#maybe ill get some sheet masks and just have a self care day

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[rosenvenus]

normally woudl like to order flowers for myself for today but too tired. ill celebrate valentines day next weekend when i have time for it

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Gorillaz Headcanons

“Sick Days”

Murdoc:

This man almost NEVER gets sick.

It might have something to do with his deal with the devil, or maybe that he has an immune system of steel with everything he has put his body through, but whatever it is, very little can get through to him. Or at least to the band’s knowledge.

However, after he got out of jail before Demon Days came out, the switch between Mexico’s blazing sun and Britain’s practically eternal rain really hit him hard - not to mention the bad food and horrible sleep schedule.

When Murdoc disappeared for a few days while the rest of the band was recording and planning the album, no one thought anything of it. They thought he was just slacking off.

After about a week of no-show, Russel had had enough. He marched straight to Murdoc’s Winnebago and demanded he open the door, or he wouldn’t hesitate to break it down.

No answer.

A man of his word, Russel was soon inside the trailer, a rusty doorknob in his hand.

Murdoc was in bed, his sheets sticky with spilled NyQuil, shivering so hard one could hear his teeth raking and grinding against each other.

After Russel brought him into the studio, Murdoc slowly began to recover. According to 2-D, it was the most cordial anyone had ever seen him.

It was about two weeks before he recovered fully, but he was back to his old self before the album was truly underway.

Murdoc denies that he was ever ill, since he doesn’t remember anything except “this bloody awful song that rattled the hubcaps.” This happened to be Dare, which is why the final scene of the music video has a shaking, feverish Murdoc startling awake.

Other than that, though, the only “sicknesses” he seems to get are hangovers and the occasional overdose of something or other.

2-D:

In stark contrast to his boss, 2-D gets sick ALL THE TIME.

Whether it be migraines, colds, ear infections, stomach viruses, or even bronchitis, this boy has had it all.

Usually he can just work through it, since he has a pretty high tolerance for pain, but sometimes it’s just too much for his body, and he has to stay in bed.

However, even when he’s sick, 2-D still comes up with song lyrics and chord progressions. He even says that some of his best ideas have come from fever dreams or pain-induced nightmares.

Due to how weak he can be when he’s ill - and how susceptible he can be to other things - Russel usually has to remind him to take a jacket or to wear a mask/bandana when he’s already caught something.

He’s gotten better over the years, especially through the pandemic, but he still has to be really careful, especially during tour schedules.

Noodle:

Noodle got sick a lot when she was young, especially on tours.

This meant she spent a lot of time on the couch watching Tom and Jerry.

“Whenever I watched anything else, I would fall asleep, then wake up disoriented because I missed so much of the story. I would try to stay awake, but only feel worse in the morning. But with Tom and Jerry, I knew, no matter what, the mouse would always beat the cat.”

Now that she’s gotten a little older and takes care of herself, she only gets ill every once in a while.

Her main issue is that she doesn’t consider sickness reason enough to rest and recuperate, which means that her illnesses usually go on for longer stretches of time.

It usually takes an empty schedule and Russel putting his foot down before she even considers taking a day off.

She usually spends it watching DuckTales, playing her guitar, and sending emails to celebrities - no one could never convince her to relax completely - not even Russel.

After a few days of bed rest, though, she usually recovers very quickly. She has the best immune system and health of any of the other band members. She just overworks herself sometimes.

Russel:

Only gets sick maybe once or twice a year.

But those couple times are murder.

Since Russel is so large, having him dizzy or even immobile can be dangerous for everyone involved.

If he feels himself getting ill, he usually prepares a space for himself before he gets to feeling too bad, which Noodle jokingly calls a “Russ Nest.”

Most of the time, he sleeps his sickness off under a mountain of pillows and blankets.

However, there have been a few times where sleeping wasn’t enough - either because his fever was too high or the medicine he took had adverse side effects.

That’s when his sleepwalking starts.

There have been several instances where one of the other Gorillaz had to lead him back to his blanket fortress and stay with him until whatever fever dream he was having was over.

Murdoc is usually the one sent, since he seems to have a particular…talent for guiding less than conscious people to where they’re supposed to be.

“Mmmnn…in th’ window…”

“I’ll lock it for ya, Russ…nice ‘n tight…”

“Th’ eyes…”

“Just an owl, mate. Real cute. I’ll send ya a picture.”

[caiuscassiuss]

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE 

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo​ for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye. 

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him. 

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair. 

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.” 

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

��Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. ��I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.” 

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully. 

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand. 

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand. 

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s. 

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave,  Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

[dazedbydazai]

예뻤어 - You Were Beautiful

➤ Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Fem!Reader

➤ Genre: Angst

➤ Warning: Character death(s)

➤ WC: 2.0K

(A/N: This was requested by an anon and was inspired by DAY6′s song, You were Beautiful. I suggest listening to that while reading this. It just hits right.)

Dazai Osamu was a very secretive and elusive man. He had multiple tricks up his sleeve, he was manipulative, cunning, and unforgiving. He didn't know what love was, he abandoned that emotion long ago. He was merciless and self-centered, only caring about things that will benefit him. Dazai Osamu was not a good man.

But all of that changed when his closest friend, Odasaku, died.

Promising to turn over a new leaf, Dazai left the Port Mafia in pursuit of something more beautiful, something good, and he had also vowed to not let anyone else enter his life and be attached to them in fear of losing them like he lost his friend.

Dazai vowed. He closed himself off, hiding behind a pretentious and flamboyant character that fools people with his handsome smile and witty banter. Dazai didn't want to repeat the same mistake twice. Dazai had already learned.

He chanted this in his mind over and over again but alas, he was not able to stick to his word. Because just after a few months of leaving his past self behind, he suddenly met you.

A beautiful woman. Funny, kind, and just as intelligent as Dazai, you showed up in front of him like an angel and broke down all the walls he's built.

Dazai didn't understand why, of all people, did you come to him? Why waste your time on someone who's suicidal and clearly not of sound mind? Why bother entertaining his antics and flirtatious behavior when you knew that he only did this to cover up his ugliness within?

Simple. The answer was simple.

It was just in your nature.

You were gentle when you first embraced Dazai. You were understanding when he told you about his past. You were soft spoken when you told him that it's okay. You were kind, so very kind, that Dazai didn't bother to put up his walls around you anymore.

Dazai let himself fall. He wanted to hold you in his arms longer, wanted you to kiss his pain and anguish away, he wanted to love you. And he did.

That promise he made himself was long forgotten as he sighed contently, letting your fingers drag through his hair, gently fixing it up.

"Dazai? Are you falling asleep?" You giggle as you look at him through the mirror of your dresser.

Dazai blinked a few times before grinning at you. "Hmm... if I say yes, would you let me sleep in your bed tonight?"

You lightly smack his forehead and laugh. "If you meant that literally, then go ahead."

You were always so welcoming with Dazai, no, actually with all the people you meet. You treat them equally, always talking to them with a smile on your face. But Dazai likes to think that he's given special treatment from you. You are, after all, the closest person he's ever let in his life next to Odasaku.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Being with you was easy. You calmed Dazai's heart, relaxed his mind, made him feel more human.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever met," He had told you one day as you ate your lunch together. If it was anybody else, they'd assume that Dazai was just being his usual flirty self. But since it was you, you knew that those words held something deeper as you look in his brown orbs.

Being with Dazai was difficult, to say the least, but you kept up with him, determined to help him in any way you can. And it wasn't long before you found yourself falling for him too.

It was in the gentle way he held your hand, the glint in his eyes whenever he talks to you, the softness and vulnerability of his voice when he lets out his inner thoughts and nightmares.

You were always there, listening through each and every one of his stories. Even when he had called you up at three o'clock in the morning, voice hoarse and shaky as he apologized to you.

"Did you have another nightmare?" You ask softly and when Dazai says yes, you sit up on your bed and walk him through it. You always knew how to calm him down, knew the right words to say, and Dazai was thankful for that.

Dazai truly loved you and you loved him too.

That's why even if he knows he won't be able to hold you in his arms forever, he still takes the chance and asks you to be his.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It feels like heaven. Dazai thought as he held you in his arms one cold winter night.

It was perfect. How your hand fit in his as he kissed your knuckles gently.

"You are so beautiful, my belladonna."

Those words never failed to make you blush, your heart skipping a beat as Dazai traces the features of your face with his finger.

"Stay with me like this forever, Dazai. I want to keep you close to me for as long as I can," You whisper these words as you close your eyes, feeling sleepy.

"Don't say that like you're going someplace else, my love. I will forever be by your side," Dazai replied as he kissed your forehead and wrapped the blanket closer to your bodies.

But maybe Dazai should have taken your words more seriously that night. Because a few weeks later, he will find himself regretting not holding onto you tighter.

Life was cruel, Dazai knew that from a young age. Things never go according to plan. One moment you're up in the clouds, and the next you're falling head first to the ground.

That's how Dazai felt today as he got a call from the hospital.

Leaving behind his work at the agency and rushing over to you in a panic, Dazai felt his world slowly crumble to pieces as he saw the state you were in.

"What happened?" Dazai asked the doctor as he stood still at the doorway of your room. Dazai's eyes were blank as he listened to the doctor explaining that you suddenly fainted in the middle of the street. That it was probably due to the strain in your heart, a terminal illness that Dazai had no idea you had.

But maybe he already knew. He saw you multiple times trying to take some medicine in secret, as if you were afraid of letting Dazai see. At one time he found a bottle of pills in your cabinet but he didn't dare ask what it was for.

It was silly, how you two were so alike, how you also masked your own pain by that beautiful smile of yours.

When the doctor had finished and left, Dazai approached your bed and sat by your side. Even with your eyes closed and your lips not the usual shade of pink, Dazai still found you beautiful and he simply stared at you, waiting for you to wake up.

When you come to, the first thing you see is the familiar tousle of Dazai’s hair as he laid his head on your hospital bed. You felt your words get caught up in your throat and your hand flinch.

“Belladonna?” Dazai called out groggily, having woken up by your movement.

Immediately, as you lock eyes with him, you felt your tears forming and falling at the corner of your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Was all you could say as you cried. You felt horrible, both physically and emotionally. All this time you had kept this a secret from him, from someone who has been so honest with you from the start. You apologized over and over again, not knowing what else to say.

Dazai hushed you by wiping your tears away. “What are you sorry for, my belladonna?”

You force the lump down your throat as you look up at the ceiling, suddenly unable to face Dazai head on.

“For everything,” You whisper. “I know I should have told you about this. But I just…”

Dazai waited for you to continue, staying silent as he brushed his thumb across your cheeks.

You shut your eyes and cry harder, your body shaking horribly. “I didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want you to see me like this. I look and feel so helpless.”

You clutch the sheets in your hands and take a shaky breath. “All my life they told me to just stay still, to not venture out in the world. I know I don’t have long to live and I planned to listen to them and close myself off. But that was until I met you.”

You find the courage to finally face Dazai again and your heart sank deeper as you see the blank look in his eyes. “I became selfish. Ever since I met you, I suddenly wanted to live. I wanted to experience everything life had to offer. I wanted to fall in love, and I’m so glad that I found that in you. And I don’t regret leaving my past behind and meeting you. But…”

You reach up and hold Dazai’s cheek and that’s when you saw the familiar pain cross his eyes. “The only regret that I have now is that I put you in this position once again.”

Dazai knew what you meant and he couldn’t help the deep sigh that escapes his lips. Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch and says, “Can’t you stay with me for a little longer, Y/N?”

It was the first time in a long while that he called you by your name and it hurt so bad how sad his tone was when saying it.

“I honestly don’t know Dazai,” You admit you aren’t sure how longer you can stay with him, how longer you can live. And as you helplessly lay on the bed and hold Dazai’s hand in yours tightly, you couldn’t help but pray to all the gods to give you a little bit more time.

Life was indeed cruel and it left a bitter taste in Dazai’s mouth as he stared out the window of your shared apartment. There were a lot of things left unsaid between you two but one thing was for certain, you really didn’t want Dazai to see the pain you were hiding inside.

You only wanted him to see the good things, the beautiful things. Wanted him to enjoy life and continue on his journey. But how was he supposed to do that now? He wanted to be angry, wanted to scream at the universe for kicking him down like this over and over again, but he can’t bring himself to. He couldn’t hate you. No. Not you.

Because you were beautiful.

From the moment he first saw you, he knew how gorgeous you were from inside and out.

You were beautiful.

Every time you said you loved him with that sparkle in your eyes. Every time you called his name in that sweet voice of yours. Every time you kissed and wrapped your arms around him.

You were beautiful.

Even as you saw all the ugliness of life, you still managed to smile.

You were beautiful.

Even as you said you were sorry, with tears staining your cheeks.

You were beautiful.

Even as you said your final good bye when you thought Dazai was sound asleep by your side.

Everything about you was beautiful, and deep down, Dazai was glad he found you. He was thankful that you guided him to the light. He was happy he got to spend a significant time with you.

But no matter how beautiful your time spent with him was, he still couldn’t help but clench his fist in anger. Why did you have to leave me too?

