#not a my chest is constantly tight and aching and i cant take deep breaths kinda thing

[strawberri-syrup]

trying to decide if my vcd flaring is enough of a reason to visit the health center. sure i cant take a deep breath but im not dying or anything

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hello!1st I wanted to say i love your blog its *chefs kiss*,and 2nd could I request (i dont know if this is in someway triggering or not so i apologize) a MC who doesnt believe the brothers can love them 'cause they despise themself and they are so set on (?) with that mindset that the brothers cant convince them otherwise,but MC themself wants to feel loved they...just cant...and they just breakdown saying they arent special and when the brothers meet other humans they will realise that MC is nothing,that they are a horrible being and they will leave them for somebody better,does that make sense I dont wanna go too deep into it(totaaaaally not self projecting)I am so sorry if this is a sensitive topic,feel free to ignore this ask,this has been eating me out for weeks so I just wanted to seek some comfort.Once again your blog is great and dont overwork yourself, take care! :D 🤍

I've definitely been there and even now, I still have these fears. Growing out of these Insecurities and feelings are hard even if you work hard to be as confident as you can. One day it'll happen but until then you just gotta keep reminding yourself that you're worth the world

Also tip, please don't rely on others for self worth - people can be cruel or simply just unpredictable. Not all but until you see every colour of a person you don't know. If you depend on someone else to give you worth and make you feel good then that'll start a very unhealthy cycle for yourself

I hate this phase "love yourself before you love others" because you don't need to, you can find healthy and happy relationships whilst insecure. But I think what it really means is; get self worth before you love another. Make sure you don't do yourself damage by giving you Someone who does the bare minimum or will sometimes make you feel good but is usually a dick.

You can find love but that love can be wrong if you don't pay attention to the red flags. Don't let your insecurities drag you into unhealthy relationships.

Because you are stunning, worth it and loveable. You're Someone people can look up to or admire even if it's for something simple like your humour.

Also thank you, I'll be sure to not overwork myself, make sure you don't pressure yourself too hard about work or your hobbies. Hobbies are all about fun!

Warning: self loathing, depressive themes, angst

You could stand it.

Your eyes traveled along the gifts and trinkets that were in your room. Each one gifted to you by a powerful demon; a demon you live with.

You couldn't stand it.

You could get it; why would someone like that every like you? You weren't special and yet Everyone insisted that you were. You're not the key. Not anything Diavolo wants or expects. Definitely not what the brothers want.

You had to scoff. The brothers only like you because of Lilith, if you were related then they'd never see you as anything but some human. Lilith dragged you here, she made sure you came here and for what? To be always told you're going to be some big thing; someone to destroy hatred and help bring together three realms.

Do they not realize how much pressure that is??!!!! And the how are you even going to do that?! You're magic is unpredictable and useless - it perfectly reflects you.

You whimpered at your own thoughts. The word useless stinging at your heart; it was almost if a knife lodged itself into your chest. Constantly stabbing the word useless into it.

You were useless. They need to find someone who can actually live up to their expectations. Just a good for nothing human....why do they even like you?

You looked back at the gifts, your watery stare turning into a hateful glare.

The question was burning inside your head. You couldn't understand; what did he see in you? You're not special! You're not anything anyone wants you to be and you're just being forced on a pedestal you didn't make!

Why did he always look at you the way he does? Like you actually mean something. Why does he smile so softly when you enter the room?

Why would he be like that when you KNOW that as soon as he meets another human, he'll be running after them without hesitation. Everyone was so much more attractive than you and better than you - you couldn't get why he loved you. Why- no how?! You weren't good enough for him!

No matter how many times he says I love you or compliments you it leaves such a bitter disgusting taste in your mouth. You're so horrible you can't even let people be nice to you - it's all a lie anyway. No one could love you. Never. No one!

You were useless! Disgusting! You weren't even attractive! You weren't loveable! You're a horrible person who looks just as horrible as they are. How can they look at you like that?! How can they stand you?! You're nothing!

You don't get it!

Why?! Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why Why why why-!

A scream ripped itself out of your throat. Tears streaming down your face as you clutched your head. Your body curled into itself, shaking and trembling as you choked on your sobs. You coughed through it as you tried to breath but the tears kept coming. Drowning you as you desperately tried to breath under their weight.

The pain was unbelievable. You felt like your head was on fire. You could barely even make out the figure standing at your door. Whoever they were, they scooped you up from the floor and rubbed circles into your arms. You clutched to them for dear life as you cried.

Somewhere in your brain you could tell who it was and it only made you cry harder. Shame filling your lungs as you tried to escape their caring embrace.

"No-! Stop it! I'm nothing! I'm useless-! Let me go-!! Why- why won't you leave me alone?! I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!! LET ME DIE-!"

were you dying? You felt like it. The ache was painful; your chest growing tighter and tighter. You pounded on their chest, demanding they let you be the useless thing that you are alone.

Lucifer:

He forced back his tears

Just rubbing circles into your skin as he held you

To think you were this Insecure despite being the nicest person who knew

You were Better than him and don't let pride stop you - you were amazing

"not good enough for me? What made you believe that...? You're perfect for me, you complete me."

You denied his claims, sobbing as you listed your insecurities

"Your insecurities don't define you, you're so much more than that - I wouldn't of picked you to be my love if I didn't think you'd be adequate."

He wasn't sure if you were still listening but he pushed past his doubts

Adjusting you in his embrace

"I- I'm not sure if I'm comforting you....I'm not good at being the gentle hand, I want you to see how I see you - you're kind, charming and always keeping me in awe, you mean so much to me, I'll trade anything I could just to see you smile - I love you."

Mammon:

There can only be one self loathing idioit in this relationship

He refuses to let you feel like how he has

His forced confidence - you could easily see through it - anyone could

But you were the only one who then actually helped him feel better when you did see through it

He let a few tears stray, holding you close

"did someone say something to you? I don't forgive 'em for ever making ya this upset, I'm not letting you feel like this."

