#him maybe even in the guise/body of his mother

[yappacadaver]

HENLO who is Inquisitor Yumi kissing in the absence of the Old Man TM? Or did you mentally transplant Raymond there as a funky little OC?

Honestlyyyy!!!!! like is that even really Yumi with out her old man boytoy xDDD

but nah this is just a little appearance swap, i'm basically playing my canon inquisitor, Mai, but with Yumi's face xD so she's romancing sera and getting hot elf wife pussy (but i also get to make an inquisition with her aesthetic, using falon'din vallaslin, golden eyes, and creepy magic)

but if i did write Yumi into Thedas, it would have to be in Kirkwall cause that's where my Mortuary Asssistant/DA2 au takes place :3c I have Raymond as a blood mage chantry brother, who takes care of final rites for the departed and also maybe uses them for blood magic in a convoluted scheme to keep himself safe from a powerful demon that's pursuing him.... Yumi would be a lively young elf turned abomination thanks to his antics :33333

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

[merakiui]

OHSHC AU where reader breaks a precious arrifact from one of the dorms maybe all but instead of repaying the huggeeee debt with hours of labour she has to pay with her body and can’t refuse :)

every kink in the book is used as she’s pleading with the dorm leaders for mercy, crying about forgiveness but all they can hear is that her mouth is very wide open and needs to be replaced with a cock or gag </3 poor reader doesn’t have time to take birth control! and none of the students at nrc know what condoms are oopsies!! imagine savanaclaw in their heat … oh boy rip her pussy! she’ll never know a peaceful day until graduation but even then one of the dorm leaders might take her with them to spend forever with them

Omg yes,,, ohshc au, but it's freaky and full of sex because those scheming boys now have a girl in their debt and that opens so many possibilities. Their methods in dealing with you would all be different, of course, but in the end you're probably getting dicked down either way. <3

I think Riddle's punishments are probably more old-fashioned. If you can't fix whatever it is you broke, then you will write lines stating that you will be more careful, that you won't break anything again, etc. Or he'll make you write an essay detailing why exactly you're sorry, why you ought to be forgiven, etc. T_T really, these are just punishments his own mother gave to him in order to push him to do better in his studies. Riddle doesn't know any better.

He thinks differently when someone like Ace or Cater offhandedly and jokingly remarks how unlucky you must feel. Good thing their Housewarden isn't some pervert, otherwise he could totally force you to give him blowjobs whenever he wanted all under the guise of "repaying your debt." Riddle is appalled. He would never stoop so low! This is Heartslabyul, not Octavinelle. >:( still, the basic concept is just a little appealing. So maybe he's got a small crush on you, and maybe it would be easier to get you to spend time with him if you had no other choice. He makes you join him for tea parties in the gardens, for games of croquet, etc. His hope is that you'll warm up to him and not feel so rigid around him. orz

Leona probably doesn't care as much about the artifact as someone like Riddle might. It has no sentimental value to him personally, so why should he be worried? Besides, it was pretty old anyway. But that doesn't mean you can get off completely innocent. You're the reason he's got more work on his plate now, what with having to deal with the Headmage squawking at him about it. He allows you to choose between two punishments: either you become Savanaclaw's errand girl and do much the same work Ruggie does around the dorm, or you spend every night literally warming his bed (i.e. let him use you as a pillow if you're going to be good and still and quiet). If you want an easy way out, you'll choose the latter. Besides, his bed is comfortable, big enough for two. And as long as you aren't a pain, he doesn't mind. (You are definitely going to be warming his bed in other ways. The innuendo in his words is not lost on Leona.)

Azul...... of course he's slimy and sleazy about it. Oh, you poor soul. How is he ever going to get over this dear, priceless artifact that you have so carelessly broke? Jade is there to oh-so-helpfully inform you of its market price and what it could currently go for if sold. And Floyd's there to poke fun at the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. But Azul is a resourceful octopus. He makes a grand show of contemplating what he should do with you just to watch you squirm nervously, as if he hasn't already planned it out from the very beginning. He'll capitalize on your being a girl and have you work the floor in the lounge. There's always an increase in tips and sales when you're serving the customers, and why wouldn't there be? A cute, helpless girl in a school full of boys is an appealing sight.

He's irritating, but he isn't callous! Jade and Floyd are there to look out for you in case any of the patrons get it in their heads that they ought to appreciate you through touch instead of simply staring. Your uniforms change with every new event Mostro Lounge holds. Azul knows his target audience well because he also fits into that same group LOL. So maybe the sight of you in frilly uniforms is appealing. Sue him. >_< he wants you so badly, and luckily (with you being indebted to him) he has you all to himself. :) after hours are a very fun time at the lounge.

Kalim doesn't see what the issue is. He's not mad, so please don't cry!!! 🥺 you'll make him cry if you're not happy... Jamil is just about ready to pass out while he calculates just how bad this is. And here Kalim is, not caring in the slightest! T_T but Kalim is more sympathetic towards you, not the vase you broke. Besides, he can just get another one. :D no harm done at all! There really isn't any punishment to be had. If you insist on repaying your debt, Kalim tells you it's all water under the bridge.

Jamil is the only one who insists this is a good idea, and if Jamil thinks it's fine then Kalim agrees. So now you're sort of,,, there in Scarabia. Jamil puts you to work when Kalim isn't around, but when Kalim is there he spoils you rotten. The complete opposite of a punishment. There's definitely dubious shadows to this, though. For all of the delicious foods and alcohol you consume, you wake with hazy memories, only ever recalling you looked into the eyes of...something before you fell. Was it a snake? Maybe... but Kalim is always there in the morning to smother you in affection, so maybe it's not so bad.

You are Vil's newest pet project. He goes in with metaphorical fork and knife and cuts into you with his criticism, all of which is completely valid. You were clumsy when you broke that artifact. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings. You were completely oblivious, so in your own world. Epel would feel bad for you, but finally he gets to relax just a little bit now that Vil's eyes are mostly off of him and centered on you. Vil is going to put you through a reformation of sorts. You will come out of it your best, most elegant self! A wonderful improvement from your earlier carelessness. Only then will he forgive your previous transgression.

You and Vil get on like oil and water. That is, you don't mix at all. You are subjected to curses left and right because Vil is so strict. Suddenly, you can't eat certain foods and if you try to sneak them you find they've all been cursed (courtesy of Vil). If you try to slack on the work he has you do, even when you know he's not around, somehow word gets back to Vil. That creepy hunter always seems to know everything you do even when you're alone. It's troubling. Vil likes to think his heart is an iron fortress, so it's impossible to fathom when he falls for you first (and so hopelessly, at that)!

Idia doesn't put as much value in that artifact as he does in his own anime collection. If you broke something from his collection that was limited edition, he'd be far more upset (and then proceed to pull out the second one he got as back-up for this very specific moment). But this is an easy fix, really. He has the technology to make it good as new and, if that can't be done, he can always build a new one. Upgrades are important and necessary in some cases, especially when things get too outdated. It's a little awkward having a real 3D girl in his room all the time, though. >_< kick his ass in the twst equivalent of Smash and he's looking at you in a completely different light (hearing you trash talk him is so arousing; he's never been more hard).

Let's say the thing you broke in this case was a gargoyle. You're not sure how it happened, but it's headless now and Malleus is just staring silently at you. You can't read the emotions on his face, but with the way Sebek is shouting at you to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness you think you're about to be burnt to a crisp. It's so uneasy and awkward, and all you can do is apologize profusely, insisting you didn't mean to break it. It's Lilia who comes to your rescue: "Now, now, Malleus. You'll scare the poor child if you keep frowning so. Mistakes happen, do they not?" Silver also comes to your aid, adding that it wasn't your intention to break this gargoyle. It was an accident.

So now here you are, the second member of the Gargoyle Studies Club, accompanying Malleus for club activities while he teaches you all about gargoyles so that you can gain a better appreciation for them. It was Lilia's idea in the first place. He is Malleus's unofficial wingman. One way or another, you're going to find yourself alone in the woods with Malleus while Lilia is in the bushes belting out "romantic" love ballads from the old ages. T_T someone put peepaw to bed... at the very least, it lessens the awkward tension between you and Malleus, and it even gets the both of you laughing.

[01zfan]

bike peg | p. wb

wonbin x fem. reader | 11.6k words

wonbin gets cheated on and gets his lick back…listened to prom by sza and erase by omar apollo while writing this!

contains: cheating, descriptions of a toxic relationship

visiting home wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and wonbin knew it wasn’t. the constant demand to be his best in the city was slowly wearing him down, and the pace of life was completely different from how he grew up. wonbin found it ironic that he found himself needing an escape from the place he moved to the moment he graduated high school to escape his hometown. something about looking for more out of life under the guise of pursuing his passion. 

wonbin found out quickly that he had bit off more than he could chew, blinded by the naive cockiness like most people his age. he was constantly on the go, needing to constantly be moving so he wouldn’t get left behind.

wonbin felt like he hadn’t stopped running since he left home. he hit the pavement running the moment he moved to the city. he ran straight into a shitty job that barely paid him enough to make ends meet, causing him to run into a lease with a girl he didn’t know. she was mysterious and elusive, completely unlike anyone wonbin had met before. unlike wonbin she was born and raised in the city, with her foot already in the door towards her career. wonbin’s fascination with the way his roommate carried herself transformed into pining, and pining somehow turned into dating.

wonbin’s relationship with minju was rocky before it even started. he knew it was a bad idea to date his roommate, the first person he built a rapport with in the city. wonbin knew that. what wonbin didn’t know was that too many circles in the city overlapped, and nobodies exes stayed as their exes. wonbin didn’t know the the man that was “like a brother” to minju was actually something much more than a close friend. they were so convincing, and wonbin was too caught up in running to see what was going on right under his nose—but maybe he chose to ignore it. all wonbin knew was that minju started coming home late smelling different and her friend started acting awkward around him. 

wonbin was spread too thin and stress blinded him. he had gotten to the point that his feet throbbed at the end of his days, he even dreamed about running even in his sleep. he never knew where he was running to, only that his speed caused him to bump into faceless throngs of people, saying quick apologies as he made his way through the crowd. 

wonbin also found himself apologizing more than he ever had in his life. he apologized for speaking and for walking, he apologized for looking at the sky and doing too well at work. wonbin apologized in his dreams and attached shy sorry’s to almost every sentence. wonbin sorry is what minju called him. at first it was an endearing nickname, or atleast wonbin pretended it was. apologies became an innate part of wonbin. there was so much to feel sorry for—his plants that didn’t get watered, the rotting food in his fridge, his mom who had a son that didn’t call. apologizing was such a habit that wonbin even apologized when he caught his girlfriend cheating on him.

wonbin saw everything before they noticed him standing there. he saw minju and her friend on the couch they bought together in their shared apartment completely enveloped in eachother. wonbin stood there for a moment, letting the scene take place in front of him. the way his girlfriend was on top, eyes closed in bliss as she rode her bestfriend. the way her friend’s hands roamed all over her body. they didn’t look up or stop moving until the paper bags full of groceries shifted in wonbin’s hands. when they finally noticed him, their eyes went wide realizing they’ve been caught redhanded. wonbin was the first to speak.

“sorry.” wonbin said when minju yelled.

wonbin’s mother from the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder was the second to speak.

“binnie, what’s wrong?” his mother’s voice cracked through the speakers.

minju and juyeon or hyunjae—wonbin couldn’t place a name to the face—were the third to speak. they were completely in sync, mumbling and reaching for clothes at the same time. wonbin could see them looking for their clothes, some of them strewn throughout the apartment. minju looked down at wonbin’s feet as she grabbed a blanket to cover herself. when wonbin’s eyes looked down he saw her top lying next to her feet.

“i’ll call you back, mom.” wonbin said.

wonbin hung up on his mom mid sentence, looking back up to his naked friend. no one spoke, not until the man started hastily putting back on his clothes looked to wonbin and minju.

“i should go.” he said quickly.

his jeans were left unzipped and his shirt was on backwards as he walked past wonbin with his head hung low. wonbin almost wanted to leave with him. he was one more stressful situation away from his brain collapsing in on itself like a supernova. so he cleared his mind, closed his eyes and started pulling out the things needed to make dinner. wonbin faced his back towards minju, the situation out of his sight and mind while she started putting her own clothes back on. he opened the cabinet to grab a cutting board for his vegetables.

“i’m going to visit my mom.” wonbin decided outloud.

wonbin would never admit that he was relieved when his mother asked him to come visit. her voice was distant over the phone, almost a whisper when she expressed her wish to see her son again. wonbin’s mother loved the dramatics, evident in the how she constantly talked about how empty the house felt like since he left. wonbin didn’t bring up the fact that his dad and older sister were still very much alive and living at home.

wonbin’s mother nearly blew out his speakers when he told her he booked a bus back home. her shrill screams were the only sound in the apartment. the sound caused minju to look over at wonbin’s phone. he ignored the look, and she only lingered for a second before going back to her book to reread the same page. the situation with minju was even worse now, and wonbin hated that it felt like it was his fault. he had never learned about the dangers of living with your cheating girlfriend, or else he would’ve declined her offer to co-sign a lease. 

minju gave her excuse for cheating being neglect. wonbin was too busy to spend time with her, and always too tired to touch her at night. her ex was at her disposal at all times, and knew what she needed emotionally and physically. wonbin could only nod his head, having nothing else to add after minju spent an hour defending herself. she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms when she was done, waiting for wonbin to say his favorite word.

“sorry.” wonbin apologized.

wonbin saw his girlfriend let out a sigh of relief, as if he had taken all the blame for the situation. when wonbin watched minju roll her eyes he felt anger and unbridled emotion bubble up in his chest. he wanted to yell to, he had the right to be angry. but as soon as the anger was about to boil over it subsided as wonbin thought about all the other stressful things in his life.

when minju was done telling wonbin her side of the story she looked to him expectantly. he thought about comforting her, telling her she wasn’t wrong for cheating.