It was a question Dazai always asked but he never found an answer. Again, for the second time in his life, someone so dear slipped away from his hands.

Sometimes he wanted to end it as well, to fall into the hands of death. But he was suddenly afraid to push through it. He was afraid to forget you, to never see you again even as he closes his eyes. He was scared to lose his precious memories of you.

Because all of it was beautiful in his eyes.

And now as he lays in bed, he doesn’t know what hurts and haunts him more; the nightmares of his past life, or the constant dreams he has of you and your beautiful smile.

[fanmoose12]

“Hange!” Levi shouted, as he banged his fists against the piece of offending furniture. “Open that goddamn door!”

“Levi…” Hange sighed wearily. Levi didn’t like the tone of her voice. Hange never spoke like this. “Just leave me alone.”

“The fuck I will!” Levi almost growled. “Open that door or I swear I’ll break it down!”

“There is nothing you can do!” Hange screamed. A moment later, she started coughing, and Levi heard as she slid down to the floor. “There is nothing you can do,” she repeated, her voice raspy. “It’s best if I stay here, alone, until… Well,” she laughed bitterly. “You know.”

“I’m not letting you fucking die, Hange!”

“And what are you going to do? You saw those people, you saw how they’ve died! You know you can’t help me.”

“Well, the least I can do is try,” Levi slid to the floor as well, not caring about his pristinely white coat. He leaned against the door. “Hange, please…” his voice was quite, almost a whisper. “Just let me help you.”

“No, Levi, I can’t. This thing is highly contagious, I can’t risk you becoming infected as well.”

“Bullshit,” Levi answered, getting angry again. Why Hange wouldn’t listen to him? Just for once in their goddamn lives? “I’ve been treating those patients alongside you. And I still feel fine, so let me in.”

“Fine, maybe you aren’t infected, or maybe you aren’t as susceptible to the disease as I am, but Levi! Remember those patients. They’ve died before we could do anything! I don’t think I have much time left.”

“And if you continue to sit here, wallowing in self-pity, you’ll have even less time. Don’t be an idiot, Hange. You’ve told me yourself that this new bacteria has a very short lifespan. What exactly you’ve told me?”

“I said they probably live for only 24 hours, but Levi—!”

“Don’t ‘but Levi’ me,” he grumbled, cutting her off. “I know that this is just your theory, but more often than not, your theories are correct, Hange. I’m willing to bet that this one is correct as well. So if I manage to keep you alive for just a day, I believe that you’ll be able to fight off the disease.”

“You really believe that?” Hange’s voice was quiet and unsure.

“I do believe that,” Levi replied. “I will do anything to save you, Hange. You did the same thing for me, after all.”

“I did?” Hange chuckled, surprised by his words.

“Of course,” Levi nodded, even though Hange couldn’t see him. “Remember our college days? I’ve gotten a bad case of stomach flu, and have been puking my insides for three days straight. And you haven’t left my side even for a moment. Or, that time,” Levi closed his eyes, feeling the old wounds reopen. “When I got into that car accident? When I was lying in the hospital bed, all broken and despaired? When I have been grieving and mourning Isabel’s and Farlan’s deaths? When all I wanted to do was to curl up and fucking die?”

“Levi… I—”

“No,” Levi continued, ignoring Hange’s words. “You have to listen to this, Hange. I wanted to die back then, there was no reason for me to live, but you… you gave me a reason. You haven’t left me even then, you found this job for me, and—”

“Erwin got this job for you,” Hange reminded. “I just gave him your resume.”

“Whatever. Erwin gave me a purpose, but you… your kindness and friendship gave me a reason to get up in the mornings. I know it sounds fucking pathetic, but…” Levi trailed off, rubbing his face. “You make me happy, Hange. I love my job and I love helping people, but even more so, because I can do this alongside you. So, Hange, please, let me in. Let me help you, because I don’t think I can live, if I lose you as well.”

For a long moment there was silence, and Levi already prepared to say something more or to act on his promise and break the fucking door, when it finally opened.

Hange stood on the other side, leaning against the chair and breathing heavily. She was pale – cyanotic, the doctor in Levi said, but he didn’t listen to it. Cyanotic meant… no, cyanotic meant bad things, awful things, but Levi wasn’t going to focus on them. Hange was just pale, she had two night shifts in a row and she was understandably exhausted. A good night sleep was all she needed to feel better again.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Levi hugged Hange by the shoulders, leading her into one of the wards for the infectious patients.

“Are you saying this to all of your patients?” Hange giggled.

“I’m glad to know that the disease hasn’t affected your sense of humor. It’s still as horrible as it always have been.”

“Oi, it’s rude to talk to your patient that way!”

Levi shook his head in exasperation. “Just change your clothes and lay in bed. I’ll go and bring the needed equipment.”

“Levi,” Hange touched his arm. When he looked at her, there was a tiny, fond smile on her lips. “You don’t need to tell me all this stuff. I’m also a doctor, remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Levi nodded. “Sorry, just a habit,” he took Hange’s hand into his and briefly squeezed it. “I’ll be right back.”

After Levi brought everything he needed, connected Hange to the numerous tubes and wires, injected her with the strongest antibiotics their hospital had, there was nothing left for him to do rather than to stay by her side and watch every change, hoping for Hange’s fast recovery.

“Levi…” Hange slowly began. Levi turned his gaze away from the monitors and looked at her. But just as soon, he averted his eyes – Hange seemed so frail, so feeble in that bed. “If I d—”

“You won’t.” Levi instantly cut her off, refusing to hear what she wanted to say next. “You’ll survive this shit and will be back on your feet in no time.”

“But those patients!” Hange protested.

“Those patients were already weak. Their immune system was compromised, and they had a dozen of concomitant diseases. You, on the other hand, are young and healthy. You’ll be fine, and I don’t want to hear another word from you about death or some other depressing thing. Better yet, stop talking and get some rest.”

“That’s doctor’s orders?” Hange grinned weakly.

“You’re goddamn right,” Levi showed a small smile of his own.

Hange stared at him for another moment, before closing her eyes and falling into a restless slumber.

 ***

When she woke up, Hange's condition had considerably worsened. Her Sp02 was rapidly decreasing and Levi even had to put an oxygen mask over her face. With his heart in his throat, he watched how Hange was desperately trying to breathe, her chest heaving up and down.

“It hurts, Levi,” she croaked out. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Levi’s one hand held Hange’s and another one was softly playing with her hair. “I know it hurts, Hange, and I’m sorry. But you are strong, you can endure this. Soon it will pass, and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I…” Hange had another coughing fit, which shook her body. Levi shuddered as he saw blood on the white sheet of her bed. “I… need,” Hange continued when her coughing had subdued. “I need a reason… to survive.”

“Alright,” Levi gently caressed her palm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

A small smirk appeared on Hange’s bloodied lips. “That’s a dangerous promise, doctor Ackerman.”

“I’m a dangerous man,” Levi shrugged, his eyes darting to the monitor beside Hange. It showed that Hange’s Sp02 almost returned to normal. Levi let himself relax. “So what do you want?”

Hange looked away from him, as an almost shy expression appeared on her face. “A date,” she whispered so quietly, Levi had to strain his ears to hear it.

“A date? With whom?”

“With whom do you think?” Hange glared at him. “Of course, I’m asking you to arrange me a date with Mike.”

“Mike?” Levi raised his eyebrows. “But he’s married!”

“You’re lucky,” Hange took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re lucky I’m weak now, Levi. I would have kicked you otherwise. I was talking about a date with… you.”

“Oh,” Levi’s eyes widened. “You want to go on a date with me? Alright, y-yeah, okay. Yes, I agree.”

Hange gave him a critical look. “Are you agreeing just because I’m on my death bed?”

“Idiot,” Levi growled, resisting the urge to smack her head. “You’re not on your death bed, and I didn’t agree out of pity or anything. Actually…” Levi trailed off, feeling his cheeks redden. “Actually I wanted to ask you out for a very long time. Just couldn’t find the courage to do so.”

“You wanted to go on a date with me?” Hange asked quietly. Levi didn’t know if her voice was so weak because of her illness, or she just couldn’t believe him.

“Of course, I did, four-eyes. I still do. I… I had a crush on you… for a while.”

Truth be told, Levi had a crush on Hange for as long as he knew her. However, something always stopped him from confessing his feelings. Maybe, he just didn’t want to make a fool out of himself, or maybe, he was afraid of her refusal. He didn’t want to destroy their friendship with his stupid, inappropriate feelings. Levi had never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“You have a crush on me?” Hange’s lips curled into a smile, and Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He loved that smile so much…

“I think we’ve already established that,” Levi hid his blushing face, lowering his head. Well, one of his fears did come true. Talking about his feeling was the worst. “Better tell me, where do you want to spend our first date?” Levi began, trying to keep Hange’s mind away from her pain. “I would have thought of something myself, but,” he shook his head. “You know I suck at this kind of things.”

“I want to go to the amusement park,” Hange sighed dreamily. “I want to go on a Ferris wheel. We’ll be holding hands and looking at the night city. And cotton candy! Yes, we will be sharing a cotton candy.”

Levi made a face. “I hate those things. They’re sticky and way too sugary.”

“Too bad, Ackerman,” Hange smirked. “You’ve already agreed to this.”

Levi sighed, admitting his defeat. “Alright, what else do you want to do?”

“Mm, then we should take a ride on a roller coaster, the biggest one they had. I hope, you’ll be screaming like a little girl.”

“Keep dreaming, four-eyes,” Levi softly chuckled.

“And then I’ll drag you to the shooting range. I’ll make you win me the biggest plushie they have.”

“And the ugliest, no doubt.”

“Ah, you know me so well,” Hange softly smiled.

“That I do,” Levi agreed. “Now, c’mon, stop talking,” his eyes slightly narrowed, as he saw Hange’s saturation begin to decrease again. “Save your breath and go to sleep. I’ll be there, when you wake up.”

 ***

Levi was slumping in his seat, watching every rise and fall of Hange’s chest. Hoping that movement doesn’t stop.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Hange mumbled without opening her eyes. “Creep.”

“I’m not a creep,” Levi answered, feeling his lips involuntarily twitch into a smile. “I’m a professional.”

“Mm, that’s what all creeps say.”

“Are you feeling better?” Levi got to his feet, deciding to inject Hange with another antibiotic.

“Not really,” Hange answered, avoiding his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“For a few hours.”

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

It was Levi’s turn to avoid Hange’s eyes. “I’ll rest when you get better.”

“Levi,” Hange chided. “You have to get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t need it much.”

“Alright, maybe, you don’t need to sleep,” it looked like Hange wasn’t going to give up easily. “But what about your other patients? Don’t you have to take care of them?”

“Who are you taking me for, four-eyes?” Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ve asked Mike and Erwin to look after them. Besides, I’m helping hundreds of patients right now.”

“Huh?” Hange’s face scrunched into a confused expression.

“I’m saving your life, dumbass,” Levi said in a far softer voice that he intended. “And by saving yours, I’m saving lives of other patients you’re going to help after you get back on your feet.”

“Levi…” Hange searched for his hand, and when she reached it, she took it in hers and squeezed. She looked deep into his eyes, not knowing what to say. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn’t do it. Not now, not until she actually gets better.

“It’s been almost fifteen hours since you’ve become ill,” Levi changed the subject, feeling the strange tension in the room. The look in Hange’s eyes was so intense and almost unreadable. “Ten more hours and you’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve told you already – I am a professional,” Levi huffed. “And I never give my patients false hopes.”

“So, I’m your patient, huh?” Hange looked at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes. With that expression on her face, she seemed almost healthy, almost normal. “Say, doctor Ackerman, am I your favorite patient?”

“No,” Levi replied curtly. “And let’s not make a habit of it, four-eyes.”

“Let’s not a habit of what? You taking care of me?”

“Let’s not make a habit of you getting dangerous diseases, idiot.”

“Can’t promise you anything, but… I’ll try.”

“With you, four-eyes, I couldn’t have hoped for a better answer.”

“Jeez, that’s so embarrassing,” Hange chuckled quietly. “But I’m getting sleepy again.”

“Drugs make you sleepy. Besides, your body needs as much energy as it can get. And I don’t think I need to explain it to you, Doctor Zoe.”

“Maybe, I just wanted to listen to the sound of your voice,” she showed Levi another one of her gentle smiles. “I’ll rest my eyes then,” she said, closing them. “Just for a while.”

Levi nodded and leaned in, kissing her sweat-covered temple. “Take your time.”

 ***

Levi didn’t know for how long he was sitting there, watching Hange and the monitors beside her bed. Her condition wasn’t improving, but it also wasn’t worsening. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. She was… stable. It gave Levi hope. That Hange had defeated the disease. That she would be alright. That she wouldn’t leave Levi alone.

Levi checked his watch. It’s been almost 24 hours, since Hange had contacted the disease.

He decided to perform an experiment of his own.

Slowly, with his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembling, Levi took off Hange’s oxygen mask. His eyes were glued to the monitor, looking for any change. He scanned each parameter again and again – Hange’s Sp02, heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature – everything seemed to be normal.

