#i just love seemingly perfect characters who seem so sweet being exactly!!! not that!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taleasnewastime · 3 years ago

Text

Growing pains

Summary: Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; mafia au; fluff; angst

Word count: 15.6k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, Jimin uses the nickname Princess, there’s a ‘minor’ character death, blood, feelings of shock, misogyny, the story flicks between ages, there’s a five year age gap, I guess just lots of things you’d imagine from a gang/mafia fic but overall it’s also not that dark.

Authors Note: I know, I know, another gang fic, I just can’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this one :)

Masterlist | Next

You can’t remember when you first met Park Jimin, can’t remember what the situation was or what your first feelings towards him were. He’s always been in your life. A constant figure. Your brothers best friend and confident.

For as long as you’ve lived and been conscious of the world, you’ve been in love with Jimin.

Maybe your feelings grew slowly, or maybe it was like a switch, one day waking up and realising that you like him a little more than the brother like figure he was supposed to be. You’re not sure, because whichever it was, it was so long ago that you’ve long forgotten. All you have ever known is the increase in heart rate when he’s near you, the flush of heat to your skin, the way your thoughts go haywire, and you don’t act quite right. It’s all you’ve ever known around him. Or at least all you can remember.

At the start maybe it was nerves, this dominant figure in your life, someone everyone around you feared, even despite his young age. But as you grew and got to know him, you realised he couldn’t hurt a fly. Well, he definitely could, in fact you know he had killed men before, but you at least knew he would never hurt you. And that brought on a whole other swath of problems.

Your brother’s best friend. Someone high up in the gang. Someone who kills people and does hideous acts calling it his job.

He should be written off. He is written off. Someone you can never be with, who can never love you back. But your heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. Still, your head has, which is exactly why you’ve never acted on your feelings, never told anyone, hidden them away as best you can.

If only he was like one of the other idiots in the gang, or truly was like your brother, then it would be easy to dismiss him. But no. He has to be sweet and caring and thoughtful, someone that actually listens to what you have to say and not dismissive because you’re young and a girl. You’ve seen him when he’s not in a good mood, when he’s been ordering people around, can see why he got into the position he did so young, and yet he’s never like that around you, never shouts or threatens or looms over you with his power.

And to top it all off he’s hot as hell. It was something that came with age, puberty hitting the same time Jimin’s looks became more obvious. You’d seen the way other girls had looked at him but not thought much about it, but then one day you saw it and your feelings only intensified.

Not only is he kind and generous and caring, but he’s also lean while being well built. He’s got a face like an angel, hair always seemingly perfectly styled. One of the only things not perfect about him is his slightly crooked tooth, but even that looks perfect when he directs his beaming smile at you, eyes always crinkling at the edges.

He’s perfect.

And he’ll never be yours.

Aged 8

There’s blood oozing from your knee onto your now ripped jeans. It stings, and though a few tears well in your eyes you manage to keep them at bay. It makes you look weak to cry, people like you shouldn’t cry and should never be seen crying. At least that’s what your dad has always taught you. And sat on the ground of the public playground, you’re not about to test out the theory and what your dad will do if he finds out you’ve shown weakness. You may not be heir or have any involvement in the gang, but you’re associated, are his child, and therefore your actions reflect on him.

You take a shaky breath and try to push yourself to your feet. Try being the optimal word because as soon as you put your hands on the ground you wince and remove them. You’d forgotten, or at least not thought about the scrapes that are on your palms from trying to break your fall.

Now tears truly do well in your eyes, a sniffle sounding out as you take in a breath. You’re trying to be brave, but your knee hurts and your jeans are ruined and you’re in the middle of the park with grit in your palms. It’s hard to keep the tears in.

You’re about to try standing again, more determined this time to stand up and get as far from here and anyone who can see you crying as possible, when a voice sounds out above you.

“What you doing down there Princess?”

Even if he hadn’t used your nickname you would have known it was Jimin without looking up. You’re kind of surprised you didn’t sense him approaching, you normally can. You sniffle again, trying to hide your emotions even though Jimin can’t see your face. But you give yourself away. Whether he heard the noise or noticed your cut, you’re not sure.

“Hey, that looks like a nasty cut.”

You’d have thought he’d tell you off, shout at you or tell you to not be so emotional. But his voice is soft, the tone supposed to help comfort you and yet it only brings more tears to your eyes. You can see him kneeling down in front of you, coming down to your level and you find yourself naturally being drawn to look at him.

He’s only five years older than you and yet he feels like an adult helping you out. His touch is gentle as his fingers come to touch the area around your cut. You flinch, not because it hurts but because it’s Jimin touching you, however he must assume the former is true, drawing away quickly.

“Shall we get you home?”

You feel your lips forming a pout, unable to trust your words you only nod at him. Though small, the gesture draws out a beaming smile from the boy, as if he’s never seen anything better than you wanting to go home.

He stands to his full height in front of you before offering you his hands. You hesitate but put your hands in his, try to hide your wince as he tugs you to your feet and then again when you put weight on your leg, pain shooting to your bad knee.

His hands don’t leave yours, instead he turns them so they’re palm up, his fingers lightly brushing away the grit he finds there. It causes another sniffle to leave you and the noise only makes Jimin chuckle.

“I think you’ll survive. We won’t have to cut it off.”

You know he’s joking, but with all the worry currently coursing through you, you can’t help but look up at him wide eyed. He only chuckles again, dropping your hands in favour of pulling you into his side.

He takes you home, takes you the back way so that less people see you. He cleans you up, tells you not to worry about your torn jeans, that he’ll sort it out. He takes you under his wing and protects you from the family that should be taking care of you like he currently is but are too busy and would only shout at you if they found out. He’s only a child himself, but he still gives you more than any adult has.

Aged 13

The air is cold, your breath coming out in small clouds. You take another forkful of cake, swinging your legs in joy as the sweetness hits your tongue.

You love it up here, love that you can see as far as the cathedral, the higgledy-piggledy streets. Some people would call it grimy, the streets dusted in dirt, black smoke rising from distant factories. But to you it’s prefect. That and this spot means you are hidden away with your stolen slice of cake.

A hum to the tune of a song you recently heard on the radio escapes your lips, legs still swinging into the open air, bites of cake entering your mouth. You love your house, love that it’s always busy with people coming and going, love the strange layout of your home. But this is where you’re happiest. On the roof, feet dangling into open air, looking out at the city.

“Do the kitchens know you steal their cake?”

You jump, ass lifting off the ground, legs banging into the wall making you inch closer to the edge. Your fork clatters to the ground as your hands focus on clutching the tiles in favour of staying on the roof instead of falling the several flights to the ground.

There’s a light chuckle as if the person doesn’t care if you fall or not, but just as quickly a hand grasps your shoulder, tight to keep you from moving.

“Careful. You’d make quite the mess if you were to fall and I don’t want to be responsible for informing your father.”

You shrug the hand off your shoulder as you shuffle backwards, more because the touch burns your skin than because don’t gain comfort from it. A body plops down next to you and you suddenly don’t feel the cold at all.

“You’d have been the one who caused it,” you mumble the words, unable to speak properly around Jimin. Your crush is starting to develop and form into stronger feelings. Hormones and puberty starting to transform your body and how you see the world and therefore how you see Jimin.

“You need to get better at watching your back.”

“In case you jump up on me again?”

You turn your head a little in his direction so that you can see him out the corner of your eye. You’re met with his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, his hair wafting lightly in the breeze, his eyes glistening in the sun. Your heart pounds, threatening to escape your chest at the sight, so you snap your head back in the direction of the city.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he says it with a smile but the words have the opposite effect on you.

“You’re not much older,” you say, turning to look at him more face on now, hoping you’ll see some reaction in his face that will give you hope.

You find nothing. He only turns to look at you with a glint in his eye as if the whole thing is a big joke to him. Even if it’s not the response you were hoping for, at least you’re getting to see that beaming smile directed straight at you.

“I think they class me as an adult now.”

“As of what, a week?”

He chuckles, his eyes squinting so that you lose sight of his pupils altogether. It’s devastating, it makes your heart do some weird flip flop thing and yet you can’t look away. It’s rare to see him like this. Jimin is generally a happy and jokey person, but given where you live, what your family do, he also has to be so deadly serious a lot of the time. Especially more recently, his role in the gang only growing in responsibility now he’s older. You have to drink in moments like this as much as you can, unsure when you’ll ever experience them again.

“Still 18 though, legally an adult,” he smirks at you, knowing he’s won whatever debate you’re currently having.

“Has that stopped you doing anything before now though?”

He smirks at you, his eyes glinting for a wholly different reason. “I think you may be too young for those sorts of tales.”

You glare at him before turning away, glaring out at the city instead. You hate when he does this, calls out the five-year age gap between you. Sure, it’s big at this age, but it won’t be forever. You hate when people point out your age like it’s a weakness too, like you’ll never be old enough, you’ll always be young and dumb and naïve.

The silence drags out. Jimin fully aware that you’re annoyed by the comment but doesn’t see the need to apologise, it probably only emphasises the fact you’re young to him. And you not having anything to say. If he was your brother, Yoongi, you’d have made a snapping comment, have pointed out some flaw in him to try and get back on a level playing field. But you never do that with Jimin, would rather stay silent then upset him.

“What flavour cake is it?”

You look from him down to the cake. It’s clearly chocolate, but you still take the attempt to change topic and get back onto lighter topics of conversation.

“Triple chocolate.”

“It’s true then?” He pauses long enough to catch your confused look before continuing. “You really are chef’s favourite.”

“She made you a whole cake for your birthday,” you shoot back as if defending yourself.

“But she never treats me to things like this when it’s not my birthday.”

You shrug. “I’m obviously more likeable.”

He huffs a laugh. “Now I know that’s true.”

You swing your legs out in front of you, trying to bite down on the smile that comes to your lips. You’re not more likeable, even though you’re the daughter of the boss it’s like you’re invisible in this house. Not important enough or useful enough to care about. You stole the piece of cake when no one was looking, you know you won’t get told off for it because no one will find out it was you, they never do.

You know Jimin knows all of this too. He knows that while he’s parading around with the big names, making a name for himself, you’re almost always doing this; sat alone. And though it’s only a small comment, a lie, it still lodges in your heart. The way Jimin says it makes it sound like it’s almost true. You hardly ever hear words of affirmation, aren’t part of a loving and encouraging family, so even words as simple as that are things to treasure.

“Come on then, give me a bite.”

You look at him, unable to hide the smile anymore.

“No, it’s mine, get your own.”

“Ah, come on, I thought you liked me more than that,” he whines as he leans towards you, hand reaching out for the cake.

You squeal, realising what his plan is quick enough to swipe the plate out of his reach.

“Jimin,” you giggle as he continues to chase after you and you continue to evade him.

“Just a little bite,” he says, smile clearly on his face.

He’s letting you win, he could easily overpower you, could easily get the cake if he wanted it. But he’s enjoying himself too much to stop it so easily. He hardly ever hears laughter, spending time with you takes him away from everything. Moments like this make him feel like he’s ordinary, like he hasn’t been swept into a life of crime.

A final giggle escapes you as his hand clutches the plate, pulling it towards him.

“Jimin,” you half giggle, half whine his name as you watch him take a bite far larger than you’d have hoped.

When he smiles at you his teeth are stained brown, pieces of cake stuck between his teeth. You make a noise of disgust and cover your eyes with a hand. You’re still smiling though.

“Park.”

His name is barked from far below you, the person clearly not knowing where Jimin is and hoping a loud cry will be enough. The noise effectively cuts through your easy atmosphere, like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you.

You drop your hand, smile no longer on your face as you look at Jimin. You can tell his smile is less genuine, that he’s forcing it for your sake. You want to ask him to stay, don’t want to be left alone. But you don’t say anything, know you can’t ask that of him.

“Conan,” Jimin says, giving you an exasperated look before springing to his feet with little effort.

He’s looming over you now, his shadow casting you into darkness as you look up at him.

“Park.” The voice is harsher, a final warning to get here now or bear the consequences.

But Jimin doesn’t rush off. Something that proves that even at this young age he holds power in the gang. Conan is as close to your dad as anyone can be, his word helping to sway the politics in the gang. Get on the wrong side of him and you risk being on the wrong side of the gang. And yet Jimin doesn’t rush off, because although most wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of Conan in fear of being on the wrong side of your dad, Jimin has enough sway in the gang to hold his own.

Jimin smiles down at you before he leans down and ruffles your hair through his fingers, something you’re not quick enough to dodge.

“Careful of the ledge Princess, I don’t want you falling.”

He turns to leave and you watch his every step, determined to see him until he disappears. He doesn’t look back but does twist his head enough to shout a final goodbye before he goes.

“And don’t forget to get me a slice of cake next time too.”

Next time. The words create a smile on your face that is hard to get rid of. Even as you finish your cake, even as you return to a flatter part of the roof to exercise and practice fighting moves you’ve seen the other boys taught, the smile remains. A promise and reminder that though the occasions are short and infrequent, you and Jimin will still have them.

Aged 15

You’re walking up the stairs, bag from school slung over your shoulder, feet stomping on each step they hit. The house is old, creaky, walls thin so you know, even though it’s large, that most people can hear you, but you don’t care, you almost want them to hear.

You hate school, don’t see why you need to go. You’re not going to learn anything useful there, at least nothing that you can’t just learn in other ways. But your dad is forcing you. He says that you need to go because it’s the law. You say when has that ever stopped him? He says that it’ll teach you things you can’t learn from him, maths, and science and art and social skills. You say you don’t need to know them, you’ll learn all the key life skills by living. He says that you need to make friends. You say you don’t want friends. And it’s around this point that he starts to slip out of his fatherly role and into his gang leader role. He starts to lower his tone, his eyes darken, his figure starts to loom over you. And you cower. Every time you cower and get complicate and agreeable and as soon as you agree and leave the room you hate yourself.

So that’s why you’re banging your way up the stairs because you hate school and if in turn you annoy as many people as possible maybe enough people will complain and then he’ll give in and give you what you want.

“Someone’s cranky.”

You flinch, merely the sound of his voice enough to get you to tense. Your feet stutter, your usual pace disrupted, only for a second before you carry on banging your way up the stairs. But you know only the slight disruption would have been picked up by Jimin.

“You didn’t have to stay in school till you were 18, you didn’t even have to stay till you were 15,” you grumble.

“21 isn’t it? Given the inevitable university and all.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice and though his attention would normally bring you joy, or at least make you second guess every sentence you say, this time you can only feel a twang of annoyance. Your brother never had to do this, he got to leave school early just like Jimin, he never had to go to university and you wonder whether it’s because you’re a girl or because you’re not next in line for leadership.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Wow, wow, wow,” the smile is still clear in his tone though you still can’t look at him. “When did you learn language like that? Maybe we should take you out of school after all, if they’re teaching you language like that.”

