lots of myths and books, and she had never come across this story. Her mother noticed her confusion, “This is a special story, one that mothers pass onto their daughters when their daughters become women. This story will teach you how to be a warrior and not a slave.” Cho felt a rising urgency inside her, pressing her to pay attention; her back straightened and her eyes fixed on her mother’s face as she listened with rapt attention to the story.

Once upon a time, when China was ruled by a cruel and lazy emperor, men from the Chinese army found a group of five women in a shed in an abandoned village. The women had been locked in this shed for up to two or three months, and the time without sunlight, ample food, or water had sucked all their strength from them. The lack of sunlight had made their skin pale, hollow; they hissed at even the slightest hint of sunlight, their eyes burning. The lack of food made their faces sunken and their bodies so thin that if they turned to their sides, they seemed to disappear.

They had had no means of escaping; their arms had been tied behind their backs, twisted so they had no hope of freeing them. Their feet had been bound up to five times, forced tighter and smaller, toes squished together with no relief. Their now petite, tiny feet were shaped like the coveted three-inch golden lotuses, a symbol of beauty, but when the women tried to walk, they screamed in pain and teetered and tottered; they were forced to crawl on their hands and knees instead.

The women had also been gagged and forced silent; when they spoke for the first time in these many months, their voices came out scratchy, alien, and incomprehensible. In gagging them, their attackers had not only stolen their voices but their words, reducing them to nonsensical sounds. Now, they had no chance of telling the soldiers what had happened to them or who was responsible.

These women were irreparably broken, and perhaps it would've been wiser to kill them then and there. Their lives promised nothing but more hardship and pain, and it did not seem worth it, as even if they were perfectly healthy, they would still be forced to spend their entire lives on their hands and knees—that was simply the reality of being a woman.

But the women fixed the soldiers with a serious stare. They did not glare, smile, cry, or beg; they simply met the men eye-to-eye, refusing to look away. That look showed what had not been crushed in the two or three months they'd been locked in this shed, what had only grown and hardened. Their eyes held a steel edge, fashioned from their persisting pain and willpower, powerful enough that the soldiers decided to take them to a nearby village where they would be able to work in the fish market. "They will not earn any money," one soldier later explained, "they're just too weak. But if we didn't bring them here, I think they may have actually killed us."

How funny that these women, whose petite and dainty hands now incapable of even holding a string, could strangle a grown man's throat.

You haven't been the same for a while now.

No, I'm not just talking about since the end of the war—but that's true. After that battle, you've been a plant, but even before that, I could see that you were broken. I think it was since the year of the Triwizard Tournament when—

Oh, okay. I won't talk about it, if it's only going to make you cry more. I'm rather tired of your tears by now.

You know, before that year, you looked pretty when you cried. It's a Chinese thing; we let our tears fall down our faces quietly so they almost melt into our faces. It's like they're not even there. Remember your nana's funeral? All your aunts, cousins, me... we did not make a sound. No ugly sobbing and sniffling. Just silent, invisible tears.

Since that year, though, you've been crying ugly non-Chinese tears. You snort sometimes. Your tears stick to your face. It's very unattractive.

Darling, put your wand down. There's no reason to get angry with me. I'm just wondering where my daughter went, because I don't know this broken shell she left behind.

The broken women were taken to the fishing village and given work as washers; with their frailty, there was not much else they could do. Their sensitivity to sunlight forced them to say hidden in the shade, under parasols, where they often seemed to fade into the background. Because their eyes would burn at the slightest hint of light, they were forced to look down at the ground instead. Their weak hands and broken feet forced them to stay in one place.

As broken as they were, though, the women slowly regained their strength. They started first by learning how to speak again, their voices not returning to the quiet, soft, and feminine tones that they had been but becoming overly bold and blunt, shockingly clear and completely unhesitant. They did not let the words they wanted to say linger on their tongues, but shouted them with fierce clarity, so loud villagers across the street could hear their alien voices. They became familiar with the bitter taste of anger; they kept this taste under their tongues, as a constant reminder of the pain they’d suffered. They learned how to voice their revenge as whispers to one another, how to draw strength from each others’ voices, murmuring truths under their breaths, the only words they spoke quietly.

Before they could raise their eyes to the sun, the women used their hands to explore the world, their delicate fingers tracing every crevice and curve the world had to offer, whether it was the prickle of a thorn or the soft velvet of a rose petal. From jagged edges to smooth curves, they braved it all, and as a reward, became able to see from their touch. They learned how to listen and feel the earth and piece together the clues to develop a clear picture of the world; when they finally looked up from the ground, their eyes were a secondary sense of sight. Their sight had become so clear that people looked away from them, afraid that the women would be able to see past their skin and bones and see the delicate wireframe of hopes, fears, and secrets that composed them.

The hardest obstacle for them to overcome was their permanently disfigured feet, squished and molded like blocks, so walking was painful. At first, the women were forced to crawl on their hands on knees, but as they became stronger, they started to walk on their hands. Those delicate fingers, incapable of holding onto even a fishing line, now carried them effortlessly. As they grew stronger and learned how to transform their pain to strength, the women transitioned to walking with their feet on the ground—but rather than keeping the soles of their feet flat on the ground, they floated, their feet barely touching the ground between each of their steps. As they started to regain weight and their cheeks flushed with color, passers-by would stop and stare at the sight of these ethereal beauties, practically dancing through the village.