He waited for a minute, than two. Nothing changed. Levi almost breathed out in relief.

And then Hange opened her eyes.

“You know as much as I like to see your face after waking up,” she drew out, smirking. “You’re looming over me like some kind of murderer.”

Levi didn’t reply, he said absolutely nothing, staring at Hange with wide, almost unblinking eyes.

“Um, Levi?” Hange called, feeling slightly uneasy. His gaze was quite unnerving. “Is everything alright?”

Again, Levi didn’t speak, but Hange suddenly noticed that he was holding something in his right hand. She squinted her eyes, trying to take a better look. “Oh,” she breathed out, as she finally understood what he was holding. “Is that my oxygen mask?”

Levi nodded, still staring at her.

“And I can breathe without it?”

Levi nodded once more.

“Oh,” Hange couldn’t quite wrap her head around. “So does that mean that I…”

“Yeah,” Levi sighed, letting go of the mask and leaning closer to Hange. “You’re getting better, Hange.”

“Well, that quite unexpected turn of events,” she chuckled.

Levi slightly pulled at her hair. “What the fuck do you mean? Did you doubt my skills as a doctor?”

“Maybe, the tiniest bit?” Hange giggled, making an innocent expression.

Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiot,” he scolded her fondly.

“Mm, but I’m glad I’ve survived. Because that means we can go on our date!”

“Let’s start with getting you back on your feet,” Levi reminded. “And Hange?”

“Yes?”

“Please, take a shower before going on a date with me.”

Hange burst out laughing. “For you, my clean freak, I’ll even wash my hair!”

“What an honor,” Levi grumbled with a smile on his lips and a soft look in his eyes.

[glittergutts]

I'm slowly getting ready for the day and hopefully the weekend ahead. I've got groceries to pick up in a bit, we didn't get a lot just some basics.

I took a shower late last night but my hair looks greasy and I'm so annoyed because its clean it must just be the color fading or my roots.

I need to do my morning skin care and maybe dry shampoo my hair into looking better. I'm watching the kids play a dancing game right now.

I've got laundry and dishes to do today plus floors and a little bite more of a deeper clean in the kitchen. I just need a relaxing weekend and my house has to be in order before I want to relax.

If I get everything done I'm going to paint my nails and do some other self care. My lip has a really bad dry peely spot that keeps bleeding nomatter what I put on it. My skin needs some tlc too, I need to buy some exfoliating scrub. I still have a million sheet masks i don't really love to use and a few sample size clay masks ill probably do one of those with under eye gels because they help with looking so tired.

[kerwritesthings]

ok but imagine shawn braiding your hair when u don’t feel good 😭

Talk about timing on this - may be slightly self serving as I’m currently battling some awful nasty that’s taking residence in my system. 

What you thought started out as just being overly tired and a scratchy throat from talking too much in too many meetings, became a full-blown late winter mess despite all your efforts to keep the crud at bay. You hole yourself up in the guest room, not wanting to spread this more than possible. You could work from home, take sick days if you had to. The last thing you want is to give any of this to your man. However, he has other plans. All Shawn wants to do is take care of you, the way you take care of him when he’s sick. The difference is, you can deal with the fallout if you get sick. He has obligations that require him to not be.

Please let me come in. I know how you get when you’re feeling shitty, baby. Just for a few minutes to cuddle you. I’ll wear one of those stupid face masks you bought the last time you were sick if it would make you feel better, or make you laugh. Combo of both? ;) Maybe I can find those scrubs I wore that one Halloween too…

“This boy I swear,” you roll your eyes and say out loud to the empty room you’re in.

I should send you to your parents for the rest of the week. You’ve got London in like what, 10 days? You cannot be ill for that. Andrew will kill me. Then the label people. Then Andrew again. Maybe the studio folks too. Don’t make me text your Mom.

You hear him laugh from down the hall.

You realize I can sick her on you too you know, she’d be the first one telling you to let me take care of you. And they wouldn’t kill you, I wouldn’t allow that to happen you know that. Kind of love you too much

“This mush I swear,” you mutter under your breath. 

He knocks at the door, “Baby, I’m coming in.”

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” you whine, burying yourself further down in the stolen sweatshirt of his. “Go ‘way.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he says softly, lifting you up into his arms. “Shower’s running nice and warm, I’ve got the shower bomb set out, the eucalyptus wash and a new one of those sea sponges you only like to use when you’re sick. New pajamas, some of my stuff even that I know you’ll want to cozy down in. While you’re in there I’ll make some of that citrus defender tea with extra honey and lemon. Dig out the NyQuil. Change the sheets, even spray everything down with that new less toxic smelling Lysol you ordered off Amazon.”

“I can’t get you sick, you should go…” you begin before he cuts you off.

“None of that bullshit,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “You’d do this for me without a second thought, and you have, so many times. In sickness and in health remember? Oh yeah, you want us to have non-traditional vows, but same still applies, ok? Also, I’m taking your temp before you get in that water. Your forehead feels warmer than normal.”

You grumble as he places you down on the counter before rooting around for the thermometer. Once he’s found it, along with the rubbing alcohol and a cotton round, he sticks it in your ear while making funny faces at you waiting for the timer to beep off. You try your best to pout and frown at him but after one ridiculous face you didn’t expect, you can’t help but chuckle.

“There’s my girl,” he replies, kissing your forehead again as the thermometer chimes. “100.2, so a little one since I know you always run a little cooler than normal. NyQuil will help.”

He slides you off the counter and despite you trying to fight it, he pulls you into his chest. “I just want to help you feel better, that’s all, ok? Take your time in the shower, turn down the temp if it gets to be too warm and you start to feel foggy. I’ll leave the door open, so yell for me if you need.”

You nod against his sternum before pulling back. “‘M sorry I’m a cranky bitch when I’m sick,” you sigh.

“I’m probably twenty-eight times worse,” he quips, nudging you towards the shower.

After a good steam, soak and scrub, you’re starting to feel a bit more human, at least in the fact you can somewhat breathe better than you were before. Changing into the baseball tee and pajama pants he left you, you comb your hair out before spraying some product in and wrapping it up in a towel. He’s left you a purple post-it stuck to the bathroom mirror with a scribbled stick figures hugging, a smiley face and a heart. You can’t help but smile as you pull it down from the glass and slide it into the drawer with your makeup bag for safe keeping.

You wander back into the guest room where you find him in the last steps of remaking the bed. There’s a massive mug of steaming tea, a new box of tissues and a fresh bottle of water on the side table along with what looks to be a small, shallow bowl with pills and vitamins. At the foot of the bed is the soft cable-knit grey sweater he was wearing before, knowing you’d probably want to steal it from him.

“Hey, there she is. Color’s better. How are you feeling?” he asks, rounding to the doorway where you’re hovering.

“A step up from garbage maybe?” you reply, flopping cross-legged onto the bed.

“Tea, NyQuil, the plethora of vitamins, Emergen-C and herbal things you like to take when you’re not feeling you. Take all those, then let’s get you out of this towel and tucked in, ok?” he says, handing you the mug and the little bowl before sliding behind you on the bed.

Once you’ve drained a good deal of the tea and put the mug back down, he’s winding your hair our of the towel and tossing it around his shoulders.

“What are you up to there, Shawn?” you question, his hands winding through your damp strands.

“Lemme braid this for you?” he responds, massaging against the base of your skull lightly with his thumbs. “Your crazy pineapple bun is going to pull too much if your sinuses are driving you crazy, and I know you you’re still going to want it out of your face. Mum taught me one summer when Aaliyah was little, since she wouldn’t stop bouncing around me wanting to play hair salon or Barbies or Barbie hair salon maybe. But whatever, I still learned how. Nothing fancy, nothing more than a basic braid.”

You nod, sliding the hair tie off your wrist and placing it on his knee behind you. He was careful, combing out pieces with his fingers to make sure there weren’t any tangles before separating them into three sections. He takes his time, not pulling too hard but making sure there’s enough tension to keep the braid together. He hums something, it sounds familiar enough, but you can’t place it. It’s soothing, the combination of his hands in your hair and the warm reverb of his voice. Your eyes start to slip closed.

“Think this should do it,” he murmurs as he twists the end up with the black tie. “Come on pretty girl, time to get you settled in. Bet that NyQuil is just about to knock you out.”He shifts you so he can get you tucked under the fresh sheets. “There we go, snug as a bug in a rug. You just sleep, ok? Thank you for letting me help, sweetheart. I love you. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. I don’t like not being able to help you.”

“No sleeping here for you. Too risky. Despite cuddles being good medicine. Go disinfect yourself,” you whisper, half asleep. “And thank you for being here, taking care of my cranky self. I love you too, Shawn. Lots and lots.”

[miracul0us-multishipper]

My idea what could happen in Felix

Everything was as he remembered it. No piece of furniture had moved in the last year, not even a new picture decorated the stern grey walls. This house was just like the man it belonged to: cold, serious, stagnant.

Yet, when Felix stepped over the threshold behind his mother, there was a tingle of anticipation in the air that hadn’t been there the last time he had visited.

The Agreste Mansion might look unchanged, but the household it harbored was certainly not. And with all the factors leading up to this day, Felix sensed potential.

Change number one: Aunt Emelie was no longer here. He had not been able to find confirmation on her death, but it was irrelevant anyway. She was out of the picture for now, which meant no more suspicious eyes on him, and no more watchful supervision of his interactions with Adrien. Gabriel Agreste, he knew for sure, did not care about his son in the slightest as long as he was within the confines of his home.

Change Number two: Natalie Sancœur, his other watchdog, had greater things to worry about. Whether it was the mysterious illness that was just too similar to Emilie’s to be a coincidence, or having to hide her scandalous infatuation with her employer, she would not be able to keep track of him if he was careful.

Change number three: Ladybug had been in this house. Two times at least, maybe more often in secret.

Felix could almost see her, as if this soulless mansion had memorized her, as if her mere presence had left traces only he could sense. A red glow of life amidst the mausoleum Agreste called his home. A piece of art in this tasteless temple of wasted potential.

Truly, a goddess in the over-pompous shag of a self-important fool. He couldn’t fault Agreste for never leaving the house: the man should be too ashamed to even look into a mirror. If it hadn’t been for his lack of time, Felix could have come to Paris months ago already. Thanks to him, Felix had wasted precious time pacing around in his home.

“Good afternoon, Uncle.” he greeted the collective disappointment of the fashion world with a smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you again. I hope you have been well.”

It would be too much to hope that he had caught the mysterious illness as well, wouldn’t it?

Gabriel Agreste eyed him with a subtle approval - despite not being related by blood, they were both formal speakers, even with family. Then the old man awarded him with a nod, before moving on to exchange pleasantries with his mother. His usual mistake. He was so far less observant than his wife had been. She had loved Felix, he supposed, the way she would have loved any family member. But oh, she had been clever enough not to trust him. He’d never been alone with Adrien, her sheltered little darling, for more than a few minutes before she would check on them. Manipulating his all too trusting cousin had been impossible, or at least not profitable as long as Emilie had been there to foil his schemes. But she wasn’t here, now.

And Gabriel’s dismissal of Felix was a guarantee that no one would pay any attention if he wanted to spend some time with his dear cousin.

Perfect.

As his mother and Gabriel continued their conversation, he casually wandered to the stairs. Slipping into Adrien’s room used to be a lot harder, the last time. Just as the rest of the house, this room hadn’t changed a bit. The same bed sheets, the same books in the shelves, the same carpets on the floor.

The only difference was his computer. Felix stiffened when he saw that it was turned on and displayed a familiar figure. Ladybug beamed at him from every monitor, radiant even as a mere picture. He came closer.

At home, he’d spent hours rummaging through the Internet and news channels to find pictures of her, to the point where he was positive he had seen every photography there was of her. But he’d never seen this one.

Where did you get this, Adrien?

A scoff escapes him. Of course Adrien would happen to have pictures nobody else had of the red masked idol. He just was that lucky. Had always been. Well, not anymore. Now that Felix was back in Paris, he’d make sure that he, the far more worthy cousin, would receive Ladybug’s favor. For now though, Felix had to have this picture!

He moved to the keyboard to send it to his phone, when a cough let him freeze.

“Felix”, Adrien greeted him coldly. “You are early.”

Oh, right. He had completely forgotten about him.

“Adrien!”, Felix turned around to his cousin, a bright smile on his face. “I convinced Mother to leave a little sooner so we would arrive before nightfall. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Adrien’s sour face relaxed for a moment, before returning to wary.

“Not that long.”

Polite for “not long enough”. He had to get onto Adrien’s good side again if he wanted to succeed.

“It felt like ages to me.”, Felix kept up his cheerful tone. “I’ve been so bored this year. Remember how much fun we used to have?”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed.

“The last time you were here, you tricked me into ruining my fathers designs. He didn’t speak to me for weeks!”

True. Though he hadn’t expected Gabriel to be this vindictive, he’d been bored and Adrien was easy to commandeer around. It had been fun to make him run errands in his father’s atelier, and if he’d convinced him to press a few buttons on Gabriel’s tablet... so what? His uncle was so much more entertaining when he was furious.