You’re getting closer to him. You know he’s stood at the top of the stairs even though you still haven’t looked at him.

You stop a few steps down from him; he’s blocking your path and you’re unable to push past him. With a breath that you hope he doesn’t think is you gathering your courage, you look up at him.

The smile is as wide as you imagined, his eyes squinting in that adorable way. His hair is swept off his face, smart shirt unbuttoned but still tucked into some tight trousers. He’s been doing something important today, a meeting with someone or something. You try to narrow your eyes at him to show annoyance, but his smile only seems to widen at the look; you obviously need to work on your intimidation technics, or at least how to intimidate Jimin as he never seems to cower from you.

“Maybe you and Yoongi should take more notice of how thin the walls are around here.”

He chuckles, a light twinkling noise that goes right through you. But you keep your flat, unamused face. If there is one thing you have mastered growing up in this household, it’s how to hide your feelings.

“I will warn your brother not to swear around you anymore,” he says and you don’t correct that it’s more him than Yoongi that swears. “So go on, what was so awful with school today?”

You don’t answer, just force yourself to keep eye contact with him. You know he’s trying to cheer you up or try and get you to see that going to school isn’t as bad as you’re making out. But you’re not in the mood right now. He knows why you hate school, that it’s not an individual thing but just the fact that you’re being forced to go when your brother never had to. Hell, Jimin never had to go and they seemed to turn out ok.

“Getting your qualifications will be good,” he continues when it’s clear you’re not going to speak.

“I don’t want GCSE’s or A-levels or any of that shit. I don’t need them.”

Another small laugh comes out of Jimin, this one more like a huff of air leaving him, but even though it’s small it’s enough to irk you into taking action. You don’t care if you have to touch him to get past him, don’t care that you’ll have to get close to him, that you might get a whiff of that scent that’s so wholly Jimin. You’re so annoyed right now that you want to be away from everyone, even Jimin.

“Fuck off Jimin.” You say the words through gritted teeth as you storm up the last few steps.

He doesn’t move or say anything to tell you off as you pound your way towards him. The only thing that changes is his smile, dipping off his face as you near him.

You angle your shoulder to jut into him, ready to put all your weight into it so you can get him out of your way. But it doesn’t go as planned. As you shove your shoulder into him, he doesn’t move, at least not enough to be out of your way. His hand encompasses your wrist holding you next to him.

You try to focus on your breathing as your front is pressed into his side. Try to look forward and not up at Jimin angling his head down so he can look at you.

“Careful Princess,” he whispers the words, the nickname he has long given you causing a shiver to run down your spin. “I don’t want to fall out with you.”

“You’re the one purposefully baiting me. You know I hate school, so why ask about it?”

Jimin lets out a small sigh, the air dancing around your neck as if to remind you just how close he is. You wonder if this is affecting him as much as it is you. You’d guess not but hope it does.

“You have a chance to get out,” he says, his tone lower so that the words can only be heard by you, no one else steal his words away so they can be used against him. “You can get out of this hell hole and make something of yourself.”

“I don’t want to get out, I don’t want to make –”

“Careful,” he cuts you off easily, his grip around your wrist tightening ever so slightly.

You turn your head a fraction so that you can meet his eyes. Your heart is pounding, and you can’t tell if it’s because of how close he is or because he holds such power over you. He shouldn’t be able to do this. You’re technically above him; you the daughter of the gang leader, him a mere follower. And yet he commands you so easily.

You’d want to stay here like this forever if it were for any other reason than this, if Jimin were holding you for any other reason than because he’s stopping you from moving.

But he doesn’t like you the way you like him. He will never like you like you like him. And that thought helps to harden your heart against him.

You grit your teeth and snatch your hand away from his.

“You don’t get any say in what I do or don’t do,” you snap.

“Luckily not,” the smile is returning to his face and it’s even more devastating now you’re stood so close. “That’s your father’s job. And he has decided that you should attend school.”

You snap your head to glare at him even as your heart pounds as you look at him. And just as quickly you turn away, this time he doesn’t stop you as you walk away.

“See you later Princess,” Jimin shouts in your direction, no doubt enjoying winding you up but only making your heart ache that bit harder.

He sees you as a sister, an annoying spoilt little girl who thinks that she can get whatever she wants. He’s making fun of you because he can, because he’s teasing you like a sibling. He’s your brother’s best friend, he’s supposed to be as close as family. Only, you have never viewed him the way you view Yoongi. You’ve never seen him as a brother.

Aged 16

You’re outnumbered yet you still throw the first punch. Your first landing squarely on the guys jaw, a cracking sound ringing out. Whether from his jaw or from your first you’re unsure.

You’re better at hiding your pain though. While you wince, shake your hand a little as if it will better rid the pain, stretch your neck and then refocus on something else, face flat the whole time. He shrieks, his hand immediately going to his jaw causing another whine of pain to escape him.

You watch the whole thing unsure whether to pity him or wish you’d hit him a little harder. You don’t even know his name. He goes to your school, is possibly a year or two above you, a sixth former dressed in his own clothes while you’re in your grey skirt and blazer. And yet he knows who you are given he purposefully sat near you with his friends only so they could laugh at the expense of your family.

He underestimated you though, most men do. They see a woman, even one attached so highly to a gang like yours, and they see weakness.

You listened biting your tongue for as long as you could, tried to ignore the taunts and jeers all told at your expense. They wanted a reaction, that’s why they were doing it and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of getting one. Don’t get involved. Don’t aggravate. Rise above it. It’s not worth it. All things that ran through your head numerous times, and all of them forgotten in the blink of an eye.

You stood up, took the few short stride to him and hit him squarely in the face.

You stand there for a few seconds watching the fall out, daring someone else to say something, to just ask for more violence. But you can see the fear in all of their eyes, even as the boy continues to shout profanities at you, you can see the fear rising in his eyes as he backs away, hand clutching his jaw.

They outnumber you. You have no one to back you up, they could easily surround you, and yet they cower away. They underestimated you and that’s what’s scaring them.

Your eyes dart from face to face as if to memorise each feature before spinning and walking away. You pick up your bag from where you left it, lunch long forgotten as you continue to walk, hand clenched and aching at your side.

Afternoon classes forgotten; you march home. What your father might think or say when he finds out be damned, whether he’s more annoyed you hit someone or that you’re skipping your classes you’ll have to deal with later. What your school think, you don’t care. You just need to get away from them, from their laughs and their taunts and their judgment. You don’t fit in there. You don’t want to be there, and they don’t want you there.

But as you approach your house; from the outside a normal townhouse, inside a jumble of rooms and corridors, people wondering around and coming and going as they please. Even here, even where you grew up, your home, they don’t want you here either.

You walk up the first few steps to the front door only to stop. They don’t want you here. Just like those kids at school, everyone here views you as weak. Your father’s child, but a girl; you may as well not exist. It’s why your father forces you to go to school while your brother gets to learn how to run this empire. It’s why your father has always pushed you away. It’s why no one ever listens to you.

You look at the front door, large, wood, heavy, normal unless you knew any different. All you’ll get if you walk through it is blame and shouting and criticism. You can’t deal with that right now.

Turning, you decide it’s better to lay low for a while. But instead of the clear path you were expecting you’re met with a man.

“Princess,” Jimin beams up at you as if this is the best surprise ever. “What are you doing home so early?”

Your mind whirls for an answer and it only takes a second for you to grasp one, hardly a second passing in silence before you answer him. You’ve become way too good at lying.

“Forgot some homework. Thought I’d come home at lunch to pick it up rather than get detention.”

Jimin’s eyebrow quirks upwards. He doesn’t believe you; he knows you too well.

“So studious all of a sudden.”

“It’s not being studious. It’s not wanting to have to stay in detention after school.”

“Smart. Maybe we could make a gang member of you yet.”

You clench your teeth as you shoot him a look, less than amused by his comment. You don’t even give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead you take a step down towards him as if to walk past him, but he stops you.

“What’s the homework on?”

“Since when did you care what I learn at school?”

“Since you so clearly haven’t even entered the house let alone picked up anything resembling homework.”

You tense. You knew he had seen through the lie, you just hadn’t expected him to call you out on it, at least so quickly. Again, you don’t answer him.

“Oh, don’t have anything clever to say now?”

You take another step, now level on the steps with him. You plan to keep walking, to not answer him and leave him standing there. But of course Jimin has other ideas.

His arm reaches out in front of you, a barrier against your escape. But he raises it too late meaning you barge into him, the hand you punched the boy with throbbing as your arm bangs against him. You wince, such a small movement, but Jimin notices it.

His eyes dance from your face down your arm to your hand and before you can hide it, he’s reaching out. You try and fail to hide your wince even as he delicately takes your hand in his.

“It’s nothing. It’s –”

“How did you do this?”

You bite your tongue. The whole point was for nobody to find out, or at least for nobody to tell you off.

Jimin continues to hold your hand lightly in his, his eyes focused solely on your already bruised knuckles. He runs his thumb over each joint and though it’s light as a feather you still wince.

“You need to improve your form.”

Your eyes snap to him even as he stays focused on your hand. You try to pull out of his grasp but he’s holding you too tightly.

“Don’t tell me, I punch like a girl?”

Your words, or maybe it’s the tone in which you say them, have Jimin finally looking at you. His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion and though your heart thumps at the confusion on his face directed straight at you, though you secretly love the touch of your hand in his, it’s enough for you to pull out of his grasp.

“I was actually going to say you punch like someone who hasn’t been trained and then proceed to ask if you want to remedy that.”

You pause in your retreat, he’s caught your interest and though he’s feigning disinterest, you can tell he’s satisfied.

“You want to train me?” You don’t know whether to swell with joy or be even more angry. This is something you’ve wanted for years, something you’ve asked and begged for and ultimately given up on, teaching yourself. And he’s now offering it so casually. Yeah, you’re definitely pissed off. “My forms fine.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he shrugs. “But it could be better.”

You grind your teeth. Eyes darting around his face as if to try and read the lie or see the joke. But you know Jimin well enough to know he’d never joke about something like this with you. He knows you well enough and respects you enough to not mock you.

“You want to improve my form so I can punch people better? You’re not going to tell me off for punching someone in the first place?”

“I’m guessing they deserved it.”

You look away from him, focus on a point in the distance but don’t walk away. As annoyed as you are, you’re interested. Are you about to throw away this opportunity just to save your pride?

“Listen, it’ll just be the basics. You’ve clearly learnt a lot on your own –”

You throw him a look – how do you know?

And he replies with a similar look – because I’m not stupid – before carrying on.

“I just want to improve what you already know.”

“Because it’s a big scary world and I should know how to protect myself?”

“Because it’s been long enough and you’re old enough.”

“I doubt my brother and dad will agree with that,” you grumble.

“I’ll deal with Yoongi,” he answers easily, completely ignoring the issue that is your father. “Hey, it’s just an offer, you don’t have to accept it.”

He knows he’s got you, he knows what you’re answer is, but you still pause as if it’ll better help save some pride. You never want to look weak, never want to be someone that lives up to expectations. And admitting that you need help with this, that your technique isn’t perfect, sounds a lot like weakness to you. Still, you know you need this and aren’t willing to give up this chance at trying to get closer to being in the gang.

“Alright,” you say flatly. “But you’ll see that I know more than you think.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jimin says, beaming smile on his face.

You just shoot him one last glare before finally walking away, silently beaming just as widely inside.

The sound of people hitting punching bags rings out, chatter echoes around the small space, a low hum of a distant radio no ones listening to. It’s busier than you thought. Men you recognise from around the house, as well as a lot of others you don’t recognise at all. When Jimin told you to meet him here you kind of expected it to be an empty space, not this. Not full of people who’ll be able to watch you and judge you and know you’re getting taught to fight.

You stand tall, don’t let them see the thoughts running through your mind. Even though you’re the daughter of their boss, they all look down on you. They’d never hurt you, but they’ll never respect you. You’ve learnt to deal with it, learnt to ignore the small but sneering comments just like you’re ignoring the looks being sent your way now. They can think whatever they want, you’re not going to let it affect you, or at least you’re not going to let them know it’s affecting you.

You walk through the space, past the mat where two men are sparring, past the group of men who don’t try to hide their looks of disgust to you being here, past the sweaty men who don’t seem to care. Past Conan stood with a small group of men, he barely glances your way and the way he doesn’t even react tells you enough; you’re not even worth a thought, not even worth considering as lesser than.

You make it to the back of the room, bag still on your shoulder as you stand with your back to the wall looking around for Jimin. Your fingers toy with the strap on your shoulder, the only outward sign of discomfort.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You turn your head to the side, relaxing silently as you watch your brother untie the bindings from his hands.

“And I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

He raises a single eyebrow at you but doesn’t question it. He probably spends all his time here, probably where most people find him, so your comment doesn’t make sense.

“What were you expecting?” He nods his head towards the bag you’re still clutching as if it’s full of money and you’re worried someone’s going to whip it out your arms. You loosen your grip, try to fully relax before replying.

“Well, Jimin.”

He hums, a noise you’ve heard him make when he’s not fully understood but doesn’t want anyone to know that. Jimin clearly hasn’t told him that he’s offered to train you, and while you can’t see why Yoongi would have a problem, the fact Jimin, his best friend, hasn’t told him makes you wonder whether you should be holding the information back too. But he’s here, you’re about to be trained and he’ll clearly see. It won’t be as easy to hide it then.

“He’s offered to help me work on my technique.”

“Your technique,” he mutters a small smile coming to his lips as he nods his head lightly, something seeming to click in his head.

“Have you seen him?” You say, eyes drifting away from Yoongi and whatever is amusing him.

“You know, you could have asked me if you needed a hand with training.”

You whip your head back to look at him, a frown on your face that he doesn’t see as his eyes have gone back to focusing on unravelling the bindings on his hands.

“I did,” you reply, missing off the long list of times you’ve asked over the years.

“Or if you needed a hand punching boys at school.”

“He told you that but not about this?”

Yoongi shrugs, that smile dancing across his lips as he finishes his task, dumping the bit of cloth on the floor unceremoniously.

“He told me you earnt quite the bruise.”

“Is this where I’m supposed to say you should have seen the other guy?”

He lets out a small chuckle, a noise that finally breaks your mask, a smile pushing its way to the surface.