You shook your head, muttering that he should let you

"why should I? You're my favourite person and you've only made me happy - so let me make you happy! You're the only person who's ever treated me the way ya treat me and I won't let you hate yourself!"

He hugged you even tighter, squeezing you as he hid his face in your shoulder

"you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, okay? You always know how to make me feel better and it's my turn to make you feel better but you gotta listen to me! I lo-love you! The great Mammon loves you so badly that he just wants to kiss you every day! You're amazing and I won't forgive ya if you let yourself keep going on like this, let me support you.... please...I don't want you to go."

Levithan:

He couldn't get it

He's always been jealous of your personality and ability to make others feel good

His envy makes him despise himself - so seeing you be the same, he couldn't take it

He gave you one big squeeze

"d-don't be stupid! You're the best thing that's come into my life - even better than ruri-chan!"

You didn't believe him, he was obessed with that character

"but it's true-! If I could I'd get loads of merchandise of you too because you're my favourite person! You're just like the protagonists I read about."

His face was beat red but he was determined to make you feel better

"You're Henry, you are brave and kind, always trying your best even if that best isn't up to your own or others standards, you Inspire me! I've thought about of making a series about you...so others can feel just as happy as I do when I see you, you make me feel less insecure and like I actually mean something - why can I do to make you feel the same? You mean everything to me! I really like you....I like-like you-! I LOVE YOU AND I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY! Let me make you feel how you make me feel because then you'll see just how amazing you are!"

Satan:

Did someone makes you feel like this or was it just your own thoughts?

If it isn't the latter he'll need to find out who's hurt you

But right now, he hugged you tighter and cradled your head

He couldn't stand to see and hear you so destressed

"did I do something to make you feel like this? I'm so sorry if I did, I don't always realize when I come off rude or hateful- I could never hate you."

You held him tight, telling him to stop

"but I need to fix it if I've hurt you and if it wasn't me then whoever did needs to keep quiet, you don't deserve these feelings."

You huffed, trying to not cry more

He gave your Shoulder a small squeeze

"you're more than enough for me, you're so good to me - sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for you, you're always so patient with me and don't make me feel like I'm some unthinking beast, you don't think I'm lying when I be genuine and that makes me love you - I do love you - you make me feel good and I want to do the same for you, you're beyond good and I'll always be happy with the person you are and can become because I know you can do so much and always bring positivity even in the darkest times."

Asmodeus:

He's crying too

He hated of being seen as insecure

He only wanted confidence

Seeing you sob and beat on yourself like this only reminded him of his most private moments

He held you even closer, rocking you gently

"No, dear, I love you too much to let you feel like this, you're amazing to me and I think you're better than even myself, you're my number 1."

You shook your head, telling him he's lying

"I'm not, why would I lie? You're the sweetest person I know, you don't see me as some sex object - you make me feel real and happy - so so happy."

He kissed the top of your head, hiding his tear streaked face

"I want you to be happy....you deserve it, you've got only so long to live and I'm so scared that you're going to hate yourself even until you die, I don't want that! You're beautiful amazing and I could never ask for anyone better! Please- just let's work on our confidence together...okay? You're so wonderful, don't let yourself become so hateful."

Beezlebub:

He's absolutely broken

How didn't he realize you felt this bad about yourself??

He didn't even realize he was crying aswell, just holding you close as his mind screamed at him

"did something make you feel like this? It hurts to hear you say these things."

You shook your head before nodding, muttering you just won't talk anymore

"I didn't mean that, I always want you to be open with me and if not me, atleast one of my brother's."

He picked you up, placing you in a more comfortable position and held you close to his chest

"I love you, it took me awhile to realize that but I do, you make me feel full and happy - like I just ate a big buffet of warm cakes and dishes, I'm always warm when I'm with you, I don't believe you're not good enough - you're kind to me and never judge me for eating, you help me with working out but most importantly, you fixed my family and brought my twin back, I don't know how to make you see how much that means to me and I don't want you to feel bad about yourself when you're always the best person in the room - you're really great."

Belphegor:

"just let me die"

Those words hurt him so bad

He was like that, he demanded to be left to Rot with his own self loathing when Lilith died

He pulled you close to his chest as he grabbed your shoulder

"You're not allowed to feel like this, you've done nothing to feel this much hatred towards yourself."

You told him he was wrong, crying harder

"when am I wrong? I- okay, I can be wrong but I'm not wrong about you, you're my favourite person which means I love you and I don't let my favourite people sit and cry."

He cuddled you, nuzzling his cheek against yours

"You saved me and I will never able to make it up to you, I've hurt you and I hate it- I hate that I'm a reason you get scared, don't ever let yourself rot away, when my brother's just leave me to sleep I always feel so much dread - that I'm being left to die in my bed and will never get to see their faces again - I'll never be able to see your face again....I wouldn't be able to take it.....seeing you everyday makes me want to leave my bed and always make sure you smile, let me make you smile again."

[babysizedfics]

hey! i just wanted to pop by and say that i love your blog loads 🥺🥺 also, i have a question! does roman ever give vee tickles? when they’re big OR small? 💗

aaawW thank u so much for saying so !!

heads up i accidentally made this a ficlet halfway through lol

warning for tickling and teasing

and YES roman tickles vee a lot hsjshdhs you see it on the ic blog quite a lot - if they're hanging out they are actually pretty touchy feely. even when big vee usually ends up in romans lap and he will purposefully be cheeky because he knows roman ends up tickling him as revenge jdhds

just yesterday roman was holding the video game controller out of reach of virgil and fondly teasing him abt being too short to reach it, so vee twisted his septum piercing with his tongue to freak roman out. roman is very grossed out by things easily and dropped the controller to get vee to stop

vee started playing the video game, still sitting in romans lap with a smug smile on his little face... but he was kinda disappointed roman didn't put up more of a (tickle) fight.

so he licked romans cheek

roman freaked out, went to scrub his cheek withm soap, compained on the blog about vee being gross and 'baby snot on his face', then vee just denied it all (purposefully being cheeky to try to get roman to retaliate) until roman started chasing him for revenge

they ended up in virgils room with roman pinning him to the floor. virgil THOUGHT roman was going to lick his cheeks back, but instead roman asked him to admit he did it. virgil denied it and roman started wiggling a finger under his ear

vee squeaked and a giggle escaped

"admit it!" roman demanded

of cours vee knew what would happen if he didnt. so: "no, im innocent!"