“You made it look as if I did it on purpose!”

Felix’ smile wavered.

“I did? I’m sure I warned you that playing with your fathers things had consequences.”

Well, he’d formulated it differently, back then. Maybe he’d phrased it to make Adrien think Gabriel would praise him for sorting his designs. But these details were irrelevant now.

“It’s been so long, I barely remember.”, he chuckled.

After Adrien didn’t budge, he added: “But I’m very sorry if you got in trouble.”

He sighed deeply, thinking of his goal.

“The truth is, I wasn’t always very considerate of you. And I’m really sorry, Adrien.”

His cousins distrust seemed to fade, so he continued.

“You were nothing but welcoming of me, and I was a little... too excited. There’s a lot I should have done differently.”

That much was true.

“I was hoping we could start over,” he offered Adrien the bait, “but I understand if you prefer for me to leave you alone.”

Adrien’s greatest fear: being alone. He would be like clay in his hands now.

“I...”, the older boy started. He was visibly torn between caution and hope, before his need for company took over. “O-Okay. I understand. And... I would like to spend time with you.”

A smile appeared on Adrien’s face.

“Starting over sounds... great!”

He’d taken the bait, just as always. Emilie’s golden boy would never learn.

As he moved to hug his cousin, slipping Adrien’s phone into the sleeve of his shirt was a piece of cake.

-

Oh. Well. He’d thought he had a lot of pictures of Ladybug, but it looked like Adrien had once again beaten him at something. And it wasn’t just the amount of photos, it was their content! Close ups of Ladybug’s face, smiling into the camera or waving at the photographer. Shots of her jumping over the rooftops, from a point of view that should have been impossible to attain. The blurriness of the buildings told him that the camera must have moved at a similar speed as Ladybug, but no News Helicopter should have been able to fly this low or close to her.

“How did you get these?”, he murmured, envy twisting his guts. A gasp escaped him when he reached the last picture of the collection. It was a selfie, and Ladybug was laughing into the camera while playfully shoving the person taking the picture away. Felix couldn’t see the face of the mysterious photographer, but amidst the blurred brawl there was a splotch of familiar blond hair.

He couldn’t believe it.

Adrien, this naive, immature and clueless brat, had taken a selfie with Ladybug on the rooftops of Paris. He was close enough for her to laugh with him, close enough for her to tussle and fool around with on a photo. Everything Felix desired was once again already in his cousins hands. How?!

His mind was racing. He had to change his plans.

Originally, Felix had wanted to use Adrien to get close to the Ladyblogger. The girl obviously had - or knew someone who had - the means to ask Ladybug for an interview. Once he found out how, he would have been able to meet her. To convince her of himself.

But now this was out of discussion. If he wanted Ladybug to pay attention to him, he needed Adrien out of the way.

Without further ado, he opened a closet and pulled out some of Adrien’s clothes. He got changed, ruffled his hair to match his cousin, and carefully peeked out of the bathroom. Adrien was busy on his computer, allowing Felix to check if he had gotten everything right. The hair, the clothes, the shoes... the ring! He wouldn’t manage to steal it without Adrien noticing, but- ...Wait. Since when was Adrien wearing a ring? And why hadn’t he seen it in any Agreste collection?

He felt like there was more to it, but time was precious. Lazily he snipped a piece of soap against the window, causing Adrien to look up and walk towards the other side of the room. A little sneakiness on his part, and he was out of the room.

The adults were in the dining room, talking about things that didn’t interest him in the slightest. He unlocked Adrien’s phone - this idiot hadn’t changed his password in years - and took a selfie with the distracted adults in the background.

“Father isn’t watching - time to sneak out!”, he captioned it, before accidentally sending it to Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s social media.

He didn’t have to wait long. Ducking behind the stairs, he watched as Nathalie looked on her phone, before suddenly rushing up the stairs to check on her protégé. Muffled voices argued on the first floor, before Nathalie closed and locked the door behind her - trapping Adrien in his room.

“Sorry, cousin.”, Felix smirked. “But I can’t afford to have you ruining my chances.”

With that, he happily strolled out of the mansion, ready to conquer Paris - and the heart of its hero.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 4/6: “Questions Aren‘t the Aspirin of the Soul”

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Fic Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There’s, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

AO3 version available here.

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Chapter Summary: Hokuto has too many questions and Anzu only has one answer to all of them.

Chapter Wordcount: 1.6K words

Chapter Notes: Well that was a quick update. My inspiration is a trickster, I swear. I forgot to make it clear in this chapter, but it's set the same day as the previous one, albeit in the evening. But also, *more pining*, because I've been in a pining mood lmao, I hope y'all appreciate it

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As soon as he stepped in his flat, Hokuto wondered why he had been so rejoiced to go back to it.

Truth be told, he only vaguely remembered what had been happening around him before his eventual collapse in a coffeeshop. He absolutely didn’t think his place would be in such a miserable state: papers were scattered around the floor, his bed was unmade (but why would he have remade it in the first place? It wasn’t like he had been using it much, these past few days), there were empty cups of coffee piling on his desk and he was certain he had forgotten to do the dishes at some point. Better be starting to clean up now if he wanted to take a nap…

 “Wait, what are you doing?” Anzu asked as she grabbed his wrist, reeling him back.

“I can’t let you see my place like this,” he replied, hands twitching to clean. “Not after what you’ve done for me.”

“Have you forgotten you were sick in the first place? I’ll take care of it, you just go lie down…” Her eyes drifted to the bed, then across the room, and her face started to contort in confusion, “wherever you can…”

He sighed, knowing this was a battle he couldn’t win, not now at least. His head was spinning enough as it was.

“I’ll just… quickly fix that mess. I’ll clean up later.”

“That’s already better.”

 He clearly didn’t remember making a bed being this draining. Even then, he was in luck: only the sheet of the mattress and pillow were unmade, making it less work that he had expected. It still didn’t prevent him from pathetically dropping dead on it when he was finished, dizziness overcoming him, as he realized he really couldn’t have cleaned the entire flat from the state he had left it in. Too bad Anzu was the one who had to see it like this, he’d have much preferred it to be Akehoshi or Yuuki… even if they’d have been right to call him out on it.

Despite what he had been busy doing the day before, he still felt awkward at the idea of sleeping here and there when he, technically, had a guest. He was being a terrible host for sure and, in a way, he was trying to be less terrible at it, albeit in vain and with very little improvements. Moving felt like a chore and yet, and yet, he couldn’t bear seeing her on the floor picking up papers he didn’t remember printing, let alone reading.

 “Do you always work this much on your presentations, Hokuto?” She mused as she read some of them, glancing at him with what may have been a mix of concern and… awe? It wasn’t clear.

“Not all… That one was the main grade for that course, so I wanted to put more work into it…”

“On what was it? For what course?”

“Hah…” Damn. “I… don’t remember.”

“You… don’t remember…?”

“I’m… I’m blanking out. I think it was for the history course, but that’s all I can remember…”

Anzu was staring at him, dumbfounded, disgusted.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

 She then fell into silence, quickly gathering the last few papers left on the floor and making them into a neat pile on his desk, right before throwing away the empty cups. He couldn’t quite see her face from where he was, head trying to bury itself in his pillow, yet the tension remained. He had disappointed her, hadn’t he? In their group of friends, he had always liked thinking of himself as the level-headed one, who could be relied on with no problem, and yet he was the one who had fainted right in front of her because he had let his life tangle into a nightmare of knots. Talk about being a hypocrite.

He felt another kind of sick as he continued watching her, helpless. Of course he’d have fallen for someone like her, who shone much brighter than he did, eyes sparkling even while she did his dirty work, washing dishes that weren’t hers without a complaint. She’d probably be gone by the afternoon, and he’d be left alone again, and it was better this way, he knew it; yet the capricious part of him wanted her to remain, as if she didn’t have a life of her own, realizing how near yet faraway she was from him.

He honestly didn’t deserve her.

 Deep in thoughts and getting taken over by lethargy, he almost didn’t hear her leave the main room and come back, empty boxes in her hands to dispose of them. She seemed not angry, like he had expected, but still bothered by something. Him, he then supposed, before realizing that was quite the egocentric thought. He couldn’t read her mind and he needed to get over that as soon as possible.

“Your bathroom was kind of… disorganized,” she suddenly said as she walked up to him, soon sitting on the chair she had picked from the table and put by the bed. “You had medicine boxes scattered around, all of them empty. How many of these headache pills did you take a day?”

“…I lost track…”

“I suppose you’ve not overdosed on them, considering you’re still here, but it’s still worrisome to hear you say that. Please, never do that again.”

“Wasn’t planning on to, frankly.”

It got a smile out of her.

“Good.”

 He could barely look at her, chest tightening every time he tried to, either out of shame or of something else he still wouldn’t admit to feeling. His face was burning, half from the fever that didn’t want to disappear and half from his own heart being set on fire. Her smile soothed and worsened the pain at the same time, alternating from beat to beat. He wanted to take her hand in his and feel its relaxing coldness against his entire being who felt too warm.

He still couldn’t get his head wrapped around the idea that Anzu had wanted to do this all on her own. He was annoyed and disappointed with himself already, tired of being this sluggish and this much of a mess, how could she do something like this for someone else? Well, stupid question if he tried to revert it, because he’d give up on almost everything to take care of her if she ever needed an aide by her side, but it didn’t help the interrogation from festering in his mind.

 The question annoyed him so much that he ended acting upon it.

“Anzu?”

She rose her head from the book she was reading, most likely a handbook for class.

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing all this…?”

Her hands immediately shut the book without making sure the bookmark was still in place.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

 Her answer shut him down immediately. His brain was still too tired to process even getting responded like this, beyond uncertain of what he was supposed to expect or say back, or if he was expected to give feedback to begin with.

Why wouldn’t she? That made so little sense, even if he reversed the question. He’d undoubtedly help her because, well, every fibre of his being wouldn’t have borne leaving her to an illness (or any ill, in fact). Why would she do that? Even as his friend, perhaps his closest, she’d have looked at least a bit annoyed by it. Maybe she felt obligated because he had fainted in the coffeeshop she worked in specifically? Maybe she felt bad because he did look pathetic. Maybe not helping him out was considered a crime for not coming to the aid of someone needing it.

Thinking without getting any answer out of it about it was giving him a migraine, yet her eyes didn’t stop looking directly into his, and he felt like he could have melted right here and there.

 “It’s nothing complicated, Hokuto, really,” she sighed. “I didn’t even think about it twice.”

“Aren’t you even… bothered?”

“I’m honestly more bothered about how little you cared about yourself during that time than by doing all of this.”

He didn’t have anything to say nor add, instead sinking into his covers. Did she care this much to do all of this without even minding any drawback?

“It’ll be fine, I promise. Just rest, okay? We can talk about all these things once you’re back to your usual self,” she told him, smiling softly, hand brushing against the one he hadn’t buried under the blanket. That was, until her fingers stopped moving and her smile dropped. “Wait, are you crying?”

“It’s… nothing. I just get… emotional when I’m… sick.” His voice was too hesitant to his own tastes. He had always been a terrible actor, but this wasn’t the moment for the Masked Pervert’s words to be proven right. It really wasn’t.

 She handed him not any tissue, but her handkerchief. He took it without hesitating for long, even if it stayed in his hand for a little moment before she nodded in agreement to what he was about to do with it.

“I feel like there’s something more to it, but for now, it’s fine. I wish you a steady recovery from now on.”

“You’re leaving…?”

“Not yet, but soon. I have work tomorrow morning, but I’ll make sure to come by when I’m done there. Is it fine with you?”

He nodded before handing her back her handkerchief. With a simple move, she declined.

“Keep it for now. I need it less than you do.”

A wordless acceptance, then a whispered “thank you”. Her smile was brighter than ever.

“You’re welcome.”

 This love thing would be the end of him, that much was sure, but he’d comply for now, if it meant bathing in this comfortable warmth, beamed on by the sun, even if it worsened the fire already ignited inside his chest.

It may have happened not to look this one-sided either, even if he wouldn’t get his hopes very high.

[luxexhomines]

Comfort

Another Kokichi Ouma fanfic comes into existence... To clarify, the reader is referenced to as them in the first two paragraphs of 3rd-person because I’m trying to be a bit more gender-inclusive.  There are no real spoilers in here. Except, whoop-dee-doo, people actually die in a killing game. This is angst, around 2.1k words. Cut under preview!

They opened their eyes after ten minutes of letting their fatigued mind simply wake up with their body, without the energy to rush forward, and yet without the ability to lie still in the bed while their consciousness wandered. There was no sunlight to slowly ease in through the cracks of the curtains–after all, there was no window.

So they forced themself to get up and spent the day ill at ease, trying to distract their mind with books and stories and enticing characters. Trying to immerse themself in a reality that could not be called their own; even though they knew it would be disrespectful to their beloved stories.

But it was all for nothing. Your mind could not be swayed to budge past the horrific, cruel deaths of your beloved classmates.