“I have no doubt,” he says it in an even tone, as if he truly thinks that and having your brother’s approval and faith makes something spark and grow inside you. “Jimin’s in the back. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

And with that he’s gone, even that short conversation more than you get from him most of the time. He’s your brother and you love him, you just wish he gave you a bit more time. It only adds to your thoughts that he views you as lesser than, that he has no time for you because he doesn’t think anything you have to say is worthwhile listening to.

You brush it off, look away from Yoongi’s retreating figure in favour of working out where the back room and Jimin exactly are. It’s not exactly hard to find, an empty back room past a small office. There are a few mirrors and stacked chairs around the edge of the room, some mats and boxes in a corner, and then there’s Jimin stood in some sweats in the middle of the room. It’s not a look you’re used to, he wears casual clothes from time to time, but you normally see him in smarter suits or in unbuttoned shirts left on from the day.

He doesn’t spot you straight away and your eyes linger on the curves of his body, even in the baggy clothes you can tell how slim his waist is. He’s not as big as many of the men in the gang but that doesn’t mean you can’t see how strong he is.

But when you feel his eyes on you, you easily feign indifference, act as if you weren’t eyeing him up. And though he smiles at you, you’re confident he hasn’t spotted you. He can never know your feelings; you know he doesn’t feel the same way as you do and you worry if he knew your feelings towards him weren’t platonic then it would ruin any relationship with him. You’d rather your heart ached with everything you’ll never have and still be able to have him this close than having nothing at all.

“Are you ready to get beaten up?” He says in way of introduction, smile wide on his face.

You hum, eyebrows pinch together as you turn away from the smile that makes your heart pound, focus instead on placing your bag at the side of the room.

“I think you forget why we’re here,” you turn back to him when you’re free of any possible other distractions. “I’m the one who hit someone.”

Jimin chuckles, eyes flicking to your hand quickly. “And how is the hand?”

“Fine,” you reply, clenching your fist as if to prove your words, supressing the wince. It still hurts, the skin still slightly tight around your knuckles where the flesh swelled, but you’ve started to cope with the pain.

Jimin hums, unconvinced. “You never did say why you hit him?”

“He was talking shit,” you shrug.

“Ah, I thought he was a boyfriend that made a mistake.”

Your eyes go wide, unable to hide the shock at the words. No words come to your lips and in some ways you’re glad because you know whatever you attempt to say would come out more a splutter than anything coherent. Jimin only laughs at your reaction, light and twinkly, not the fully belly, head back laugh you love, but still beautiful.

“I was going to offer to rough him up a bit more for you.”

“I – What? Why would you think that?”

“Oh come on Y/N, I’m sure you have lots of boys trailing after you.”

You heat, not at the prospect of boys trailing after you, but at the fact that Jimin would think that. You’re not sure if you’re more embarrassed at the thought or hopeful that it’s because he’s seen something in you to think other boys would think the same.

“I don’t have boys trailing after me,” you say flatly. “And certainly not this boy. Like I said, I hit him because he was talking shit.”

Annoyingly your words and reaction only seem to be making Jimin happier, something twinkling in his eyes as he watches your clear annoyance.

“A sure sign he’s into you, boys do that you know, make fun of girls they like.”

You heat again, your internal temperature closer to the sun than human at this point. And though you try your best to hide it, you know Jimin can see straight through you.

“In primary school maybe. He was a sixth former.”

Jimin shrugs. “I think boys at most ages are the same.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, turn away from him a bit as you look at a different part of the room. He takes the hint and finally changes the topic.

“Come on, let’s funnel that annoyance into something productive.”

He doesn’t let you reply before he’s starting with whatever training he’s determined you need. Starting off with a basic warm up before asking you to go through what you know, nodding along with an unreadable expression. And then he starts to correct you and teach you your gaps.

You hadn’t expecting it to be so physical, thought he’d verbally tell you what you were doing wrong, not place his hands and physically move you into the right positions. While it doesn’t seem to bother him, every spot he touches on you becomes fire. And though you appreciate that it’s just the two of you in this room, no one else to see you slowly dying under Jimin’s touch, you have to think that having someone else here might help you to focus on more than just Jimin.

When he first reaches out to touch you, you flinch away from him and while you know it’s because you weren’t expecting it, because it’s Jimin, he obviously misinterprets it.

“It’s alright,” he says levelly, smile on his lips. “You just don’t need to have your fist raised so high.”

He reaches out again, his touch like a feather as if to make sure he doesn’t scare you again. He twists your arm slightly while lowering it and though it’s only a small change you can immediately feel the difference, can see how much more of your weight you can put behind your fist.

“Like that,” he says clearly satisfied, stepping away from you as if to admire his handiwork.

You throw a mock punch and he smiles at the action.

“Ok, now you just have to keep doing that.”

You drop your stance, shoot a glare at him only to gain a shit eating grin.

“I’m kidding,” he says still seemingly pleased with himself. “You still need to practice, but I’ll show you some other stuff. Come on.”

He proceeds with his lesson. Gets you to follow what he does, watches you to check your form and corrects you were necessary. And as much as you enjoy having an excuse to look at him and like having his eyes on you for once, his hand on you however small the touches. It’s also actually really helpful.

All too soon someone comes in to steal Jimin away from you. An hour is the longest you’re allowed with him these days, you remember when you’d have whole afternoons together, just the two of you. Still, an hour is better than nothing.

He doesn’t leave immediately either, lingers around, the smile that’s been on his face the whole hour still there as he looks at you. He lets you know how well he thinks you’ve done, you get the impression he’s been surprised by how much you know and it makes you feel a little smug to exceed his expectations. There’s a promise of future lessons and then he’s leaving you stood in the room alone.

You wait around, only your reflection for company, the awkwardness from earlier seeping in. You take some deep breaths before building up the courage to walk through the gym with all those burley men while not looking intimidated. It should feel easy after the session you’ve just had, with who you are and who you’re related to, but you still feel like you have to fake it all as every eye watches and judges every step you take.

Aged 18

You need to prove yourself. At the end of this school year you’re being shipped off to university, pushed to the side-lines, forgotten. You have a few months to prove why you should stay here.

You’ve told your father you don’t want to go. Made it clear how unhappy you are about the prospect of leaving. You realise soon enough that you need a change of tactic. The whole point is that you need to show how you can fit into this family, how you are indispensable, not that you’re a whining child who expects everything to go her way.

A few months. That’s all you have. And luckily you have a plan.

AJ, a boy at your school, has a family who has a big business in trade. He actually approached you a while ago showing an interest in the fact your dad is a gang leader. He didn’t so frankly say he wanted your families to work together, but he wasn’t subtle about his approach. Now though you can see the potential.

The gang deals with shipments of drugs and other contraband. They distribute but as far as you’re aware deals are always being made and changed at the docks, stock different each month depending on what’s come in. To have a solid and steady business that you can help provide a steady stream of goods, well, it could make a huge difference.

You asked him about it, and though you brushed him off before and haven’t spoken to him much since, he’s all in. Now you just need to do the hard work of trying to show your dad how good this could be for the gang, what business it could bring and more importantly what money it could make.

Sat at the kitchen table, you’re etching it out, working out a business plan that you can show your dad.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do if you want us to work with him.”

You look up over your laptop shooting your brother a glare. He doesn’t even blink as he lifts his coffee to his lips.

“He’s not working with us yet,” you sigh as you go back to typing on your laptop.

“But that’s your aim, isn’t it?”

He can read you like a book, or maybe it’s just the fact that he knows everything. There’s a reason he’s the heir after all.

“You should be careful around him.”

You grit your teeth, continuing to type even as your mind starts to go blank, anger and annoyance bubbling in you. This is exactly why you’re doing this and the fact only spurs you on. They think you’re weak and unable to live and cope in this world. At your age Yoongi was on the front line, being groomed into being heir. And here you are wanting to do just that and being denied.

“I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” you look up through your eyelashes and see the smirk he’s hiding behind his mug.

“So why should I be careful?” You say the words through gritted teeth.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“You just said I should be careful.”

He hums, your unsure if he’s pausing to consider his words; Yoongi never says anything without fully weighing his words. Or whether the noise is supposed to be more of a warning, a way to irk you just that little bit more.

“I don’t want to see you hurt.”

You slam your laptop shut, Yoongi not even flinching. Your chair scrapes along the ground as you push yourself onto your feet. He doesn’t say anything as you gather up your things into your arms. You’re fuming, you wouldn’t be surprised if smoke was coming out of your ears.

You thought he was different. You thought he would understand. You thought he would be on your side. But it seems that your father has done a good job, because Yoongi is exactly like him. Well, you’ll show him.

You start to storm out the room, feet thundering against the ceramic tiles. But you have to walk past Yoongi and though you try to create as much distance as you can, he still easily reaches out and catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Be careful Y/N.” His tone is darker, the same words he said before but more of a warning in every syllable now.

You pull your wrist harshly out of his grasp, the movement hurting you. You hold his stare for as long as you can, try to make your tone just as threatening as his, but know it falls flat.

“You’re not the boss yet.”

You almost see his eyes darken before you twist and walk away.

Dangerous. You’re walking a fine line. But this is your only chance and you’re not going to let anyone, or anything get in your way.

Regardless of what your brother says or warns, you continue to work on your plan.

It takes a lot of hard work from you and some from AJ, to get the plan together. To be fair to him, AJ is a lot more involved than you expected. He’s excited and happy you also think the idea is good. And while you’re having to do so much work to convince your family that it’s a good idea, AJ doesn’t seem to have to do anything at all to convince his family. You wonder if you were born a different gender if you would have the same ease.

But you don’t have that privilege, so you have to work to prove yourself.

Even after all your hard work, your business plan delivered to your dad, you still only get half a green light. He likes the idea, and the numbers, but wants to meet the man he’ll be doing business with before agreeing. There’s an upcoming party that he suggests you all attend. Better than nothing, but still a lot of work to do.

AJ is over the moon with the news. He’s excited to meet your dad and though you say that his family should come, he says that he will represent them all.

Something feels off but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is so brush it off. This plan is too important for anything to go wrong. You keep working, use any spare minute outside of school to run over numbers, double and triple checking them to make sure they sound as appealing as they can be while also being correct. You teach AJ, coach him into what to do and what not to do around your dad. He asks questions and you easily answer him, he seems as excited as you are and you take the questions to mean that he wants this to go right as much as you want it to.

You don’t become an item as such, but you spend so much time with AJ over the weeks that it’s hard not to become close to him. You share so many thoughts with him, so many of your worries, so many stories about your family. Nothing happens, but you become used to the touches and the hands on your side.

Nothing happens, but you put it down to how focused on the plan you’ve become. You need it to work so much that you have no time for anything else. But it doesn’t stop you thinking of what might happen between you two if this all goes right. You like him. And you can tell he likes you. Still, the deal is all that matters for now.

“I don’t like him.”

It’s the second time you’ve heard the words from someone you care about and while you didn’t appreciate it said last time, you really don’t this time. It’s like they truly don’t want you to succeed.

And while they’ve been looking down on all this hard work you’ve been doing, you’ve been growing closer to AJ, only making the words hit you a bit harder. Finally you’ve found someone who is willing to help, to try and help you succeed, who listens to you, who cares. Something you’ve looked for your whole life, something seemingly so simple but that you’ve never had from your family and yet you’re getting from this near stranger. It’s no wonder Jimin’s words cut deep.

You look at Jimin, stood leaning against the door frame, watching you spread your work out across the table.

“You’re exactly like Yoongi, you know that?” You spit the words at him, but Jimin doesn’t even flinch.

“You say that like it’s supposed to be an insult, but I only see a compliment.”

You huff a laugh, the noise completely lacking any humour.

“Of fucking course,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear.

“Maybe you just haven’t considered that it’s because we both care about you.”

“Well I know that’s not true,” the words cause the only reaction you’ve seen from him, hurt crossing his features, but you carry on before you can feel any guilt. “Because if you cared about me, you’d help me, not push me to the side lines, not act like I don’t belong here.”

“Because you don’t belong here,” he almost growls the words out, low and quiet as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear the words.

The words sting, it’s everything you’ve ever thought but not wanted to believe. You try to hide the hurt, clenching your teeth together, but Jimin knows you well enough to see through the act.

“You’re too good –”

“Oh fuck off –”

“You have a chance to get out, to do something better,” he ignores you, talking over your words as if you haven’t said anything.

“You’ve said that before, but have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to get out?”

He shakes his head like the concept is completely foreign to him, as if he doesn’t understand. But he’s here, he’s chosen to stay so why can’t he understand that maybe you want the same.

A tension has risen between the two of you, something that’s never happened before. You’ve fought before, had disagreements and debates but this feels different. You don’t want to fall out with him, hate not seeing him smiling and joking around you, but this is an issue too close to you to easily back down from.

“I know you’ve always seen me as a little girl, weak and –”

“I’ve never thought you were weak,” he says firmly.

“But you’ve got to let me do this,” you ignore him the way he did to you earlier.

He’s shaking his head, unable to look you in the eyes. You don’t know why he’s being like this, he’s never so boldly opposed you. He’s always voiced his opinion on things you’ve done, made it clear when he’s not been impressed by something you’ve done, but he’s never been like this. He’s always stood by your side no matter what your decision has been. But he doesn’t feel like he’ll stand by your side with this one.

“I’m not going to watch you dig your own grave.”

The words take you back, is that really what he thinks? You can only see it one way, that he does think you’re weak and stupid, that if you join this gang you’ll only be a liability and get yourself killed in the process. You’ve loved him for as long as you’ve known, but something turns in you in this moment, a layer of something covering your heart, protecting it. It may only be paper thin, but if that’s how he feels then you’ll need anything you have.

“Then don’t watch,” you say, the words coming out less firm than you want.

You don’t wait for his response, just look down at your work, a silent dismissal and while Jimin doesn’t have to take it, you hear him turn and walk away.

You’ll show them. If they expect you to fail then you’ll just have to prove them wrong.

There are lots of well-dressed people, and stood in this room you can finally understand why Jimin and Yoongi are always walking around wearing suits; if this is the sort of thing they do every week.

You’re nervous though, are struggling to focus on anything, mind jumping to what may or may not happen later. Your eyes dance around the room for the only man you care about tonight, your dad. You know he’s going to be a little late, he only has so much time in his life and that means that he doesn’t attend parties like this in their entirety. Still, you can’t help but seek him out with your eyes.

There’s a squeeze on your shoulder bringing you back, a body pressed into your side, your date for the night trying to comfort you.

“I thought your dad was going to be here,” the words are whispered against the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run through you.

You turn your head so you can look at him, smile on your lips. He’s as nervous as you, you can see it in his face as his eyes search the room as yours were. He’s comforting you, but also needs yours in return.

“He’s coming,” the words come out small, hoping they get lost across the small space.