then romans other hand circled a finger around the side of his ribs. virgil gasped and started giggling constantly and wriggling under roman

"Last chance, vee-vee!" roman warns with eyebrows raised and a big smile

virgils gigges are squeaky and breathless already, he really is too sensitive for a lot of tickling. but he meets romans eyes for a brief second before they fall shut with another gasp when romans finger brushes a particularly bad tickle spot. "n-no-ho" virgil protests... then he licks his deptum piercing again just to add fuel to the fire

roman cries out in disgust then immediately starts scribbling both his hands quickly over the sides of virgils.

virgil screams and bucks and gasps and blushes so hard

at this point logan appears in the doorway to check what is happening

"h-help, lo-ho" virgil pleads, eyes watering and cheeks aching from laughing so much

"no, don't help Lo!" roman argues, chuckling at vee and kindly slowing his fingers enough to give vee room to breathe between giggles "this is justice for a heinous act!"

logan sniffs in amusement, "well i am not one to stand in the way of justice"

virgils eyes fly open and land on logan "no! pl-hee-he-ease, M-ha-Mama!"

hearing vee call logan mama immediately makes roman stop his fingers, because if vee is starting to regress theres no way he would enjoy such intense tickling

logan steps closer and leans down to better speak to vee. "are you alright, little one?" he asks in a very babytalk voice, then roman stops pinning him and pinches his cheek a little

"hi vee-vee, do you feel tiny?"

and virgil goess BRIGHT RED because he isnt regressing at all, he just used the Mama card to try to get logan to feel sorry for him. he covers his face with his hands and shakes his head and mumbles through his fingers "not little, sorry... just wanted.."

the other two frown. "wanted what, virgil" logan asks.

"do you want me to stop?" roman asks sincerely

virgil wriggles on the floor a little and pulls his hand down from his face enough to chew his thumbnail and reveal one eye and one very pink cheek "no.. just wanted, um... attention" he admits quietly

roman immediately lights up "Ohhhhhh-"

vee whines and covers his face again. roman takes his hands and pulls them away. "let me get this right... did you want more teases?"

vee's silence speaks loudly

"oh my god youre insatiable" roman laughs, but before virgil has time to feel insecure about it roman's fingers start teasing at his ribs again

"i think you have this under control," logan chuckles, then leaves.

"so teasing how tiny you are earier wasn't enough?" roman muses, his fingernails tracing lightly over each individual rib. virgil holds his lips tight to contain a squeal, but it just comes out as a highpitched whimper. "its not enough to just tease how your little arms can't reach when i hold a controller above my head?"

virgil cant respond because one of romans fingers is back under his ear and tickling right under his earlobe and making him titter and squirm

"and i dont think its enough to tease what an itty bitty widdle baby you are, either," roman says in a babytalk voice, laughing when vee whines and tries to hide his red cheeks but then roman pokes his tummy teasingly and vee immediately drops his hands to his tummy protectively. "because we all know what a tiny little cutie you are, with your baby bottles and pacis and your diapers"

"ro-ah!" virgil tried to protest but romans fingers went for the sides of his tummy and all he can do is gasp and wriggle and giggle and hope his cheeks dont catch fire with how much theyre burning

"so i think we'll just stick with teasing you... for how much you love being teased" roman says confidently

"nooo" virgil whines between breathless laughter

"yes, vee-vee" roman laughs. he's drawing little spirals over vee's sides now and it's making vee writhe and squeal

"you love the teases sooo much, how adorable is that, huh?" romans fingers slow down and atart tiptoeing over vee's ribs one by one like theyre stepping stones

vee gasps in a deep breath and lets himself calm down, all while squeaking and smiling so hard

"you pretend to not like it when we tease you for being the shortest, but everytime you get the biggest smile!" romans fingers go up so one wriggles under his ear again and one scribbles at his cheek. vee squeals and shakes his head

"no?!" roman gasps dramatically, "aw, but it's true vee! youre tiny and you love it! and you cant hide it anymore with those cute dimples popping out and your squeaky laughter whenever i hold something out of reach..."

virgils far gone from talking now. he's a flustered giggly mess

"hm and what about how much you love tickles? thats pretty adorable too you know" romans fingers go back to his ribs to circle around slowly and vee instantly curls up, legs bent up to his chest and accidentally trapping romans fingers there

"see!" roman laughs "you love being tickle tickle tickled so much you wont let me take my hands away!" he scribbles his fingers quickly now and vee squeals and rocks on the floor and gasps but his legs still hold romans hands there.

"n-n-no d-doh-ho--"

"no you don't?" roman guesses and virgil nods, eyes squint shut tight with laughter. "yes you do~" roman teases with a sing song babytalk voice. it makes virgils chest feel melty. "you love the tickles vee! Little vee is a little tickly cutie, aren't you?~"

virgil squeaks and gasps. romans fingers slow down and vee breathes through his giggles for a few moments. he's getting to his limit now

"cmon, vee~" roman sings and wiggles his hand sout from between virgils chest and knees. virgil squeals even tho roman wasnt trying to tickle him. roman laughs "if you admit you love teases and tickles then i'll stop"

it takes a couple of minutes for vee to be ready - both because he is so breathless and he keeps getting interrupted by giggle fits even though roman isnt touching him anymore, which just makes roman laugh too - but eventually virgil opens his eyes, squinting past tears of laughter and not bothering to hide his hot cheeks anymore and admits under his breath "i- i um i like being... teased and - and tickled"

"yeah you do" roman agrees with a big smug smile, then he gets up and helps pull vee up from the floor - vee's knees are wobbly and he collapses a little into roman when he is standing and they both laugh and roman keeps an arm around vee's shoulders when they go back to his room to carry on with the video game.