When you could pretend no longer, you sat and moped, considering what had brought everyone to this stage, and why they were all here. Oh, the injustice of it all. But there was no point. Two were dead and gone, and the rest of your classmates that lived seemed damned with you to play their roles in this brutal game of deceit and violence.

A ring at the doorbell shook you out of your thoughts, and you felt oddly disturbed.

Who would come knocking at this time?

But you ignored the sound.

And more came, pestering you until it left no option but for you to open the door, and yield to the person behind it.

You grasped the door handle firmly and pulled it open to find a boy the same height as you standing in front of you, his violet hair curling gently outwards, and gazing at you blankly.

“Oh, so you finally opened the door. I wonder what little Mis/ster Ultimate Storyteller has been doing in there, while the rest of us were grinding ourselves to the bone, looking for a solution and exploring new areas?”

His face conveyed anger, but at the very least, you sensed no malice from him.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I’ve been trying to process things on my own, and before I knew it an entire day had passed.” You tried to at least sound genuine.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, really? Why’d it take you so long to open the door, then? I know you must have been purposefully ignoring me, so you must have stayed inside on purpose, too.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples before offering a meager smile in response.

“I’m sorry, Ouma-kun.”

This time it was sincere.

“Nishishi,” he laughed. “This time I’ll forgive you since you seem to be telling the truth. But the others might not be as merciful, you know?”

His eyes betrayed nothing. They seemed so empty, so void of any kind of feeling...and yet they danced with emotions you didn’t understand.

You simply nodded.

“Did you just come by to check up on me and make sure I was alive?”

He shrugged.

“If that’s how you want to take it, sure. Not that another death wouldn’t make this game more interesting,” he chuckled. “Anyway, let me inside your room. I’m curious as to how you’ve spent your time this whole day. What could possibly be so interesting in here that it would consume so much time without you realizing it?”

And he called your bluff. Either way, you stepped aside and allowed him entry.

It didn’t matter anymore, after all. And it wasn’t like you had anything to hide. You close the door after him, and it clicked shut quietly.

“There’s nothing much to see in here, but be my guest,” you responded.

He began to sift through papers on the floor, and soon became absorbed in one of them, reading the front and back with what appeared to be great interest.

“Hey, where’s the rest of this story? This one seems promising,” he said with sparkles in his eyes.

I took the sheet of paper from his hands and skimmed it.

“There’s no more left. I’m never going to continue it,” you confirmed as his eyes dulled.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” he pouted childishly.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Well, I never took you for a fan of romance novels. And romance isn’t quite my genre, either. I can enjoy it just like anyone else, but I’m not terribly good at writing it, even as the Ultimate Storyteller.”

The impish boy sat down with a flounce on your bed, his light weight bouncing slightly from the springiness.

“Well, I’m not a romance fan. But I’m a fan of yours, and I’m a fan of that story now. So pretty please?” he looked at me pleadingly. You guessed this is what they call puppy-dog eyes.

You shook your head, dismissing the notion, despite your desire to entertain the Supreme Leader with your antics. There was some part of you that wanted to please him, even though you steadfastly stood by your previous decision.

“There’s no continuation. And either way, it’s fine as-is.”

His face suddenly seemed blank again. Calm, and like the undisturbed body of a pond, motionless.

“Don’t you ever get tired of acting like that?”

You immediately felt on edge. Of course. You should’ve known Kokichi Ouma wouldn’t allow you to get comfortable in his presence.

“Acting like what?”

His unmoving purple eyes seemed to pierce straight through you, like a ray of sunlight would unabashedly and straightforwardly shine through a polished diamond.

“Acting like you don’t even care about what happened yesterday. Acting apathetic, like you’re just going about the business of a normal day. You know liars best recognize their own kind, right? There’s no way you could get away with lying straight to my face.”

You averted your eyes from Kokichi. From the pitiable truth that somehow came from the lips of a known liar. There was nothing to be said, so you plopped down on your bed, silent and unresponsive.

You felt him jab you with his index finger repeatedly in the arm, making sure to use the bone of his finger to hit yours with as much force he could possibly muster.

“Hey. Say something. Hey, hey, hey, hey!”

You finally lifted your eyes to meet him, which were already overflowing with the weariness of an exhausted pack horse, drained of all strength and any leftover tenacity to persevere. When your stare managed to make contact with his own fixed look, Kokichi seemed to hesitate for a moment. A shiver ran down his back, which was highly unusual for the manipulative boy used to trading in lies and pain for the ultimate result, discarding any flowery or idealistic thoughts for the means that would achieve that ending. He almost felt bad for a moment. But he reminded himself of his own doctrine–ends before means–and remembered the truth of his petty misdeeds. That was all they were. Petty, not legitimately harmful to the well-being of another person. At least, that was as far as he had ever gone at this point in time.

After a brief silence, he spoke.

“Are you trying to get me to go away? Because it’s working. You’re so boring, I don’t want to look at your boring face or your boring moping anymore.”

When you failed to reply yet again, he sat down next to you on the bed, his light weight pressing down beside you.

Finally, you spoke.

“I thought you said you were going to leave?”

He swung his legs from the edge of your bed childishly.

“I only said I wasn’t going to look at you. But I’m not going to leave. I’ll be here until you do something interesting.”

Another uncomfortable silence passed, the weight beside you quiet and unmoving, and you let the air in your lungs slowly travel out your windpipe and through your parted lips, again and again.

“Ouma,” you sighed out of your pink lips.

“Yeah?”

You were surprised to hear his reply. You didn’t think he could sit still for so long without falling asleep. But you tried to find the strength, courage, or whatever it was inside you to fuel your next words.

“How are you so calm?”

For another moment, there was contemplative silence. But you knew he’d reply.

“I’m the Ultimate Supreme Leader, ya know? A leader of a secret evil organization. This is nothing for me,” he said with a note of glee in his voice. “This is the kind of thing I enjoy.”

You turned your gaze to the ground. Not that there was much else for you to look at in your room, anyway.

“I can’t believe that just because of your Ultimate title, you can tolerate this...game. I don’t think this is something that even underground organizations or the mafia would engage in. This is beyond cruel or unfair. It’s something past my understanding of humanity, of what it means to live in this world. Maybe my experience is limited, but to my knowledge, this is not just some game that anyone could brush off, no matter their past.”

When he didn’t say anything, you continued to speak.

“That only leaves one option. You must not be calm, right? It’s just a lie that you’re accustomed to this kind of brutality.”

You didn’t dare to look at his face. You had absolutely no idea what you would find if you looked, and it might not be the answer you’re hoping for. Of course, you were hoping you were right, but more than that, you hoped Kokichi would tell you that inside, he was the same as everyone else. Suffering the same despair, thinking the same self-derogatory thoughts, wondering how this situation could have been avoided.

And it wasn’t like you wanted him to hurt. But you just hoped he’d say that he was human.

He was so still again, you thought he’d really fallen asleep. But he replied.

“Yup, ya got me! That was a lie. It was a lie that I’m used to this, and my reactions are all lies too, ya know? This calm facade is just another mask I can slip on.” He smiled wryly as your trusting eyes shifted to his face, a dim fire seeming to ignite inside them in response to his words. “There’s no way I’m okay with what’s happening, or what we’ve been forced into. Games that you’re forced to play simply aren’t fun, and this is not a game. It’s a constructed reality that we’re compelled to act in, and the rules are all just excuses for whoever set up this sorry plan to make us kill each other and suffer.”

Hearing those words, you felt such comfort. A warm, tender feeling expanded from your center, spreading thickly throughout your body. You wept quietly, letting your eyes close, the tears pulled out of your eyes by the strange sense of comfort and companionship induced by the similarly odd boy that sat beside you.

The weight beside you eased up, and you felt a pair of soft thumb pads brush the heavy tears away, packed full of all the feelings you had been unable to put a name to–but felt all the same and which shook your nerve from within. You opened your eyes to find another pair of eyes, a pair of dark lavender eyes looking into your eyes, taking in your vulnerable state and allowing it to simply be.

He straightened up, and with some force, pulled your head forward toward his chest as you sat there, helpless as a baby calf, unable to stand on its own and trembling immensely. His hands were unexpectedly gentle as the thin fingers of one hand dragged slowly, soothingly through your hair, and another hand resting tenderly on your back, emanating a real heat, a warmth that could never be replicated or created artificially.

And, under his benevolent care, you let your tears silently bleed into his white uniform as they budded from your eyes, blossoming within seconds, and imprinting their petals on his clothes.

After a good period of time, you stopped crying or shaking, and the two of you pulled away from each other a bit, his hands now firmly pressed on your shoulders and eyes looking straight into your unwavering gaze.

He smiled.

“There. You’ve stopped lying–to yourself or to me,” he said fondly.

You mustered a weak smile in return, your lips stretching out and upwards in a way you didn’t think you could anymore.

“Trust the liar to spot another liar, huh?”

You managed to stand with what remaining strength had been imported upon you by Kokichi, and drew him into your embrace this time.

The two of you stood quietly, reveling in the bewildering wonderment of such sensitive, affectionate camaraderie that seemed to have been born intuitively.

In the caress of each other’s compassionate hold, you and Kokichi found truth and love, even in a place where you two thought both could never exist.

[xathia-89]

A Masquerade: Part 2

“I swear you seem to know where all the parties are happening,” my housemate complained as I finally arrived home in time for her to leave. “Though you lost your dress again,” she huffed while eyeing me up in a spare shirt of Luca’s and a pair of trousers I had left previously at his place.

“I didn’t lose it, it’s being cleaned,” I corrected her. “And Luca’s keeping my dress wardrobe safe anyway,” I shrugged.

“How do you even afford the dresses?” My housemate paused, realising that it was far beyond my wages as a waitress.

“I never wear the same one twice, I’m always trading them in and swapping them,” I shrugged, brushing past her to go and change into my uniform.

“Gia, I had that feeling again last night,” Rebekah spent a lot of her time worrying about me when I went out and paraded as my alternate self. “That you’re going to get caught at a ball, and then you know how it ends.”

“I’m playing a big game, but I never give a name, and I never go home with anyone who isn’t Luca,” I smiled softly, trying to reassure her and patted her on the arm before getting into my room.

We had a tiny two bedroom house, with a kitchen, bathroom and what was called a ‘living space’ but you could barely fit two chairs in the room. It was affordable, and we had seen things in worse shape on our budget. We lived on the edges of the slums, and violence was part of the day. Muggers were around most corners, murders were commonplace, and you just had to know when to give in to demands. Though recently it had been escalating beyond normality, and the police wouldn’t come in alone anymore, and pairs were a rarity to see. Our landlord didn’t force us into things, though my boss had raised concerns regarding my living situation and that maybe one day I wouldn’t make it home or to work.

I didn’t linger, I needed to get to work as soon as I had changed and redone my hair. I had pulled my loose curls back into a ponytail, a professional and clean look for the clients as I glanced at our direct competition across the street. The Blue Bell was a posh looking place, but The White Rose was cosy and warm. The range of teas at Blue Bell was meant to be unmatched, their main waiter was someone who kept rebutting any offers of employment from our boss, not that I was keen for him to join us since he always seemed to be a sourpuss whenever I caught sight of him before or after a shift.

“Gia! Glad you’re here,” my boss was all smiles and a middle-aged male, he had taken me under his wing several years back despite all the warnings from anyone who caught sight of me at the first meeting. I waved brightly and nipped behind the counter to take a glance over today’s special cakes. “I need someone to take a sample of my wife’s cooking- she said mango and elderflower sponge with a passionfruit frosting before she adds it to our list,” he was smiling too much for me to say no.

“How much sugar did she add?” I coughed. The frosting was thick and heavy, and the sponge barely passed off the flavour of the fruits it was meant to, I frowned and pulled back, studying the sponge before my head began to feel heavy.

“Enough to cover the sleeping agent,” he murmured, already catching my falling body before I could hit the floor.

***

My body was feeling stiff as I began to come around. I was in a dimmed room, on a made-up bed that was of considerable better quality than my own. My head felt as though I had my own collection of miners inside it and I tried to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a rough voice pushed me back down. “You’re lucky who found you. You need to sleep this off.”

In the darkness, I could make out his figure. It reminded me of the pastor who worked his rounds in the slums as a damp and cool cloth was placed across my forehead.

“Where am I?” I managed to force my voice out before a loud tut told me that the man didn’t care for my stubbornness.

“A safe place,” he abruptly replied. “Now go back to sleep.”

The Sandman had me in his grip before I could ask any more questions, lulling me back into a forced sleep and at the mercy of whoever the male was.

Luca was asleep in the chair as I opened my eyes again. I was still feeling lethargic, but my limbs were moving of a better free will at least as I rubbed my face, trying to chase the sleepiness away enough to be able to get at least a look at the room I was in. It was a large bed, and the sheets felt amazing against my skin as it dawned on me that I wasn’t in my uniform before I went to pull the sheets up.

“Settle down will you?” The rough voice was back, and a firm hand pressed me back before the door to the room opened.

I was surprised to see the blond man who had been accompanying Ryan Cromwell to the ball enter the room. Though he was extremely puzzled by my expression as he glided through the room with all the elegance expected from an experienced butler and bent over to wake Luca.