He hears though, a smile spreading across his lips. He’s still so close, and though you want to draw away from him, you also don’t want anything to risk losing this deal. You’ve grown close to AJ but you still don’t know him that well, you don’t want to risk offending him by drawing away from his touch.

“Why don’t we get a drink,” you nod your head in the direction of the bar.

AJ gives you a nod, takes your hand in his as he guides you to the edge of the bar. While he orders your drinks you turn and lean your back against the bar, eyes searching the room once more. You don’t want to miss the possible entrance of your dad. So much is riding on tonight that you don’t want anything going wrong.

But you spot Yoongi walking towards you and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s going to tell you something you don’t want to hear. You glance to your left, check AJ is still waiting for the drinks before letting him know you’ll be back in a second. You don’t want him to hear whatever Yoongi has to say.

You meet Yoongi halfway, both of you stood silent waiting for the other to speak first. Yoongi breaks first.

“Dad’s going to be late.”

Your heart lets out a loud pang, the only thing to react to the words. You’d expected the words but they still hit you hard.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be here for a while,” you answer levelly, but you can he’s not done, there’s more bad news to come.

“He said he won’t have enough time to see you.”

You clench your teeth together, your eyes hardening as you look at your brother who doesn’t even seem to care. It would be so easy to break, to cry, to explode with the emotions coursing through you. But you hold it together, use the techniques you’ve gathered over the years. Your dad has disappointed you enough times that you shouldn’t be shocked by this development.

“He promised,” you bite out and you swear you see something flick across Yoongi’s eyes, but it’s impossible for him to feel pity for you so you must have imagined it.

Yoongi’s eyes flick over your shoulder just before you feel someone stopping at your side and then AJ is handing you your drink. You don’t want anyone here to witness this embarrassment, to hear that your dad doesn’t even care enough about you to give you a chance, that he read your proposal and promised to hear you out tonight but couldn’t even live up to that promise. You’re sure he doesn’t give out promises a lot and when he does he honours them and it only makes the whole thing hurt that bit more, because he you’re his daughter and yet he can’t even hold his promises with you.

“And I’m sure he’s sorry.”

The pity is clear in Yoongi’s eyes now and it’s too much. You look away, glance at AJ who’s looking between you and Yoongi, clearly piecing everything together.

“Will you listen in his place?” You ask in a last bid effort, but one glance at his face tells you your answer, no. Whether because he’s been told not to or because he doesn’t want to, you’re not sure, don’t really care.

You look away from Yoongi again, eyes drift around the room as you try to breath, try to weigh your options.

Your eyes land on Jimin, dressed in that smart suit you almost always see him in. It looks good on him, but you always think he looks better in the relaxed t-shirts and sweats. You haven’t spoken to him since when he told you he didn’t think you belonged in the gang. Mostly because you’ve been busy and because Jimin is always busy, but you’ve also been trying to avoid him. You don’t know what you’d say if you bumped into him, don’t know what he’d say.

He catches your eye, too lost in trying to figure out what to do, how to rectify this shitty situation you continue to stare at him. You hold his gaze for a couple of seconds, you wonder if he knows about your dad, wonder if he knows what Yoongi is telling you and if he does you wonder what his thoughts are about it all. But from this distance you can’t read his emotions even if he wasn’t masking them. He gives nothing away. His eyes possibly become harder, a small tick in his jaw, but otherwise he just stares at you.

You flush, look away as you take a long gulp of your drink. Turn to look at AJ instead of Jimin and Yoongi. AJ is still looking at Yoongi, seemingly weighing his options, no interest in you. You don’t really notice, your attention not really on him either, still trying to work out how to make this work.

“Shall we head out for a second?” You feel hot, angry, frustrated. You need air, or just to be away from all the eyes that you can feel on you as if they know what’s going on. As if you’re the last to know. “Get some air before we meet dad?”

AJ’s eyes are back on you. Assessing, weighing almost before he answers. He knows what Yoongi’s said, you’re not meeting your dad today, but something shifts in his stare and you hope he can see the determination in you. That you have a plan, or that you’re at least going to work one out.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You sigh, stress at least starting to seep out of you. You ignore Yoongi, turn and start to lead the way, don’t hang around to see if AJ follows even though you invited him to join you.

You walk down the empty halls. Walk until you feel like you’re far enough from the party and then try the first door you see.

You end up in a large library. The walls covered in books, a desk near a large window, sofas and chairs around a coffee table on the opposite side of the room, the walls so high that there’s a spiral staircase in the corner and a balcony level. It’s a beautiful room, one you would normally take in, but your mind is whirling so fast that you can’t even consider that now.

You hear the door close behind you and hear steps as AJ starts to round you.

“We’ll figure this out,” you say into the room, not sure if you’re trying to convince AJ or yourself. “We can corner him in the party and get him to speak to us. He won’t want a scene. He’ll have to talk to us.”

“I should have known you’d be useless.”

Your eyes snap up from the floor you were focused on, refocusing on AJ stood a few feet in front of you. His words seem to oppose the smile on his lips. You’ve never seen him look like this, twisted, like he’s enjoying something he shouldn’t.

“What?” You say, the word only causing AJ’s smile to deepen.

Your heart pounds, you mind telling you something’s not right. But your feet remain planted to the spot.

He doesn’t answer your question, just twists his head to the side as if weighing you up. It looks like he’s looking at a child, like he’s amused that you haven’t worked it out yet, like it should be easy. But you don’t get it, just look at him with a furrowed brow as his hand reaches for something.

The next thing you know there’s a gun pointed straight at you.

“Get it now?” He asks.

It’s funny, you’d think being in a gang would prepare you for this. That you would have had a gun pulled on you before. But you can safely say this is the first time. And while this has never happened before, you wouldn’t have predicted this would be your reaction.

Complete and utter stillness.

You’d have thought you would have screamed or run or cried and begged. But it’s like everything in you has become stone, like you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

You watch as he places his finger on the trigger. Watch as his eyes focus solely on you as if measuring up exactly where he needs to aim to cause most pain, to cause death. And all you can think is why?

Why would he do this? Why did he lie? Why has he gone to all this effort when he’s had plenty of chances before? Why now? Why does he want you dead?

“Why?” The question comes out as a squeak, pushed up through your closed air pipe.

There’s a chuckle. Sadistic and cold; so unlike any noise you know to come out of him.

“I can see exactly why they don’t want you here. But they should give you more credit. You were all I had and yet look where you’ve got me. Right into the heart.”

The words cut through you. He hasn’t even shot yet and you can’t imagine it will hurt more than this.

They don’t want you here.

Look where you’ve got me.

Look what you’ve done.

Yoongi and Jimin were right. He’s been using you and you’ve fallen right into the trap. You were exactly what they have all been saying: useless, young, stupid, weak. And now you’re going to get killed for it.

“If you wanted to meet my dad, you’re certainly not going to now.”

He laughs as if you’ve just told an amazing joke.

“Cute,” he says sarcastically. “You’re not as smart as you want everyone to believe though.”

He pauses as if waiting for you to shoot back, but you remain silent, the fact seeming to annoy him.

“I was using you to get to him, but being his daughter obviously means nothing. Well, not nothing. I figure if I can’t kill him, if you can’t get me alone with him, then why not kill someone close to him. You may not be close enough for him to care about your opinion, but you’re still his own flesh and blood and that looks like it will have to be good enough.”

You’re starting to shake, shock setting in. How have you been so blind? How could he have deceived you like this, for so long?

You hear the safety click, the noise snapping you back to the present, to the barrel of the gun still pointing directly at you.

There’s nowhere to run. There’s nowhere to hide. There’s no one to hear you scream that will get here quick enough. You’re alone and trapped with no hope.

You’re about to start begging, can feel the words forming on your lips. But just as the word please is about to leave your lips a body steps in front of you.

It takes you a second to realise what’s going on. Someone’s stepped in front of you, between you and the barrel of the gun. You didn’t even hear anyone enter the room and from the growl that leaves AJ’s lips, he didn’t notice either.

“Park.”

Jimin.

You truly shake now. Jimin’s stepped in front of you, is stood between you and the bullet meant for you. He can’t, you won’t let him. But Jimin knows you too well, his hands silently grasping your wrists, stopping you from moving.

Not long ago you thought he hate you, and now he’s doing this?

“Jimin,” you whisper his name, low enough for only him to hear, a silent plea as tears starting to well in your eyes.

He squeezes your wrists but doesn’t let go. You can almost imagine what he’s trying to say. It’s alright, everything’s alright. But everything isn’t alright, you won’t let him be killed because of you, because that bullet is meant for you, because you were stupid enough to trust this man.

“Don’t, Jimin. Please just –”

“For once, I agree with Y/N.”

You can’t see AJ, Jimin purposefully standing so that he’s blocking your view. You try to move again but Jimin remains firm, he’s not going to let you move.

“What’s your plan here Park?” AJ asks. “You know I can just shoot you and then her. You gain nothing.”

“You won’t have a chance to kill her. You shoot me and by the time you even turn that gun on her men will be swarming in here, and let me tell you, your death will be far less pleasant.”

“You clearly underestimate my skill.”

“And you’ve clearly been underestimating this gang.”

It’s like he’s goading him, trying to poke and prod him into becoming angrier, into shooting. You don’t know what his plan is, but you can’t see how it’s going to lead to anything good.

“This fucking gang,” AJ growls the words out, his voice becoming louder as if he’s taken a step forward. The fact is only proven as Jimin pulls you closer to him, your whole front now pressed up against his back. Your heart pounding as you lean into his touch, head resting against his back as you try to supress the tremor running through you.

“This fucking gang has ruined my life,” AJ presses on. “This fucking gang killed my brother and now I’m going to kill her. You can stand in the way, but this gun can just as easily kill two people. Hell, maybe it will even go straight through you into her.”

“Do it then,” Jimin taunts and you stiffen, unsure why he’s goading him so much. “Or are you all talk and no action?”

There’s another noise that sounds like footsteps. Is AJ getting closer?

“Fucking do it,” Jimin raises his voice, near shouting.

There’s a pause of silence and then a shot’s fired, the noise ringing around the room, echoing off the walls. Jimin’s hands finally loosen around yours, his body falling away from you and though this is what you wanted, you didn’t want it like this.

“No, no, no,” you whisper out the words, your hands chasing after Jimin. Why did he have to taunt him? Why couldn’t he just have remained silent or run or not stood in front of you?

You fumble with his shirt, cling to the material but it slips through your fingers. But he’s not falling, he’s twisting, turning to face you. You take a step closer to him, close the distance he created, eyes raking over his body, fingers searching for the bullet wound so you can do something, apply pressure, stop the blood, something.

At this point the door has blown wide open, as predicted the noise of a gun going off has created a scene, men rushing in to work out what’s going on. You don’t care, too concentrated on fixing Jimin to take in what’s going on around you.

“Where is it? Where is it?” You’re mumbling the words more to yourself than anyone else.

Strong hands come to your shoulder, pulling you away from Jimin. You fight against it, you need to be here, you don’t think long enough to consider that maybe the person pulling you away has more medical knowledge, could probably help more, all you can think is that you caused this and now you need to fix it.

“Y/N,” you name barely registers, it takes it being said a second time for you to register it and then a third for you to realise who the voice belongs to.

Your eyes shot from your unsuccessful mission in finding a bullet wound to Jimin’s face.

He’s staring down at you, eyes wide and very much alive and with it. And then it all clicks into place. He’s not falling to the ground; he’s still stood fully baring his own weight. It’s his hands on your shoulders, his voice calling your name.

“Y/N,” he says your name like a whisper, your name not the nickname he always uses but your name. “I’m ok. I’m not hurt. It’s ok.”

Small, comprehendible sentences. Small bits of information you can take in and digest. It’s ok. He’s not hurt. Everything is ok.

You’re shaking, your legs struggling to hold your weight as shock sets in. Jimin’s hands remain on you, supporting your weight before lowering you both to the ground.

You’re kneeling on the ground, Jimin kneeling in front of you, his hands still on your shoulders. His eyes are firmly on you, his voice smooth as he whispers reassuring words to you.

The noise in the room increases as people start to arrive to know what the commotion is about. Your eyes drift away from Jimin. You see men with guns raised, your brother walking down the steps in the corner of the room, and then finally to a body lay a few feet away, red everywhere, a whole puddle forming under the body.

“Hey,” Jimin physically drags your eyes back to him with a hand to your face. Keeping it there to make sure you don’t look back. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You nod. Slowly to begin, but it’s like once you’ve started the motion you can’t stop. Soon your head is doing small sharp motions, your eyes wide as you look at Jimin’s worried expression.

You open your mouth to talk, but Jimin doesn’t let you utter a word.

“Come on,” he whispers before standing up.

His hands never leave you for a second, going from your face back to your shoulders to help you stand and then pulling you into his side with a hand on your hip.

You lean your weight into him, let him fully bear you emotionally and physically. For once you don’t care about the looks people send you as you walk out the room. The looks of concern, the looks of shock, the looks that show no surprise, that this was expected from you, that you’re weak and don’t belong here and this proves it.

Yoongi pauses his orders as you head past him, his eyes raking over you as if to check you’re ok before giving a small nod to Jimin to let him know he should take you away. You’re only distantly aware that it must have been Yoongi that shot AJ, that that was why you saw him walking down the steps, that the bulge in the back of his trousers is the gun he used, that Jimin must have seen you heading this way and the two of them followed, that Jimin was distracting AJ long enough for Yoongi to get into place. It’s not worth thinking about now though, so you don’t.

He guides you to the waiting car, through the back corridors to avoid any prying eyes. He opens the side door, even buckles you in before he gets into the drivers seat.

You’re spaced out for the whole drive, staring straight ahead at the road but not seeing anything. You don’t catch Jimin’s worried glances, don’t see the way he clutches the steering wheel, don’t notice the way he pushes above the speed limit to get you home a little faster, don’t even realise the car has stopped and you’ve made it home before Jimin’s speaks.

“Let’s get you into something comfier.”

He leans over the handbrake to unclick your seatbelt and the noise seems to snap something in you, finally able to gage your surroundings you look to Jimin. He doesn’t pull away. His face mere inches from yours as he takes you in.

“You ok?” he whispers.

You swallow and don’t miss the way Jimin’s eyes dart down to the column of your throat only to dart back to your eyes as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. You don’t call him out on it, just nod lightly in answer to your question. It’s a lie, you know it, Jimin knows it, but neither of you call that out.

You sit there staring at each other for what feels like hours before Jimin snaps. His eyes darting away from you, body retracting. You watch as he gets out the car and then watch as he comes to open your door for you. And for once, you let yourself find comfort in his touch, don’t try to pull away as he takes your hand in his.