"that wasnt too much, was it?" roman asks a bit meekly after several minute of gameplay.

virgil looks iver to him and sees he refuses to take his eyes off the screen. romans fingers are fidgeting a bit with the controller even though its a cutscene on the screen.

"no," vee whispers, then lets himself wiggle back into romans lap like they'd been before. he looks at the screen as well and breathes deeply when romans arms circle around him. he feels secure and safe in his big brothers lap. "it was perfect" he admits quietly, stroking his fingers over romans arms

[morgana-ren]

Im. I love you? Your answer to that ask is beautiful, also I forgot about the other meaning for weed for a moment and got confused like, 'is morgana-ren a stoner? Beefy weed muscles???' and now i cant help but imagine stoned Shiggy. Specifically him forcefully shotgunning his captive because hes bored and if hes getting stoned she might as well too. Laughing at her when she gets spacey. This is a fun train of thought lol, thanks for inspiring it

I am a ridiculous and incoherent person. My first instinct is to literally reply with complete gibberish to most things. Shaming me has absolutely Z E R O effect because I have no shame. I’m a ridonkulous person. Last time I got high, I just laid in bed singing “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel” for like 3 hours.

To be fair, I would also do that completely buttfuck sober.

Gods I wish I had a gif of Shig smonkin some donk wods, but since I don’t, you’ll have to settle for me writing it.

PSA after the fact: I AM SO SORRY IT GOT A LIL CREEPY BUT TO BE FAIR, IT’S ME AND IF YOU SENDIN ME SHIT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BE REAL FECKIN’ SPECIFIC OR ELSE I’M GUNNA MAKE IT CREEPY also weed hits me way different than it does most folks so it’s really hard for me to be able to accurately describe how it might be to anyone else. SO imagine this is supervillain quirky weed he has special made to calm his...uh,.. never ending rage. also it’s ridiculously longer than I planned. cause I get carried away. anyway love you!

His room is dank and smells like mold and must.

Tight metal bindings cut into your wrists, leaving you raw with crusted blood despite the fact you stopped fighting days ago. Your tailbone feels bruised from constantly shifting on his worn down carpet, your legs prickling and aching from inactivity.

He’s kept you bound here for a while, handcuffs looped through the foot of his bed. You’re not entirely sure how long, since his ratty blackout curtains make it hard to see daylight. He’s got them taped down, blocking out all but the tiniest slivers of light. Like most of his life, his room exists in total darkness.

Time has little meaning here.

He doesn’t leave you alone often, only really exiting the room to bring you food which you refuse to eat. Most of it has been kicked into the corner, the soft buzz of fruit flies accumulating more and more by the day. It frustrates him, but he’s keen on reminding you that he’s patient. You’ll relent eventually.

Truth be told, your willpower is starting to give. Your body is stiff and sore, head perpetually aching from crying. His moods are like whiplash, one second crooning to you how special you are to him, the next backhanding you and calling you a stubborn bitch. You don’t know what he wants from you. If the fates were merciful, he’d get it over with and just kill you.

Ending your life doesn’t seem like it’s high on his list of priorities.

He’s facing away from you now, tinkering with something on his desk by the light of his various computer monitors. You can’t make out what it is, only that he’s been at it for the past ten minutes. Grateful as you are for his lack of attention, it always makes you nervous when he gets preoccupied. It usually means he’s working on some new and exciting way to break you.

You take comfort in the momentary peace, some temporary reprieve from the invasive leer of those horrid crimson eyes scanning over you in the darkness. Whatever he’s doing, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Only steel yourself against what he gives you when he’s finished.

He reaches into his desk, pulling out a plastic bag of something you can’t make out. All you know is when you hear the ziplock open, a strange scent floods the room. It smells vaguely familiar, but between your fucked up headspace and even worse situation, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Leaning against the little metal bed leg you’re imprisoned against, you realize just how heavy your eyes are as you rest the back of your head on his threadbare mattress. Fighting off oncoming waves of pulsing anxiety takes most of your energy reserve, and bouts of sleep tend to come few and far between when you’re sleeping in the den of a predator.You’re so tired, so worn down, and you don’t know what else he could do to you that he hasn’t already done or planning to do. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t considered saying that to him, but you feel like tempting the universe or him isn’t a great idea right now. Either way, your eyelashes feel like weights dragging you under into the sea of sleep.

You’re almost there when his chair squeaks and you jolt awake, that overwhelming sense of dread coming over you. Your instincts blare and somehow you just know his eyes are on you again, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He wants your attention, and he expects you to give it.

Dragging your exhausted lids open when you know you’ll have to see that terrifying man is a burden you haven’t grown accustomed to having quite yet, but it’s one you bear anyway. Besides, you know that if he thinks you’re ignoring him, he has no problem forcing you to look at him. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. He hurts you less that way.

So you do, and just like you expected, he’s simpering down at you, holding something you can’t make out in his hands. Gulping comes on impulse; he looks far too pleased and that never bodes well for you.

“Do you know what this is?”

He holds it out and it takes you a second to make it out in the dark, but you know that basic shape.

“I-is that a pipe?”

“At least you know that much.” He gives you a cheeky lip quirk, making heat rise in your cheeks. Palming it in one hand, he uses the other to fish in his pocket, one finger carefully pulled outside the kangaroo pouch of his jacket. Following his movements, your brows furrow and curiosity almost wills you to speak. The words stall in your mouth, however, when you see him pull a cheap lighter out between two fingers.

He flicks it a few times with his thumb, sparking the light and sending small cinders dancing across the his lap. After a few tries, it finally holds. The light across his face only makes him seem all the more sinister, exacerbating the shadows that reside in the craggy, marred flesh of his cheeks. The flame dances in his pupils and the orange tinged shine glimmers off the edges of his weirdly perfect, jagged teeth. It’s extremely unsettling.

He lets the flame die, picking his pipe back up and tapping it on the desk once or twice.

“I don’t do this often. I usually prefer to keep a clear head.” He lazily arches back in his chair, inhaling the dank stench of the sticky green plant packed in his pipe before returning his gaze to you. “But in some cases, I find it can help you relax.”