“Your friend,” he gestured, and then to see Luca’s eyes so wide before he scrambled to grab hold of my hand and make sure I was okay.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to frown but then realising it made my headache much worse and winced slightly at the sharp pain.

“We were going to ask you that,” the rough voice to the side attracted my attention, and I was finally able to get a good look at him. “I saw you being carried by your boss out of his carriage and on the way to one of the rough houses in the slums before I intervened.”

“He gave me a slice of cake, said it was a new recipe to try. Then when I complained it was too sugary, he laughed and said it was to mask the taste of the sleeping draught. I don’t know what it was, but it was rapid-acting,” I explained, shielding my eyes from any light as the pain was starting to get worse. “It was … sudden. I’ve worked there for several years, and nothing untoward has ever happened,” I added on.

“Your boss has a twin actually, a rather unsavoury one,” the rough voice said, drawing the focus of the room. “He had his eye on you and tied his brother up in order to get you. It’s a ring that’s been evading the police for a while, mostly because they can’t get to the girls in time, and it was sheer luck that I was passing to come and make sure you hadn’t been captured.”

“Pastor,” I murmured, closing my eyes again. It was too much to keep them open as someone replaced the cloth on my head, the touch felt like Luca. “My housemate, she’s just as likely to be worried.”

“Rebekah never showed up for her shift, and your house has been ransacked, we already checked,” Luca quietly said, already holding my hand in preparation for the news. “We’re looking for her in the usual suspect places, but this gang tends to go after those who won’t be missed. You don’t fit that profile, but Rebekah does. You’re the only one who would truly miss her, and since you’re just housemates, then there isn’t a lot of weight behind you going to the police.”

“So Miss Rivers is the exception to the rule, why go after a high chance?” the butler pushed his glasses up his nose as I peered through my half-lidded eyes, desperate to read the room.

“A message,” the Pastor spoke abruptly. “It’s a warning.”

“Well then, I’m sure Noel would be interested to hear about this,” the butler nodded before turning to leave. “We should let Miss Rivers rest, it was a powerful drug. I have a room set up for you next door Luca-”

“I’ll sleep in here,” my best friend waved him off.

“It’s just like when I stay over,” I laughed softly. “Only the bed is bigger.”

“Don’t look at me like that. She’s my best friend, and I don’t think of her in that manner,” Luca was scowling at someone as I shifted over in the bed to make some space for him. “Plus if she has a bad turn then I can alert you all. You’ve already said that you aren’t sure what it was that was used.”

“Mr Cromwell will probably insist on coming in then,” the butler sighed.

As though on cue, the green haired male came in wearing a deep frown on his face.

It wasn’t proper, I knew that much, but things were just natural between us. There wasn’t any romance, though I had been the ire of so many of the women that fawned around him. I was often an escape from invitations if I was passing by, and he would always throw his arm around my waist and pull me into him. We didn’t have the chemistry between us that a relationship required. It was safe and secure as Harry was as blank-faced as ever.

“Luca-” the head of the Cromwell household sighed, but then looked stumped as Luca interrupted.

“It’s not proper to sleep with a lady, I get it. But she’s my best friend, and right now, she’s in danger. She’s ill, and I’m the last person she has that she can count as family,” I had to give Luca his dues. He was actively prepared to sleep in the chair again if necessary, it was clear that he wasn’t leaving the room until I was recovered.

“Let the boy sleep in here, he was doing that anyway,” the Pastor snorted, all traces of his softness disappearing instantly much to my surprise. “It’s not like she’s your sister or anything.”

Ryan was staring down hard at Luca, before sighing and shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Starving”

Title: Starving Characters: Clementine, Javier Summary: Deciding that other people need rations more than her, Clementine goes on a hunger strike while in Richmond. Noticing the child getting skinnier and more critical of her appearance, Javier decides to speak with the child about her wellbeing. tw; eating disorders. Author's Note: If you’re struggling, please click here to find resources on how to get help. People love you. Take care of yourself. You’re worth it. Requested By: Anonymous support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

“When was the last time you ate?”

Clementine scoffed, waving her hand over her shoulder, dismissing Javier’s statement. Then, she remained silent, not bothering to answer.

“Clementine.”

Her full name. That wasn’t a good sign.

The girl sighed, turning from where she had been taking stock of Richmond’s canned goods and leaned forward. “What? Why do you care?”

Javi raised an eyebrow, finding her confusion unfounded. “Clem, come on.”

Clementine sighed and returned to her task at hand, jotting down that they had 26 cans of green beans. “I’m fine, Javi. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” Javi said, squinting. “I asked when the last time you ate was.”

Javi said nothing. Even though she wasn’t facing him, Clem could tell he was judging her. She could feel that stare — his judgmental one, the one that attempted to see right through you — pierce her back. At that moment, she didn’t care. She didn’t care if she seemed like an asshole, or if she looked crazy. What she really cared about was getting out of there.

Tossing her clipboard to the side and swiping some hairs out of her face, the girl huffed as she made her way to the door, snapping it open as she stormed outside. All she could do, all she could hope for, was that Javi understood how livid the questioning made her and that he would leave her alone.

It did the exact opposite.

Seeing how upset Clementine became only proved to Javi that something was awry. If questioning her about the last time she ate sent her into an angry spiral, something was off. Most people would answer no problem and be on their way, but Clementine? She told Javi to back off. She stormed away. She acted as if he was twisting a knife into an open, decaying wound.

Maybe he was.

At the thought, although passing and fleeting, his eyes widened. He turned to stare after the direction she vanished in — through the door still faintly swinging from her forced, miserable exit.

Oh God.

While the thought had been fleeting, he brought it back. He dwelt on it. He considered the possibility that it may be true. He knew what it meant, and he hated it, really he hated even considering it, but he needed to.

Clementine was sick, and her rejection and anger toward him was a call for help, even if she didn’t realize it herself. Yet he, all this time, had been blind, and hadn't noticed.

As Javi pushed himself out the door, as he made his way toward her normal hang out spot, piece by piece, everything came together. She wasn’t pale because she had a cold, it was because she was starving. She wasn’t wearing baggier clothing because she was ‘trying something new,’ it was because she was skinny, and cold, and didn’t want anyone to see how gaunt she was beginning to look.

How did he miss all of these red flags? How did he not notice what was going on? Now considering the possibility that she was in danger, the red flags seemed to be so bright and blinding he couldn’t fathom how he had missed them. But really, he knew why.

It was because he didn’t realize he needed to look for red flags when it came to Clementine. He believed she was a rock, that she was untouchable, and that no harm could ever come to her, let alone harm that was self-inflicted. But he was wrong. And he was being blind, and he blamed himself for seeing her as something better-than-human, a superhero. She was Clementine, his Clementine, and he let her health slip away from him. She was still a little girl, and he was foolish to ever see her as otherwise.

His walk gradually morphed into a jog, then a run, and then snapped to a full on sprint. He wasn’t worried about her immediate health and safety, but he had waited long enough before realizing what was wrong, before realizing that she was in pain, and he didn’t want to need to wait any longer.

With each piece clicking together, each connection that a lie she told was masking her declining health, he picked up speed. Finally, after what felt like forever, he found her.

She was in her usual spot, as suspected, propped in a nook in one of the buildings by the park. She was scribbling something down in a notebook, clearly and visibly still angry from their encounter.

Another red flag — one that Javi actually noticed this time — was her prolonged irritation to the situation. It was a small comment, one that most would turn a blind eye to. Not only did the comment upset her a great deal, but she carried her anger regarding it. It was sticking with her. Haunting her. Anger and resentment didn’t linger with someone unless there was something else attached to it. Like guilt.

“Clem,”

She stopped writing, but didn’t look up.

“Please,” he said. “I want to talk.”

“I don’t.” She scoffed, slapping down her notebook and pushing herself to her feet.

“Clementine, I’m terrified.” He finally choked out, startled to hear his own voice crack after the words had left his lips. Practically the first plea, his first sentence, and he already felt himself crumbling.

Clementine glanced up, her furrowed brows morphing into a glance of horror, of disbelief, of shock.

“You’re getting skinnier, and paler, and colder by the day. I have no idea what’s going on, you’re pushing everyone away, you’re keeping us all in the dark, and we — I — don’t know what to do anymore.”

She stood still, her hands falling from their crossed state to limp beside her.

“I feel like I’m slowly watching you vanish and I hate it,” he said, taking a cautious a step closer. Clementine didn’t move, although she wavered, as if debating taking a step back. “I can't slowly watch you collapse on me, Clem.”

Clementine looked away, unable to hold the eye contact any longer. It hurt. It stung.

“I can’t lose another little girl. I can’t,” he hesitated, his voice catching on the thought before the words had even escaped. “I can’t lose another one of mine.”

The statement made her look up again, her fingers twitching at her legs, bouncing off of what felt like the bone.

There before her stood Javi, her father-figure, practically in tears over how broken he was at the idea that he might lose her. Might. All because she wasn’t eating. All because she was hurting herself for the sake of others. Her illness wasn’t just hurting her anymore. Her sacrifice wasn’t aiding others like she had originally hoped it would. It was hurting the people who loved her, the opposite of its intention.

“I’m sick, Javi.” She said, the words gurgling through the tears in her throat. She was speaking before she had a chance to stop herself, her brain desperate to confess before she sealed the confession away yet again. She shook her head when he parted his lips to counter. “It started by me wanting to save rations and now I can’t stop. I’m sick.”

Javi stood still, his arms twitching, like he wanted to hold her. “How are you sick?”

“I can’t eat. I can’t bring myself to.” She fumbled out, all her emotions collecting and bumping into each other in her chest. She looked down, studying the boniness of her fingers, watching the way they moved beneath her thin skin. “It’s hard. It’s a struggle. I used to be desperate to eat, and now it’s a chore.”

They stood still, the confessions of one another hanging in the air. It felt as if it was making a cloud, pouring sheets over them, and yet the air was still, and the evening was calm.

Javi swallowed hard. “What can I do?”

Clementine shook her head, her body wavering. “Help me.” She said, softly. “I don’t know how, I don’t know what to do, I just,” she swallowed hard. “I know I need help and I don’t know what to ask for. I don’t know who to ask for it from.”

That was Javi’s cue.

Clementine hadn’t realized she’d started crying. It wasn’t until she was wrapped up in Javi’s arms, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, feeling the warm dampness of his sleeve rubbing against her cold cheek, did it dawn on her. Her fingers clawed at his back, hugging him tightly, keeping him as close as possible.

Javi could feel her bones through the fabric, the way her skin clung to them like it was vacuum sealed. The thought made him close his eyes and squeeze her tighter, but not enough to break her. “I’ll help.” He whispered, soft and pressed to her ear. “I’ll help you. I’ll find a way to help you.”

Really, it was all that Clementine needed to hear. It was all that Javi wanted to say.

They squeezed each other a little tighter.

“I love you, Clem.”

She sobbed. “I love you, Javi.” ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

[childays]

i've been doing so insanely well lately like for the past while

it's been so nice just enjoying the weather and not feeling anxious and spending time w mt friends for the whole entire day.. not thinking ab school or other stressors

i'm so grateful for that tbh. and even yesterday i was gonna tweet smth like "wow i'm doing so well lately i'm so grateful" bc i just felt vv excited for some reason?? like so happy i felt excited. for no particular reason.

also i realized i'm lactose bc i drank so much milk at once today and my stomach is SOOO not happy w me rn 😭 but tmr my friend and i planned on getting hot pot tgt :((((( but like my poor stomach omg

hopefully it'll calm down before then but idk 😭 at least now i know i'm lowkey lactose LOL 😭

anyway i was talking to my friend abt tea and stuff and idk it just came up like talking ab her family judging me and stuff and ik it was a joke since it was literallt for mf boss baby LMFAO but still idk just hearing that triggered a longer list of just 😣😣 not good feelings... like tbh just thinking of other propels perceiving me and judging me

i haven't felt anxious bc of that in a hot minute

omg i'm pmsing no WONDER

Okay tbh that makes me feel a little bit better 😅 like lol it's me but it's not all me 😅😅😅

anyway i've just been feeling extra insecureee..? i hate saying it like that LMAO i mean like i'm just more conscious of people perceiving and judging me and having their own opinion of me... that is potentially negative <//3 LOLLL i don't wanna care what other ppl think but rlly i do it matters quite a bit to me sometimes aka rn

usually i just think like.. everyone likes me HAHA like i have high self esteem?? or maybe inflated sense of self? or just like i think highly of myself.. maybe

idk anyway i've just been feeling not very comfy like everyone is judging me and 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 phew

it sucks cuz i've been having such a good week but like yeah ig this sucky feeling kinda inevitable? or like just smth that happens... huh

anyway idk i feel like my friend is annoyed by me even tho we hanging out tmr and i wanna ask her but also i literally feel like i annoy her rn so i cant ask BRUHHHHHH WTF OKAY this sounds so dumb

omg no

not dumb

it happens

pmsing plus this long long time of happy vibes.. anxious moods come up it's just natural

not dumb

valid

i think today i'm gonna call it a night earlier. maybe draw or smth i don't wanna write in a journal bc seriously this past week has been amazing and i wanna document the happy moments (plus i have this dump here)

anyway

i think just music and drawing will be good. anyway bruh i'm so mf anxious rn okay not that bad just a little bit like iffy kinda just meh 😭

also idk if i should wear makeup tmr 😭😭 a small problem i have cuz idk how ill feel most confident tbh

hhhhhhhsks

okay

think tmr

just finish replying to messages and then wash up and then sheet mask maybe

grrrr

okay u know what

grr

whatever

as long as i'm confident what other people perceive me as doesnt matter

like if they think i'm annoying.. i'm sure of myself and i love myself so it's like whatever.... it rlly doesn't matter

me superiority i can do this

ok reply then shower then face mask

i'm getting bff to reassure me explicitly LOL also i realized i might be a bit off cuz i watched girl w dragon tattoo and there r some HARD scenes in there 😭😭

i feel so 😣😣😣😣💀

ok just finish replying

the phone off

and me time

it'll be okay

phew

😪😪😪😪 rough night man... rough af

i'm deleting ig now LOL no more f this shit

[geminimoonbeamx]