He walks you to the steps of the house and seeing the wooden door seems to make you remember everything.

“I need to go back.”

Jimin stops a second after you so he has to turn to look back at you, so he’s now stood a step in front of you. His brow furrows in confusion, but his hands still clutches yours.

“I need to go back and talk to my dad,” you explain.

“Yoongi will explain what happened.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished getting the words out. “I still need to convince him to let me stay.”

Jimin’s whole face transforms. He gets it now, understands that you’re talking about going to university. Maybe he didn’t realise how serious you were about not wanting to leave, how deeply your feelings run that even in this moment you’re thinking about it. But you know you’re running out of time, that tonight was your last chance. It’s only a couple of weeks, a few days, until you leave.

“Let’s get you inside,” Jimin says softly.

You don’t move and so Jimin doesn’t. You can see the look from earlier in his eyes, the look when he realised you’d caught him staring at you in a way he shouldn’t. If he won’t let you speak to your dad then maybe there’s still a way you can stay here. It’s a long shot, but you feel so desperate that you’ll try anything, risk anything.

You drop his hand and watch as Jimin’s eyes trail the movement, watches your hand fall limply to your side.

“I love you,” the words come out raspy, full of the emotions you’ve held inside you, hidden away for years. Jimin doesn’t even react, his eyes still focused on the hand now at your side.

“I love you. I always have. I want to stay here with you.”

You can see him take a breath, but his eyes remain low as he begins to talk.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight. Let’s just get you inside.”

He doesn’t move to do that though, doesn’t move to touch you. You weren’t expecting him to say he loved you back, and you’re not really sure what you expected from confessing the feelings you’d decided to never let out into the world. It just feels like maybe if there’s even a small part of Jimin that feels the same way then maybe he’ll fight to help you stay. But maybe it’s only come out because the shock of what’s happened tonight has fully set in, your mind a mess. You know the consequences, have known them long enough to know that you shouldn’t let anyone know this thing you’re so openly spilling. You’ll lose Jimin. But you’re already losing him, so what’s the point anymore.

“I love you Jimin,” you try one last time, your voice low now, barely a whisper.

His eyes finally make their way to yours, slow and steady. And before he speaks you can already tell what he’s going to say, that he’s going to break your heart.

“You don’t love me,” he says and doesn’t give you enough time to protest before carrying on. “And you don’t want to stay here. Y/N, you have a chance to get out. You need to get out.”

You shake your head, take a small step towards him, raise your hands up as if to touch him but stop just before you can. Jimin doesn’t move.

“I want to stay here. With you.”

Something seems to snap within him. You can almost see the way his eyes turn dark and he becomes the man you never see. The man that belongs to the gang, the one that kills and hurts, the one he hides from you. It should scare you, but you stay standing in front of him, bracing for whatever he’s about to throw at you.

“I don’t want you here,” he says coldly. “I’ve never wanted you here. So just leave.”

You don’t believe him, can’t believe him. But despite yourself you feel the words seep in. You’ve just confessed that you love him and he’s telling you what you’ve always believed. He doesn’t think you’re good enough for the gang, not good enough for him.

“You need to grow up and realise that you’re being stupid. You don’t love me and you never have me. You don’t belong here. Can’t you see that no one wants you here? You’ve stuck around for long enough.”

You’re shaking your head as tears well in your eyes and still Jimin doesn’t stop. This man that looked after you, helped train you, cleaned your wounds, is now being so cruel to you. You hadn’t expected him to say he loved you back, but you seriously hadn’t expected this. He knows exactly what your weakness are, where your insecurities lie and he’s hitting every single one of them.

But despite your reaction, despite the tears falling down your cheeks, Jimin just continues to drive the knife in deeper. As if to make sure you’ve fully gotten the idea.

“Go to university, forget about me, forget about this place and never come back.”

It feels like an impossible task. How could you ever forget about Jimin? How could you ever forget about becoming part of this gang? Becoming part of this family? All you’ve wanted your whole life is to just feel like you belong, like you’re loved, like you’ve achieved something. And Jimin is telling you you’ll never have that.

He can probably see the way moment your mind changes, the way your fix your expression to cover as much of the hurt as you can. Because after all he’s said you’ve still grown up here, learnt a few tricks along the way. You know how to hide your emotions, how to shut someone out and so for once you do that to Jimin. Tears still roll down your cheeks, but you take a shaky breath to steady yourself.

You’re not going to stand and listen to this. You’re not going to let Jimin break you. You’re not going to let him get inside your head.

You thought even if he didn’t love you the same way you love him, he’d at least love you enough to not do this to you. You thought he might see you as a sister if not romantically and who would do this to their sister? It seems that like most things, you were wrong.

You take one last look at him, possibly the last time you’ll see him. His face is hard, jaw clenched together, eyes firm as if unseeing even as he looks at you. He doesn’t look like the Jimin you know and you can’t tell if this is the real Jimin or if it’s an act. You don’t care enough to stay long enough to figure it out. You feel broken and still in shock.

You push past him, your arm nearly brushing against his. You almost expect him to reach out and stop you, the way he always does when you get into a fight and you try to storm off. But this time he doesn’t stop you, he lets you walk away.

“I’m going to my room,” you say, tone harsh to hide your emotions.

You hear his footsteps behind you, slower and softer than your thunderous steps. You can’t look at him. Turn your head only slightly so that he can hear your words and though they come out just as fierce they’re also harder to get out.

“Leave me alone Jimin.”

Your heart cracks slightly at the words. The crack only growing when you hear his steps stop. He’s following your order and you’re not sure whether you’re more annoyed that this is the first time he’s done what you’ve asked or annoyed he’s not trying harder to stop you, to say something to make this better. It only seems to prove his feelings towards you.

Your steps become harder and faster as you push through the air that now feels more like water. You need to get to your room before you break. You need to get away from Jimin before you break. You need to be alone before you break.

You only just make it. Slamming the door open and then slamming it closed, you collapse on the ground before your body convulses with sobs. Everything from the night catches up with you and threatens to swallow you as you sit there.

Tears are freely running down your face. There’s no point trying to stem them anymore, they’ve got what they want, you’re going and they don’t need to worry about your weakness looking bad on them. You’re no longer apart of this gang or this family.

You proved them right; you’re stupid, young, and naïve. By letting AJ do what he did, by letting him so close to the centre of the gang you nearly ruined everything. It doesn’t matter what games he played, doesn’t matter what way he tricked you, doesn’t even matter that he tried to kill you. It’s all seen as weakness in their eyes. You were going anyway, but now there’s only more evidence to prove that they were right all along.

You wanted to stay, tried everything you could to gain your place, but none of it worked.

You don’t look back as you gather up your bags and head for security. Though you know your family are stood waiting to wave you away, you don’t deign them with goodbye. This is what they wanted, and even as you so openly cry, you don’t want to give them the satisfaction of this goodbye.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

This isn’t the end. This is your birth right. They can send you away, can try to get rid of you, but you know you’ll be back. It’s not a matter of when but why. You’ll wait as long as you need for the perfect time and when you come back you’ll prove why you deserve your place here, why they were all so wrong to doubt you.

Part two!

#btscreatorscorner #Jimin fic #Jimin mafia au #jimin angst #Jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin one shot #brothers best friend Jimin #jimin x reader

1K notes · View notes

teawinx · 2 years ago

Note

One of the things i really like about your reboot is how you want to focus more on the relationship between tge kwamis and their holders. Cannon kinda limits itself (ecept for plagg and tikki) with the whole temporary heroes stick. I'm especially excited to see how your alya interacts with trixx!

So my question of the day is:

How would you describe the dynamic between each holder and their kwamis? (you don't need to go into detail for each of your characters. I know that that would be a lpt of work)

However there is another thing I want to ask if I may...

So my BONUS question of the day is:

What is the relationship like between Marinette and Mullo (an tikki!)? Does Marinette interact differently with Mullo compared to Tikki? Do the kwamis get jealous of each other? Feel free to drop as much tea about them as you want to!

Yeah the kwamis could be the perfect way to delve into different aspects of each character. There are a loooot of various kwami human relationships, since the kwamis were all found and being used by various people. We'd be here all day, so I'll keep it to the main ones, okay? This is gonna be a long one!

Alya and her kwami seem to be very similar at first glance, with Trixx being 100% in on Alya's various schemes. But Trixx quickly realizes that Alya doesn't have any sense of self preservation when it comes to investigating and becomes the unwilling voice of reason. They are able to help Alya think things through more critically. Since Trixx very recently had a previous owner, their relationship with Alya starts out a bit rocky. Both Trixx and Alya have major trust issues, so sort through that together. Waizz is exactly who Nino needed at this point in his life. It's nice having someone who's very relaxed and willingly to lend an ear when he's feeling anxious or stressed. And Waizz sees Nino for who he is. People think Nino is some slacker with no real direction, but Waizz recognizes Nino as a fiercely loyal and loving friend. And Waizz just wants Nino to see that too, damn-it!

Chloe doesn't get to spend a lot of time with her kwami (at least as her holder) but the bond they share is close. Pollen, despite seemingly sweet and reserved, isn't afraid to speak her mind and tell Chloe when her behaviour is off (to mixed results). Chloe respects powerful women and Pollen is absolutely a powerful woman in her eyes. Pollen is very supportive of Chloe and her sports-star career but can clearly see the self-inflicted emotional and physical stress isn't good for her. Once she becomes Zoe's Kwami, the two are able to help Chloe choose to do what she actually wants to do, no what she's expected to do. Pollen and Zoe are very goofy together, with Zoe's immaturity rubbing off on her kwami a little too much. Which is when Chloe needs to bring them back down and to be serious. Bee girl trio rights.

Something that's gonna be very different is that the kwamis aren't a hivemind anymore. One by one Marinette collects them, rescuing some, recruiting others etc. But the kwamis will have spent around 100 years apart, so their perception of each other will have changed. Tikki and Plagg were the only ones really ever being used before, so they do have a sense of inflated self-importance, especially Tikki. And before the others would just follow her lead, but now that they've experienced more of life, they don't listen to her anymore. They've become independent. And Mullo is the wooooorst XD She loves Marinette and loves getting under Tikki's skin about it. The whole thing is to humble Tikki.

Tikki expects the very best from Marinette at all times, putting a lot of pressure on her holder. She can't take a step forward without Tikki breathing down her neck. The other kwami don't like it and take Marinette's defence, trying to convince Tikki to just let her live a little. Marinette also treats all the kwamis really well, making them a big dollhouse to live in with their own bedrooms, just somewhere nice to sleep instead of their boxes. And a private pool, obviously. Nice girl, we stan.

Marinette won't admit it, but she definitely feels more comfortable with Mullo than Tikki. She loves Tikki dearly, but she can be a lot sometimes. Mullo, by stark contrast, is very chill and she can be relaxed and messy and not perfect around her. Buuut Mullo isn't very good at giving good advice (she's really good at BAD advice though), she's quite immature and doesn't take things seriously.

Bit rambly and unfocused, but I hope this was interesting!

(I didn't include the relationships between my three ocs and their kwamis. I understand that OCs aren't really what people are here for, so I skipped them)

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug reboot #miraculous ladybug rewrite

66 notes · View notes

blorbosondeck · 4 years ago

Text

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!!

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up.

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

333 notes · View notes

sixeyesgojo · 4 years ago

Text

Pictures of You

Summary: prequel to I’ll Be Your Enemy - fluffy!

Characters: IBYE!Reader, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara

Word count: 2,3k

Content warning: none

A/N: requested by @thecaptainsbride

If anybody got the reference Gojo made when he was late; congratulations, you have been successfully hurt (but this time it was not me).

Since I left the relationship between Gojo and the reader up for interpretation in IBYE, I will do the same here! Consider this piece me trying to mend your hearts <3

Taglist applications open for anyone who is interested!

“A trip to an amusement park or something like that doesn’t sound so bad,” you mused in front of Satoru. “It serves as relaxation and maybe the first-years can get closer to each other, you know, bonding and so on. They will see each other many times from now on, so getting along with each other is important,” you reasoned, your eyes almost sparkling from the thought of a day off.

“But Jujutsu Sorcery is an individual–” he began.

“Satoru, I think you should see this as vacation. A vacation where you can eat sweets until your teeth rot and absolutely nobody will hold you back,” you interrupted him.

“Okay, I am sold. Am listening now.” You just knew how to convince him. Sweets.

So that was exactly how the first-year students and you ended up at a fairground somewhere in Tokyo; it was quite neat, not too small but not too spacious either. None of you could get lost in it. Still, it was buzzing with life and all kinds of people mingled. The colorfulness was a refreshing sight to take in, compared to the dark world of Jujutsu Sorcery where seeing people suffer was your daily routine. The pleasant smell of food wafted through the air, making your mouth water, as you walked past the different booths with them. Waffles sounded like absolute heaven on earth right now.

Jujutsu Sorcery certainly was a draining sport, mentally as well as physically. Therefore it was only right to take a break at times, right? Self-care days were just as important as working.

In order to wind down a bit, you had suggested a one-day trip – just you, Satoru and the three first-year students you had adopted in your mind right away after meeting them several times.

“Sensei, you look very pretty today!” Yuji complimented you. Even Megumi noticed: “Did you have a haircut? Your hair seems a little bit shorter.”

“Yeah, Nobara had a field day with me. Cutting my hair.. or more like trimming the ends, choosing my outfit, doing my make-up and so on just for today,” you gushed as if you were a high school girl again. “Leave it to master stylist Kugisaki Nobara and nobody will ever look bad,” the brunette girl commended herself. Yuji was affectionately patting her on the back.

Undoubtedly, Satoru was late – nobody was surprised about that. You already went ahead and generously treated the trio of students you loved dearly to some food.

“Thank you for the food, sensei!” As usual, Yuji and Nobara were in perfect harmony with each other, seemingly sharing a brain.

“Thank you very much,” Megumi also expressed his thanks sweetly. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought the way his lips seemed to twitch was unintentional. “Absolutely no problem, kiddos. You guys enjoy it while I try to contact Gojo-sensei, yeah?” you shot them an apologetic smile, already fishing out your phone. The three of them nodded in perfect synchronization. They’re as cute as little ducklings, you thought.

You didn’t even need to bother calling.

You were about to dial Satoru’s number on your smartphone when Yuji’s voice boomed, “Oh! There he is! Gojo-sensei, we are here!!”

The boy waved at his teacher.

Satoru immediately spotted the pink-haired student and skipped over to where you all were standing. “Sorry for the wait! I’m afraid I got lost on the path of life!!”