Bringing the pipe to his face, he wraps his chapped lips around the bit and sparks the lighter again. You watch as the flame is sucked toward the bowl, igniting the contents and bringing them to a dull simmer.Thumb twitching on the carb and pinkie pulled away, he inhales, letting his head lull back on the seat of his chair. After a few seconds and a suppressed cough or two, he leans forward and exhales, sending a splay of thick, billowing smoke directly into your face.

You turn your head, watery eyes clinging shut, but it’s not enough to keep the acrid stench from clogging through your sinuses. It constricts your throat, compelling an instinctive cough from deep in your chest. Whatever it is he’s smoking, it’s strong.

His high pitched laugh echoes off the barren walls of his room as you scrunch your nose and try to disperse the smoke pooled in your face. When the air finally clears, he’s leaning toward you, arms resting on his knees with the pipe in one hand and his lighter in the other. The little embers still burn beneath the lip of the bowl, little grey spirals rising up from the still burning plant clusters.

He holds it out to you (as if you could take it with your hands restrained behind your back), hyena-grinning as you scowl up towards him.

“You should try a little. It might make you a little more-” Pausing, he pretends to be in thought. More mockery, you really wish you were desensitized to it by now. “-friendly.”

“I would have been friendly if you hadn’t kidnapped me like some sort of psychopath!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst, languidly pushing himself off of his dilapidated computer chair and crouching down next to you instead. You know better than to kick at him, he won’t hesitate to break your legs to keep you in line. All you can do is stare at him nervously as he shakes his shaggy pale hair out over his forehead, still sporting that unnerving expression. His scarlet eyes burn arguably brighter than fire from the pipe, and exponentially more threatening.

He moves a little closer into your space, bringing the piece back up to his lips and lighting it up once again. He takes a deep inhale this time, even deeper than the first. Chest puffed and breath held, his lanky arm reaches out back behind him places the still-burning pipe back on the desk, gaze never leaving yours.You figure he’s going to blow it in your face again, either to be annoying or to try and give you some sort of shitty second rate high to make you more malleable.

It’s obnoxious, but not even close to the worst thing he’s done to you.

Yet, his cold, dry fingers grab at your jaw, forcing you to keep your attention on him. A chipped nail from his thumb prods at your lower lip and you realize he wants you to open your mouth. You could tell him to go fuck himself, but that only gives him what he wants, if only for a moment. Instead, you choose to glower at him.

If looks could kill, he would probably keel over, but unfortunately you live in a world where he has the upper hand. He squints at you, something you know would be equally as furious as your own grimace if his features had the freedom to express it. The fingers on your chin clamp down, digging into your soft skin in a bruising grip. The more you defy him, the more he punishes you, and his large hands have more than the power they need to cause you pain.

Eventually you feel your jaw start to crack. You try to hold out, try to stay your ground, but it becomes too much. Between his brutal strength and your already weakened condition, it’s no use fighting him on something he really wants.

You open your mouth, if only to cry in pain, and he immediately crashes his lips against yours.Teeth clack as you try to shake him off, but it’s too late. He’s breathing his air into your lungs, caustic mixture of the taste of the weed and the bitter scent of his breath swirling deep inside you. You try to heave it back at him, but the damage is done. Smoke barely seeps from the tiny cracks he allows between your faces, and your need to breathe is stronger than your ability to fight, so eventually, you relent.

You gulp the air he gives you down, just wanting him to get the fuck away from you. You can feel his lips quirk in a smile as you fight the urge to spit up from the foul scent of his exhale, ripped and bloodied lips scratching against yours. Eventually when he does pull away from you, you go into a hysterical coughing fit and between your bouts, you can hear him cackle.

You finally manage to calm yourself, but whatever it is he’s made you inhale, it’s strong. Stronger than anything you’re used to. Even second hand, your head is already humming, and you can feel your chest tighten against your will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” High pitched giggling and a weirdly gentle brush of a hand across your buzzing, swollen cheek. You go to swat him off, hissing in pain when the metal edge round holding you back cuts into an already existing cut. “Soon you won’t have any fight left in you at all.”

He leaves you alone for a minute, door clicking behind him. You catch your breath in his absence, eyes scanning your surroundings. You look for something, anything he has left within your reach that you can use to escape. It’s what you do during the exceedingly brief moments he’s not around, and so far, it hasn’t yielded any results, but you refuse to give up.

The curtains likely mean that there’s presumably a window behind there. If you can just get free, you might be able to jump out. Problem is you’re stuck with your hands restrained behind you on a metal bed post. It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, no one ever comes, so it’s probably safe to say whoever is below or above you doesn’t give a shit. You need to get out of these cuffs.

He smokes, at least occasionally. He’s probably got a bobby pin around here for scraping. If he’s anything like your mates, they probably litter the floor. To be fair, even if you get one, you don’t really know what to do with it. You could try your hand at lockpicking?

Heh. Hand. Get it? Cause all those hands?

Focus.

The biggest problem right now is the handcuffs. Technically, you could get out of them, but you’d have to disjoint your fingers to do it, which takes away from your already pathetic chances at escaping. It hurts to move your wrists, let alone yank on them. Why the fuck did this asshole have handcuffs anyway? Unless he’s doing some kinky shit in his down time. You wouldn’t put it past him, he’s obviously a weird guy. He seems like the type to be into some dirty stuff. You don’t know who with, but there’s probably villain fuckers out there he could find and take advantage of. Gross.

You audibly laugh.That’s funny.That’s really funny. You don’t know why, but the thought makes you giggle uncontrollably. Your mind refuses to stay on track.

Fucking focus!

Somewhere far away, you hear the door open and his heavy footsteps off to the side of you. Too late. You’re still laughing.

“Hey Shigaraki-”

He’s leaning down next to you, fucking with something behind you. Your hands. He’s messing around your hands. He’s cold. Why are his hands always so goddamn cold? Is that why he’s a villain? Cold hands? That would make you a villain too.

Your head feels several sizes too big, and you can’t help but think about how he smells like dust. Everything feels slow. You can feel your heart pumping. You can hear it too.