Electric Feel: Part One

A/N: Alright you guys so last night I re-watched the movie ‘Savages’. You know, the one with Quicksilver and Serena Vander-Woodsen in it? Yeah, it totally rekindled my love for Polyamorous relationships and after reading a fuck ton of amazing Stucky one’s this site, I decided I just had to write my own. This is going to be a short series. Only five or so parts of fluff and smut. Smut with plot, but smut none the less lol. Enjoy ya’ll. Steve/OC/Bucky

CURRENTLY ON HOLD. WILL RECONTINUE IN 2018

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy mentions Panic disorder, Anxiety, Depression and use of Prescription Drugs. Mental health/illness will be a heavy topic in this one so if it triggers you, I’m sorry my beautiful buttercups but this story might not be the one for you. Cussing because I have the worst mouth and my vocab is made up of four letter words.

Story Summary: Y/N, an overworked plus size model, is struggling to balance her career and her worsening panic disorder. Moving into Avengers Tower, at her Aunt Peppers request, was supposed to relieve some of the stress. She never expected to find solace in the arms of not one, but both of the Towers resident super soldiers

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dragging yourself across the lobby of ‘Avengers Tower’ you feel absolutely numb. The static in your head seemed far away, like a station you just couldn’t tune into. Not that you wanted to. No, you’d take this reprieve, this moment of nothingness happily. At least you felt like you could breathe, like your lungs we’re actually working again, doing the simplest of tasks.

Jesus. How sad is that? That your actually happy you could breathe normally? The most natural thing a human could do, and yet even that seemed like a heralding task to you lately.

“Hello Ms. Y/N” The receptionist at the circular desk greeted as you passed and on queue you forced a smile on your face.

You’d gotten good at it by now, so good, that the woman didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and went on with her work. Typing away at who knows what. It was nearly thirty minutes past 10. What could Tony have her working on so late? Whatever, you deduce. Whatever it was, you knew she was probably getting paid beautifully for it.

And wasn’t that the point of it all? What made the world go round?

Money is the reason we exist. Everybody knows it, it’s a fact. Kiss, kiss.

You recite to your self as you push your floor button on the elevator and lean back heavily on the rail. It’s only when the doors shut, leaving you in the solitary, boxed in space, that you let the smile fall off of your face, your cheeks felt relieved. The daily strain on your cheeks from holding that fake, plasticine smile sucked and as your face sagged you feel the most yourself.

“You have one major case of resting bitch face, kid” You remember Tony laughing at you years ago. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heart a thousand times before. Your features we’re naturally…sharp. Moody. Your full lips instinctively pulled down at the corners unless you were either A)genuinely smiling or B) putting on that mask that you’d perfected.

In your line of work, resting bitch face was both a blessing and a curse. That pout of yours, yeah it had scored you a lot of high end jobs. Shooting for A-list magazines with renound photographers. Making you a bit of a “hot commodity” in the modeling world. But it had also earned you a reputation. Everyone had this image of you; thought you we’re extremely bitchy and stuck up. It was already hard, working in the modeling community. Plus size modeling was just starting to boom, to become a norm but even you didn’t fit some of the major guidelines. At well over two hundred pounds and barley reaching 5'3, you we’re an unusual peice for the industry in the first place.

Having everyone think you we’re a high maintenance, hard to work with cunt- well that didn’t help either.

They just didn’t know you, which you almost laughed at because isn’t that what everyone’s excuse is? ‘They don’t know me, I’m so misunderstood’.

Fuck, you we’re a walking cliché, you chide yourself.

Most who met you tended to think you we’re “stuck up” because a good chunk of the time you we’re so stuck in your own head that you couldn’t focus on anyone around you. Trying to breath, trying to focus on anything but the near constant bubble of nervousness that never seemed to leave your stomach. Running through your therapists guide list on how to avoid your next panic attack.

In truth, when most got to know you they were honestly shocked at your goofy, nerdy nature. Those few people, who tried to delve under the surface, we’re greeted with a girl who could make a joke out of just about anything and would rather stay in bed and binge on Star Wars movies and buffalo wings(well maybe no one would be surprised about that your love of chicken wings, you think humorously. Bitterly)

It hadn’t always been this bad, you recite to yourself. It would get better, you encourage.

When you get to your floor, all you want to do is go to sleep. The thought of having to have to drone through any other kind of human interaction physically made you wince.

Most of the time, you didn’t mind the floor you we’re on. Actually, you quite liked your “floor mates”. Yeah, it had been a little weird at first being “bunked” with all guys, but you’d soon found that you wouldn’t have wanted to be placed anywhere else. Steve, Sam and Bucky we’re good to you, yeah they babied you a little and left messes in the living room, but you had your own hoard of annoying tendencies and still, they never treated you like anything but…family.

Like the older brothers you never wanted- while simultaneously being the little brothers you had DEFINATLEY never fucking wanted because Jesus Christ, who had left the empty Oreo package in the middle of the floor? You bend down, almost robotically, to pick it up.

Steve and Bucky are lounging on opposite sides of the long couch, watching some sports show that you didn’t really care to know. You barley notice them, and you really hope that they’re not going to notice you. That they’re too invested in the game on the mammoth flat screen-

“Hey, babydoll. How was work?”

No dice. Not that you’d really thought for a second they we’re just going to ignore your entrance.

The smile, that smile, you plaster on is almost painful.

They both look up at you, Bucky’s head slightly cocked as he waits for an answer.

“It was fine, I’m really tired though. I’m going to change”

To anyone else your tone would have sounded pleasant. Tired, but normal.

To Steve, it’s a big red flag. Gone is the usual bite in your voice, the giggle. The light. You sound…monotone. Like you weren’t really there at all. And that’s what really makes him look at you, take you in. The bags under your eyes are pronounced, even with the makeup that adorns your skin. Your posture is rigid and you look like you might strain a muscle just from standing there but it’s your eyes that confirm it for him. He’d seen that look in them many a time before. He feels the tug on his heart strings as you hurry out of the room.

When Steve turns his head to Bucky, the mans eyes are still glued on your retreating frame. But the look on his face matches the one Steve knew he himself was sporting.

You’d had another hard one. Another attack. Being ‘roomies’ with you meant that they we’re no stranger to your illness, they’d experienced first hand what you went through on a near day to day bases. Hell, Bucky went through his fair share of his own. But it never ceased to put a felling akin to stones in their throats to see you in that state

“I want to go check on her, man” Bucky announces “She looked real rough”

Steve shook his head. They’d been through this. The trial and error of it all.

“Nah, pal. You know she’ll freak out if you go after her right now…let her go cool off” Steve reminds his friend. Didn’t he remember the last time…it hadn’t gone over well.

Bucky sighs through his nose and nurses the beer bottle in his hand. He knew what it was like, what she was going through and it made it worse, the thought of her feeling even a fraction of the strain that he himself frequently endured had him tied in knots. He felt like he had to get up, and go to her. And check on her and make sure that she was playing on her phone like she liked to do, laughing at some meme he knew she’d show him later and not curled up in a corner.

He still winces at that mental image. When he’d found her in the kitchens with her hands over her eyes and her knees pulled up to her chest.

“I’m worried about her, too” Steve’s voice cuts through the silence. He can see the cogs working in Bucky’s head.

Bucky nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. Yeah, he knew.

Knew that they we’re both royally fucked.

And had been for a while now. Because nothing good could come from the way that they both felt about you. He’d never really thought about it before. Maybe, even though it was a little screwed up, it was because back in the forties he could run circles around Steve when it came to girls. Back then he’d never be in competition with the him. Plus Steve had always loved dark haired dames and Bucky had a thing for Redheads, so he never really thought there would be a day when they a single woman caught both pairs of their eyes.

And then came you. When Bucky had learned Pepper’s niece was coming to live at the compound he’d never in his wildest dreams could have imagined you. All ass and sass and bambi eyes. All understanding touches and long talks in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep because your brains just wouldnt turn off. You seemed to understand him in a way that he didn’t even understand himself.

You’d snuck up on Bucky…

Steve was different. He’d met you a handful of times before you’d moved in. You were Peppers niece, after all, so you’d been around the tower. Never staying for long- just long enough to throw him that smile. To flip your sheet of hair over your shoulder and be the sweetest thing he’d ever encountered. You rotted his teeth. You brought out the side of him, the one that was foreign to everyone but Bucky.

You hadn’t snuck up on Steve. You’d hit him like a god damn freight train.

And it yet no one was willing to admit it, even though it was nearly palpable. The three of you went on, holding onto a friendship that seemed to keep all of you a float.

Because Bucky needed Steve. It wasn’t a fact he was ignorant to. He needed his best friend if he had any hope of ever truly getting back to the man he’d once been and Steve needed him back. The only link he had to his true self. To the man behind the shield.

So, they kept it unspoken. They didn’t even talk about it to each other, which if you knew Bucky and Steve you’d know was in-fucking-sane because those two told eachother EVERYTHING. Neither of them we’re willing to risk the century long friendship.

Hell no…

But did they really even have to say it? Steve witnessed the way you touched Bucky, your hands trailing over him in something liken to worship and Bucky noticed the way you sought out Steve. The way you needed him, the way you looked at him like he was the sun.

Funny thing? It didn’t make either of them jealous, there was no animosity. No hurt feelings just…need.

Need of what? Neither of them knew.

And so, almost simultaneously, they both tipped their beer bottles back heavily, the screen illuminating their faces. They could lie to themselves. But they never did get the hang of lying to each other.

You stand in the shower for what feels like ages, allowing the scorching water to rush over you. Trying to practice those visionary exercises you’d worked on in therapy. Letting all of the negativity swirl down the drain. When you exit the glass, walk in shower you feel a little better. When you go to your bedside table and pop one of the tiny, yellow pills in your mouth, that helps even more. You’d learned long ago to take your medicine. You would question taking Dayquil when you had a could, so why would you do that in this case?

You didn’t need to feel ashamed for having to use medicine. You repeated yourself that daily, still. It was such a stigma, you we’re still working through it.

You pull a pair of sliky pink pajama shorts up your curvy legs. They we’re your favorite ones, the little cactus’ print always made you smile and then threw on an oversized grey sweater, the one you’d had for years. The littering of holes on the bottom of the sleeves was just proof to your immense love for it. You then brushed through your mess of wet hair, getting out all of the snarls, working through the small kinks before you slathered on your face serum’s and body lotions.

You had to do this.

Because your job required you to take care of your appearance and because your therapist assured you that taking care of yourself even when you felt low was one of the keys to happiness. To getting through it…and you would get through it.

When your finish your nightly routine you stare at yourself in the vanity mirror for a minute or two or five.

You look like a fucking eleven year old without makeup. Your face child like without the sharp eye liner of defining bronzer. But there was a prettiness to you, your eyes seemed even (e/c)er. You shake out your hair, watching the still damp tendrils fall across your shoulder before slipping into a pair of slippers, feeling good enough to go and scower the fridge because your tummy was growling viciously and you knew it was a shit idea to let those pills kick in on an empty stomach.

Your not surprised to see Steve and Bucky still immersed in their game- or maybe it’s a different game because this one looks like hockey and you could have sworn the other was baseball.

“What'er you guys watching?” You inquire, just to start a conversation, as you walk across the living room.

Your voice is still worn out, but you look better. Like you always do after showering off the long day.

“The Rangers game. We’re gettin’ our asses handed to us” Bucky gruffs, taking a look-see at you. Your hairs long down your back, your swimming in that old sweater of yours and your face is bare. Just like he likes you best.

“Hey, have a little faith! We can still pull through” Steve urges and you giggle as you open the stainless steel fridge door.

“We got you an order of those perogi’s you like from Kinga’s” He tells you just as your eyes land on the white take out box and you thank whatever creation there might be for your boys.

“Mmm, thank you kindly sirs” You pop them in the microwave “Sam still on that mission?”