“Nice of you to finally join us, but sadly, the fun is already over and we decided to go home. Just wanted to call you to let you know! We’ve been here since morning,” you deadpanned as the white-haired man arrived, looking Satoru dead in the eye – if they weren’t covered. “Wait, wha– Hold on, I am very sure I am not that late. MY MOCHI?” Satoru sounded frantic, facing his students who just shrugged their shoulders. “Serves you right,” Megumi stated calmly. Nobara, being the sassy girl she was, also joined in, “Losers don’t get to have fun and that’s a fact.”

It was such a wholesome and funny moment for you to see the students playing along with your prank without being told beforehand.

You broke out in laughter, not being able to contain it any longer, “You should have seen your face, dumbass! I was just joking!”

“Phew, I almost thought I had to kiss the idea of eating sweets today goodbye. What a horror that would be, my day would be OVER this instant,” the blindfolded man pouted, “so where should I buy my sweets? I’m gonna buy the entire place anyway, but where do I start? Any suggestions for Great Teacher Gojo?”

“Hold up, Satoru! We gotta take a picture together to commemorate this special day!” you suggested, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. “I swear I just saw sensei’s eyes sparkle but I might be wrong,” Yuji remarked, looking at his dark-haired friend for confirmation.

“Sensei, if you want to take a picture, we have to take it at the right angle!” Nobara chimed in, the secret Instagram influencer in her on full display. She continued to explain, “It would come out great if Gojo-sensei took the pic, long arms privilege and so on.”

The female student almost seemed more into it than you were, it was adorable to you to see the usually bold student be this into taking pictures.

You hand the tall man your phone, but not without shooting him a “if you drop my phone, I’ll make you drop dead” look.

“Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” the male teacher commanded loudly. Upon hearing that, Megumi immediately slapped his hand in his face and turned away in embarrassment. Why was this man like this?

“...Ladies?” Yuji asked, the expression on his face screaming ‘confusion’ “Gojo-sensei just referenced a Beyoncé song, Itadori,” the dark-haired boy explained in a hushed tone, turning back slightly as if he did not want to get caught.

“And it’s not just any song!” Satoru happily chimed in. “Yes, yes, the good old Formation,” you added, nodding in satisfaction. You remember how you showed him the album when it dropped.

“Can we all just ignore Gojo-sensei and take our pic?” Nobara inquired as she shoved everybody into their respective spots. “Alright, everybody, smiiiiile for the camera. Say cheese!”

Click, click, click, click.

Finally, Satoru had gotten his share of sweets. Complying with his sweet tooth was always an effective way to calm him for some time. Almost like feeding a baby, in a way.

Now it was time for fun rides!

...or at least that was what you thought… until Satoru dragged you along to ride a freaking pendulum ride with him. The three students had managed to talk themselves out of stepping foot on that monster of a ride but Satoru didn’t even give you a chance to refuse, he simply gripped your arm and walked towards it.

Stopping only when you were already standing in line, you nervously eyed the metallic behemoth with its iron arm. The monstrosity was seemingly ready to make you throw up from the way it would spin you through the air repeatedly, going back and forth and back and forth again. Why did you have to do this?

“Satoru,” you called his name timidly and tugged at his sleeve, the strange feeling not leaving your gut, “do I really, really have to do this?”

“Absolutely! I promise it will be very fun,” Satoru replied with a signature grin you wanted to wipe off of his face at that moment.

No, it was not fun. At all. You were dizzy and your fear of height was kicking. The blasts of air hitting your face left, right and center were not helping at all and you were sure, if anybody took a picture of you right now, you would look horribly green.

“I– can’t do this anymore!” you shouted mid-air, right before the ride swung to the other side. The force knocked the air out of you once again.

“SATORU, PLEASE GET US OUT OF HERE!” you begged and squeezed his arm with an iron grip. The height was too overwhelming. “Mid-ride?” Satoru asked and you nodded frantically. “Now that’s what I call reckless! Sounds like fun. I’m in!” he declared with a grin.

“Domain Expansion: Infinite Void.”

That was the last thing you heard the tall man say before he touched your head with his large palm.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized this man used his domain this recklessly, for fun. Maybe it was a side effect of being able to use it multiple times a day.

The infinity gently wrapped itself around Satoru and you. Almost movie-like, you watched as the entire, vast universe beautifully unfolded in front of your eyes. Each star being created separately, then abruptly flashing by as a sea of stars – as if you were in a wormhole. You perceived the entire domain within a flash of a moment, yet tasted eternity in it. Everything but nothing at once.

Despite being touched by Satoru himself, the sensations weren’t without merit. If this was how it felt to be in the safe space of Satoru’s touch within his inner world of Limitless, you would rather not fathom how it felt to be the one hit by this powerful domain.

It took you some time to process things and recollect.

“When I said I wanted you to get the two of us out of that thing, I didn’t mean ‘send me to your domain’,” you scolded him.

“Well, it was convenient,” he defended himself and you could almost hear the grin on his face, “Bet you’ll hate me after this though.”

“Hating you was never really an option I’d ever consider but okay, we’ll run with it this time. Now undo your domain, please, while I am asking nicely.”

“Your wish is my command! This time at least.”

“Satoru.” A stern last warning fell from your lips.

“Yes, yes, boss. On it.”

“I thought you said it’ll be fun but I am absolutely not riding that thing ever again,” you took deep breaths to calm down as your feet securely touched the ground again. Your legs were still trembling a bit.

“And it was fun! At least for me! I like seeing you struggle – it’s so funny – and the way you clung to my arm? Adorable! You are so tiny compared to me, like a bug I could crush between my fingers!” The annoying sorcerer laughed merrily.

“Gojo fucking Satoru, the only thing that is about to be crushed here are your balls. With my leg. You are very lucky to have that damn Infinity of yours or else,” you threatened.

“Ouch, you really do know how to hurt an invincible man,” he snickered and flicked your forehead lightly.

Rejoining with the students was easy as they all saw the barrier Satoru’s domain created.

“You are lucky there was some kind of show going on down here. That barrier above would have freaked people out if they weren’t distracted,” Nobara said, looks shooting daggers at her weird teacher. Innocent and as nice as ever, Yuji pitched in as well: “Yeah, Fushiguro also tried to distract children with their wandering eyes! I think he did a good job.”

“Okay but what did he do though?” you asked curiously and looked at the boy in question.

“...Shadow puppets,” Megumi slowly admitted, looking anywhere but at the people in front of him.

“Oh? You love your foster-dad-turned-great-teacher this much to embarrass yourself out in public? That’s new!” Satoru teased the poor boy. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here or you’d all be in jail. That includes preventing civilians who are able to see curses from seeing you use Jujutsu while floating mid-air,” he justified, ignoring the tall teacher’s mockery completely.

“As much as I love slandering Gojo-sensei, I’d rather spend my day actually having fun,” Nobara pitched in, reminding everybody of why you were here in the first place.

“So, let’s go ride the ferris wheel!” she added excitedly.

More fun rides.

Before you knew it, the day passed by. You could already feel the heaviness in your legs from walking. The swirling feeling from all the rides boded in your chest – you probably would not be able to sleep well tonight. It was definitely worth it though, you thought.

You had already brought the students back to their dorm – Satoru had ran off to the school because he remembered he had to do something – and were on the way home yourself.

You were in some sort of trance, completely immersed in your phone, so you hadn’t registered when Satoru called your name until he gently tapped your shoulder, falling into step with you.

“Yeah?” you looked up to Satoru, snapping out of your train of thought.

“Just wanted to tell you; ‘Operation: Relaxation Day’ was a great success.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Satoru.” A genuine smile graced your lips and for a moment, he softened at the sight.

“You know what? It was amazing, I really should start listening to you more often,” he confessed with a smirk.

“Well, it’s thanks to your amazing power of persuasion that we got to spend it like this, so thanks for today,” you half-heartedly complimented him.

“You do know I only said we’d not be available today and then dashed, right?” he asked you, the usual playful tone lacing his voice. “Exactly what I meant by saying ‘your amazing power of persuasion’.”

“I think I’ll frame the picture we took,” you murmured softly, fondly looking at the screen of your phone. The picture from earlier was displayed on your homescreen.

Surely, you would hang it on the blank wall in your home as well. It was a personal treasure now.

Taglist (dm me if you wanna be added): @assbuttbaek @megumifushi @bleueluna @gojos-mochi @delammi

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #domain expansion #infinite void #ibye series

207 notes · View notes

that-millennial-chick · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Skies

The Signs’ Face Claims

I had this idea for a while: Personification of the signs. I always wanted to write a story that presents the signs as people, with the same features and personalities that the signs are said to have, living their lives, interacting with each other. Here are a few ideas for each character, if I get to the actual story, the characters will develop a lot of course. Please inbox me your feedback, if you would be interested in a story as such.

Here’s an idea for the face claims. (the actors’ actual sun signs don’t have anything to do with their roles):

Henry Cavill as Aries, the impulsive soldier.Strong-minded and brave, but a hot-head, which makes him dangerous in a fight. He often throws caution to the wind and goes straight to the point, which he may regret later. He lives for today, is initiative and ambitious, lacks certain gentleness, humility and sense of social act, hurts people without even intending to. He’s restless, vital and always looks for new challenges and adventures. Deep-set eyes and dark eyebrows give him the severe, serious but handsome look. He’s not into love, but does like sex. He rarely gets attached to people, only lives for war and winning battles.

Zoë Kravitz as Taurus, the confident, self-sufficient, but sensitive girl. You can rely on her, she’s honest and respects good manners. Patient and cautious, she knows what she wants and won’t let anyone stop her. She keeps her feet firmly on the ground, doesn’t like to dream or wish, she strongly believes that if you want something enough, you have to go and get it. She’s practical and responsible, but easier to break than she’ll ever show. She loves strongly, and passionately, has a big, loving heart, but knows when to let go, she doesn’t put herself down for anyone. Her doe-like, big, brown eyes will make you trust her with your life. She is exactly who a woman should be, if you could say that, confident, strong, independent and intelligent.

Tom Hiddleston as Gemini, the sweet and funny, blonde, curly-haired sunny-boy. He can seamlessly change everything, from style, ideas to work or partner. He is easy to adjust to significant changes. Surrounded by a little nervous energy, he is brilliant but sometimes emotionally unstable. Being bisexual, he likes to sleep around with different people, but doesn’t really mean to intentionally hurt anyone, he just expects other people to take life and relationships as easily as he does. He’s humorous, energetic and cheerful, but doesn’t let anyone see his sensitive side, that’s why his mysterious way seems very attractive.

Andrew Garfield as Cancer, the typical sweet boy, who likes to play with fire and often gets burned. He can go from being in a great mood to suicidal thoughts in a second. His heart is easy to break and he doesn’t know how to get over it. Trying to bring an order to his chaotic feelings, he starts writing. For himself at first, but that’s how his talent as a writer gets discovered. It helps at first, but his vulnerable nature wants him to take revenge on those who hurt him, which starts to destroy him slowly.

Madelaine Petsch as Leo, the Queen Bee in Louboutins. She likes expensive clothes, always looks flawless and knows it. She appears even more confident than she actually is. As a struggling actress, her life hasn’t been the easiest. Trusting and a little naive, she’s often been used and lied to. She likes to manipulate people, but sometimes ends up being manipulated herself. Trying hard to hide her generous, forgiving heart, she thinks that the key to success is heartlessness and diamonds. Her brutally honest personality gave her the name of a “bitch”, which she enjoys at times, it gives her a painful kind of satisfaction to be hated, but admired at the same time. Her long, red hair perfectly matches her ever-red lips and green eyes, that roll so often. She enjoys her naturally good looks and knows how to use it for her best.

Jamie Chung as Virgo, the beautiful healer. She’s a doctor, she lives for helping people. But the sad truth is, she doesn’t always know how to help herself. Being a gorgeous, strong woman, she is full of insecurities, no one can understand. She is ready to sacrifice herself for others, even people she doesn’t know, because her own life doesn’t mean anything to her. Attentive, with great analytical skills, she seems to see everyone's personality through, she sees when somebody’s hurting, when somebody's lying, her eyes don’t miss out on anything. She loves to bring order into the chaotic life, and tries to make the world a better place by being considerate and organized. Being wealthy, she doesn’t like expensive and unnecessary luxuries. Taurus is her soulmate, but unfortunately, there are many struggles that come in their way. Their love is beautiful and innocent, but leaves them both heartbroken, more than once.

Shay Mitchell as Libra, the girl next door. She has always been a girl who went by unnoticed. A wallflower kind of girl as they say. She never minds, she doesn’t like to show off, doens’t like to shine. Simple clothes and sneakers, ponytail and barely any make-up, that is her every day look. She has a soft personality and knows how to handle troubles, a diplomat, religious, fair, justice has always been important to her. People usually think that she is a depressed teenager, but that isn’t true, life is going as she wishes it to go. She doesn’t like to be pushed, pressured, she prefers to leave responsibility to others. Sometimes, she feels a little basic, that’s all. But the girl will find her place in this world very soon.

Michael Ealy as Scorpio, the blue-eyed devil. Despite what people said, he isn’t all that bad. The often call him “the evil eye”, if your eyes meet, you always move first. He can kill you with a look, undress you with a look, send you to hell with only one look. He’s never easy, everything is important to him and he takes everything seriously. All around him is black or white, nothing in between. The only people he can call friends seem more like loyal servants. It feels like he never tells the truth, he’s mysterious to a fault and will never tell you his opinion about anything. Don’t do him wrong, he will never let you leave with it. He scars a lot of people. Not always intentionally, just by being himself.

Will Smith as Sagittarius, the short-tempered cop. He’s charismatic and respectful, a real fighter for justice. Straightforward, he will shoot arrows, he can’t leave anything unspoken. If you’re in the wrong, he’ll make you crack. He does have strong relationships with people, but only the ones who deserve it in his opinion. Quite tolerant, he will accept a lot of your flaws, but never cross a line, he can cut you out of his life in a second. He’s living on the edge, taking risks, jumps into danger, whether it’s about work or love. Being short-tempered, he gets angry fast, screams, even gets physical, but calms down fast and often regrets it. He does have a good soul, but not many get to see it. Mostly, all they see is a man fighting for the good in any possible ways.

Keanu Reeves as Capricorn, the lone wolf. He never really needed anyone. He was fine being alone. Growing up in an orphanage, he was used to it. Not knowing love, no one to care about. But still, he got through, fought for his degree, became a teacher, not even knowing what for. He doesn't really fall in love, he doesn't really get attached, he doesn't really need it. His good looks and seemingly cool nature attracts a lot of people, he’s interesting, mysterious behind closed doors. But no one really knows him, not even himself. At times, it feels like he's ready, to be a part of the world, to take care of people, but he struggles to believe that anyone would put up with him. He always was so ambitious, so determined, but he came to a point where nothing makes sense anymore. That's the moment he meets him. Better said, he reads his book. A book about retaliation.