“what now?” he asked simply.

minju bristled when he asked that question. she snapped her book shut and cleared the room, leaving wonbin alone on the couch. she told wonbin that he was running from his problems, straight to a place he knew she wouldn’t follow him to. the salty sea breeze and lack of stores open twenty-four hours warded her off. wonbin wanted to tell her he didn’t choose where he grew up, but instead he only said sorry.

wonbin was even more confused when minju gave him a hug and a kiss before he left for the bus station. she seemed remorseful now, eyes worried when she said she wanted to try working things out. wonbin couldn’t bring himself to say no to minju, even though he knew it was what she deserved. for some reason, he was still hung up on her. he still made her food they still watched their television shows at night together, rewatching the episode that played on the television when she was caught. the only difference was that they slept on opposite ends of the bed with their backs facing eachother. 

maybe wonbin’s absence would fix things. maybe being apart from minju would dull the pain in his chest he ignored for her sake.

he thought about minju the whole ride back home. he slept most of the ride, only waking up occasionally when his mind told him his stop was close. at some point during the ride wonbin received a text from minju telling him to travel safe. the heart emoji that ended her sentence unfortunately made wonbin feel like something could be salvageable if he apologized enough. 

instead of replying, wonbin only shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder and followed the mass of people leaving the station. he was tired and sore from sitting in the same position for hours, something he hadn’t done in a long time. when he left the station he took a breath of fresh air when he exited the bus station, and closed his eyes to adjust to the sun. here it shined bright like the sun was closer and the air was clean from lack of pollutants. 

he had almost forgotten about the summers. he spent so long in the air conditioned apartments of the city he almost forgot the countryside, how the breeze from the sea made even the hottest days bearable.  back in the landlocked city, the sun reflected heat from the payment and beat down on everyone. there was no reprieve from the heat, wind not being able to get past the walls of buildings. 

wonbin. couldn’t stop himself from wishing minju would give his home a chance. she wouldn’t bake in the sun here, and the vibrant green that surrounded him would bring out his favorite parts of her complexion. she could dig her manicured hands into the soft brown soil and realize there was a whole world of color outside of the abysmal grey buildings that normally surrounded her. they could’ve experienced the best parts of his city together.

the worst part was that the main mode of transportation was by car. there was no trusty public transportation system that wonbin had grown to memorize like the back of his hand. wonbin forgot that being carless without a license outside of the city would force him to become crafty. wonbin started crossing busy intersections on foot and walked carelessly on paved paths that abruptly merged into the road.

wonbin stopped trying to venture out far due to the safety concerns brought up by his parents. summer brought back the crazy drivers, ones that didn’t care about pedestrians. wonbin found himself to be even worse than them, crossing intersections without having the right of way. he was forced to get crafty again when he saw his older sisters childhood bike sitting in the corner of the garage. 

the bike quickly became his main mode of transportation, and wonbin now only travelled locally. he reasoned that he was fighting back against the automotive industry that was determined to ruin the beautiful landscapes of his home. wonbin was singlehandedly offsetting the carbon emissions of vehicles by riding his sister’s shitty little bike. it was basically the same thing as a car. he was on the road, he had a turn signal that was his hand. he could even hit the throttle by standing up from the tiny seat to add more force behind his peddling feet. 

the pedals were too low on the bike and the seat was entirely too small. the chain always sounded like it was going to rust away and the chipping pink paint always found its way to his clothes or skin—but it worked. even if the bike felt like it would collapse under wonbin’s weight it always got him to his destination. riding it was at first embarrassing, but it turned into nostalgia. he remembers taking his sisters christmas gift for joyrides around his town. it was his first taste of rebellion, stealing something from his sister—that in wonbin’s defense she didn’t use—to have fun around his town. wonbin remembers removing the training wheels and the bike pegs to ride around on the streets long after the the streetlamps turned on. wonbin’s mother and sister were fuming each time he came back. he was covered in sweat and smelled like the earth, with his hair mussed from the wind that ran through it.

now was no different. each morning when his parents left to run errands wonbin rode the bike out the garage at the speed of light. each time his sister would yell after him, claiming that the rusting bike was still hers. he laughed and teased her as he rode it away just like when he was a kid, looking back to stick his tongue out at her. occasionally she would try throwing something and always miss, wonbin laughing at her failed attempt as he sped off. 

when wonbin hit the open road the wind gave him relief. it was additional relief from the heat, and from the situation back home. if he thought about minju for too long, quick flashes of jealously would cross his mind. the feeling was cold and bleak as wonbin thought about what minju was doing. he was almost driven to ask for her location, or at the very least call her. but he let the wind wick away his sweat and cool his mind. when he passed by the foliage of the town it all became a green vibrant blur, like it was shot on technicolor. life was lively just like when he were a kid and he tried to be carefree like a child too. wonbin kept smiling all the way to the gas station, his legs taking him there purely on instinct. his knees were ten years old again as he peddled down the street, passing by childhood friend houses that were occupied by different families now. 

wonbin didn’t slow down until he got to the parking lot. he came down from his standing position on the bike until he was sitting on the tiny seat. the seat eroded over the years, exposing hard parts of the foam. when wonbin sat down he could feel the texture of the ground beneath him. each pebble and bump in the street he couldn’t avoid. the texture of the paved road changed to the dirt parking lot, until he got to the textured concrete stoop of the store. wonbin came to a slow stop right beside the door, pulling out the flimsy kickstand that barely supported the weight of the bicycle. 

he got off and adjusted his shorts that rode up from his legs. almost instantly, the heat of the day caught on his skin, and the heavy air of the surrounding water made everything feel sticky. the heat was becoming thicker as the day went and wonbin couldn’t wear any less to try and fight it. the chipped paint particles of the bike stuck to his skin like freckles, glued to him from the sweat. but this is where wonbin was born and raised—it didn’t matter if he didn’t look his best. so he walked more relaxed than he ever did in the city, saying hi to the person that passed by him to get into their car. the stranger told wonbin that he had a nice ride with a smile on their face. he smiled back and offered to trade for the car, tilting his head as he put his hand on the door.

the small bell above the entrance rang when wonbin pulled the handle. it bounced off the walls but was so familiar no one looked up. if no one came in shooting a gun or demanding money, it was business as usual. everything about the gas station remained the same, especially the selection of food and the clientele. there were two maybe three people looking for a cool drink to help beat the heat or a snack to hold them over until their next meal. the only difference was that there was an ancient television propped in the corner next to the booth where the cashier was. this was different from the small television that stood above the alcohol, warning people that they were on camera. this television had a terrible case of burn-in, and was stuck playing reruns of some show no one watched anymore. everyone came to this gas station but it was never busy, evident by the worker behind the register that flipped through a magazine without a care in the world. 

wonbin didn’t think too much about what he was going to buy. it was a treat each time he came here, and each time wonbin found himself craving something different. 

he grabbed a small plastic basket, one that was in worse condition than his sisters bike. it was funny how worn down everything in his town was. he went through the small aisles of the gas station, so close to the drink fridges he had to press his body to one side each time someone passed by him. 

wonbin browsed for what seemed like hours, constantly taking out snacks and putting them back on the shelves and holding drinks side by side to decide which one is better. when wonbin put back a drink for the fifth time and let the fridge door close on it’s gasket he heard the worker behind the counter.

“you’re going to let all the cold air out.” she said with indifference. 

wonbin tried looking over the aisles of snacks to get a better look at whoever scolded him. he couldn’t make out anything about you, other than the uniform shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way. he only got a glimpse of your collarbones moving and the bracelets that adorned the wrist that held your bored head upright through the magazine pages, and the rings on your fingers that rubbed your chin. wonbin only saw the smallest part of your face that wasn’t obstructed by the aisles in front of him. 

you still didn’t look up from your magazine, wonbin could hear flipping the pages over the music that came from the blown out speakers. he said nothing in response but took your scolding into account, only opening the fridge one more time to grab his final drink choice.

wonbin found the food you wanted quickly, grabbing a snack from the shelves he hadn’t seen in the city. wonbin grabbed more than he should’ve, almost cleaning out the entire supply.

wonbin navigated through the aisles again, smiling past the new faces that entered the store while he were browsing. he set the basket on the counter, pulling out his debit card to set on the counter.

when wonbin pulled out his card and looked up from the basket, he finally got a full look at the cashier who scolded him. wonbin saw you look up from your magazine in slow motion, stilling like a movie before him. you were like a dream, your hair was up to try and manage the heat, the strands blowing from the fan that cooled your face. wonbin focused on the sweat that started at your hairline that caused your face to shine like gloss. your faced shined despite the dim lighting of the gas station that casted a green-yellow tint over everything. wonbin didn’t know something so contemporary existed in his archaic hometown. you were too beautiful to be stuck behind the plastic barrier that separated the two of you. you were too elegant to have your backdrop be cigarettes, condoms, and lighters. 

wonbin took in all your features but settled on your lips last, his eyes drifting when he saw them move before going back to their original expressionless line. a second too late wonbins eyes flickered to yours, watching them raise from where you sat. you looked to his items and then pointed underneath the counter. wonbin blinked and moved the empty basket away. 

“sorry. what?” he asked.

“i asked if you wanted a bag.” you said.

“yeah.” wonbin cleared his throat. “paper please.” he said.

wonbin saw your eyes dart up to see if he was serious. wonbin caught himself a second too late, getting a scoff from you before you pulled a plastic bag from below the counter. the bag crinkled as it interacted with the wind, opening to full capacity as the air pushed it open. you put in his stuff with ease, typing wonbin’s total into the point of sale system before turning it to him. wonbin shook his head while he put his card in the empty slot.

“we only got plastic here.” you said smiling.

“sorry. it’s a habit.” wonbin said.

you only hummed in acknowledgment before going back to your magazine. his bag stood upright from the weight of his drink—he hated that the bag blocked some of your face. 

wonbin was used to being ignored, customer service wasn’t something he found himself looking for when leaving the house. he actually preferred to have as little interaction as possible with people he didn’t know personally. he liked to be in and out, getting what he needed—nothing more nothing less. regardless, when wonbin saw you turn back to your magazine his mind started frantically beachrching for a way to get your attention back.

“i’m visiting family.” wonbin blurted out.

“cool.” you said simply, still turning the pages of your magazine.

“my name is wonbin.” he blurted again.

his unprompted introduction got your attention. you looked up from your magazine, chewing the gum that lost it’s flavor a long time ago. it was in your mouth purely to keep you awake and to occupy your mind. the gum was turning to rubber in your mouth as you took him in. you found him to be much more entertaining than the petty drama of the rich you were forcing yourself to read about. the way wonbin wore his white mesh shirt with the solid shirt underneath was better than the celebrities in their designer dresses, and his curled black hair gave him a boyish look that complimented his shy demeanor. when you looked up at him he looked away, the tips of his ears were more red than the marlboro’s that sat behind you. you thought you had seen the boy that stood in front of you riding around on that tiny bike, but you never got a closer look at him.

“hi wonbin,” you flicked your head towards the glass window where the bike leaned on the other side. “that’s your bike out there?”

you saw wonbin come to, shaking his head a little too fast. you closed your magazine and leaned forward, coming closer to the clear plastic barrier that separated to two of you. wonbin leaned back slightly, and the tips of his ears got redder.

“it’s my sisters. it’s really old. i have to ride it because i don’t have a car. because i live in the city.” wonbin rushed.

you nodded calmly to each additional statement wonbin made unprompted. he was becoming more and more flustered just by you giving him your full attention. 

you looked at the point of sale system, it was screaming at wonbin to take out his card, and you had two person line forming behind him as he racked his mind for something else to say. you tapped the part of wonbin’s card that stuck out before he snatched it away.

“sorry.” he apologized again.

“no reason to apologize.” you said simply.

you spoke to wonbin, looking up quickly as the receipt printed from the machine. the proof of transaction curled towards you as it printed out slowly. 

wonbin watched your impatient hand pull the paper out a little too fast, leaving a tiny ripped piece behind. wonbin quickly took his bag off the counter and casted a glance back towards the two people in line. wonbin for some reason stood in place, like he was waiting for you to dismiss him. he never waited around this long, always politely shaking his head when asked if he wanted the receipt. but he stood underneath the buzzing fluorescent light while you grabbed a pen and flattened the receipt with your non-dominant hand.

“you want your receipt?” you asked, not looking up from the paper.

wonbin nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him nod. he cleared his throat again, feeling the impatient eyes of the people in line behind him. it felt hotter in the gas station than it was outside—wonbin started sweating underneath his airy shirt.

“yes please.” wonbin said.

you slid the paper across the counter towards him. the receipt curled back in on itself when you took your hand away. wonbin quickly grabbed the paper, as if someone was going to snatch it from him. your attention went to the person behind him in line, gesturing forward to let him know he was next. he kept it moving in a daze, sounding off the same bell as he exited the gas station. he walked along outside slowly, trying not to show you how much he was freaking out through the glass. wonbin didn’t let himself look at the note until he stood beside his tiny bike that was one gust of wind from tipping over.

wonbin ran his fingers over your number written in ink and beamed at the tiny note at the bottom.

i’m off work in thirty minutes.

wonbin looked inside the gas station, watching you help the next person in line. you looked back for just a second as the person approached your register, smiling and gesturing for wonbin to call you. he smiles before getting on his bike, placing his bag in the little basket in front of the bike. 

wonbin planned to make it back to his house to shower and dress in nicer clothes before going back to the gas station. he remembered the semi nice summer clothes he never took with him when he moved, and he remembered his sisters offer to trim the ends of his hair that had grown in uneven. he planned to make himself look nice, maybe even pick up some food he thought you might like. wonbin looked at the sky biking home, thinking about how happy you looked to give him your number. his mind was too focused on the clouds that he didn’t notice the bike underneath him finally decided to give up. 

when the chain broke, wonbin didn’t initially notice. all he knew what that one second he could pedal and the next he could not. there was no resistance from the pedals but he lost control, the bike behaving on it’s own. for a moment wonbin thought his legs were failing him. but when he looked down he saw the rusted chain loosely hang on the gears of the bike he felt it veering to the side of the road. he was going to fast to stop safely, and the sudden change in angle almost threw him off of the bike’s eroding seat.

wonbin was able to gain control of the bike only for a second. just when he thought he gained control of the steering the terrain underneath the old wheels changed. the old wheels weren’t used to the dirt, or to the wildflowers that tangled themselves in the wheels. the sudden stopped strew wonbin off from the side, causing him to fall partially down the steep hill of the wild flower bank. suddenly the blue sky was replaced with the tall green grass and the colorful blooming flowers. 

landing on the flowers was better than landing on the paved roads, but regardless it was painful. it didn’t help that wonbin rolled down the hill, leaving a burning feeling on the exposed skin of his leg. he stayed still on the ground for a moment, looking up at the sky with a completely different mood. the white clouds moved quickly above him as he registered what just happened. wonbin bent all of his limbs to make sure nothing broke or was strained. he lifted his head slightly, seeing the still spinning front wheel of his previously working bike and the rusted chain that now was completely gone. 

wonbin propped himself on his elbows next, seeing the dirt and grass stain on his shirt and pants, and seeing the red scrape on his knee. that was the only thing that hurt, wincing when he touched it. wonbin stayed like that, laying in the flower bank as he realized what just happened.

wonbin wasn’t sure how long he was laying in the grass. cars past by wonbin unstopping, his body hidden by the long grass. it wasn’t until he heard a bike passing by him before stopping suddenly.

“you dead?” you said to wonbin

wonbin looked up from his spot on the earth. he saw you sitting on your bike with the pegs on the back wheel, one foot kicked out to keep you upright. you looked slightly concered, peering down at the laid out body beside the road.

you were no longer in your work uniform, dressed in something trendy. you were dressed like minju. wonbin thought you wore it better before he cringed at himself inwardly. 

“my bike broke.” wonbin said casually. 

he looked towards the bike and you followed, eyes going wide when you notice the missing chain. the wheel had fallen off in the process too, rolling down the hill all the way to the gate that separated the beach from the flowerbank. 

“i saw you laid out, thought you knocked yourself out or something.” wonbin still laid on the dirt, looking down at his throbbing knee. he heard you walk through through the grass until you stood beside him on the hit. wonbin tried to look at your face but the sun that shined behind you obstructed his vision. all he could see was your hand that you put out towards him. “are you going to lay there all day?” you asked.

wonbin grabbed your hand and you pulled him up, helping him take off blades of grass and dust off some of the dirt. wonbin inspected his knee and the grass stains embedded in his jeans. you saw the injury on his knee after you did a once over of his body. 

“my house is near here.” you pointed down the road. “we can get you cleaned up or something so that doesn’t get infected.” you said, pointing to wonbin’s knee.

when he looked back at the bike you looked too, thinking about what to do.

“i can drop you off at your place after. i don’t think we will be able to fix that.” you said.

wonbin nodded, and slowly walked behind you as you made your way back up the hill. wonbin bit his lips as he forced his legs to walk normally. 

when you two made it back up the hill, you put the kickstand back up and straddled the seat. you pointed your head backwards to the two bike pegs that jutted from your back wheels.

wonbin understood, putting on foot on the bike peg and a hand on your shoulder.