Eventually, the broken women learned too how to ride on horses; though they had grown strong, their permanently bound feet were too slow, so they resorted instead to creatures instead. They mounted their horses in one swift motion, finding that they were able to sit naturally, spreading their legs and straightening their backs. The villagers were appalled at the sight of the women on the horses, seated like men; they called the women inhuman. Their shock increased more when the women started wielding swords, carrying them at their hips like female Chinese soldiers.

They were broken no longer, but they were not the same women who had been thrown into the shed, bound and helpless.

I was just thinking about the first Quidditch game of yours I saw. It was only in a photograph; I couldn't be there in person. But even in that picture, I could see your happiness when you kicked off the ground.

Your smile was so big, I thought your face would crack in two. You looked so happy—like you were completely free. And you looked so confident too, so strong—I remember you almost fell off your broom, but you grabbed it tightly and swung yourself back on and laughed the entire time. I almost had a heart attack!

And then you had this look of concentration on your face; your face was so serious, stern, so focused. It scared me a little, that look; you looked like you were a tiger, hunting prey. But I was also so proud. That's my daughter. That's what I said to everyone.

I kept the picture, you know. It's in my wallet; I was looking at it earlier. I just wanted to remember how free you looked. Then, I thought that you would never be a slave; up in the air, no one could bind your feet and steal your voice.

Yet here you are, unable to move or speak.

“After two years of healing, the woman warriors had regained their strength to the point that they no longer needed to hide in their fishing village anymore,” Cho’s mother continued.

They had grown strong enough to silence grown men with a look and a single word and could best even the most experienced fishermen in catching fish with their fast, lithe, firm hands, so the women decided to leave the village. They had trained and grown, and were ready to take their revenge on the men who had thrown them into the shed. With their faces painted in white and donning black and red dresses, they mounted their horses and rode off.

On their horses, they rode so fast, they felt like they were flying; the wind whipped through their hair and with each thundering step the horses took, the women felt their hearts beating to the same hammering rhythm. Starting from their old fishing village, they headed northward first; at the first village they stopped, they saw a gang of men trying to force a woman down to her knees. In that woman they saw themselves, so the woman warriors unmounted their horses and beheaded the bastard men, freeing the woman, who looked up at them in her crumpled position on the ground with reverence. The warrior women could see their own hopes and fears, the ones they’d whispered to one another in the quiet moments before sleep, reflected in her eyes, so they helped to her feet and stole some rice from the homes of the men who’d tried to attack her. They gave this rice to her and told her to come join them in a year when she had regained her voice and grown as strong as she could be.

They continued this for months, riding through all of China, bringing a storm on their heels. They attacked the vicious and greedy bastard men who tried to bind women, steal their voices, and throw them into sheds. They broke down the locked doors to sheds, freed the whimpering, bound, and broken women curled up inside, and taught them how to walk on their hands and scream their revenge so loud they shattered the eardrums of any other man who dared approach them. They gained a reputation for being female avengers, for striking terror and revolution wherever they went.

And then, they finally learned where the men who had thrown them into the shed in the first place now lived.

The women, after years of endless pain, had been hardened to any sort of melancholic, weak sentiment; they did not cower in fear at this news, but instead sharpened their swords. This was it, the moment of reckoning—their final acts of revenge. The warrior women travelled for three days to reach the village where the men lived, and in the nights, they slept beside one another, whispering their revenge to one another, letting their hopes, fears, and strength echo in their ears, slide between the bones of their ribcages, and fill the silence between their heartbeats. After those three days and nights, they arrived at the village where the men lived.

They were quiet and expressionless as they walked through the village in search of those men; to avoid being too conspicuous, they’d dressed in soft feminine clothing that seemed to restrict their movement. They’d combed their hair back, not letting it fly in their faces as they had for the past two years, and they walked with petite, female steps, rather than the large manly strides they had grown accustomed to taking. However, they kept their heads up, their eyes forward, blazing with a secret determination. Though they looked like china dolls at the surface, the villagers looked away from their eyes, not wanting to feel them shifting through the messes of their souls, finding their darkest secrets.

The women’s eyes searched the village marketplace, looking for their prey—they were not difficult to find. Even from fifty feet away, the women warriors could hear the men’s robust fat-man laughter; following the sounds, they found the men sitting on thrones at the end of the marketplace, looking at the other vendors. They were surrounded with food and sacks of gold coins, and they were rotund and lazy and laughed too loudly, trying to drown out the voices of all the others in the village.

When the men saw the women, they raised their eyebrows, exchanged looks, and laughed with identical tones of amusement, surprise, and derision. “What do you want, maggots?” they asked, laughing when one of the woman warriors turned her gaze sharply at him, her lips turning down in a slight frown. One of the men laughed again, teasing, “Oh, don’t be so offended—you know the saying, right? ‘Girls are maggots in the rice.’”