Margot Robbie as Aquarius, the sharp-tongued beauty. She grew through struggles and insecurities, which turned her into this perfect human being. She was abused, betrayed and had to fight to survive, just to become a brilliant thief. She’s a woman who gets what she wants, with her intelligence and incredible looks. She considers herself a visionary, she has her ambitions and desires, she’s close to the spiritual world and has a great imagination. Overly dramatic at times, she knows her worth, and knows others better than they know themselves. People bore her quite easily, she expects mystery and entertainment from others. Sexually passionate, she suffers from lack of permanent feelings. Her life has to be a never-ending adventure.

Jared Leto as Pisces, the lost soul. He'a a musician, struggling with drugs and alcohol abuse. His curious and creative mind can't manage between his will to get inspiration and his addictions. He always needs more, whether it's whiskey, love or music, he can never stop. At times, it feels like he's at the end, that he can't do it anymore, but only one shot, and he's back, writing, singing, playing guitar. He falls in love with creative souls like himself, struggling, even dying. For him, it's always over. Every day, can be his last and all he does is singing, dreaming, he always took the path of least resistance.

250 notes · View notes

i-write-newsies · 4 years ago

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

58 notes · View notes

rataltouille · 4 years ago

Text

GEOMETRY OF THE HOLY MOON (1 AM): A SHORT STORY

GENRE: surrealism, literary fiction.

POV & TENSE: this little space is not enough for how wild the form is so i talk about this later!!

SETTING: a small desi village, 1924-25.

TONE: dreamy, unsettling, melancholic.

THEMES: faith vs reality, how people perceive others and how they perceive themselves, grief dealt the wrong way.

AESTHETICS: the splash of water on a quiet night, thick clouds obscuring the sky, rippling the moon’s reflection on the water. the intensity of a garden in spring, the emptiness of a dying town, the suffocation from being singled out. hands grazing lightly but never fully held. a lingering sadness behind your laugh. believing in things you shouldn't believe in. putting faith on a starless sky.

STAGE: completed first draft, 4085 words.

LOGLINE: a young boy, surrounded by loss, claims to talk to god. the story follows him and his conversations with this god, all while his village spies on him as he weaves his way around the two most crucial and lonely years of his life.

LITERAL LOGLINE: on today’s news let’s talk about a small backward town that hates sad little boys who worship god, even though the place is lowkey a cult!!

CHARACTERS:

THE SUMMER BOY: he’s around thirteen, and he’s very emotionally attached to his past. he lost his family at a young age to an unstable force, so he spends his time talking to himself. he’s a quiet, demure and sweet person, always willing to help others. he’s outwardly oblivious and sees only the good in people to a point where he doesn't understand when they’re trying to do him wrong. but! considering how the story [like a lot of my others] has themes of perception vs reality, it needs to be said that he isn't all that innocent. he’s rather impulsive and rash, never afraid of hurting himself [and thus accidentally harming others].

A GOD: is he real? do we even know if he’s an actual god? a very elusive figure despite having a lot of screentime. he’s a surprisingly humanised character and arguably the one with the most empathy. he has a soft spot for the boy and the two have a deep bond which is not common for a human and a god to have. you don’t get insight to what the other gods are like, but they’re implied to exist. this story has a very messy and hazy view towards religion and godhood and their nature towards humanity, and this vague figure, a dreamlike character, is proof enough of that.

THE VILLAGE: okay so in general these people suck. the village consists of, well, the village, but they’re very fluid in the way they appear in the story? as in for the most part they appear as a collective, a unit. one character, the summer boy’s “friend”, is somewhat separate considering he’s a pretty important character. it’s very hard describing this unit of a character but essentially they’re the main antagonistic force and they hate the protagonist for seemingly no reason.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

sometime around this time, the boy chances upon meeting his “god”, this being who lives up in the clouds and whom he talks with often, except you don't know if this god is real or not. that’s one of the recurring themes of this story: what’s real and what isn’t. it’s :) a fun time :) for sure :)

essentially Things Happen And It Only Gets Weirder. i cannot even try describing what happens because it’s all very spoilery but let’s just say that this is a very sad story but not even in a “this makes me cry” manner, but rather in a “this is so fucked up wtf why”. the prose of this is very, very hazy and thick, in a manner that’s both smooth and suffocating. there’s also a lot of moon and water imagery which we love. i love the atmosphere + the setting—colonial india— as it’s a subtle but key element to the plot.

FORM:

OKAY YES be prepared for the true colours of how unhinged i am. i apologize for the form brainrot.

POV: so in this story i really said “what if it had all three of the main povs... jk jk... unless 😳😳” and then proceeded to use all three povs. you’re probably wondering, how did i do that? WHY did i do that? and my answer to that is: 🙂

the first-person pov: the summer boy narrates in first person. his pov takes up about 40% of the story, and this is where we unlock family backstory + how he feels about the various forces playing into his life. he’s an extremely unreliable narrator and he knows it; his narration oscillates between very naive and very self-aware, and this effect is pretty disconcerting. the summer boy is kind of a walking contradiction and we love that conflict.

the second-person pov: a god narrates in second person. his pov takes around 20% of the story, and his scenes all involve his conversations with the boy. his pov is extremely detached, and suspends belief because he seems awfully made up. there’s an edge to the prose in his narration, where you know that something's off, but you can’t exactly pinpoint what.

the third-person pov: the villagers narrate, either as a collective, or as an individual figure, in third person. they take up the other 40% of the story, and there are so many different people and differing opinions with this, and every time we read a third person excerpt it’s a different person, and this is mostly used to add onto the different ways in which the boy is perceived. this is also where the structural part of the form gets really wacky.

STRUCTURE: if my story isn't told in vignettes is it my story though /j. gothm is told in vignettes, each one between 50 to 500 words. the first and second person bits are normal-ish vignettes, with straightforward narration. the third person vignettes, on the other hand, are super assorted. we have a lot of epistolaric sections— there’s a letter, a folk song [which was found around the summer boy], and most of the conversation is told as just plain dialogue without tags. there’s also a phone call transcript, and finally some normal chunks of prose. what am i doing wtf.

also to add onto this the story is told non-linearly. 😀 the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the fact that there are chronological tags before most vignettes [also the manner in which they're tagged differs from pov to pov. for example a few of the third person conversations are marked just as “sunday” or “thursday”, while the summer boy’s narration is marked with the full date and year]

in all this clownery i completely forgot to mention what the tense was [the way everything else was so complicated that i forgot tense was a thing lmao] and good news!! it’s the only sane thing about this story!! it’s told fully in present tense. thank everything.

AN EXCERPT:

okay i’m once again not sharing much because this will be submitted to litmags 🧞

[The boy is scrawny as always. He carries an air of diswant— even death had rejected him when the plague killed only his grandmother— but walks like he doesn’t notice. He smiles at them, jitters, and wipes his hand across his knees. Blood comes away in thin, translucent lines. He saves it on the kerchief he keeps tucked in his shirt, careful to dirty the cloth even more. The villagers scrunch their noses in disgust; who knew how old and rotten the kerchief was, or how long it had carried blood like the unwashed sword of a warrior?]

also by the way this excerpt is in square brackets because it is a third-person interjection in a vignette that is otherwise first-person [at this point...]

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this was inspired by a conversation i had with my grandfather, where he was telling me about how people used to sing songs to the skies, as a way of devotion to a specific god. he used the [loose translation of] the english word “yearning” to refer to the emotion the singers would invoke, and that sparked the concept of a disillusioned young boy who talks to the moon as a way to please the god he’s in love with. it’s a very softly disconcerting story and once again deals with the theme of “perception vs reality” which if you know me and my work, is the theme i’m forever obsessed with.

i really like how this turned out? the atmosphere is exactly how i wanted it to be, and there’s so much i have to add on as i edit and i’m really looking forward to that. this is also the only short story i’ve written where i knew which litmag i’d love for it to be published in? like i never write things with publishing in mind, but for some reason while writing this story it occurred to me that it would be a perfect fit for this specific magazine and i love that. anyway if you’ve made it through the post till here,,,, bless you and your braincells. and that’s all for today!!

#am writing #writeblr #wtwcommunity #atlastracking #ofcolourtracking #crabappletracking #tw death #tw plague #tw blood #the way this post gets increasingly incomprehensible...#love how my blog has just descended into pure chaos post-hiatus #geometry of the holy moon (1 am)#god complex #god complex intro

128 notes · View notes

thisnoodlewritesao3 · 4 years ago

Text

The Girl With Stars In Her Eyes | Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Reader (Angel), Sugawara Koushi mentioned, Previous!Reader (Moonlight)

Pairings: Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, swearing

Word count: 4768

Summary: Falling in love was easy. Staying in love was harder. Falling out of love could be devastating or relieving. But with Daichi, everything is easy. Everything.

A/N: Make sure to check out part one of the series here and let me know what you think because oh boy did I hurt people. I’d also like to thank @pies-writes-and-more and @satan-ruler-of-hells for being my Beta-Readers

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

----

Falling in love is always the easiest part; staying in love takes more work, but the end result is what makes it all worth it; falling out of love can be so difficult and devastating all at once - or it could be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

You met Daichi halfway through your first year in college. He, quite literally, fell for you - well, on top of you, but they were semantics. With the wind knocked from your lungs and a vicious aching in the back of your head, you force yourself to stand up, “I am so sorry, are you okay? Do you have a concussion?” He asked fretting over you, reaching a gentle hand around to the back of your head, looking for any signs of injury.

That was an issue, because you didn’t even know the symptoms of a concussion, and now you might have one? If God could have mercy on you, then that would be highly appreciated. “I think I’m fine.” You moan, rubbing the bump that has already formed.

“I can take you to the doctor’s, just in case.” That would be the smart move, but you didn’t know who he was. Hadn’t ever seen him before, certainly hadn’t heard of him, so you were not about to follow him to some unknown location - even if he did radiate such kindness and authority. You think that he’d probably make a good police officer. Maybe he was.

“I’m good. Mostly.” You laugh and hold out an arm to steady yourself. “Besides, how bad can a concussion really be?” He almost looked shocked, so you could only assume that a concussion could be really bad. “Okay, okay, I’ll go to the doctor. Although at this rate, it’ll probably be because my lungs hurt.” You rub your chest, trying to soothe the pain in your lungs.

“I guess you could say,” he flashed a winning smile and chuckled, “I really took your breath away.” You laugh, ignoring your pain.

“Oh wow- that was… sad?” He chuckles again - how could a chuckle sound so sweet, like his voice was dipped in honey. “But I guess you did.” Of course, you meant it literally, but he clearly thought you were flirting back with him, because he smirked.

“And I fell for you harder than I’ve ever fallen for anyone,” his smirk grew wide when heat rose to your cheeks.

“I can attest to that, I mean, how are you so heavy?” You tease, momentarily forgetting the amount of pain you were actually in.

“I’m not heavy,” he pouts, though it’s obvious that he would definitely be heavy compared to you, “I just used to play volleyball in high school.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

Daichi leaves little room to escape in your conversation - not that you’re complaining, he’s definitely attractive and charming - the way he talked about volleyball with such a passion in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. And you knew the feeling, you loved watching it with your dad so many years ago - one of the few happy memories you have with him. For a while you thought that it would bring a bitter taste into your mouth to hear about it again, but it didn’t. You were glad.

----

Falling in love with Daichi was the easiest part. Almost too easy.

He wore his heart on his sleeve, even when you told him how dangerous that really was; there didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t do. That wasn’t exactly true, even though he had won your heart, you refused to date a man you barely knew. Especially not one so especially charming as Daichi.

Still he’d always ask at the end of every month, “I already fell for you, if you fall too, I’ll be sure to catch you,” with the laziest wink. Like he knew exactly what was going on in your heart.

And yet the closer you got to Daichi, the further away he seemed. He had friends back home, an hour away, and, at first, he’d call them once a day. Then it slipped into every few days. Then once a week. There’s a tenderness in his voice that you can’t quite place. Something that made you question him ever so slowly. But - at this point - you were just his friend. Who were you to question how he talked to his friends?

One day, you asked if he had any exes, a tension filled the air and he looked away from you out of the window, “I guess one girl,” he shrugged, but you knew there was more than what he was telling you. You could feel it, “not much to say about her, but the first thing I noticed about her was how she reminded me of the moon. She reflects the warmth you give to her, but all in all, nothing too special.” Empty. That was how he spoke of this girl. Like there weren’t any real emotions with how he felt about her. There’s something in his eyes that changed and he frowned. “She made friends a little too easily, if you know what I mean.” Your stomach dropped at the suggestion, she hadn’t cheated on him, had she? “But you,” he turned around, smiling softly, “it’s like you have stars in your eyes.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at him - as if you hadn’t heard that a thousand times already. It was true. People called you hopeful, filled with life and joy. You hated it. So much.

Like they were taunting you somehow.

You could never seem to explain it, the distaste you had for something so seemingly sweet.

Maybe he knew how you felt when your face twisted, because he reached out and grabbed your hand so softly, rubbing his thumb along the back of it. There was that tenderness again.

You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

----

After six months of non-stop pursuing you, Daichi asks to take you on a date, and you finally agree, because you really love him so much.

And Daichi doesn’t disappoint.

He whisks you off around the city to each and every little location you held near and dear to your heart, paying for everything without any hesitation, because, “an angel like you should never have to pay for a thing.” You can’t help but hesitate.

“You must have been quite the player,” you tease, hand over your heart, feigning protection, “am I going to need to prepare myself for a heartbreak?” Something in his eyes twist - maybe guilt or shame - but you don’t have a chance to really see what it means before he squeezes them shut and smiles brightly.

“The only thing I play is volleyball.” And with that, all your worries are silenced. You find something so comforting about his company on late nights when you’re both completing so much work that it’s overwhelming. He always knows exactly the right way to relieve your stress.

Your friend's remarks about the marks that littered your body meant nothing to you, not when you found yourself in his arms later that evening, dancing under the pale moonlight. His hands running through your hair, over your body, lips on yours with such a passion and love that you’re afraid you might melt.

Daichi truly is perfect in every single way. Maybe he doesn’t see it, there’s always those underlying insecurities in everything that he does, especially when he asks whether you trust him.