“help me kick off and then you can put your other foot up.” you instruct.

wonbin hums in acknowledgement, paying attention to when you start peddling on your bike. wonbin uses all of his force on his good leg to kick off, giving you enough speed to peddle with the extra weight added on. wonbin lets his foot dangle for a second, ready to dismount if you lose control. but you’re a better bicyclist than wonbin, instantly finding your balance and making your way down the road wonbin fell off of. he looks back for a second at the tiny pink bike laying on the hill, silently memorizing it so he can come back.

wonbin balances on the bike pegs behind you. he holds onto you tightly, still traumatized from the thought of falling off a bike again. you are unaffected, peddling down the road chirping your bell at people who pass by. when you take a turn wonbin leans, doing his best to keep the balance.

“where do you live?” you ask.

wonbin barely heard you, too enveloped in the sound of nature around him. your question registers a second later, and wonbin clears his throat.

“seoul.” wonbin says.

wonbin expected to hear the trademark oooh or ahhhh that comes from people’s mouths when he mentions where he lives. wonbin always lets his chest swell in pride when he hears the sound. but you are indifferent, only humming as you continue to peddle.

“i go to college there.” you ring your bell at joggers who wave at you. it’s wonbin’s turn to hum in acknowledgement. “not all it’s cracked out to be.” you say after a beat of silence.

“definitely not.” wonbin agrees.

you were right about your house being close by.  before wonbin could ask you about your life in seoul, you stopped in front of a house. wonbin had lived here his whole life and never seen this house. wonbin thought it was by design as you led him up the driveway. your house was blocked from all sides due to the growing trees, shrouding your house in shade. wonbin must’ve passed your house at some point in his life, not seeing what was right in front of him.

as your bike got slower, wonbin dismounted, feet digging into the gravel driveway. he hissed from the pain of dismount, completely forgetting his knee was in pain.

“be caareful.” you chided.

wonbin nodded his head, about to tell you sorry until he remembered what you say in the gas station. no reason to apologize wonbin assured himself. he instead nodded his head, following beside you as you dismounted your bike too.

“my parents went to a wedding. they’re not here but they don’t care when i have guests over.” you said.

wonbin passes by the car in your driveway, following behind you closely as you walk beside it. wonbin can’t help to take a peak inside the car through the tinted windows. he sees the steering wheel cover and the dangling charms from your mirror. 

“you drive?” wonbin asks.

“yeah but not lately. my car broke, and my parents refuse to help me get it fixed.” you say.

wonbin remembered seeing the PLEASE FIX ME :( written in the dust of the back window. he wonders if that’s why you have a shitty job at a gas station instead of working and living in seoul. you leave your bike on it’s kickstand beside your steps before walking up the stairs. 

you open the front door, you couldn’t be bothered to lock it. no one here bothers to lock their doors or lock up their bikes—they’ve never had to. wonbin remembers that bad habit he had to break when he heard about burglaries in his building. 

he watches you walk through the space of your house, beginning your short tour at the front entrance where you kicked off your shoes and ending it in the study. you only mentioned the kitchen you two walked through in passing, and failed to show wonbin your bathroom before disappearing to grab him stuff for his scraped knee.

“make yourself comfortable on the couch. i’ll be back.” you say.

when you are gone, wonbin lets himself finally limp from the pain. he practically hobbles to the couch, uneasy on his good leg. his body falls on the side of the couch, letting his body sink into the armrest and cushion as he takes in his appearance. dried blood and dirt is caked on his knee, he somehow got dirt underneath his fingernails and his clothes are stained from the grass. wonbin sees a tear in his clothes he didn’t detect before. he had a really nasty fall, and was more hurt than he realized. brambles and scratchy plants left tiny scrapes that itched on his arm and thighs. 

“i’m back.” you say.

wonbin turns to you coming back from the hallway, one hand holding hydrogen peroxide and the other holding bandages. wonbin sits up on the couch scooting closer to the armrest to give you the most space. instead wonbin watches you sink to the ground on your knees, putting your supplies on the carpet next to you. 

you look up to wonbin before looking down quickly. wonbin’s eyes stay on the top of your head, not knowing what to do being this close to you. you don’t know either, by the way you constantly clear your throat and hesitate speaking. it isn’t until you clean wonbin’s knee with a warm rag that you speak.

“this is going to hurt.” you say.

wonbin can’t react before you press a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide to his knee. wonbin jerks, pressing his knees together and winces in pain. it’s you apologizing this time, laughing slightly at his reaction. wonbin laughs too, to stop himself from rubbing his wound with his dirty hands.

you put ointment over his scrape before covering it with a large bandaid. wonbin wants to tell you he feels better, that he thinks your touch healed him. but all the words are lost when you look up at him from your spot on the ground. 

“thank you. i feel better now.” wonbin says. 

his hands come down his thighs, ending right before yours start. you still have one hand above the injury on wonbin’s knee, at some point you moved your other hand to his knee too. you’re touching him and wonbin thinks it’s too unfair. he wants to reach out and touch the apples of your cheeks, or touch a piece of hair that frames your face perfectly. your hands grabs onto wonbin’s knee a little tighter and you readjust your body, sitting on your haunches. wonbin lets his hands drift over the tops of your soft hands, holding onto them. your eyes stare at wonbin, and he leans closer to your sitting body on the ground. he can see the shadow of his face cast on yours, how your eyes shine brightly as you look at him. wonbin doesn’t dare come the rest of the way, he only closes his eyes and waits fro you to decide what he deserves.

when you press your lips to wonbin, he takes in how good you smell. sweet and fresh like clean laundry. even being inside the sweaty gas station for god knows how long you still smelled like a living flowwer. wonbin tumbled down a hill of flowers, he knew he smelled like sweat and dirt. his fingernails were dirty, too dirty to touch you. he was getting his grimy smell over your body. he needed to take a shower. he needed to be home. he needed to call minju. 

wonbin abruptly pulled away from you. your lips are still puckered when your eyes flutter open.

“i have a girlfriend,” wonbin sees your expression become shocked. “back home.” he added quickly.

your body that was leaning into wonbin straightens, and he can see your shoulders visibly sag. you comprehend the information wonbin gives you, rubbing your lips together briefly.

“oh.” you said quietly. 

you fixed the sleeve of your shirt that had fallen past your shoulder, turning your body to face wonbin’s wound instead of wonbin’s face. he still stayed in place, replaying the moment of you craning your body towards his lips in to kiss him over and over again. 

you tend to wonbin’s wound again, still gently as you two sit in silence.

“why isn’t she here with you?” you asked finally.

“she hates the beach. and she hates riding bikes.” wonbin knows he’s speaking to quickly, giving you too much information. but he keeps feeling the ghost of your lips on his again. “she also cheated on me.” he added.

that caused you to look away from his wound to look at his face. he wanted to tell you the details, how he caught her on a couch the same size as this one. but he just kept looking at your lips, how soft they were and how they moved to shape sounds coming from your mouth into words.

“i’m sorry.” you said. 

you brought a hand to wonbin’s thigh. he doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him so intimately. but it was under false pretenses.

this touch was for comfort, and wonbin didn’t need to be comforted. he shook his head lightly before placing his hand over yours, stopping your ministrations on his leg.

“don’t be. i’m okay.” wonbin said.

both of you raised your eyebrows at wonbin’s i’m okay. it fell from his lips unnaturally, after he took a beat to lick his dry lips. there was a faint taste of your chapstick. wonbin decided then and there that he was not okay, he needed to kiss you until he found out what flavor was on your glossy lips.

“i was cheated on, too.” you said.

you squeezed wonbin’s hand a little tighter, and he looked to you with wide eyes.

“i met him in college, we were dating for a year? i think,” wonbin sees your eyes go up as you try to remember the dates. you pause for a moment before realizing the exact details don’t matter. “i found out he was sleeping with a girl he was childhood friends with.” you say.

wonbin wonders if you caught them the same way he did. he wonders if your boyfriend told you not to worry about his friend.

“how’d you get over it?” wonbin asks.

he squeezes your hand back and you give wonbin a smile. maybe you are embarrassed for sharing too much. maybe you’re embarrassed for wonbin. either way, he watches your eyes go to the frayed fabric of wonbin’s jean shorts. you pick at it for a second, still pinching the white strings as you look back up to wonbin.

“i fucked his bestfriend?” you say.

you say it like your confused, like you weren’t there when it happened. wonbin assumes the relaxed way you said it came with time of healing. wonbin prays he will get to that point soon.

“did it make you feel better?” wonbin asks.

wonbin sees you think. he sees you look upwards, laughing as you recalled the memories.

“as twisted as it sounds,” you looked to wonbin “it felt fucking great.” you said with a smile.

if wonbin was in his right mind, he would’ve asked you to take him home. he would’ve called minju to break up with her, or at the very least call her in efforts to relieve some of the pain he felt in his chest.

“but they’re still friends and my parents are at a wedding. so who really won is still up for debate, i guess.” you laugh dryly.

wonbin doesn’t bother to ask anymore questions. maybe if he actually had something to apologize for next time he talked to minju he could move on. so he closed the distance between the two of you again, bringing both hands to your surprised face to pull you in.

both of your eyes closed at the same time, and wonbin let you take the lead to deepen the kiss. your hand on his thigh was even softer on his face. wonbin leaned back feeling you stand on your knees as you tilted your head to the side. wonbin followed and separeted his knees, letting you slot between them. 

your face underneath wonbin’s fingertips was soft, almost as soft as your plush lips and your wet tongue that touched his. you were a much better kisser than minju. maybe it was wonbin searching for a reason to feel better about kissing a stranger while his girlfriend wanted to get back together. the more he kissed you the more he forgot, only one thing on the forefront of his mind when he pulled away again.

“strawberries.” wonbin said casually.

you were confused, blinking away your blown out eyes as tongue swiped over your lips.

“what?” you asked.

“your chapstick. it tastes like strawberries.” he repeated.

when wonbin specified, your whole face smiled. it started at your lips and reached all the way up to your eyes while you nodded. you brought wonbin’s face back down to yours, so close that your lips were touching before you spoke.

“yeah, you’re right.” you said.

you brought wonbin back in, kissing him for what seemed like ages. when you pulled away his lips were swollen from the biting, and he was breathless. you seemed to still be ready, kissing and sucking on his neck. wonbin felt your hands travel from his face to his shoulders, picking at the neckline of his shirt. your hands went further down, tracing the sides of his body until you reached the waistband of his jeans.

wonbin couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your wrist before your hand can  fumble with the button of his pants. he doesn’t want you to stop, but the way his chest is already heaving makes him think he may pass out. when you look up at him between his legs, wonbin gets lightheaded.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head, his hand still gripping your wrist.

“you have to let go of me so i can take care of you wonbin.” you say.

your words are kind and dripping with honey even though wonbin knows he’s being annoying. when he would be in situations like this with minju, it was always orders with a hard voice instead of something so nice and sweet. sometimes he liked that, but most of the time he wanted to be treated gently—the world was already so rough with him.

wonbin doesn’t let go of your wrist, but loosens his grip allowing you to move freely. you take it as a green light, still keeping your eyes on him as you unbutton his pants. you pull the loose denim down to his ankles, treating it as a cushion for your knees. 

in just his briefs, wonbin feels exposed. the hard outline of his dick in his line of sight makes him feel lightheaded. when you slowly inch your hand up his thigh, closer and closer to his twitching length wonbin has to lean his whole body into the back of the couch for stability. he unknowingly tightens his grip on your wrist, already fighting the urge to rut into your palm.

wonbin is embarrassed, especially how you halt your movements to look at his twitching thighs, and how his free hand underneath his thigh digs into his skin. wonbin can tell you are looking up at him, but wonbin can’t take his eyes of your ceiling, counting each individual tile.

“does your girlfriend touch you like this?” you ask quietly.

he shakes his head, sinking further into the armrest of the couch. minju only needed to tell wonbin once that she doesn’t suck dick. the closest he ever got was a sloppy handjob, that ended with wonbin apologizing profusely when he came all over her hand and his stomach.

“are you a virgin?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head again. he twitches in his briefs at the tone of your voice, how delicate you are with him. wonbin realizes he knows nothing about you, and you probably know even less about him. you take the time to know him intimately on your couch, trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible by rubbing his legs soothingly.

“i’m sor—”

before wonbin can finish, his words trails off when you place your hand over his clothed dick. his sentence ends with a whine as his dick twitches towards the warmth of your palm. he screws his eyes shut, completely losing count of the tiled ceiling. 

when he feels your wet lips on his thigh, wonbin looks down at you.

“don’t apologize.” you place another wet kiss, one that wonbin follows until he sits on the edge of the couch. “i like how sensitive you are.” you say.

wonbin doesn’t know if you’re talking about him physically or emotionally. his eyes are already wet looking down at you, how your other hand starts messing with his elastic waistband. almost like a switch had flipped, wonbin feels his normal apologetic attitude shift to thankfulness. maybe it’s the way you sound in awe at wonbin’s twitches, or how you let his hand guide you on how he wants to be touched.

your hand pulls at wonbin’s waistband, and he sits up from the couch to give you more access. you’re able to pull his briefs all the way down his legs, freeing his heavy dick so it can slap against his lower stomach. wonbin whines at the sensation of himself being fully exposed, and you hum sympathetically

“so pretty.” you blow cold air onto wonbin’s dick, watching it jump slightly from his stomach. wonbin digs his nails further into his thigh. “can i touch you, wonbin?” you ask.

wonbin nods his head, feeling you wrap your hand around his length. he can’t let go of your wrist, using it as a method of grounding himself. 

you are careful and slow, gathering the precum from wonbin’s sensitive tip to help you glide down his length. wonbin takes deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth, letting his breath catch in his throat when you grip his length a little tighter.

when wonbin peaks down to see your hand wrapped around his dick he thrusts up into your hand. it’s a knee jerk reaction, something wonbin doesn’t care to control because it makes you bite your lip and pick up the pace of your hand. when wonbin sees his tip poke out past your hand red and angry, he lets his loudest whimper slip past his lips.

“keep going.” you sound almost as desperate as wonbin feels. “keep going.” you repeat.

wonbin listens to you, weakly lifting his hips to continue fucking your hand. his dick glides through your fist from the precum, and wonbin doesn’t stop even when his thighs start to burn. he takes his hand from his thigh and digs it into the armrest instead to keep his body suspended. his hand on your wrist moves to cover your hand on his dick. wonbin wedges his fingers in between yours, and you both form a fist together. 

“can i suck on it?” you ask quickly.