The warrior women were not offended though. How could they be? Their pain had led them to lose any sense of pride; they had been forced to be humble, and this humility had taught them the patience to keep their hands on their swords, and let their words rise from their throats to their tongues, ready to be released at the right moment. So, they let the men laugh rambunctiously, call them maggots, and look at them with a look of a man who wants to devour a woman, to eat her alive and then spit the pieces back up because she’s simply not worthy—but she’s pretty, so she must be used.

“What are you doing standing there like that? Go back to the markets, or to your homes and husbands.” The men grew agitated when the women did not respond, or burst into tears as they expected, and grew angrier when they continued to meet their gazes. The men despised the lack of self-consciousness, femininity, and softness in their eyes—there was only hardness, nurtured from their pain and stubbornness.

"Well? What are you doing still standing here?" the men demanded, fidgeting in their silver thrones.

"We are here to avenge the women you threw into a shed two years and three months ago," the women declared in their alien voices, "and all the men and women that followed. Your tyranny is over. Surrender now and we will take mercy." They withdrew their swords from behind their backs. 

The men stared at them with seriousness for a moment, before laughing in amused disbelief. "You! But you are women. How can you even hold those swords? Your hands are too weak," they questioned. "We could crush you in a matter of seconds, you're so weak. There's a reason we threw those women into the shed: women are too weak to be of any use. Better to throw them back into the river."

These comments lit a spark of anger in the women warriors' eyes, and they raised their swords. Too weak? Useless? they repeated, their anger enflaming them; they charged at the men, releasing a war cry, and sliced the mens’ heads, slaying the tyrants. After, they took the sacks of gold coins and the food that the men had been hoarding and returned it to the people of the village. 

The villagers stared at the women warriors with clear awe in their eyes, amazed. "Goddesses," they whispered among themselves.

The swordswomen shook their heads, not out of modesty but because this was false. They were not goddesses; they were broken China dolls who picked up their shattered souls and bodies and patched them together in a whole new combination, to create a new sort of woman--not goddesses, but warriors.

Talk. I haven't heard your true voice in months. You used to talk so loud; your voice filled these walls. I'm positive it was the same at Hogwarts, no? You must have been constantly talking, you with your million friends—at least until that year. Now, all I hear are whimpers and whispers from a broken China doll. That's what you are: a China doll that's been dropped and has shattered into a million pieces. I've tried to keep all the pieces together, but only you can patch yourself together.

I'm not helping you? I've been sitting here beside for you for the past two months—I've been watching you cry and stare at the ceiling and be unable to speak and move. I've been trying to feed you, to help you go back to sleep when you wake up screaming from nightmares. I have done everything, everything for a woman who's too weak to help herself.

I may not know how you feel, but you don't know how I feel. Every time I look at you, I remember the blood on your arms and your face and no light at all in your eyes. When I saw you after that battle, you were gripping your wand so tightly I thought it would break. I had to pry it out of your hands. And then I had to watch you sleep for so long, I thought you wouldn't ever wake up—and then find a girl who was only a shell of herself when you awoke. And I'm not even going to talk about you after Diggory. How do you think I felt, watching my only daughter shatter to pieces? How I felt, watching that, and being unable to do a single thing? You don't know anything.

I feel like I have failed.

I thought I taught you to be stronger than this; I thought I taught you how to patch your broken soul together, how to wage war against those hurt you, and how to be a warrior—like the story of the women warriors. Apparently, all I taught you was how to cry.

Well?

Aren't you going to say anything?

Nearly nine years after her mother told her the story of the women warriors, Cho still did not know what to say. After hearing that story, she'd been amazed—was this true? she asked. What happened next? Did the women rule over China? She begged her mother for more, but her mother smiled her coy, secretive smile and told Cho that she'd tell her when Cho was a little bit older.

Cho was a little bit older now, but she did not need to know the ending.

She imagined that the broken women had gone back to their fishing village after getting their revenge. That they'd taken warrior clothing and removed their make-up. That they'd stared at their reflections and tried to understand who they were now. Flashes of what they'd done, all the blood they'd spilled would flash across their eyes. They had gotten their revenge by beheading those men, certainly, but the pain had still not disappeared. It had grown to be a part of them, eternal in their souls.

Cho imagined them looking at their faces and seeing under the strength to the pain underneath. She imagined them removing their masks of strength to reveal the crying women underneath, whose tears never disappeared—whose tears could not disappear after all the pain they'd suffered, seen, and caused.

Cho wiped away her tears now, sitting up in bed and staring at the empty spot where her mother used to sit.

She didn't need to know the ending of their story—she was living their ending.

a/n: second installment of war stories. this is a lot different than anything i’ve ever written before and i’m not really sure that it worked the way that i wanted it to (half-tempted to take it down + rewrite it entirely tbh), so i’d really love to hear some feedback about it :)  this was inspired by maxine hong kingston’s the woman warrior: memoirs of a girlhood among ghosts. the story that cho’s mother told to her is partially inspired by hua/fa mu lan’s story, as told in the woman warrior. the ‘you are a plant’ line is borrowed from the woman warrior.