You try to ask him about why he’s so worried about that, and he reminds you about the girl of the moon - the one who made friends just a little too easily. You listen as he talks about her, how she befriended his best friend just a little too quickly, how she was ignorant to what he could see, the way she’d confide in the other boy with such ease. He talked about how he’d always known their future wouldn’t be together. Not now, at least. Still, even with all the ways he described what she’d done, the way she treated him (because you don’t even need to hear the details to know that this girl had cheated on him), he still speaks about her with such a tenderness in his eyes.

So you ask more. “What was she like before?” His face twists, lost in the thought, seeking the words to describe her.

“She was just a normal girl.” He shrugged before ending the conversation quickly.

You couldn’t help but think there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you weren’t going to push him because everybody has their secrets. Even you have your own.

----

From that day forward, you could only look at the moon with a bitterness in your mouth; how silly is it to think you can despise somebody you’d never met before. Even with that bitterness, you keep seeking out the sweetness, because a girl who reminds you of the moon surely can’t be all that bad.

Yet Daichi refuses to give you more than he already had. There was something off in the way he acted, but each backtrack was covered expertly with his whispers of sweet nothings and, before you know it, he’s whisking you off your feet all over again.

Some nights you wonder whether he still speaks to the girl of the moon; with the way he spoke about her, you couldn’t assume so. If he could still talk about her so tenderly, then there had to be more about her. You wanted to know about her life beyond what Daichi had told you. Although it didn’t seem like it would do any good, so you didn’t bother trying to look for her. You walked along a path beside him, leaving stones unturned.

Other days, Daichi would ask about your childhood. And you’d tell him the truth because there was no point in trying to avoid it, “my parents would cheat on each other for revenge.” You put it plain and simple, venom soaked words seemed to be never-ending, “you’d think that at some point they’d realise that I could still hear them fight, but they didn’t.” Thinking about it hurts, but he deserves to know, because you love him. “I spent a long time watching my mom become a husk of herself. I fucking hate people who cheat. There isn't even any point to it.”

Your shaking, you didn’t realise it until just now, but the anger was bubbling over so much that you physically couldn’t contain it. Tears in your eyes burn so much and now you can’t even see clearly.

This feeling of weakness used to fill you so much, and you hated how it had been the one thing to stick around - that and the twisted idea you had stars in your eyes. You felt about ready to break down until Daichi rested his hand on your back, leaning his head down onto your shoulder; you couldn’t see the look on his face, but you were sure it was one of pity.

----

It didn’t take much longer after that before more of your things were at Daichi’s dorm rather than at your own. That was only because you had a roommate, and he didn’t, so it made more sense for you to be there.

Little pieces of you were integrated around, like his place was made for you. Your favourite candles were lit around - the smell of black cherry filled the air and made it feel like home. You were far too used to leaving textbooks and notes at his that when you were at yours, you had no choice but to do nothing all day.

There are still so many things you learn about Daichi every day; the one that surprises you the most is his brief era in watching anime. How he could now name all the characters on a random show a friend had made him watch, and that he was still watching Attack on Titan because he just wants to know what happens, he doesn’t really like it.

You were so close to Daichi, so much that you hated the few times he went to visit friends and family back home - he said that you should wait to meet his family and friends, and while you find it strange, he assures you that he’s told them all about you.

When he visits for his moms birthday, you consider sneaking with him, but decide against it. Because you love Daichi, and you will respect him. You’ll meet his family when he’s ready. That’s what you told yourself.

That’s what you had to keep telling yourself.

That day he came back with a new shirt - said his friend had insisted that he take it because he’d bought it specifically for him. He told you, “but it would look so much better on you.” And you can’t help the rush of excitement as he basically strips you right there. His hands and mouth are on you. Your mind is filled with only thoughts of him.

----

Of course nice things can never last. For all the good things, there are an equal amount of bad things. You just didn’t think one would come so soon.

You’re curled up by his side, trailing your hands over his chest. Over the little marks that you had left. Because Daichi was yours, yours and nobody else’s. For a second, you’re ready to sleep right here; you let out a soft sigh as a knock echoed throughout the dorm.

Standing up and sauntering over, you watch him as he starts to slowly get clothes on. It’s a shame, really, because he is absolutely gorgeous. Your hand hovers over the handle a minute, debating whether or not to actually open the door. But you are an angel, after all, so you open it.

In front of you stands a woman, a smile so wide and reflective that it makes you want to smile, too. She looks maybe a little older than her age, slightly tired. You note the way she’s breathing just a little too quickly. Like she’s nervous. But what exactly did she have to be nervous for? Had she gotten the wrong dorm? That seemed like the only reasonable answer. Her eyes flutter open and she opens her mouth to speak, but something makes her stop. Inside her eyes, you watch the light die and shatter.

Her eyes trail over you, taking in every little detail. It’s like she’s faced the ultimate betrayal and you aren’t sure why. She was the one who’d come to Daichi’s dorm, did she not know that the two of you were dating? For a second - a second you regret immediately - you think that Daichi might have cheated on you. The thought makes your blood boil but you brush it off, because Daichi isn’t like that. Daichi would never do anything like that.

But why does she look so destroyed?

Like her entire world was crumbling around her?

She raised a shaking hand up to her mouth - you know Daichi would never cheat, so why is your heart racing so fast? Why do you recognise the look inside of this girl's eyes?

Your grip on the door tightens as she squeezes her eyes shut - like she just can’t believe what she’s seen. But what has she seen? Sure, she’d seen you, but that was a completely normal sight around campus. Maybe she just didn’t know. Maybe she came here to confess her undying love for him? That wouldn’t have surprised you.

She meets your eyes. You can see the tears brimming but refusing to fall. Why? So many questions and not enough answers. You glance back into the dorm, taking in Daichi now wearing pants. He calls out, “who is it, angel?”

In the corner of your eye, you watch her lift her other hand to her heart before pulling it away slightly, glancing down. What was she expecting to see?

You keep your eyes focused on Daichi’s face as he stands behind you in the door frame, a hand snaking around your waist before he turns to look at the girl. Something happens. Something that you couldn’t understand. Not until his face falls entirely too quickly and something in his eyes breaks. You look back at the girl as she shakes, the saddest little smile upturning her lips, “surprise…” her attempt at a sing-song tone shatters your heart.

He calls out her name, speaking far too quickly, “sh-shit, okay. Look. I can- I can explain. Okay? Just… come inside.” He’s stuttering and fumbling as he grabs onto her wrist. A hope fills her eyes and she allows herself to be pulled inside.

----

You didn't need to be a genius to put the pieces together. If this had been a story, they were the main characters. You sit on the couch while Daichi pours some water into a mug for her. There’s something in this story that you can’t work out, and that’s where you come into play. The girl so obviously wants to do anything but be sat here, so what did Daichi need to explain to her?

“How’re the boys?” He asks, passing her the mug, you quirk a brow. He barely even glances at you as he sits down, the space between you kept growing wider. She just nods slowly, like she’s in a daze. “What about Suga? Or even the first years, do they still come-”

“Just get it over with, Daichi.” Her voice was void of any emotion as she looked up at him.

She hadn’t even cried. If she was really hurt, wouldn’t she be crying? Everything about her seemed so vacant, like she was shrouded in complete darkness.

“Right.” He clears his throat, clasping his hands together as he searches for the right words. Silence with Daichi had always been comfortable before, but this had such a tension in it that it was hard to breathe. “I just- I was alone. You left me alone… I thought you hated me. I-I… I made a mistake,” he glances at you and your heart breaks all over again. Was that all you were to him? “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” He laughs nervously. “Y-You always had Suga. I just needed someone.” The girls grip tightens on the mug, knuckles turning white.

As you listen to him explain, you finally understand what part you play and it makes you sick. Because Daichi hadn’t just cheated on you - worse than that - he had used you to cheat on someone else. You wanted to be sick. Guilt and shame radiated off of you and you just knew she could see that.

At some point during his rambling, she looks at you again. There’s a small spark in her eyes as she speaks, “nice shirt.” You look down, of course it was nice, it was Daichi’s. But now it just makes you want to tear it apart.

“Thank you,” you mutter, “it’s Daichi’s.”

“I know.” There’s a worrying confidence in her voice as she turns to glare at him. “I bought it.”

Another twisting in your stomach and you watch him sink in on himself. How hasn’t he apologised already? He is destroying two worlds at once and he isn’t even sorry; sure, he’s coming up with excuses, but he’s just trying to defend himself.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I-I… I thought maybe if we kept trying, then maybe we could-” she cuts him off, placing the mug onto the coffee table. She hadn’t even drank it, just stared at her own reflection like it was a curse and you knew exactly what was happening in her mind. Why wasn’t I enough? She cringes at the sight of your textbooks, your candles, everything.

“I think what you mean,” she sits up straighter and faces him directly, “is that you didn’t mean for me to find out.” You watch Daichi open his mouth and you just know it’s true. What was his plan when he dared to speak to you? To pursue you? He knew he had a girlfriend and he hunted you anyway. She lets out a breath - almost sounding more like a laugh - as she claps her hands together, “well, when you told me to go out and live my life, I never thought this is what it would be like.” She seems to know the right words to say to hurt him. How long had they been together?

Something about Daichi changed, like his defences shot up, “it isn't like you ever needed me, you always had Suga clinging to your side. You never even trusted me anyway.” You couldn’t figure out what he was playing at, why was he suddenly trying to attack her? It didn’t work. Nothing about her demeanour changed. If anything, she just looked angrier. How is she ever going to be able to trust you now? You want to say.

She has a sly way of attacking, very subtle and something to admire, especially as her even tone states, “maybe that’s true, but if you really think that, then you never knew me at all.” Guilt floods his eyes and you know that it has worked; those few words were enough to make this man with an aura of authority shrink like a child.

“I spent a lot of time thinking,” she sighs. You watch as she rubs slow circles on her sides - so she really is anxious? How close is she to breaking down? If it were you, you would have been long gone by now, “that when you slowly stopped calling-” you shrink into yourself, because you were the reason he’d slowly stopped calling “-that you were really busy; you were out here doing what I should have. You were living your life.” She glanced at you and you instinctively tug the hem of the shirt. Her eyes don’t linger, not long enough to read your mind. “And I can see I was right.” Her tone was so indifferent that it was somehow more threatening.

She gets up to leave and you’re almost thankful until his hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, desperation deep set in his voice, “we can still try, I- I want you to still love me. And I will love you, because I do love you.” It breaks your heart. You don’t want to hear it. You look at her and know she feels exactly the same way.

This was the time you’d expected her to break, but she doesn’t - God, this girl is filled with surprises - she smiles sweetly down at him, carefully untangling his fingers from around her wrist. “I never said I didn’t love you, but I don’t think I like you anymore, Daichi.” And with that, she broke him.

She slips out of the room, leaving you to soak in the tension.

----

“Are you going to leave me now, too?” Daichi cries out as you start getting dressed, rummaging around his dorm for the other shoe. You can’t just leave her alone. It’s your fault, you should have seen the signs all along. “Come on, angel, don’t be like this.” He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder.

It felt like he’d burnt you, “don’t you touch me.” You hissed, shoving him off and running towards the door the moment your shoe was on. He didn’t chase after you - of course he didn’t, he hadn’t even chased after her - why would you be special? That was the thing. You weren’t. Not to Daichi, at least. You were just something he could use. It was a horrible feeling, to fall out of love so quickly and suddenly. Like the wind had been knocked from your lungs and a tear in your heart.

You ran across the campus, searching wildly for the girl. You could only assume she was just as strong as you saw her a moment ago; it didn’t take long to find her, her steps were slow, like she was hoping he’d come back to her. That he’d love her and whisk her away. That he’d say this was some sort of sick joke.

But it wasn’t.

You reached out and tapped her shoulder, closing your eyes as you talked, “I am so sorry. I- I never would have done anything like that if I knew,” your heart hurts because you had been a part of this girl's destruction. “I didn’t know. And I-” you slowly open your eyes. Soft tears are falling from her eyes, and yet she holds her composure, “you really loved him, didn’t you?” Your voice is so soft that you’re worried she hasn't heard it.

But she did, telling someone that she’d call them back before hanging up. She looked around hopelessly before spotting a bench and beckoning you to follow, which you do - she seems so wise beyond her years, like she never really had the chance to be young.

Something about her reminds you of the girl Daichi told you about - the girl of the moon - how she still seems bright even in the darkness. Because this had to have been her darknest point.

“I do-” she hesitates, and you know that she still does, no matter what she says next, “- I did. Did he ever tell you how we met?” You shake your head, but it’s only a half truth. You had only heard the few things that he had said, and those words didn’t seem like much of a truth now. Because this girl doesn’t seem like she could hurt anyone; maybe only herself.

You listen intently as she tells you the story of how they met. How they’d been put in the same class, next to each other. How she was jealous of the window and how he blocked it; how he never really stopped blocking the window (that you could attest to, because he’d done the same thing). She tells you about Suga - his best friend - and how she just never wanted to hurt Daichi. She told you that she’d stayed back for her siblings, and that she didn’t really know what to do. Her confusion and sadness when he stopped calling. How that became normal.

Then she talks about him more. Her first impressions; how he had an unwillingness to give up (you knew that much) and an aura of authority and you agree, because who wouldn’t. She talks about this side of him with such a tenderness and you just know she loves him. She tells you that he could bring the first years to their knees, and you can’t help but laugh.

There’s so much more you want to talk to her about, but she just grabs your hand and sighs. “I- I don’t blame you.” It must be bitter to admit, but it eases the tension in your heart. “Daichi made his choice, and if that choice was you, then I can see why.” You want to hold her. To tell her how sorry you are. But the words refuse to leave your lips. Instead, you squeeze her hand and she smiles softly before standing up, wishing you a good life.

Would you ever have a good life after this?

----

It takes you an hour to pack up your things from Daichi’s dorm - with the help of your friends. A week to cry out any feelings you had for him. A month until Daichi finally understands you aren’t coming back to him. A year until you finish college and move in with a friend.

Sometimes the thought of Daichi still lingers, but then you look at the moon, and any thoughts are washed away.

You think kindly back on the girl wise beyond her years. Some days you wish you’d gotten to be her friend, but then you figure she wouldn’t want to be.

Falling in love is the easy part - but that’s why you hesitate when falling in love with the next boy - Matsukawa Issei.

Staying in love with him is the hard part, but you learn how to work together, and things become just a little easier. He doesn’t make things hard, doesn’t beat around the bush. And (the girl would be happy about this) he doesn’t block the windows. He pulls you close so you can stand together.

Falling out of love isn’t something you need to worry about. Not when he looks at you with stars in his eyes.

----

Taglist:

@dekuspet @pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @realcube

If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask or a DM.

#sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi angst #sawamura daichi x reader #hq daichi #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #angst #writing #my writing #thisnoodlewrites #the.girls.touched.by.space

118 notes · View notes