“-You should like, just let me go.That would be kinda cool. My hands hurt.”

You don’t notice they aren’t even cuffed anymore, or that he’s scooping you up in his arms and gently placing you on his bed.

“Don’t try to fight, now. You need a tolerance to before it’ll feel normal. You’ll only hurt yourself, and that would be such a shame.”

You can tell he’s mocking you again, but you just chortle because the words are processing like a slurry. The back of your head feels so soft. It’s definitely not the awful metal he’s made you crick your neck on the past little while. He’s touching your arms and it tickles. Flashes of his face play in your mind a little slower than they’re probably actually happening. It’s terrifying, but the fear doesn’t register. You wanna touch his face. You bet it feels funny.

You can hear the click of handcuffs again, and you know he’s cuffed you once again (so rude), just somewhere new now. Your fingers grip and you feel metal bars. A bed frame. Again. Uuugh. You kick your feet a little and they bounce off the mattress. Bouncy.

There’s a weight shift near your feet, and before you can really understand what’s happening, he’s on top of you, face hovering less than an inch above yours. Your cheeks are burning as his flaxen hair tickles and curtains you, and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t stop staring at his eyes. They’re so fucking intense you swear they scorch you. Like an abyss, you feel yourself being swallowed inside them as they stare long into you. Hate. Rage. So much embodied negativity you can practically feel it. Panic blooms in your chest but your body is reacting too slow. All you can do is squirm.

“Shh-” He’s caged your head in his arms, and his breath is glossing your cheek, just as sour as before but somehow you know what’s about to happen is much worse than forcefully smoking you out. “This’ll be much better for you if you relax and give in. Who knows? You could even enjoy it.”

He grinds his clothed pelvis into yours, and while somewhere inside your head, sirens are blaring, all your body can process is pressure against your most sensitive area. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours again. Your mouth is slack and moist, so it’s nice and easy for him to slide his slimy, disgusting tongue down your throat. With your brain short circuiting from both shock and whatever he’s made you consume, your body doesn’t have enough control over its facilities to fight back.

He kisses you long and hard, if you can call whatever he’s doing to you kissing. It’s more like he’s trying to devour you. Sloppy, wet, and possessive, like he’s trying to choke you with his essence. It could have been a minute. It could have been hours. You don’t know.

When he does finally pull away, you can feel your stomach lurch as he laps at the string of spit that connects you to him, but you only blink your eyes wearily despite your extreme bodily reaction. You feel sleepy, or more accurately, your eyelids feel kinda heavy. Really heavy. Something visceral is telling you to stay awake, to keep fighting, but you just can’t. You can hear yourself speak but you don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t remember.

“You’re cute like this, all spacey and stupid.” He flicks your forehead and your eyes flicker back open, but only briefly. “I guess it hit you kinda hard, huh? Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, a little softer this time. You’re almost out at this point, everything feels so heavy. So sluggish. You barely feel his long, thin fingers glide slowly up your shirt.

“I think you could come to like it here with me if you stop being stubborn. But that’s okay. I forgive you. Like I told you before. I’m patient. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

[mother-snake]

self-destruction pt.1

(welcome to a new series! this will be angsty... but thats to be accepted by now...) tags: @idkanameatall warnings: self-hurt, crying, tears. general angst thrown out the window words:4646 next: n/a

-janus wakes up to a voice in his head he hasnt heard since the day he was created. things can only go down hill from there, cant they?-

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Nothing had been okay for a while. And no one had realised how much it had been affecting a certain side. the split… Virgil leaving… Remus leaving…

And now he was alone. Something he wished he never was. it had hurt to wake up each morning and make breakfast, only to call on Remus to remember that he was gone. he didn’t know how long he cried when the deep green door wasn’t in its place. The three dark sides had promised each other that no one would be left behind… yet… here he was.

Alone, cold and done. The lines on his arms showing the pain that seemed to break over the surface. maybe that’s why it hadn’t been such a surprise when he woke up late one day, a heavy weight draping over him.

He had laid there for a while before standing up to at least make himself look presentable despite the fact no one was there… old habits die hard.

And when he looked into the mirror. He had been surprised. His once shiny brown hair was duller, grey streaks mixed in, making him look like he had aged years over night. even his scales had matched his grey hair, just darker… his eye was still yellow. Just duller.

He stared at his reflection curiously. Reaching up and running his had along his scales. He flinched as he felt how cold they were. Not warm like they used to be. But now ice cold.

Then he froze in place. A small voice. One he had not heard since the day he was created. But it had stuck with him. And it spoke something that sent a shiver down his back.

“I’m sorry self-destruction,”

And just like that…it was gone.

Had that really been what had happened… had his core shifted? Become something new? this… wasn’t like a split. He would have known if there was one present. Anyone would have.

A weak smile grew on his face. he truly had changed. There was no way the others could trust him when he looked even more like a villain.

he looked around his room. Nothing had changed much to his confusion. Everything was still bright yellow and pitch black.

His eyes landed on his hat. He walked over and picked it up. he brought it up to his chest and held it tight. it was a gift. From the one person who hadn’t deliberately left him. The one gift he had ever gotten… and it had been from Romulus.

He placed it back on his vanity. It was time to retire the hat… things were changing. And maybe it was time to start from fresh. Completely.

“just listen to me!” he jumped at the voice that screamed in his head with such agony. this… was Logan’s voice? What?

He felt himself sinking down before he knew what was happening. Drawn like a moth to a flame. His mind reeling from the sudden noise and overwhelming sensation of sadness that had swept over him.

--

When he arrived. he had been rather surprised. He was in Logan’s room. The walls covered in graphs and papers. It was bigger than his room. Almost double.

His eyes landed on a figure hunched over at a desk. The light sound of tears made his heart ache. But… that was it. he didn’t seem to care as much as he used to. Maybe it was the lack of feeling in his chest.

“Logan?” he said. the logical side seemed to tense at the spoken word. “Logan, are you alright?” Janus said as he made his way over, trying to avoid knocking over the several towers of books.