“yes please.” wonbin whines.

you take your hand away from wonbin’s dick, and he continues to pump his dick alone. you use both of your hands to presson his thighs, bringing him back down to the couch. you waste no time guiding wonbin’s dick to your mouth. he can feel his wet fingers poke your soft bottom lip as he lets go of his dick. you’re determined, only pausing for a second before taking the rest of wonbin in your mouth. 

you’re wet and warm around his dick, and when you hollow out your cheeks wonbin presses his back into the couch. he almost wants to pull himself out of your mouth, whimpering in your quiet living room about how sensitive he is. but wonbin looks down at your wet eyes looking up at him, how you bat your eyelashes before moving a spare hand to massage his balls. he sees your nipples poking through your shirt, how your chest is perched perfectly on the couch so close for him to touch. he can see the arch in your back, and he imagines your ass sticking out perfectly. it’s too much, all too much for poor thankful wonbin. 

his hand goes to fist your hair and his whimpers turn to moans. it makes you take him deeper, pulling his dick all the way from your mouth before you take him to your throat. even through the gagging and tears forming at your waterline you don’t stop. wonbin doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, to have someone so pretty on their knees in front of him. you were the same girl that wouldn’t give anyone the time of day from your little box inside the gas station. but you look up at wonbin, treating him better than he ever has been treated his whole life. his hand in your air tightens but it doesn’t guide you. he is overwhelmed with emotion, and he just has to feel you somehow. you grab his free hand that is clenched beside him and wonbin instantly intertwines his fingers with yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

you nod and pinch his thigh, causing his to jerk upwards quickly. your moans vibrate around wonnbin’s dick, and he understands what you want him to do. he starts lifting his lips and fucking your mouth, slow in comparison to your bobbing head. when wonbin feels like he’s about to burst at the seams, he grabs himself from the base and pulls himself out of your mouth.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing the spit at the corner of your lips across your chin. 

wonbin blinks quickly and runs his tongue over his wet lips. he’s never been good at asking for what he wants, especially when it came to sex. he was content with getting or giving whatever minju was in the mood for, too shy to ask for anything more. so wonbin’s request to have you ride him dies in his throat. he is at a loss for words when he sees your wet eyes become confused.

“too much?” you ask.

“not enough.” wonbin says.

wonbin reaches for your shoulders, trying to pull your body up from the ground to come closer to him. you’re slow getting up, legs slightly sore from being on your knees for too long. you grab something beside you before fulling standing in front of wonbin. you hand him the condom, and he looks up to you with big eyes as you work for the button on your shorts. he can see your midriff directly in front of his face, he focuses on the skin as he puts the condom on his sensitive dick.

wonbin looks up between the valley of your braless chest to see you looking outside. wonbin is grateful for the sun that shines all day, giving him a perfect view of your face. you look down at wonbin as your hands go to your shirt, inviting him to take your tight jeans pants off for you.

wonbin is quick, pulling off both your panties and jeans in one go. when they pool at your ankles you step out, stumbling slightly from not being able to see. your shirt is halfway over your head but wonbin is there to keep you steady. his hand wraps around your ass and the other presses into your side, bringing your stomach so close to wonbin his nose presses into your abdomen. he takes in a deep shaking breath of you, smelling the sun and your body wash. everything about you is so green, so lively and luscious wonbin presses his teeth into the skin of your stomach. you gasp lightly and look down at him, hands going to his shoulders when you get your shirt off. your smile tells wonbin that you like it, and your head tilt when he sinks his teeth in deeper tells him you love it.

wonbin pulls away, a string of spit connecting his lips to your stomach. you come down from standing, using your hands on wonbin’s shoulders to push him down gently. wonbin puts all of his trust in you, still having both hands on your body as you slowly push his back to the couch.  

his head was leaning on the headrest when you let go of his shoulders, using your hand to trace down his body. your hands didn’t discriminate, they didn’t work around the grass stains of dry clumps of dirt still stuck to his body. you dragged a hand slowly down from the center of his chest, not stopping until you got to his straining dick again. you come close to wonbin until your chest touch as you guide his length to your entrance.

“is this alright?” you ask. 

wonbin nods and closes his eyes as he feels his tip prod your entrance.

“yes, minju.” 

wonbin realizes his mistake a second before it’s too late. he hadn’t even thought about her up to this point, only thinking about you. it’s still a habit, saying his girlfriends name during sex. his eyes shoot open, to your face that is still understanding. you only shake your head slightly before kissing wonbin’s cheek and going to his ear, letting your breath fan the shell.

“you know my name.” wonbin’s hand on your hip tightens as he feels you guide his tip past your folds “let’s say it together.” you whisper in wonbin’s ear.

he nods against your head, and your name becomes prolonged and broken with a whine as you completely guide wonbin’s dick inside of your cunt. 

both of you feel it, how you fit together like puzzle pieces. wonbin’s foot is planted on the ground beside the couch, and your leg goes in between the cushions as you draw your hips back up. you regretfully pull away from wonbin to get a better angle. you plant your feet on the coffee table beside your couch and the other one sinks in the crack of the couch. you don’t care, because it allows you to rise and fall back down on wonbin’s dick. both of his hands help you, and he doesn’t let anything else fall from his lips except for name.

wonbin gets too close to finishing too fast. it’s inevitable, the way you look above him and how his hands feel against his skin. he can’t focus on how your walls feel wrapped around him, how you suck him in each time you sink your body bad down. wonbin grips at handfuls of your sweaty skin as he starts lifting his hips to meet yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

“okay.” you whimper back.

wonbin watches your hand drop to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves. he lets you focus while he takes charge of bringing your hips down to his. the wet sound fills the space of your living room, and wonbin can feel his sweat dripping onto the couch. 

“i’m close too.” you were in a haste, not letting up on your clit as wonbin continued bringing you down with more force. your hand that held onto the back of the couch was clutched by wonbin, holding your hand as you both became too sensitive to speak. “i’m gonna cum, wonbin.” you say.

“me too.” wonbin says a moment too late.

he can’t bring himself to pull your hips down as he empties into the condom. you milk wonbin’s dick and twitch above him, your hand spasming as you continue your revolutions. wonbin wishes he had another hand to stimulate your clit for you, but his hand is too busy holding parts of your body he doesn’t want to forget. when your body bends forward he lets go of your hip to hold your head, bringing you to the crook of his neck. both of you become squirming messes, rutting your hips recklessly against eachother. you pull away from his neck and rest your forehead on his, mouth agape as you ride out the wave. wonbin looks you straight in the eye, losing himself in the way your lids become hooded and sleepy when you finally start coming down. 

wonbin rests against the couch, letting his clammy body find it’ss strength again. you fold over and the two of your are chest to chest again, rapid hearts beating on top of eachother. wonbin holds you tight to his chest, as he feels tears prickling his vision. he blinks them away, choosing to focus how your finger draws light shapes into his arm. you don’t look up at wonbin’s face as you continue drawing your shapes.

“my parents are probably on their way back now.” you say absentmindedly.

wonbin bites his lip, hoping to taste strawberry.

“my mom is probably worried.” wonbin says.

you sigh heavily, bringing your head from wonbin’s chest to look at his face. you brush his overgrown bangs from his eyes, looking deep into them with sadness.

“we should probably leave then, huh?” you say.

wonbin can only nod, afraid that he will cry if he speaks. so you move off of him silently, shivering when his dick slides out of you. you put your clothes back on and wonbin does the same. he pulls his pants back up while still sitting on the couch, cringing at how uncomfortable his wet briefs feel. 

the tied off condom is thrown away in the kitchen trash, hidden underneath rearranged garbage. wonbin follows you silently out of your home, taking one last look behind him at your living room before closing the door behind him. maybe he can dream about this instead of running.

“i know the way back to my house, so i can drive.” wonbin offers.

you nod, letting him take the lead down the stairs as he carefully takes your bike off the kickstand.

“it’ll probably be easier to ride than that little kid bike.” you laugh.

wonbin laughs too as he adjusts the seat, he does a few test peddles and you watch, hands on your hips as wonbin gets used to a bike made for someone his age.

you follow behind him, letting him gain momentum down your driveway. when wonbin is about to make the turn off the gravel path, you place hands on his shoulders and jump seamlessly onto the bike pegs. once you’re on, wonbin picks up the speed, transitioning from your driveway to the road.

as you and wonbin ride to his place, the sun begins to set. the world is illuminated in a calm blue, and the cool breeze causes both of you to let out sighs of relief. wonbin looks to the side to the beach. the waves call to him, almost like a siren when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“sorry, can we stop here,” wonbin points to a hill leading down the the beach. he’s quick, only letting the bike wobble for a second from the loss of equilibrium before bringing his hand back to the handle bars. “i have to make a call.”

wonbin feels your hands that gripped his shoulders loosen as the bike regains balance. when he gets your approval he strays from the main road onto the dirt path made by foot traffic. 

before the hill goes down wonbin stops, letting you get off before fishing his phone from his back pocket. he’s silent as he sees no new notifications rest on his lock screen. he can tell you notice, by the way you offer to grab the bike and point your head towards a place of privacy that faces the beach.

“i’ll be up here. i don’t have work tomorrow so take your time.” you say with a smile.

wonbin nods before making his way down the hill. it’s familiar, memories of running down the hill recklessly fills his mind. he remembers coming here to smoke, passing around a cigarette he didn’t really have a taste for with his friends. wonbin didn’t remember the comfort being surrounded by water brought him. being landlocked made him forget the soothing sound of the waves crashing, or the salty breeze that made him feel stronger. the strength of the water came to him, making him pull up minju’s contact and pressing call. 

minju was a nightowl. there wasn’t a doubt in wonbin’s mind that she was awake right now. if he were to text her this she would’ve replied back instantly. he figures it’s harder to hide the fact that there’s someone else in the room when you’re on the phone. 

regardless, wonbin holds the phone up to his ear as he waits for the automated voice. by the time he hears the tone to leave a voicemail he is leaning against the railing, head in his other hand as he closes his eyes. the summer night is comfortable, and the slow breeze cools wonbin’s face. he wishes it could take away his nerves, or that the words he needed to speak would be carried to him by the gentle wind. wonbin anxiously rocks on his feet and bites his fingernail. the lack of feedback on the other side of the line only makes him more timid.

“hey minju.” he said.

wonbin listened to the waves crash on the sand, and the sound of grass moving in the light breeze. his voice hesitated, and wonbin imagined the dark night he stared into as the void in minju’s voicemail box.

“i slept with a girl tonight,” wonbin takes his face from his hand to grip the railing. “that wasn’t you.” he added.

wonbin looked towards the beach, making out the white crest of the waves as they crashed down. he thought about you, how you pulled him in close before crying out his name. wonbin thought if it felt like that when minju slept with her ex, if she completely forgot about wonbin like he forgot about her. he wondered how minju could experience something so beautiful and then try to come back to him. 

the feeling of betrayal grew, starting at the soles of his feet up to his hair that blew in the wind. tears stored from his apartment blurred wonbin’s vision and when he blinked they rushed down his cheeks. 

“i don’t know how you could do that to me.” wonbin’s voice shook as he spoke.

he bit his lip and pulled the receiver away from his mouth as he tried to clear the rock in his throat. when wonbin felt like he had strength again, he brought his phone back to his lips.

“i was neglectful. you were right. i forgot what it was like to be in the moment with somebody.” he said.

wonbin looked down at his feet, then back towards the beach that minju hated so much. he looked back at you. you held your bike still on the side of the road. a car passed by, its headlights illuminated your worried smile. you put up a hand awkwardly, waving to him. wonbin waves at you, giving you a meek smile before turning back to look at the beach.

“i think it’s best if you stay at your friends for awhile.” wonbin says.

before he can say say sorry, the automated voice on the other side of the line tells wonbin his time is up. he keeps the phone to his ear for just a second longer before slipping it into his pocket.

when wonbin’s shoulders start to sag and the tears come freely, he can hear you coming down to him from the top of the hill. you bring yourself and your bike all the way down, until you are standing side by side. you let your bike lean on your body to free your hand. you pat wonbin’s back and grip his shoulders. it isn’t until he wipes away his tears that you speak.

“did she answer?” you ask quietly.

wonbin shakes his head.

“voicemail.” wonbin says simply.

“i’m sorry wonbin, truly.” you debated on giving him a hug, even with the bike in between your bodies. “atleast the sky is really pretty.” you say lightly.

wonbin looks up from his feet to the sky. the stars shine bright, not clouded by the pollution of the city. he doesn’t remember the last time he has looked at the sky, or shared something so beautiful with someone before. wonbin turns to you to see that your gaze hasn’t left the sky either. for the first time in his life he isn’t sorry, he stares at you unapologetically. 

wonbin finally turns away from the beach. he cranes his neck slightly, to kiss your wrist that comforts him. it’s a quick peck, a sign of gratitude both of you struggle not to dissect. instead wonbin holds out his hand for you to go in front of him as you make your way back of the hill. your bike gets caught on some of the weeds, and you almost stumble when a rock slips underneath your feet. wonbin knew to keep a hand behind you, making sure you remained steady the whole time.

one back on the road, you and wonbin silently got into place. the roles were reversed, this time it was you driving while wonbin perched himself on the bike peg. he helped you gain momentum by kicking off like he had done earlier, his foot immediately going to the peg.

you peddled in silence. wonbin started looking ahead at the open road, feeling the wind hit his face. wind whipped in his ears and tried the tears on his waterline as you went down a hill. wonbin let the scenery of his town at night pass him in a blur. wonbin tilted his head, from here it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the stars. his hands on your shoulders were light and your peddling was steady, arguably aimless. wonbin felt himself becoming more and more calm as you two continued to go down the road. he adjusted his feet on the metal pegs, and let out a deep sigh as the wind blew stress from his shoulders.

[theemporium]

39 pls

this is just a tester...unsure how i feel about it...i just kinda wanted to see if i could write him or not...anyways!!🤠

39. "everything is going to be okay" kisses

.

It was stupid. Or at least, you felt pretty damn stupid over the whole thing.

It was stupid because the whole damn thing was so predictable, and therefore, avoidable. It didn’t have to work out like this. Your day didn’t have to start like this. There were so many other—and better—things you could have done and yet, just like an old habit you couldn’t quite shake off, you gave in. 

You answered your mother’s phone call despite knowing better.

For a short moment, you thought it could be different. You thought that, for once in your life, you could have a civil conversation with the woman who gave birth to you like any other child should have been able to do. But that thought lasted a total of three minutes before the snide remarks began and the rest of the pieces fell into place. 

The little comments about your life. The way you moved away from home like you were better than the rest of your family. The fact that your dreams and goals never quite aligned with the ones she painted out for you the day you were born. It went from your lifestyle to your job to your appearance. She covered every base, every single detail of your life that she thought you were undeserving of.

Not that she would say the words so bluntly. No, they were firmly hidden under the guise of a mother concerned for her daughter.

You were near tears by the end of the call, but by some stubborn save of grace, you had managed to hold it in until you muttered out a lame excuse and quickly hung up. But the second the soft beep of the phone disconnecting echoed through the room, the sobs started and you couldn’t really stop them.

You didn’t even hear Oscar come in before you felt his body sliding onto the bed in front of you, his warm palms resting on your shaking arms. 

“Baby,” it was uttered in such a soft, worried voice that you couldn’t help but let out a choked noise of guilt. 

He was a blur of coloured blobs through your teary eyes, whilst you probably looked like a mess with puffy cheeks and a red nose. But that didn’t stop him from moving his hands up to engulf your face, his thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks to wipe away the falling tears.

“Tell me what’s happened,” he murmured, soft yet demanding. He wanted to help. God, every cell in his body was practically twitching to help you but he couldn’t do it if he didn’t know where to begin. 

However, as it would turn out, words wouldn’t be necessary as your gaze fell down to your abandoned phone across the bed and the rest clicked in his head. 

“Oh baby,” he sighed softly before his arms were around you, pulling you onto his lap as your limbs wound around his torso. 

He didn’t let you go as you cried. He kept your body pressed against his, chest to chest with both your hearts thumping wildly. His fingers aimlessly traced random shapes along your spine, anything to help ground and soothe you until the blubbering sobs stopped and it felt a little easier to get air into your lungs.

“I shouldn’t have answered it,” you sniffled, your face buried into the crook of his neck. “I know I shouldn’t of—”

“But she’s your mother,” Oscar finished for you. “And despite everything, a part of you will always hope that she’s changed.”

“Does that make me stupid?” You wondered out loud.

His arms tightened around you. “Not at all, sweetheart.”