It been a week and you we’re starting to get a little worried. You knew him, Nat and Thor could more then handle themselves but you we’re starting to really miss his booming jokes. His dirty laundry basket in the hallway, not so much. You’d almost killed yourself on that thing in the middle of the night too many times.

“Yeah, don’t worry, he’ll be back on Friday. Unfortunately” Bucky hollers to you and you just roll your eyes and chuckle. Those two pretended to hate each other, but really you’d heard Bucky questioning the bird mans return this morning. No one brewed a pot of coffee like Sam.

When you come back to the living room, your hands full; the take out box in one and a glass of that green tea blend that you could never get either of them could drink because apparently it tasted like grass, it’s no shock that you plop down in the middle of them.

It would have been weirder if you had chosen to sit on one of the empty couches.

It was just normal for you now, your place between them and the comfortable conversation that ensues feels like home. You ask about how their day had gone, wanting to hear details from both about what they’d done for the duration of it. And then, they ask about yours.

To anyone else, even your Aunt Pepper, you probably would of lied. Would have told a wound a nice story about how the shoot had been so amazing. The team, the outfits. The set.

And that was true. Partially. But you don’t tell them the partial truth. You never do.

“I mean it was okay-” Bucky shoots you a knowing look and you sigh “The photographer was really intense. I mean he’s known for that, his crazy antics make for some kick-ass shots but that plus the lights that were set up was all just really…sucky”

You admit, quirking your mouth and swirling your tea. Steve reaches over, his big scorching palm coming to rest on your shoulder. The weight of it reassuring.

“I just feel- ugh fuck, you know? Like I cant go running away every time set gets a little loud or they shine a weird light in my eyes”

“But you didn’t run away right? You stayed and finished it” Steve’s voice is gentle- but not in that annoying clinical way. No, it’s easing the push, it’s encouraging not belittling.

“Yeah. After I had a minor breakdown in my changing room” that was an understatement, you recall the way you’d grasped at your chest. The way all the air in the room had seemingly gone out.

“Then? That’s an impressive feat all on it’s own, sugar” He continues on and you shake your head, poking at your perogi. Unable meeting either of their eyes.

“I’m just thinking maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore” It was so, so hard to admit that. To admit that maybe it was time to change your dreams, to let go of what you’d wanted for so.

Bucky’s chest aches for you, the empathy he feels in that moment is immense, he cant help but reach out. His hand going to you thigh, his thumb rubbing little circles into the smooth, plush skin as he talks.

“Why? Even when you felt awful you stayed put. Listen, doll, anyone who knows you knows how much you want this…I mean you we’re born for the camera, just look at that face- you roll your eyes and he chuckles- Not to mention if you don’t have a professional taking em’ your just going to sit in your room and take a thousand of those selfers anyway. Might as well get paid for your troubles ”

That makes you laugh hard and you tilt your head to him “Selfies, Bucky! God, you’re so old”

They have a way of doing this- making you feel better. Making it all melt away, even if it’s just for those moments when the three of you are huddled together. You dream of this shit, no joke. Of the feeling of both of their hands on you like they are now.

“You wound me, doll” Bucky melodramatically holds his chest leaning back into the couch, not moving his hand.

You continue eating, your stomach feeling more settled. You close your eyes and moan at the heaven sent explosion of favor.

“Mmm, Stevie, taste this” You urge as you stab one of the potato dumplings and hold it out to the lighter haired man, your hand underneath it incase it spilled over. Steve grins and opens his mouth wide and inviting as you pop the entire thing in.

“Amazing, right?”

“Uh, huh ‘real ‘ood” he says around the mouthful of food and you and Bucky both chuckle.

“Don’t hurt yourself there, punk” Bucky teases and Steve reaches across you to swat at his shoulder.

“Jerk”

Your more then used to them being hundred year old children “Alright boys let’s watch something that doesn’t make my brain bleed, yes?”

There’s a few moans and groans of protest, from the both of them, but in the end they do what they always do; give you what you want. You’re vaguely aware of your power over the two men and you deviously think how dangerous it is to have them at your beck and call. You end up making them watch ‘The Men in Black’ with you because “It’s a classic, oh my gosh I cant believe you guys have never seen this before” and of course you fall asleep twenty minutes in.

When people talk about anxiety attacks, they don’t ever mention how they physically drain the life out of you. The exhaustion that comes with them.

You end up sprawled out, your head resting on a pillow in Steve’s lap and your legs tangled with Bucky’s as he stretched out on the opposite side of you. Not an unusual positon for the three of you to contort into.

Steve plays with the near dry tendrils of your hair idly, he can feel your short, puff like breaths on his thigh. Bucky’s vibranium hand rests on your leg, where knee meets thigh, the warmth of your sweet smelling skin radiating off of you. It’s peace, the one sliver of peace it seems that you all will ever find.

“Steve” Bucky speaks first. He’s always been the bolder of the two. He’d known he was going to have to be the one to speak up sooner or later.

“Yeah?” Steve can hear it in his voice. Knows what’s coming.

“You love her” it’s not a question or an accusation. Just a statement.

“So do you” Is all Steve can think to retort and Bucky just sighs and nods wordlessly.

Will Smith fights aliens on the TV screen as they both acknowledge what they’d known wouldn’t stay unspoken.

“Ya’ know our lives would be a hellava lot easier if these guys really existed” Steve’s eyes narrow as he drinks in the film. Bucky’s snort fills the room. Aint that the truth.

There’s a moment of silence where they let the movie play, where your little wheezes and extraterrestrial battle sounds fill the living room.

“Your Agent K and I’m agent J” Bucky smirks, knowing his little comment is going to grate his best friend. Steve’s head snaps in his direction.

“That’s a load of crap, your older then me!”

“In years, yes. In spirit-”

“Fuck off, Bucky”

And even in your sleep state, you manage to be a smart ass. Because even though Steve cursed around you plenty, you’d grown up on those tapes of him that they played in school. And the cussing one had always stuck with you. “Language cap'n” you mother incoherently.

They both look like their eyes might pop out of their heads.

——————-

Okay guys I hope you liked this first part! I’m still trying to figure out the dynamic I want for the three of them, but I think I’ve got it. Please give me feed back, because I live on that shit. It’s the air I breathe. If you want to be tagged, let me know!😬💛

[jensen411]

Life, Love, and Licensure

Introduction I want to share a story that begins with today but began four years ago. I want to share this story because I need to reflect on the past few years. I want to share this story because people need to know that there is always something more beneath the surface of a post highlighting a milestone or tragedy, or in this case a milestone within a tragedy. I want to share this story because I believe it may edify those who care to read it through.

Today, I became a licensed architect in the state of Massachusetts. And honestly, it feels pretty good. This was the culmination of 3,740 required hours fulfilled, approved academic accreditation, five four-and-a-half hour exams passed, hundreds of prayers, and countless hours studying the weekends and nights after a full day’s work.

The Final Test The room was filled with the droning from the registers above my head - forcing air faster than ever. Intermittent sounds of forceful clicks of mice and keys intermingled with the ever-oscillating fan to my right. I held my breath behind a four-layered cotton mask as I opted to view the results of the final exam. Thoughts of the past, present, and future merged as I fumbled to read the minuscule blue font at the center of the screen. It read, “You have most likely passed this exam”. I fell back on my seat and gave the biggest sigh of relief in years. I took a minute and closed my eyes to mutter a prayer of thanks. 

There I stood, a whole head above the proctor who had previously mispronounced my name when I had first arrived. With scratch paper torn and recycled, my signature scribbled on the sign out sheet, and a half-empty ballpoint pen returned, I was finished. I was finished with this testing center that I had unwillingly become all too familiar with. I was finished with the keys to the personal lockers that had a comically large keychain that looked like an elementary school bathroom pass; finished with looking at a poorly planned water supply line straddling its rear half-way between the partition wall of the coat cubby; finished with staring at the three motel-art posters of lifeless greenery that laid against the sterile-colored backwall of the lobby, that even after two years were never hung. And I was certainly finished with the restroom that never had any paper towels stocked. Welcome to the Profession My mentor is old fashioned. He grew up in the days when the aroma of cigars and other types of smoke filled the offices. I would say he is an amalgamation of American idioms, Boston sports, afternoon martinis, traditional Catholicism, and someone with a passion for mentorship - always giving the benefit of the doubt. I knew the words that were coming my way. I’ve heard him say it many times to many others, and part of me was looking forward to hearing them. So, when the time finally came, in full Bostonian accent he said, “congratulations, welcome to the f-ing profession!” Strength in Weakness When I was a child, I fell within the shallow end of ADHD. For high-achieving immigrant Asian parents, my learning disability was a source of present worry and long-term concern. I did not measure up to the rest of the class - especially within the realm of literacy. As a result, my mother had written most of my book reports. I am proud to say that she did them very well. The attention deficit would often get me into trouble with instructors at school, parents at home, and even Sunday school teachers at my nondenominational church. Why mention this? I’ve always felt academically inadequate and ill-equipped to handle tests that attempt to measure comprehension skills. I’ll quickly note that as time passed, my concentration and literacy levels had improved – almost supernaturally. I had grown to thoroughly enjoy reading (especially nonfiction) and went on to minor in General Histories. This endeavor was much more comprehensive and time-consuming than I had anticipated. Perhaps it was because many before me had made it look easy – knocking off exams week after week until they finished within a matter of months. Maybe they were much smarter? Or perhaps I was too dumb? In any case, many of them had not failed more than one or two exams at most throughout their entire process. Standardized testing is and will always be the bane of my academic career. One of the major reasons for my decision to enter the architectural profession (apart from the passion for design) was the limited exposure to test taking. And for the first time in my life, I thrived in school. Peers and professors took notice of my design-sense and rigor. I was featured in numerous design publications, won design scholarships and even a couple of national design competitions before my final year. School was finally fun. Careless me must have missed the fine print that said five to seven four-and-a-half hour-long exams might be waiting for me after graduation. The Start Four years ago, I decided to muster up the courage to begin licensure. It could not have come at a worse time. The next year would perhaps the most difficult years of my life, so far. I distinctly remember that frightful afternoon while finishing up lunch with my mentor. My head grew cold and life began to desaturate with the imminent news of my father. It was March 30, 2016 (three days after his 65th birthday), and my dad had just been diagnosed with stage 3, locally advanced, inoperable, pancreatic cancer. He had been losing a considerable amount of weight in the months prior to the diagnosis, but none of us had any idea of the sinister and cowardly illness hiding itself from early detection. Eight months into his treatment, my mother had a life-threating and permanently paralyzing stroke. I’d barely just begin to mentally incorporate my father's terminal illness into my head space, and now with a compounding illness of my mother my life had now shifted from coping into survival mode. During this season, I met my future wife. Godsend would not begin to describe the impact Anna’s entrance into my life would have. On this earth, she is my strength, delight, closest friend, and the one I cherish and love. Without her, I could confidently say that I would not be here today writing this story. The story of my parents is certainly one to be shared, but not presently. It would be far too much at this point. The reference to my family life is to simply frame how I began this licensure process. I delayed the first exam but decided to push forward in gathering study materials and began my studies. A year later, my father passed after fighting courageously for 10 months – widowing my mother and leaving his own mother to survive both her husband and her only son. My family was never going to be the same. In 2018, I got married, and my wife and I became the primary caregivers to my grandmother. And my sister and her husband became the primary caregivers to my disabled mother. Family responsibilities flooded the daily schedule with financial appointments, liquidations, insurance payments, and hospital visits. Sadly, I began to realize that I would not be afforded an undisturbed period of time for my studies. I was faced with a decision of whether to wait until everything settled down or to figure out a way to incorporate my studies into the fray. So, I began. Every evening after work, every Saturday and Sunday before service began, I was hitting the books.  Reflection Two of the major pressures that I felt during this process of licensure and through my family’s ordeal was the need for stability and identity. As I attempted to comprehend how the built world came together, I felt like the world around me was falling apart. Many practitioners consider licensure as the true threshold into the profession. I was instructed by professors and colleagues to never call myself an ‘architect’ until licensure was attained. And it marked a milestone in one’s career development. The credentials endorse one’s ability to understand and integrate design and construction principles while upholding the health, safety, and welfare of the public. And as good as these principles may be, I turned it into something much more than it could be for me – I let it inform my sense of self.  Now, some may say, “what is the problem with letting an achievement inform identity? After all, isn’t that a good thing?” As I wrap up this account, I’m faced with a difficult task of articulating how the worldview that I have come to call my own informs such situations. I could begin by expounding the imago dei or doctrine of adoption, but at risk of turning this into a theological essay, I’ll simply say this: any gain found in career, wealth, religion, personal goals, relationships, and even family are simply not enough to truly inform who I am. Soren Kierkegaard once said that, “once you label me, you negate me”. I believe this is certainly true. Through this process, I have found that I am more than an architect – though I am honored and privileged to be able to serve the world in this manner. I am more than just a son trying to do the right things for my family during a season of crisis. I am more than a husband to the wife I love. I have found the secret of getting by with much and with less, and to be content in any circumstance. I can do all things through him who strengthens me, or to put it another way: I can only do all things through him who strengthens me.