--

Logan took a breath and looked over to where the deceitful side was. he blinked and rubbed his eyes… what the… what had happened?

He wasn’t sure what to focus on really.

His hair, scales, eye or the thin lines on his arms that were scabbed and fading. “Janus… what happened to you?” he said as he stared at the other. “that’s not why I’m here,” Janus stated coldly, sending a shiver up Logan’s spine, “I want to know if you’re alright.”

“I… I am fine Janus, I assure you?” “really then?” he said as his lips twitched up, “so you’re not bothered by the fact the others wont listen to you then?”

Logan froze as he turned back to his computer. “what?” his head snapped over to look at the other.

“you’re being ignored by everyone… and its causing you stress. But instead of facing it, you’re over working yourself,” Janus stated. “why do you care deceit,” he spat back. “one, that’s not my title… two because I care. If Thomas’s logic burned himself out due to over working, things could get bad. That and despite the fact you say you have no emotions; there you were not just five minuets ago crying due to the others not listening and messing up the schedule.”

Logan was at a loss for words. He glared at the snake. “falsehood,” he said as he stood up, “im logic. Emotions don’t matter to me. they only get in the way. if this is an attempt to make me join the dark side, I suggest you leave.” he glared at the other. Anger boiling in his chest.

“go talk to the others,” Janus muttered as he cast his eyes away, “tell them that they are making you work over time. That’s all I want to say.”

The small smile was replaced with a blank stare. And he was gone just as quickly as he had come. leaving a puzzled Logan in place. Wondering one thing. what had he meant by deceit no longer being his title…

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

 Janus sunk to his knees when he arrived back in his room. Silent gasps filled the air as tears poured from his eyes. he thought that maybe Logan would be able to see past all he had done. Think logically about why he was there in the first place.

He guessed wrong. And the words that had fallen out of Logan’s mouth were like knives to his soul. He would be telling the truth when he said that it had taken so much energy not to break down at his words then and there.

Why had it hurt so much? was it because after several weeks of being alone, that was the first thing anyone had said to him? or was it because of his new core… he didn’t know. But he just wanted to stop crying.

 it had taken half an hour before he stopped crying. He moved himself off the floor and onto his bed. he laid sprawled out, weakly holding onto the blanket under him. Burying into the fluff and warmth.

Little to no energy left. The lack of sleep from the previous night getting to him, making it hard to keep his eyes open. soon he caved in, grasping onto the sleep.

--

Logan had been concerned, the more he thought about what Janus had said. and it was slowly getting to him. “Logan? Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Ah. He was just staring at his toast. Had he been so caught up in thought? “after breakfast I would like to talk to you all, if that’s alright. But I will have something to do first,” he sighed, slumping his shoulders. “of course! But may I ask why you’d like to talk to us dear nerd?” roman asked. “it’s about the schedule. With everything that keeps coming up I’m constantly trying to fix it. and at the minuet I don’t know how Thomas is going to get everything done,” “so you need help cutting some things out?” Virgil said as he took a sip from a purple cup. “basically… yes.” “no problem specks,” Virgil said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“anyways, where will you be going?” “ah… I will be visiting Janus later,” roman and Virgil froze at his words. “why?” roman said with a raised eyebrow. “he… was the one to bring up the fact I was burning myself out. I said some harsh things. I also have a question to ask him.”

The other four sides looked between each other with confusion and worry.

 He was outside Janus’s door sooner than he would have liked. But he was okay with that. Patton had sent him away with a box of cookies for the snake. Worried about him as they hadn’t spoken since the Lilly-Patton incident. he unconsciously rubbed his neck.

He sent three sharp knocks on the door. But much to his surprise, the movement had pushed the door open, the deceitful side must not have closed the door properly.

He nudged it open just enough to peek inside. A sharp pain filled his heart as he saw Janus sprawled on the bed that sat in the furthest corner of the room. another thing he realised was just how cold it was. like an icy blanket that covered the entire room.

He entered cautiously, placing the tub of cookies down by Janus’s hat. he looked over to the sleeping side with worry. He had never seen him looking so peaceful. It was kind of worrying truthfully.

He summoned a blanket and draped it over Janus, hoping it would keep him warm for now. he reached into his pocket. A small sorry letter he had written in case Janus wasn’t in. but sleeping was also another reason he hadn’t thought about.

He placed it at the end of the bed. Hoping the other would find it when he woke up. and if he didn’t, that wouldn’t stop him from apologising in person. he knew when he was wrong about something. And he knew he was wrong to say the things he had.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

He had been surprised when he was slowly waking up. something warm was covering him like the worlds best hug. He would be lying if he said he didn’t pull it further over himself.

But as he slowly woke up, he cracked his eyes open and almost broke. He stared at the blanket that was covering himself only to see the deep blue colour. Logan had been here?

He sat up quickly, scanning his room quickly to see if the side was there. Not to his surprise… he wasn’t there. his alarm clock told him he had been asleep for a while. Lunch rolling around the corner soon.

He pulled the blue blanket over his shoulders and tied the ends like a cape. He forgot how cold he was for a couple seconds.

He looked over to his hat, a small plastic box sitting next to it. a small part of him thought he was asleep. There was no way that a light side would willingly come over… right?

He picked up the container and opened it up. chocolate chip cookies stared back at him. yes… he was definitely still asleep. There was no other way this was happening. Yeah… he would wake up in a couple seconds and he would be alone once again. None of this would be here.

He sighed and reached into the box, pulling out a cookie. a tiny smile formed on his face. he knew Logan couldn’t cook. So, there was a high chance that it was Patton’s or romans cooking.

He placed it back into the box and closed it over. But he held the container in his hands a little longer before placing it down.

Any warmth that had filled him before seemed to dull down as he realised that despite everything. He was still alone. For all he knew they were doing this to keep him away for a while longer…

“why can’t I do anything right!” the voice yelled in his mind. this one he could tell was Patton’s.

He sighed. Today was going to be a long day. He could already tell. he snapped his fingers and changed out of his pyjamas and into something else.