“Feels like it,” you admitted to the boy.

He pushed you back a bit, just enough for you to lift your head from his shoulder despite the whine you let out. His hands were encompassing your face again, his brows furrowed together as he took in your tear-stricken face. 

“She doesn’t know you—the real you. And maybe she never will. But the people who do know the real you love you, and we always will,” Oscar spoke in a soft voice. “You hear me?”

You nodded. 

“Good,” he murmured before he leaned forward, his lips pressing against yours in a gentle but firm kiss. Nothing crazy or passionate or racing for you to be pulling off his clothes, but more than enough to feel the love and admiration melting off him. That little reminder that regardless of everything, you’d always have him in your corner. “What do you think about a pick-me-up?”

“This is more than enough,” you assured him as you leaned into his hold on your face.

His lips twitched upwards. “So no ice cream?”

“Woah, slow down, Piastri. I never said that.”

.

[sepublic]

I hope King got to reclaim the bones of his siblings. After reclaiming his mother’s body from further exploitation and misrepresentation for power and genocide by Belos, it’d have been nice to see him do the same with the Titan Trappers’ gross misuse of his siblings’ bodies. The fact that King fell for the intended purpose of this misuse and almost died because of it…

Between the nightmare sequence and the Collector learning what death is, and the Titan Trappers being incapacitated by them? It’d have been really great to see King and the Collector clear the deal; That the ‘Grand Huntsman’ does not approve of Bill’s lies, and anyhow they will reclaim these remains by force if necessary.

Given the setup for Tarak and the other Trappers to realize Bill is a liar, plus their Grand Huntsman revealing they were misused in a similar way by Belos, whose reign they at least understood was faulty? I could see a shift in them renouncing these ways, esp since they never actually killed a Titan, we had Tarak’s guilt over having to sacrifice King, etc. It’s easy to advocate for the genocide of a dehumanized ‘evil’ race until you actually encounter one of them and realize, Oh! That’s a real person!

Tbh given the parallels between Bill and Belos? I can see Tarak, possibly the entire Titan Trapper community, being akin to Caleb; We already have Tarak’s previous bonding with King, which led to some hesitation! Dana confirmed Caleb and Evelyn initially met one another under the guise of Evelyn being human, so I wonder if Caleb had a similar moment to Tarak in EotW, where he was gung-ho about killing witches, realized this friend of his was a witch, hesitated… But unlike Tarak, didn’t go through with it and even defied the group.

Maybe Tarak eventually does this during the timeskip, at least for the practical reason of realizing Bill is a liar. Of course, Tarak still tried and King is a child to him, unlike peers Caleb and Evelyn; So I don’t expect King to forgive and accept Tarak as family the way Evelyn did Caleb. Who knows…

Regardless; The mother was laid to proper rest and no longer had her grave desecrated. Given King got closure and even revenge over that, it’d be wonderful to see him get the same for his siblings, since brotherhood with Luz is just as important as his parental figure in Eda, the two other main characters of the show! King already got back at Bill by destroying his teleportation gate, and with the Collector ‘collecting’ him and King not doing much to stop it? He could always go further…

Just, man; I have to mourn the siblings. We know the Titan at least, people revere her. But who were the siblings? Only King and his family will mourn them. What were they like? Were they like King with Eda, in their relationship with their biological mother? Were they artists, goofballs? Bill at least confirms similarities in being big tyrants with appetites who go WEH! How young were they when the Archivists and Trappers killed them, before their mother, in grief, had to escape? Did they cry out for their father, were they murdered in front of him?

It just really gets me man. One genocide may have been averted, but another has not been fully avenged or prevented with the Archivists still out there, and there was simply no room to address that with everything else. And King learned all of this, just when he actually began to consider the idea that he has other siblings he doesn’t know about, and begins to miss (and then mourn) them too…!

[missglaskin]

Burn Them All Down

Note- I apologize for whatever cringe writing this is 

Characters: Jacaerys, Aemond, Aegon II

You are cruel and vain, but you’re still their sister and their greatest love. 

Tags: SMUT/EXPLICIT, toxic/unhealthy relationship, slapping, choking, dark!reader

Jacaerys 

Your brother always gave in to your desires. To your whims and wishes. But this was too far. “Kill him?” Your brother couldn’t hide the surprise evident in his features. Almost pulling your mouth away that wrapped itself around his cock. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you pull away. You thought you had him. And maybe you did. Your words had him in a trance and your mouth further engulfed him under the spell. Perhaps you should have used your words with more care, but it’s far too late now. 

“Yes dear brother,” you are to play along now. His eyes shine with doubt. And you resist the urge to roll your eyes when Jace declares he is a good man. The ‘good man’ is referred to the foolish lord your mother plans to marry you off to. All under the guise of bringing more allies to her side. 

You move to be face to face with Jace, a hand stroking his cock. He groans as the pleasure overtakes him once more. “He will take me away from you,” you whisper. Feeling his hips thrust into the grip you have on him. “Do you want me to be his, have him fuck me every night, make me carry his children,” his eyes darken the second those words sunk in. 

And you know you have him once again under your spell.

Aemond

I killed him. 

Were the first words that greeted you when your brother arrived from storm’s end. His face smeared with utter guilt as he sat on your mattress. Your brows raise at the mention of the name of your nephew. You couldn’t help the scoff that you let out. Is that what got him looking like a kicked puppy. Aemond wasn’t the slightest amused. 

His fury was stoked even further by your words. That this shouldn't bother him as such. That the brat would have died regardless. What proved to be the final nail in his coffin was the word spilled from your mouth, thrown at him; weak. And before you know it, a hand is wrapped around your throat. You only smile even when finding yourself struggling to breathe.

“Truly brother Luke took out your eye, were your balls taken along with it,” the only response you received was a tightening grip. Your hand reaches for his, nail pressed to the skin but not clawing at it. “You’re a cruel woman,” Aemond spat out, “Why did the gods make me want a cruel woman like you”.  In your struggle for air, you are able to utter the words. 

“Because no one will ever love you like I do,” his grip is still tight, but you can see his lips pressed into a thin line. He knows it’s true. Any woman would have shamed him, called him the worst of names, but you never did, never could. You opened your arms to his everlasting fire, accepted every part of him, the bad and the evil. As you expected, your mercy was given when he let go. The sound of the door opening and closing echoes. He will come back. He always did.

Aegon II

Convince him, your mother told you. It was the early morning right before your brother is to be crowned. Though you know for certain this wasn’t what she had in mind. Moans surrounding the chambers as you slowly feel his length fill you up. Aegon clutches your body close to his, eyes looking up at yours. 

The both of you are on the floor as you raise yourself up and down on his cock. All while your brother is currently underneath you, wearing his supposed king attire that’s now all wrinkled along with his hair being such a mess. The same could be said for you, sweat covering both of your bodies. “I don’t want it,” your brother told you for the numerous time. 

Your fingers tightly gripped his jaw, “You have to,” you demanded. There’s no other choice. Rhaenyra will kill the lot of you. Still, your brother wasn’t convinced and you stopped moving your hips. A whine of surprise escapes your brother when your hand collides with his cheek. It stings, but you also feel his cock twitch inside you. Your hands move to grab his cheeks causing his lips to pout. “Do you wish for your death? For me to be killed?” Aegon doesn’t respond. 

And you just sigh. Feeling like you are slowly losing hope. He may have been a lost cause. But then you find yourself knowing the words to say. “Do you not want me to be your wife?” And Aegon shakingly nods. You resist smiling to yourself in the face of triumph. Hips moving again, noises once more start to leave him. Your hand left his face to his hair, yanking his head back. You utter the words before your lips capture his. 

“Then you must wear the crown”.

[dekubreaksbones]

Yagi Toshinori | All Might Fic Recs

(Not necessarily focused on Yagi, but containing very good characterization of him)

Other Version

Razzmatazz by xylophones

Izuku saves the number one hero, gets a hero license way earlier than anyone wanted, realizes that maybe hero society isn’t as great as he thought it was, and everything just kind of falls apart from there.

Danger First by Marsalias

What if the first quirk in One for All to activate wasn't the power stockpile, but Danger Sense?

Long Night in the Valley by Marsalias

On paper, the Hero Commission's plan to investigate Midoriya Izuku under the guise of a training course for combating mental quirks is solid; foolproof, even. If Midoriya turns out to be innocent, they can pass everything off as part of the training exercise, assuming he remembered any of it. Otherwise, they could beg forgiveness after the traitor was securely imprisoned in Tartarus. The paper plan failed to take into account the feral ghosts living in Midoriya Izuku's head, or his equally feral living friends. Time to bring on the chaos.

Learning to Trust by Siriusfan13

His body failing, All Might decides to take Nezu up on an old offer: to teach at UA. However, this requires revealing the truth about his health to the staff. Unsure if he can fully trust them, or himself, in this situation, he does what any insecure pro-hero in his position would do… He sends an "employee" to scope things out in his place--Yagi Toshinori.

to measure time by sundefeater lou (sundefeater)

Izuku is sick, the villains don't care, and Toshinori has had it up to here with these assholes.

with a face only a mother (aka All Might) could love by ThrillShockSuspense

Izuku is extremely scary to everyone but All Might.

[fuckzachariah]

xiii. the world is ours

Zach was completely, to the bone, fucking sober. Except, that’s not what he felt like. He craved relief as much as he felt high out of his fucking mind; every vessel jittered, thrummed uncomfortably, his heart thumping and swelling to ten times it’s size, his pupils blown wide, the inside of his cheeks torn to shreds. He sat, knee bouncing, atop a rehearsal amp. The last month of rehearsals and album promotion had been constant, exhausting him before the most exhausting part - but he had asked for it, and this part had once been the only love he still clung to in his career. Everything else failed him, but the tours never did. Real, honest, unequivocal love, where he previously had had none. A love that wedged an iron pillar where a spine was meant to have grown. A love that was as unwavering as family is meant to be. They was his family, once; the screaming, the crying, the fainting, the hands grasping for him as though in need of a lifeline. As though trusting him to be that lifeline. But he saw it, felt it, through a crystalline lens; white powder for blood, dopamine for adrenaline.

He supposed he had a family now, slapdash and accidental as they were, and he loved them with intention and violence. He chose them, and they chose him back. It was something. It was something where he once had nothing. Across the room, Ryan, Alex and Eden stood chatting animatedly among others. He had peeled away from them for a moment alone, under the guise of running the show over in his head one last time, except now he was actually tempted to do so, because any and all other thoughts had rapidly grown too overwhelming. He shook them off, his whole body juddering, and swallowed a mouthful of bottled water. He pretended his hand crushing the plastic to half its size was regular practice. He snatched his old acoustic guitar from the corner and went over the picking patterns for the slower songs. He could do it with his eyes closed, do it half-unconscious. Embedded in him like DNA. Right as he was about to go out back for some air, Isaaq Lone shouldered through the double doors and stumbled back upon finding Zach too close for comfort. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he hurried. Zach had barely spent five minutes with Isaaq since Amanda convinced him to allow him to open the show for the entirety of the North American tour. He was her only other client, a new label-mate on the come up. Apparently a ‘very promising talent’. Zach could be friendly. But, most of the time, he wasn’t. “Uh-huh.”

He pushed against the door, even more eager to leave now than he had been, the door flapping around Isaaq’s, “Looking forward to the show, man!” On his way to the back staff exit, he tugged on the low-scoop neck of his black tank top as though it were suffocating him, flashing an inked, heaving chest to catch the reflection of the overhead lights, head bowed to passersby. A lithe, strong hand firmed on his bicep, only spanning half-way around. He looked up. “Oh, hey,” he greeted absently. “Where do you think you’re going?” Amanda chirped, bright in comparison to her tetchy word choice. Somewhere muffled in the distance, cheers and Isaaq’s crooning tone sweltered. Zach gestured vaguely to the door. “Air.” Amanda shook her head, a strained smile on her face. “Nope.” She began walking and tried to urge him with her using her grip on him. He didn’t budge, until she shot him a sharp look, and he sighed and went with her. “I’m fine,” he insisted, though she had not yet accused him of the thing he was convinced she was in her mind. “Nope!” she repeated in the exact same tone, if slightly more impatient. He grumbled, irritation snowballing in him. Maybe he’d been wrong to have once craved a mother. This fucking sucked, and his own was beginning to confuse him. He’d told no one she was on the guest list tonight, aside from those in control of the guest list. Another reason for his hummingbird heart. 

The dressing room was abandoned, given everyone gracing the stage later was already ready, and so she only let him go once they were safely inside. "Tell me what it is. Outside of standard pre-show nerves.” Zach folded his arms and leaned against a vanity, eyeing her warily. “I don’t get pre-show nerves,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. Or at least, for about seven years, it hadn’t been a lie. “Even more reason for concern, then,” she challenged in return, folding her arms, too. But she stepped up to him. He rolled his eyes. She could not waterboard him to confess all the things on his mind. Before she could rattle a reaction out of him, a meek man with a clipboard poked his head around the door. “Mr Winthrop, hi.” Zach straightened and said nothing. “What is this?” Amanda cut in. He looked down at the clipboard, then tentatively back up again. “A woman on the guestlist is asking to come back stage. Laurie-” Zach interrupted, knee-jerk, fast as blinking. His mother flashed behind his eyes. “No.” His heart yammered painfully. Jesus. Not what he fucking needed. A flare rose up in him. No, no, no. He glanced wildly at Amanda. “No,” he reiterated, pointing a finger at her and moving quickly as though to leave. “You’re on in twenty-six minutes, Zach!” The door slammed behind him. He would find Alex. It would be fine.

[charleslee-valentine]

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fan Works Event Day 5: The Saw is Family

Ship(s): Lefton

Word Count: ~2,000

Warnings: Pregnancy and sexual themes, pregnant ftm trans character, discussion of abortion and miscarriage, implied abusive family dynamics, period typical transphobia, brief misunderstanding about consent.

note: This is the groundwork of an au where Drayton is Sissy’s father who raises her like a brother, rather than being just her brother. Inspired by this post from @fry-house

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

________

Still living with his mother, it was nothing short of humiliating that he fell pregnant.

Leave it to Drayton to get himself knocked up just as soon as he got even a few folks to recognize his chosen name. Even mama was starting to be willing to call him by something other than a throwaway nickname like “girl.”

Not if he comes home with a round belly.

Boude would be the one to know what to do, but he’s also the one waving his dick around gettin’ people pregnant. One time. Let him get that horrible thing near him just once, and he ends up with child.

He’s heard the horror stories. About men like him so desperate to not carry a little one to term they end up bleeding out in their own bathrooms. That could never be his choice. Drayton’s too much of a coward to take his own shots, let alone perform an operation on himself.

He’ll have the baby. It’s just, he doesn’t have to pretend to be thrilled about it.

Can’t un-dead this rabbit, though he’ll certainly try to ignore it as long as he can.

When mama's sister Nancy was pregnant, she was out working on the farm ‘til she couldn’t even stand anymore. He’s got at least three or four more months in him before he’s resting in bed.

Except Nancy never had her baby. Maybe following after her isn’t the best idea.

Cold, sickening dread settles heavy in every bone that makes up Drayton body. Some things you just can’t wish away. Like the damned organs in his body that make it possible for him to even be in this mess, God knows Drayton tried to wish that the lady parts away.

Maybe this is punishment. A cruel fucking trick from the big guy in the sky himself for changing what ought not to be. Too damn bad God gets to sit on clouds all day while there’s mortals in their human body’s going through the evil he placed onto this earth. So fucking what if being a predestined, pretty little baby factory wasn’t the life Drayton wanted.

Damn it all to hell. Burn the bridges of the past self.

As much as he hates to admit it, if he’s going to be this stubborn, he can’t do it alone.

Already he’s suffocating under the weight. Or maybe he needs to loosen the bandages some. It’s the same damn issue either way, and he needs his boy to help fix it.

Drayton usually pays his visits under the guise of business. Trading meat for dairy, wool for fruit. Just in case the folks are home and he shows up without reason knowing damn well they don’t approve.

Though that cover today doesn’t go as gracefully as he’d hoped.

The packages he and mama wrapped up this morning for the job smelled something awful. Usually it don’t bother him at all, being raised in meat and everything, but he was off the path and hurling up his guts before he was even halfway to the neighbors. Heightened sensibilities.

That’s of course, how Lefty found him. Doubled over in the weeds. Sweaty and pale and a disheveled goddamn mess. No worse than the done deed itself, Drayton supposed. At least this time, he wasn’t totally vulnerable.

Still, he’d like to not be gawked at. He swipes the back of his sleeve, pulled over his hand, at his mouth, “You just gon’ stand there, Enright?”

“Right. Sorry.” Lefty goes into action mode quick, taking both of Draytons hands and steadying him, letting him choose how much contact he needs. Drayton settles for leaning into his side, so Lefty throws one arm around him to support him best he can. They walk together, at a pace set by the weaker one between them.

Growing a human ain’t easy work.

It’s silent until Lefty asks, hesitant but too concerned to let the unknown linger, “You.. alright, Dray?”

Before he can stop himself, Drayton scoffs, “You should know..”

Those big blue eyes sparkle with worry and remorse, “Did I do something?”

If he weren’t relying on him to walk, he’d be pushing the oblivious asshole away, “Oh yes sir. Oh-ho yes…”

Lefty gets him into his yard and sits Drayton down on a random crate, taking away the little excuse package. Thankfully nobody else from the Enright family is home at the moment, won’t be for a while either, so they’re free to talk in the open air. Mama’s lazy ass surely won’t come snooping.

Maybe he shouldn’t say that about her; Drayton’s not the only one going to have a baby. Mama’s six months or so along. Just a few ahead of her son. That’s half the reason he’s fucking terrified. Having kids that close together, they might as well be siblings.

Lefty don’t know the reason yet to be afraid as he should be, so he keeps prodding, “Whatever I done.. Let me make it right, lover.”

He’ll blame the sickness for how red his face gets, a fever at fault for the warmth under his skin. Blame that quickly turns into frustration and lashing out at him, “This one, you can’t fix. Can’t just, fuck it away, ‘cause- ‘cause thats the damn problem, you hear!”

Lefty’s face sinks. The dread and the anguish in his features, tells Drayton he gets the wrong implication.

He sounds like he’s choking, “I’m sorry, I-I thought we both..”

Drayton cuts him off. Angry as he is, he doesn’t want that kind of anguish in Boude’s heart.

“You’d be right, Enright. But it’s your damn hair-trigger got us into this mess anyhow.”

Confusion. Revelation. Something else unreadable. Almost.. pleasant.

“Are you telling me you’re-“

“Yessir.”

“Drayton that’s-“

“Don’t tell me. I don’t need your damn opinions. I’m keeping it, damn it.”

Really, he shouldn’t be as confident as he is. Lefty Enright can be trusted, sure, but that don’t change that he’s an open transsexual, and now a pregnant one at that. A poor little farmer's child in the most fragile of situations, acting like he has total control.

His Boude is more than used to that. Lefty smiles gently, “I was going to say it’s great.”

“You’re not the one lugging it with you.” Drayton counters.

He won’t argue that it’s a positive. Or even that it’s amazing really. Every part of him is just so afraid, so not used to this particular struggle on top of all the others that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Really, he feels guilty for taking it all out on his boy.

The very same who so heroically offers, “I would if I could. For you.”

Lefty bullies his way onto the crate seat next to Drayton and holds him. Proving even more of his gentle and sweet nature. His face won’t show it, but Drayton knows he’s desperate. Trying to be heard.

His heart wants to give in. So badly. To roll over and show his (swelling) belly and let Lefty have the validation. For the moment, he’ll indulge some, by leaning heavily into his embrace.

Something rises up. Not just bitter bile, but even harsher words. Mostly, dear.

“That don’t make you some saint, you know that? You still got an unwedded man, a queer, pregnant.”

And then he hurls onto the grass. Instant Karma.

Lefty just rubs his back through it. Soothes him. Only argues with him a little bit, “But I’m a lover, right? A partner, who done nothing but care for your little ass. That makes me a father too.”

A father. They both will be.

They’re only young. Not too young to handle it, but life just started for real. Popping kids out is a lifelong investment to no longer goin’ sneaking. Experimenting. Whatever you could call what it is they’ve been doing together.

It’ll be expected that they get married right away. Before this damn bump starts to show itself would be ideal. A nightmare for someone whose legal name on the certificate wouldn’t match the one his favorite people know him by.

Drayton isn’t ready to face those realities. He shakes his head, pulls away from Lefty just a little, “We can worry about that in a few months.”

It’s not outright denial. He wants Lefty involved and that is thankfully obvious. The intricacies really can wait. For the sake of him not losing his mind already.

Lefty agrees, focusing on the present as well, “What do you want from me right now?”

“Take me inside. Please.” Drayton holds his arms up, finally allowing himself to be as weak as he feels.

He’s not expecting to be fully lifted up and carried there, but since he’d just delivered some relatively life changing news, he’ll let that slide as well.

Lefty assures, as strong willed as he is physically tough, “We’ll figure it out, Dray.”

That’s not the part Drayton was afraid of. He never doubted that Lefty would want to do right by the kid. A man who places that much value on his family isn’t going to just kick a child he’d created to the curb.

His partner is maybe another story.

Lefty loves him and he loves Lefty, easy, but it’s not been as simple navigating what that meant when halfway into their almost decade long relationship, Drayton confessed the truth about the disconnect between body and identity. His boy has always been perfect with it, which is what makes it so terrifying. Unlikely as it is, there’s always that whisper that he’s only been pretending to accept it.

Now that Draytons put out, and of course got knocked up on the very first time doing so, there’s no real reason to keep him around. Lefty could pick up the kid on the weekends, settle down with a nice woman. Move the hell on.

They’re so in sync at this point, Boude sort of reads his mind, “I’m not gonna leave you.”

Tears burn in his eyes and ball up his throat with emotion. Drayton just nods a little in acknowledgment of his boy, not saying a word still.

It’s exactly what he was thinking and it still blindsides him. Some wounds, like the ones that come to be when his daddy left years ago, well maybe they never close up.

Lefty can’t take the silence. He tries to prompt, “I lov-“

“Enough.” Drayton stops him there. He knows it already. But talking about it isn’t his thing. Loving somebody is enough without all the sappy bullshit. “I’m not ready to talk.”

Lefty looks sad. Frowns a little bit. But he doesn’t argue. Never does. That sort of makes Drayton feel worse.

But they really will talk. One day down the line. Give it some time and he’ll be ready.

He places a hand on his belly. The baby is too small to be moving yet. Probably about the size of a pebble. There’s time. Mama will have her baby first, almost like a trial run.

Yeah.

They’ll be able to do this.

Shaking, Drayton takes Enright’s hand. He doesn’t know what to do with it, it’s awkward, but he wants to show him, in some minute way, that he gives a shit about him too.

A small smile is all the acknowledgement he gets. It’s enough.

Hopefully it’ll be enough to save them until Drayton is ready to talk more. Best he can do now is stay curled up in Lefty’s arms for the few hours he’s able. Going back home at the end of the day won’t be easy, it never is, but neither will parenthood be, so. Guess it works out anyhow.

[lets-try-some-writing]

We need more outlier kids content!!!! Also, these kids seeing the base as a safe and relatively controlled environment to flex their powers is a must

Cee and Mags need to chill a bit; maybe they will change their mind about outliers as they get attached to the kids. I mean, you can't tell me that Mags wouldn't get attached to the kids too (I would squeal if, against all odds, he, unknowingly, ends up joining the fav girl miko squad alongside Bulk and Jackie. Like, that girl is a wrecker and probably spends a LOT of time with them)

Outlier kids content, ah how I have wanted to write this for a while. Fluff, angst, and some Arcee and Magnus redemption on the way!

Home away from Home

It took some time, but with the bots never saying anything and any possible commenters being silenced (*cough cough* Magnus *cough cough* Arcee) the children came to view the base as a safe space to be themselves. There was still quite a bit of apprehension, but eventually the children calmed and grew comfortable with the bots, even going to so far as to train their powers under the guise of games at the bots prompting. After all, there is no better way to increase control over an outlier's abilities than to have them practice.

For Jack it was rather hard for the team to come up with something they could feasibly rope him into without making him too self conscious. But after a bit of planning on Ratchet and Optimus's part, they created a schedule that would hopefully with time help Jack come out of his shell. The training was rather simple: Hand Jack a ball and play catch with him. It started off small, with Bulkhead and Wheeljack roping Jack into playing with them by using a human ball at first. And once he got comfortable with that, they slowly began altering the ball internally, increasing its weight over the course of weeks just enough to be noticeable but not startling. Jack began to catch on, but since no one ever said anything and treated it like it was normal he allowed himself to become more confident. He did not question it vocally when the original basketball with discarded and he was instead tossed a sized down but still rather comically large Cybertronian lob ball to use.

Within four months Jack was throwing around a full-sized lob ball like it weighed nothing. And that was not the only change, he started to eat more in response to the activity and the acceptance of the team. His mother was overjoyed and took extra time to prepare meals for Jack to take to base since that was the only place he felt comfortable consuming more than a slice of bread. His body also finally began filling out with the increased nutrient intake, still being rather lean but with a healthy and attractive amount of muscle. He became an overall happier teen, joking around more freely and even showing off his strength when particularly joyful. His smile was contagious and the healthier and more comfortable he became, the brighter the base seemed to be. Miko's training also came in the form of a game, although hers was not hidden very well. Since she seemed to have few reservations about her powers the team did not stress over hiding the game or the obvious usage of power needed to play and instead focused on helping her improve. Her game was also pretty simple, it being to play tag with Smokescreen and Bumblebee. The two younglings needed the exercise and the chance to play for a change and Miko needed to train her accuracy and control. It worked out well, although in the beginning the play area was reserved to the training room to keep Miko from accidentally landing on or falling from something dangerous. While not fond of outliers in base, Ultra Magnus was not the kind of mech to sit by and watch the small human sparkling go blinking in and out of reality only to appear in a NOT safe location before blinking away again. And so as the games progressed in intensity, with Smokescreen and Bumblebee actually having to make an effort to keep away as Miko got more creative and controlled, Ultra Magnus joined the game. He said it was to maintain order, but with time his gruff exterior faltered and he came to no longer resent Miko's very existence.

It left Arcee baffled to watch to notorious Outlier hater carry around Miko and even begin mother henning her when she got a little too excitable, working herself into a state of exhaustion after a game. She was left even more flabbergasted when Miko willingly began calling Ultra Magnus one of her wreckers with affection, even slapping stickers on his armor and not so much as getting a scowl in response. Smokescreen and Bumblebee for their part always looked forward to their regular game of tag. Not only did it bring them great joy to see Miko improve and therefore be less likely to teleport into traffic or off a cliff, but the challenge was also a welcome one. Miko gave them a run for their credits with how fast and creative she was with her teleportation. Often Bumblebee and Smokescreen would be forced to practically bend over backward to escape her rapid assaults'. It was fun, and a simple activity with no real stakes, a welcome relief from the ongoing war.

As for Rafael? There was discussion of handing his training over to Ratchet, but in the end Optimus agreed to take over the practical aspects to ensure that no one got hurt. The Matrix shielded his mind from intrusion and his extreme control and mental fortitude ensured that he could keep himself in check with Rafael pocking around in his helm. And Ratchet could assist Rafael in the more philosophical and medical aspects of his training, walking him through meditation and assisting him when he inevitably needed someone to talk to and get painkillers from. Thus it was that Optimus quietly began taking time off every other day to play a simple game with Rafael, that being a mental game of memory. He would sit with Rafael, allowing the boy to enter his mind and prod while still keeping his memories and sensitive thoughts well secured. He would then display varying thoughts, memories, and emotions, tasking Rafael with hunting them down amidst a puzzle he would create. When Rafael succeeded he was rewarded with interesting information from Optimus ranging from songs, to simple memories, to secrets that could barely be comprehended.

At the end of their game Rafael would go to Ratchet to calm down from the mental struggle and relax, talking out anything that bothered him. And with time, Rafael grew to unlock a greater amount of his potential, not only able to influence others subtly, but also sift through their minds if they were unprotected mentally. His control grew greater and he became far more comfortable associating with others, especially the bots since he came to understand their way of thinking better through Optimus. In fact, he came to appreciate his time with the bots more than the time he spent with other humans. Humans were complicated in a way he wasn't used to handling, but the bots were more understandable in their way of processing data, more organized. It made communicating with them easier, only serving to make Rafael more and more comfortable at base.

The children were happy and comfortable and all was well... except for Arcee. She struggled with understanding and accepting the children. She had seen one too many outliers go rouge, abusing their gifts to hurt others and destroy lives. And while logically she was aware of the fact that the children were children, her guardianship over Jack was still awkward to say the least. It wasn't until Jack threw a boulder at Arachnid and saved her plating that Arcee began lightening up a bit. She still didn't trust outliers, but her outlier was alright. She reasoned that she mother henned her boy to keep him from falling down a dark path, but in reality she just liked doting on him.

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch. 11

Read on Ao3 Story: Beginning (on ao3), Prev Chapter (on ao3)

Chapter "Summary": Gunshots. Screaming. Crying. For Eden, it’s always the same. Pain, death, more pain. Encore. Pain, death, more pain. Encore. Pain, death… …Wait. Why isn’t she in pain? …And is that a freaking Pow-Pow Ranger??

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/DEATHS I just remembered I used to post this story on here too, so... here you go 😅

———

Visions flashed in Eden’s mind.

A group of men standing around her, discussing what to do in hushed voices. A thick arm, all muscle, clenched around her small neck. The mouth of a gun kissing the side of her head. Her legs barely long enough for her heels to kick the tops of the man’s knees as she struggled; her hands uselessly clawing against his hold. Hot tears streamed down her round cheeks, pooling in the crook between his arm and her neck—

Chasing after a man in a ski mask through dark alleys. Her daddy’s plan— his orders swimming in her ears, drowning out Gotham City’s unfamiliar rain and cold. The man’s body turning as he reached an opening. His hand swerving, his gun pointed blindly in her direction—

Chris Henriksen standing above her. His bloodshot eyes filled with a drunk man’s fury. Blood trickling from her stomach, gushing from the holes in her back, pooling in the gravel all around her. His daddy’s pistol reloaded, hovering directly over her. As he glares down at her, neither his hands nor gaze waiver—

Each memory ends the same.

BANG!

A bullet forces its way into her skull for the very first time. It tears through everything in its path. Fire razes her brain until the bullet explodes into the night air. Blood, bone, and muscle fly out after it.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The first bullet whizzes by her arm. The second grazes her leg. The third – by some unholy miracle – plunges directly into her left eye. Bursting her eyeball, splitting the back of the socket, the bullet rips apart veins, carving a tunnel straight through her skull before angrily rupturing into the cold, wet air.

BANG!

Even drunk, the proximity of Chris Hendriksen’s gun allows him a perfect shot to the center of her forehead. Everything goes red. Fire races from front to back. With nowhere else to go, the bullet splatters the back of her head open like a watermelon. Thick, meaty chunks of blood, skin, and muscle form a halo of gore around her shattered skull.

Each memory ends the same.

But there’s a secret. Something precious few can share about getting shot in the head.

During that half a millisecond between the bullet entering and exiting your skull…

You feel it.

No matter how quickly it happens – no matter how little time it takes the bullet to exit the chamber, to smash its way into your skull, to blaze through your brains, and blast into the open air – you feel it.

All of it.

Every cell in its path. Every molecule in its wake. Every last bit of your mind ripped apart by a trail of flaming agony.

You feel it as though this is the one and only thing on this earth you were meant to feel. You feel it like God himself craves your intimate, infinite suffering. Like the Devil grinning as he digs dirty, acid-dipped fingers into your skull.

It is an eternity of anguish veiled in the guise of an instant.

Every. Single. Time.

.

.

.

BANG!

The tears push up against Eden’s eyelids.

She didn’t want to feel it. The ripping. The burning. The unmistakable force of a bullet tearing through her head.

Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe Death would pity her just this once.

Eden already ached for the brief reprieve She brought with Her. Death’s soft and warm embrace, to her, was akin to a mother holding her beloved child. Being dead was only torturous because she – Eden's spirit or soul or whatever she was in that state – knew it was only temporary.

Far too soon, the green, acidic light would come. It would envelop her like a spotlight as the universe demanded another encore. Her senses would return to her as though she were dropped into an icy lake— like she was falling— like she was drowning— like she was being seared— like she was being carved open by a thousand knives— like she was being electrocuted— until she jolted back to life once more.

She waited for the same old song-and-dance to start. Pain, death, more pain. Encore. Pain, death, more pain. Encore.

Only this time… there was no pain.

There was no blast into her skull. No ripping or rupturing of her brain. No burning agony like there should be.

There was screaming, sure. Cursing, crying, and screaming all around her. But no pain. No Death.

...and no green light.

With great effort, Eden forced one eye to open. Then the other. The man who’d been ready to shoot her down, the sentry, was no longer standing in front of her. In fact, he was barely standing at all.

He clutched at the handle of the driver’s door, trying desperately to open it despite leaning heavily against it. His other arm hung limply at his side — streams of red pouring down its mangled remains and onto the road. His dark sunglasses were gone. His once eager eyes now wide and fearful as he stared down the street.

He was screaming. The van’s driver was screaming. The man in the trench coat was scampering into the passenger seat. And also screaming.

BANG!!— Eden flinched violently —POFWISHHHH!!

BANG!! POFWISSSSHHHHHH!!

Her eyes saw the van’s back tires burst and rapidly deflate, but her mind couldn’t make sense of… well... anything.

“E–”

She’d been shot, hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she?

Her hands flew across her head, madly trying to find where she’d been hit. As if she’d somehow missed the whole thing. Pain, death, pain, encore... right? But when she pulled her hands back to look for fresh blood, they were clean. Covered in already-healing scrapes, dirt, and nearly dried blood, but nothing fresh. Nothing that indicated the flood she knew had to be pouring from her head.

She felt something wet streaming down her chin—

“—den!”

—but it wasn’t red. It was clear. Not blood. Water.

Water…

Tears?

Was she…? Her fingers wiped at her eyes. She was. But when had she started crying?

“E—”

The sentry’s gun was on the ground — she was able to process that. The van’s engine screaming out, too. The deflated tires smoking and sparking as the metal wheels skidded against the road, the driver attempting to peel out.

“—den!”

More gunfire. The metal wheels screeching. The whir of a small but powerful engine getting closer—

“EDEN!!”

A piercing shock ran through Eden’s body. Her head whipped toward the person screeching her name.

A young woman on the ground. Her face terrified. Streams of tears running down her cheeks, leaving a clear trail.

Marsha.

It was Marsha. She was crying, and bleeding, and reaching for… for Eden.

Unthinking, Eden bolted toward her, her arms out and ready.

She all but slammed her knee into the ground to grab Marsha. She yowled, as her skin ripped against the pavement and a sharp pain cleaved through her kneecap. The violent sensation raced up and down her leg, making the whole thing rattle – but it didn’t stop her from swooping Marsha into the air just as violently.

Her wild mind spun around dizzy memories of small hogs, misshapen bales of hay, huge sacks of flour… Marsha would’ve been easy to carry in comparison, but cracks in Eden’s kneecap seemed to spread wider and deeper with each step. The air burned around her knee as something wet gushed down her leg. Eden gritted her teeth, her tears nearly blinding her as she hurried for the row of cars parked along the street.

Tires skid harshly across the pavement, coming to a shrieking halt right behind her. The men’s screaming amplified to the sound of glass smashing and metal breaking. Eden almost screamed too, her heart beating in her throat and roaring in her ears.

As soon as she rounded a car, her leg finally gave out. She collapsed — both she and Marsha letting out pained gasps as they hit the ground.

Wincing, struggling to breathe, Eden dragged her leg closer and maneuvered Marsha onto her back. Her knee burned. It ached. Still, her blurry eyes and trembling hands flew aimlessly over Marsha.

Pressure. They needed to apply pressure. Eden’s hands jerked and pressed down against the coat still covering Marsha’s wound.

She heard herself muttering, stumbling over her words as she told Marsha why it was important to keep her level, why they had to keep pressure on the wound, telling her they were okay, promising everything would be okay.

Marsha was still crying. Choking down gasps of breath. Her big brown eyes flickered over Eden’s shoulder. Her mouth dropped.

“Are you two—?”

Eden launched her elbow towards the voice, shrieking as she did.

The stranger blocked it easily, swearing. She went for the throat.

“Hey!” He grabbed her hands. “Calm down!”

She thrashed and glared at the man before coming to an abrupt halt. “The… The yellow Pow-Pow Ranger?”

Even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t quite right. The TV character’s costume was an equal mix of yellow and white, but this man wore yellow and black. The only white at all in his uniform was some symbol spread across his chest. But at first glance, his costume looked close enough to the TV character’s that it made Eden’s racing mind stop and short-circuit.

The yellow and black helmet he wore didn’t cover the lower part of his face, so Eden could actually see his mouth go from a half-grimace to something closer to a pout.

“I am not the Yellow Pow-Pow Ranger.” 

It sounded like he’d gotten the comparison before …and like he was young. But that was all she could come up with in her state. 

She blinked at him. “Oh.”

A moment ago, her thoughts had been moving too fast to make sense of things. Now, they were slower than molasses, and she still couldn’t make sense of things.

The stabbing ache in her knee jabbed its way to the forefront of her mind. The pain was less intense than before, the mending already underway. But despite how quickly her body was healing this time, she could still feel the throbbing of the cracked bone and the sting of cool air on torn-open skin.

“Right,” she said blinking through the conflicting sensations. “Sorry, hon. I just— You do sorta look like—” She glanced down at his costume, at the white on his chest. It looked sort of... familiar. It took a moment for her brain to recognize it, then—

“Oh!”

A bat!

“There’s a hostage situation going on inside!” she said pulling her hands from his grasp and pointing toward the bank. “All the robbers are out, but I’m pretty sure there’s a bomb keeping the rest of the—”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” the boy said raising a hand. “I’ve already been briefed on the situation.”

“Alright, good. But listen, hon, there’s people inside that van and they’re—”

“Ma’am, it’s alright,” he soothed, moving his hands in a calming gesture. “We know about the hostages there, too.” He moved to help Marsha put more pressure on her wound, who was looking up at him like he was made of starlight. “We’ll get them out soon as Red Hood finishes restraining the—”

“Hood?!”

Eden shot up like a rocket. Her healing knee let out an audible CRACK! at the sudden movement. She hissed, stumbling against the car to stay upright.

Across the road, the van's driver door hung loosely on its hinges; its window shattered. There was a sleek black motorbike not far from their hiding spot. Long streak-marks from the tires stretched down the street by several yards. 

Red Hood was there, standing almost exactly where Eden had been cowering only a minute ago. The red symbol on his jacket stretched across the broadest part of his back like an unbreakable shield.

She took a soft breath at the sight, her heart picking up speed.

All three of the men were on the ground before him. Two of them – the driver and the man in the trench coat – were groaning, all black and blue. The third – the sentry – was trying to crawl away, inching toward one of the rifles left in the street.

Red Hood followed him, his pace slow and deliberate. Gun in one hand, he towered over the man like an expert hunter readying for the kill.

When the sentry turned to look up at him, Eden saw his eyes. Once burning and eager to take her life, the man’s eyes were now watery and wide with the fear of losing his own. His bloodied, mangled arm hovered in the air as he blubbered for mercy.

A twisted part of her was glad to see it.

“Hey, calm down!” Not-Yellow-Pow-Pow-Ranger yanked her back into hiding with one hand, making her yelp. “I know he’s a little scary, but Red Hood’s a good guy right now — promise!”

Frowning, she smacked his hand away. “I know that!”

The boy’s lips opened then pursed slightly like maybe she’d confused him. Or upset him? It was hard to tell without the rest of his face showing.

“Hon, listen. Those hostages—”

“Signal.”

“—huh?”

“My name’s Signal,” he said.

“Signal?” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him right. “…That’s your hero name?”

He left out a half-offended scoff. “Damn, okay.”

“Oh, sorry! I’m sorry, hon, I shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I just—” Eden stopped, shook her head wildly, then grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Signal, LISTEN! Those people in the van are not hostages! Not all of them, at least. More than half of them were in on it — the guy in the maintenance uniform for sure!”

Signal’s demeanor changed instantly, and she let go as his shoulders broadened. “You’re sure about that?” He sounded older, more serious.

“Yes. A hundred percent. So could you please tell Hood— uh, Red Hood so he doesn’t end up caught in some trap he doesn’t need to get caught in? I don’t—” The sudden thought made Eden’s heart race. She swallowed dryly. “I don’t want him getting hurt.”

Signal stared at her a moment, his jaw going lax. Then he shook his head and leaned a fraction closer. “Sorry, what?” He sounded young again, like he didn’t understand what she was saying.

Eden bristled. “I said, I don’t want him to get hurt!”

He nodded quickly, mostly to himself. “Yuh-huh, that’s what I thought you said.” He turned his head to look directly at the car beside them, glanced back at her, then the car door again.

She furrowed her brows and glanced at the car too. What in the world was he looking at? The shoddy paint job??

“Signal,” she snapped. He jumped slightly, fully returning his attention to Eden. “Are you gonna help Red Hood or not?”

“Right!” He immediately cleared his throat. “Right,” he said in his more mature voice. “Of course, ma’am. Don’t worry.”

He shifted, looking down at Marsha whose eyes were now drooping as she looked up at him. He was still pressing Eden’s coat onto her gunshot wound.

He opened his mouth, probably to tell Eden to take over, but stopped as she immediately and wordlessly did just that. Warry of Marsha’s drowsiness, she also grabbed her hand and squeezed tight.

Signal stared at her for half a moment, but when Eden looked at him with a lifted brow he jumped to his feet.

“Just keep that up. Paramedics should be here soon.”

Then, just like that, he bolted around the car, calling out to Red Hood. His words were harder to make out, but she could catch snippets of what she’d told him. There was a familiar, almost robotic sound that could only be Hood’s voice scrambler that replied. Eden let out a small sigh of relief.

There was quiet, followed by the sound of the van doors opening. Then what might’ve been Red Hood speaking and some muffled talking. Then a whole slew of noises Eden couldn’t quite follow. Then sudden, rapid gunfire.

Eden shrieked, throwing herself over Marsha, hiding as much of her as she could from any more stray bullets.

Silence.

Eden popped up, breathing heavy as she got to her knees and attempted to peek through the car windows. She had to see what was happening. She had to see what was happening. She needed to know if Red Hood— needed to see— needed to help him if he—

“Eden?” Marsha called in a whisper, snatching her attention.

The girl’s dark eyes kept fluttering, struggling to stay open. Even so, Eden could see the uncertainty in them, the fear.

“It… It’s alright.” She took a deep, shaky breath, squeezing Marsha’s hand tighter. “You’re going to be okay,” she promised, still feeling no tug, no blooming pain in her own abdomen. “You’re safe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Marsha’s eyes moved back and forth lazily, trying to focus on Eden’s. “Thank you…” she breathed.

Eden started to frown – it was her fault this had happened; she was just taking responsibility for her actions – but covered it with a gentle smile. She could correct Marsha later, once things finally calmed down.

There were sirens now, rapidly approaching from all sides. She heard a motorcycle roar to life on the other side of the car, and lifted herself until she could just peek through the windows.

Red Hood was sat on the black motorbike, watching Signal race into the bank. He looked down at the bike, then shifted his gaze in Eden’s direction. She could tell the exact moment he’d spotted her, his body perking up as his helmet turned toward her fully. It made her smile.

She gave him a small, grateful nod, trying to tell him they were okay.

He stared at her, then glanced behind as red and blue lights appeared down the street. After one more quick look, he revved his bike and took off.

Eden’s smile grew. She sent it down to Marsha, who was barely keeping her eyes open. She squeezed her hand again.

“You’re going to be okay,” she cooed as she started to drift off. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

.

.

.

“Ma’am, another ambulance on its way,” the cop repeated. His glare seemed to grow deeper each time he spoke. “Just wait a few—”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Eden shot back, her accent getting thicker as they continued to argue back and forth. She readied to shove her way past him. “I need to be with my cousin! Wherever she’s goin’, I’m goin’!”

The cop tried to stop her, but Eden grabbed his forearm and bicep, put her foot where her mama taught her, and propelled herself forward. He stumbled from the momentum, allowing Eden to awkwardly swing around him. She fumbled her footing and fell ass-first into the ambulance. Pain shot up her tailbone, but at least she was in the damn thing.

Quick as she could, she grabbed the rail beside the small bench on the wall and hoisted herself into the seat beside one of the paramedics. In the same moment, the cop righted himself and turned toward her with his hand on his holster.

She gave him her best glare. “She’s my cousin,” she said again, warning him this time.

Usually, when Eden called someone a cousin, what she was really saying was, “This person’s part of Paradise Farms; you mess with them, you’re messing with Louanne Smith.” That was usually enough to keep most folks from giving them any trouble. But this time, she didn’t have her mama to hide behind. So what she was saying instead was, “This person’s well-being is my responsibility; if you don’t knock it off, I might do something stupid.”

The cop seemed to pick up on this, his glare getting even angrier. His hand twitched above his gun.

Eden’s grip on the rail tightened reflexively. She’d had enough guns and cops for a lifetime.

“Alright, lady—"

“It’s fine, Dan,” the older parametric snapped. “We don’t have time to waste on this crap. This woman needs help, now.”

The cop, Dan, shifted his gaze to the man, then to Marsha. When he set his stare back on Eden, she jutted her chin in defiance. He glared and turned to the paramedics.

“Don’t be afraid to sedate this one. Some time in the psych ward might do her some fuckin’ good.”

Eden held her tongue. She did her best to aim her glare to the floor as the cop finally shut the back doors. She sighed, some of the tension easing out of her.

“Thank you,” she said to the parametric as the siren began to wail and the ambulance started to move.

He didn’t respond but sent her a fleeting glance to show he’d heard her.

Careful not to get in their way, Eden reached out and took Marsha’s hand again. She hadn’t stopped holding it until that jerk cop had tried to pull her away.

 But she had to stay with Marsha. Just in case she took a sudden nosedive and Eden needed to trade with her. Taking on someone else’s death wasn’t fun – when was dying ever fun? –, but it was the closest her powers ever came to “healing” others, so it was better than nothing.

Several long minutes of holding Marsha’s hand and nothing continued to happen. Even after all this time. Even after losing consciousness. Still nothing.

Eden let out a sigh of relief, earning an odd look from the paramedics. She smiled at them, feeling more sure than ever that Marsha was going to be okay.

The two frowned at each other. The younger paramedic shook her head subtly at the man, and they quickly went back to work. They probably thought Eden was crazy, or maybe in denial. But it was true. Despite everything, Marsha wasn’t dying. And that meant she’d be okay.

Eden took a deep, deep breath. Her lungs seemed to expand. Her bones settled as her muscles relaxed.

Her mind went back to Signal and Red Hood. Aside from that glimpse of Red Hood as the cops arrived, she hadn’t seen him. Nor had she seen any sign of Signal after he ran into the bank.

She hoped they were still okay. She hoped they’d been able to get away without any trouble. Some old piece of Frank’s “training” rang out in her mind, reminding her that cops were usually only ever happy to see heroes if they’d done something extraordinary. Halting a bank robbery, for all it was worth, was not extraordinary. Especially not in Gotham City.

That made her think about Aaron… He’d been eager to help before, but how had he actually faired on his own? Was the old lady alright? Was he? What if he’d been hit by a stray bullet too?

She sighed. It was wrong of her to dump the safety of all those people on him like that. She didn’t have much choice after seeing Marsha facedown in the street, but still. The thought of anything happening to him or any of those people made her insides tense all over again.

She picked her coat up off the floor to grab her phone. The paramedics had tossed it aside as soon as they had the tools to properly care for Marsha’s wound. Pulling it onto her lap, Eden frowned at how much heavier it was than usual.

She’d bought it not long after Red Hood had “saved” her life — the night he’d given her those awful stitches. Very purposefully, she’d sought out a coat in a warm, rich shade of black. She’d been hoping the color wouldn’t show a lot of blood whenever she got hurt again. No sense in buying a new one every time she bled out, after all.

Looking it over now, the search definitely paid off. Despite having pressed it against Marsha for so long, Eden couldn’t spot any blood on her coat. Only when she looked closely could she see signs of it at all. And even then, she wasn’t totally sure.

Curious, she tested the fabric with a soft squeeze— then gasped. Blood poured out, running through her fingers and down her arm like rainwater.

[nvrcmplt]

CARETAKER Model ::

Surface level - it's what it says on the tin. They are a family friendly and child-friendly model that's made with the intentions to help in households. They are created to aid mothers and fathers of first time parenting. Likewise, they tend to the house, washing, cleaning, laundry, garden work around the clock, whilst the parents can get on with working hard and looking after their children.

They are models made for the elderly, to tend to their medication, daily routines, medical needs and even companions until death.

For the youths, they are guardians on the streets, sometimes just another playmate until they find their own and have no longer need for their Dolls.

These were the first series of Dolls under Frederick's creation. Beings formed to match the ages needed for those that bought them. Maybe units were sold, and many faces were created - however - with this growth, his attention moved to another part of a world that was darker, more sinister and of course - happier to pay more.

CARETAKERs ver. 220348 ::

Under the good - beings that hold no information nor voices to tattle. They are beings that move when asked to clean up crime scenes, using their lack of fingerprints or trackable genetics to rid of drugs, corpses and/or carry explosives.

Under the guise of intense work-outs, they are trained with weaponry. Martial arts and more to tone their muscle masses to the correct formation. Classes taught on how to deceive and how to blend in with humanity.

ICARUS was part of this, his brain holds all this information still at current - however, his body is lacking the growth he had it go through during these times. This does mean, it isn't impossible for him to return to his darker, private nature when times call for it.

Having been the first doll to go through the trails and experimentations of what a Doll can do for their owners, ICARUS holds a vast amount of data for Frederick to use for newer models. Thus, when ICARUS asked to be decommissioned for a while, his brain was preserved in a ballistic safe in his deepest vaults.

Yomi later found this vault and took two years to open it to discover Icarus' beginning and end. It was the trigger for him to start again, to look for others he remembered before his time away and most of all; contact Sailor.

[manonamora-if-reviews]

Sweetpea by Sophia de Augustine

============= Links

Play the game See other reviews of the game See other games by Sophia

============= Synopsis

Someone claiming to be your father is trying to break in. Following the eponymous Sweetpea is: a mosaic faced guardian angel, something wearing her father’s guise, and the detritus of life in their gently crumbling mansion.

============= Other Info

Sweetpea is a Twine (Harlowe) game, submitted to the 2022 Edition of the SpringThing. It is the first game of this author.

Status: Completed Genre: Horror

CW: Unhealthy family dynamics, Unreality, Ecclesiastical content, Body-horror, Injuries, Violence, Alcoholism, Home Invasion Note: there is also animated text.

============= Playthrough

First Played: during the SpringThing 2022 Last Played: 21-May-23 Playtime: around 40min (one run) Rating: 4/5 Thoughts: A chilling and confusing snippet of life told through the eyes of a small child dealing with struggling parental figures, in a gothic style.

============= Review

The game follows Sweetpea (name unknown), a young girl home alone, as she is woken up by her father's texts asking her to let him inside the house. Which would not be an issue if she hadn't seen him in his office not long before...

Spoilers ahead. It is recommended to play the game first. The review is based on my understanding/reading of the story.

The game starts with the game's illustration of the eponymous Sweetpea, whose big eyes and scared demeanor grabs you and pulls you (into the darkness).

Pressing start will move the player to a makeshift phone, where Sweetpea exchanges messages with her supposedly father, who hounds her to let him inside the house. [I liked the timed appearance of the messages, and the slight wonky-ness of the its look added to the unsettling feeling]

Continues a series of choices where Sweetpea goes on to explore the house, recollecting past events and feelings while she examines bits of rooms or objects. Parts of the text is animated or transformed to add onto the strange and horror-y setting. There is multiple mention of a Micheal, which comes back later in the story [and whose description reminded me of the Archangel Micheal? <- not well versed in this, so could be me missing the point.] Still, you are often reminded that there is someone at the door, struggling to get inside. [The vivid description of the unusually lit rooms, the creaking sounds around, or the comforting taste of sweets or touch of a sweater, or the pain of the icy window, creates an intense imagery, enthralling any reader from looking away.]

Finally, Sweetpea decides it would be best to go take a nap instead of opening the door to some stranger who kind of looks like her dad, but also not really. She is still woken up by said father figure, a nightmarish apparition which frightens her, even if some part are strangely familiar. She is forcefully tucked in, before (or after?) witnessing blood on the floor and the not-dad-maybe-dad feeling sick in the bathroom. [I didn't catch this the first time I played the game, but it is heavily implied the father is an alcoholic following the mother's departure (death?), behaving strangely in her eyes when drunk. The horror of every day life...]

[The next part confused me quite a bit at first, not because of the change of background marking a new beginning in the story, but by the shift in the story going from a grim reality told through the eyes of a child, to being swooped by some sort of guardian angel in some imaginary place and being served breakfast. Then afterwards, the context of alcoholism with the father kind of makes it as if the dad was sobered up then, caring for his child.]

A confrontation between the Guardian Angel and the Father-Not-Father ensues, where we can read snippets from the guilt of the father over his behaviour and lack of care towards his child since the passing (death?) of the mother/focusing more/too much on his work, as well as knowing Sweepea, the child that she is, notices the changes in behaviour and the important trinkets tucked away.

Still, the game ends on a positive note [and the visual shows it, moving from dark colours to a bring pink], where things turn around for Sweetpea, announcing the turn of a new leaf for her, with brightness and happiness [following the dad's recovery/promise to do better?].

After reading the author's Post Mortem:

HA! I was right on the Micheal thing.

Also Micheal and dad are not the same person, apparently...

The fact that there was no set plot before the story was written strangely adds onto the uneasiness of the game, and works to better show how the mind of a child goes from one thing to another. Also, insane.

The path where Sweetpea does open the door instead of taking a nap was cut for time, and while it would have been interesting to get a more "obvious" hint at the father's strange behaviour, it does work in the game's favour of the child's portrayal (more likely to back down when scared, also it's the middle of the night).

A few random notes:

Sweetpea can/will visit the study twice; during the second visit, the game will not acknowledge the first (this is minor, and due to the construction of the game, done without variables, which is impressive in an of itself.

The choice of colors, while delightful and creepy, made it sometimes hard to read (the white on pink at the end) or to find links (the light pink being very close to the text colour), similarly with the textured words (animation/custom). But from a style/story perspective, since we are in the mind of a child (for the most part), this fits with how Sweetpea would be feeling (the uneasiness/hopelessness/happiness).

The description of the child being left alone for days on end just broke my heart...

The gothic style shines through the text, and makes the horror not just more vivid, but more visceral to feel. Chills going down the spine at every turn.

[athelise]

Can you please give us a refresher on the lore regarding Itachi’s former partners (pets?)? I remember he killed Kurenai but I forgot other things about her and his other past partner/s (Lol goldfish memory I’m sorry). I think his past is so interesting!They were all older than him too right? Mommy issues king LOL

Hi! Sure, of course. Don't feel bad for forgetting some stuff, I drop tidbits here and there, but we're closing in on 50 chapters soon and his background kinda falls between the cracks to the shit he's doing now.

So, waaaay back before Itachi was even an adult himself he tended to 'gravitate' towards more mature women (but really, they picked him in order to fulfill their own fantasies), at the parties hosted by his father and his associates. He learned a great deal about the female body and desire; Sakura owes a lot of her Big Os with Itachi to these particular predators.

He never kept to one partner for long, and when he was 17 met Kisame and they got on like a house on fire, and they proceeded to run through just about every able-bodied person they could.

I'm not sure if Kisame and Itachi were ever intimate without at least a 3rd. I don't get those vibes from them.

Now! His first 'real' girlfriend was Anko Mitarashi, and he got together with her when he was 18 and she in her mid 20's. Kinky, vivacious, and curvaceous, she was an excellent scene partner and a fun distraction. They were together for maybe 6 months before Itachi got bored of her party girl shtick, and that she didn't vibe well with Kisame didn't sit right with him, and they separated on cold, but not horrible, terms.

She, of course, was never mentioned to Itachi's mother, and this was the first partner Itachi ever shared with his father while Anko was blindfolded.

Itachi saw a few women here and there and even dabbled with men as partners but grew restless between work and school, and occasionally shared some with his father, again while blindfolded.

he turns 19 and in come Kurenai Yuhi, age 32. Her sophistication and intelligence was matched only by her sexual appetites...and ambition. Itachi wanted a break from one-night stands but wasn't interested in being in a relationship and told her so. They dated for about 9 months.

Kurenai did everything she could in order to entice Itachi into a relationship, including showing up to his apartment and cleaning and cooking, and increasingly violated his boundaries, such as getting herself involved in functions adjacent to Itachi's job at ANBU. We also know she attempted to get herself pregnant with his child. I haven't revealed everything she's done, but needless to say she pissed off the wrong Uchiha.

Itachi, soon after Kurenai tried to intercept his mother and introduce herself as his girlfriend, murdered her in her own apartment and staging it as a home invasion. He absorbed as much of her resources as he could and paid off the present party that assisted him in the murder, plunder, and cleanup, and proceeded to lay low on the dating scene under the guise of 'mourning' his last known lover in the party scene.

Itachi had seen sex workers here and there through the last two year to keep his skills sharp, but saw no one beyond a one night stand...

Until the night of Sasuke's 16th birthday party.

[sentofight]

"Happy birthday", and thus a small, white box is handed to him. There's no bow nor any wrapping, only his name neatly written in the middle and a small and simple smiling cat next to it. Akira regrets it, somewhat, because opening a present was a joy in itself, but they had finally opted for just giving the box as it was, careful not to step on any toes, be it King's or the Akademeia's. Inside is an assortment of cookies of varying sizes and flavors, chosen from markets here and there. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, but I hope there's something you find tasty in there", they continue to explain, having made sure there'd be enough for both him and his friends if he so desire, and if not, to last a little while as a comforting snack. (makes stuff up like my life depends on it

the only birthday wish lmao thanks | @flovverworks​

When Class Zero came into the magic Academy, it was no secret that they had admirers left and right but eventually, they had more haters than fans in the recent days. It was honestly, business as usual. Since they were in the laboratory, they were under the constant scrutinizing looks from others. Little who seemed to be genuinely interested in them as ...well, humans. There were times which it was confusing to the gunman how come they are treated like this but then again would simply trust in the process and in ... Mother. Her words are always right. There is no need to doubt what she says especially when after everything said and done, they are special kids. 

They are not controlled by the Crystal.

Their fates are ... in their hands ... (?)

Maybe.

Either way, whether they gained new allies or not in this institution, it didn’t affect their game plan. It was them, only the twelve of them from the beginning and they will only need each other in the end. 

So, for a day like his birthday, King did not expect anything at all. Especially, him out of the class, he was not really that ... popular. Not that he was looking to be popular to be honest. The less attention on him, the better. Not sure why this mentality is stuck with him more than the others in his class, but he really prefers to have low profile whenever they are. 

That’s why when he got this out of the blue gift and from another guy, it made something internally suspect a foul play. Rule number one, never show your true emotions.  

King was not very familiar with this ..Akira person. Seems like he started to hit with some of his siblings but he’s not sure about the other. Perhaps he ought to make some research on him. 

Taking the box from the other, he does not open it up but simply examine the corners and the sides of the box in a quick scan motion to not alert the young man. Little could he know that it could be poisoned. Unlikely the case but it never harms to be careful. 

“You didn’t have to,” his voice was flat out, deprived of any real and tangible ‘human’ feelings. He meant it to be like that, might the other catch on how unnecessary that was. King knew their movements are being watched so simply tossing it back to Akira would raise question marks at him. He will dispose of this when no one is looking but for now, he might as well as act ...’friendly’ as possible. 

A gentle shake of the box could give him the idea of some sort of confetti in the box and by Akira’s words, they are plenty for him and the other zeroes. Possible mass attack on the whole class in the guise of ‘snacks’? Could be.

In all his seriousness to decipher what kind of attack this is on him and his siblings, his veteran senses did not pick any kind of malice from the other. Usually, whenever he passed by some of the cadets, the malice and hatred reek like a foul odor in the air. He could sense it in his bones but Akira ...

 ....

 ....

What is he?  

The only thing he could actually get from his talk and body language is ... peace. 

Peace?

Even Cinque who others might see her as an airhead has a dangerous aura to her. But for Akira here it’s.... it’s like almost it does not exists. How can a guy like him be in Akademeia? How did he survive this long with that kind of attitude? This place really is testing his ability to discern who is hiding his true self, isn’t it?

He recalls something Mother had told him once ... something about how humans are strange creatures; you think you understood them, you get surprised by these ‘extraordinary’ types. 

Maybe he is ... analyzing too much into his motives of giving him a gift, yes? Maybe Akira is just a nice guy like he is posing to be. There is no catch in here. Maybe, or maybe not.

“Thanks,” he said before he turned around to walk away from the other. Once he was in a hidden corner, he opened the box to see the cookies. Well, damn they are cookies indeed. How to check if they are good or not ...

“Hey, Cinque,” as he pushed the door to their classroom. “Try this out.” if something happens to her then they will know these cookies are dangerous. Cruel? Not really. It is a strategic planning. Cinque’s body is the strongest out of them so if it was poisoned, she still has a chance to fight it until they can administer some antidot unlike most of them.