Black dress pants and a yellow button up. his caplet draped over his shoulders. Logan’s blanket still tied around himself like a cape.

And soon he found himself sinking down.

Let's say we up and left this town, And turned our future upside down. We'll make pretend that you and me, Lived ever after happily.

Janus arrived in the light side’s kitchen. Patton stood staring at the wall. he let out a cough, grabbing Patton attention almost immediately. “oh! Hello Jan- “he cut himself off as he looked at the snake with shock, “you…seem to have changed quite a bit there,”

Janus simply rolled his eyes, not as bothered as he felt he should have been by morality’s words. “anyways… I came to ask if you were okay,” he moved himself over to Patton's side.

“I’m… I’m okay kiddo,” Patton said, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Janus returned the smile with a blank look on his face,” that’s a lie. Isn’t it?” he sighed. “I don’t know what you mean?” “you’re bottling it up. you feel like you keep hurting those around you with everything you do,” Janus felt like such a hypocrite, “and you feel like you’re driving them away in the process. Am I wrong?”

Patton felt tears pricking his eyes as he looked at Janus. “what do I do?” he said, “I don’t want to lose them…”

Janus stayed silent. His face scrunched up in thought. His fingers rapped over the counter. “I don’t know truthfully… but maybe you should just confront it head on. Don’t skirt around the issue…” don’t do what I did, that’s what he meant.

Patton looked at him with a sad smile. “would you like to join us for lunch Janus?” he said as he rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the tears that messed with his vision. “as much as I’d love to, I know roman and Virgil wouldn’t want me there,” he said sadly. Patton could feel the small amounts of sadness coming from him. But it was blocked off by something else. As if it was being hidden by something else. Whatever it was, he couldn’t sense it. “well, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us.”

Janus gave a weak smile in Patton's direction and turned to leave but froze as he saw who was standing at the door.

Virgil glared at him but he could see the confusion in his eyes. “why are you here deceit,” he growled. “one, that’s not my title any more. And two… Patton simply needed some assistance. I was happy to help,” he said, keeping his eyes of the anxious side.

“excuse me?” Virgil said startled, “what the hell do you mean deceit isn’t your title anymore?” Janus shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the other. “you can call me self-destruction from now on,” he said coldly, glancing up an connecting his eyes with the purple of Virgil’s.

Neither side knew what to say at what the now self-destruction side had said. This was new. sure, there had been splits… but never a full core change… “Janus…” Patton said as he took a step closer. “don’t,” Janus said, holding a hand up. Patton stopped walking towards Janus. His concern for the side growing even more.

Virgil didn’t know what to do, he just stood there dumbfounded. This was the last thing he had been expecting. Okay sure, he had been startled when he saw Janus’s new look. but this… his title shifting to something new. something like that? he didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t like not knowing things…

“how long,” Virgil said as he stared at the snake. “only this morning… no one else knows,” Janus said.

They shifted uncomfortably for a couple more seconds. “well… if you don’t mind, I think it would be best if I left for now,” Janus said, making his way over to the door Virgil had been blocking.

“no,” the anxious side said, “we don’t know what you can do now. How do we know if you wont effect Thomas,” he said staring at Janus. “please, you didn’t care about me before, why change that now?”

Virgil felt his chest tighten at the words spoken by Janus. “as much as I hate to say it… Virge has a point. With a new title… you will have to learn new things about yourself. And having people around might help,” he said carefully, trying to block out the words Janus had previously spoken.

“just let me go,” he muttered, swaying as he stood as still as possible. “Janus are you- Janus!” Patton yelled as he caught the side who had toppled over.

Janus was unconscious before he heard Patton yell his name.

Virgil was by their sides in seconds. Panic spreading through his veins. “Janus… Janus,” he said as he shook the snake, hoping to wake him up. “he’s like ice!” Patton said as he jerked his hand away from his head.

“get the others and tell them that Janus will be staying with us for a while,” Patton said as he picked Janus up bridal style. Trying his best not to shiver under the coldness of the others skin.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Virgil gave a sharp nod before bolting out the room and making his way to the bedroom hallway. the first door he came to was Logan’s. he pounded on the door, hoping it would startle Logan out of his work. he heard shuffling on the other side before his door creaked open. Logan looked at Virgil rather surprised.

“get your ass down stairs,” Virgil said before shooting of to the twins shared room and pounding on the door in a hurry.

The door opened on its own and he flung the door open irritably. “get your asses down stairs, now,” he said as he looked at the twins who seemed startled by his sudden appearance, most likely thinking he was Patton.

But non the less they both stood up and made their way down the stairs after Virgil and a rather confused Logan. the three of them got closer to the living room. The sound of shuffling and Virgil pacing was all they could hear until they reached the room.

Patton was draping a blanket over something on the couch as Virgil moved something, placing a pillow underneath. and as the three of them got closer. They stopped moving.

“Janus,” Logan said before making his way over to the other two sides. he knelt down next to the unconscious side, “what happened?” he asked looking at the moral side. “we don’t know, we were talking and he started to sway before falling unconscious. I managed to catch him before he hit the ground, but he’s so cold. Almost like ice,” Patton muttered.

Logan reached his hand and placed it gently on the sides head. Patton was correct. He was cold as ice. “keep him wrapped up in the blankets,” he said before turning to the twins, “can one of you come with me to Janus’s room? I need to check something out from earlier,” he said as he stood up. “oh, and Virgil. Go into my room and get the medical box from under the bathroom sink. His arms need to be covered,”

Virgil stared at Logan, “what do you mean by that specks,” he whispered. even Remus who was normally loud and yelling, his eyes glazed over at his words, “he said he stopped…” he whispered horrified.

“ill come with you then dear nerd, we shall be back soon,” he said as he sunk out with Logan not too far behind.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

 Logan and roman appeared in Janus’s room. The first thing roman did was curse under his breath at how cold it was. “no wonder he was so cold specks… his rooms colder than the artic!” “but why…” Logan said as he began to look around.

The room was much smaller than his own. But it was much more cluttered. A wall of trophies Thomas had won sat high and on display. musical posters and photographs hung the walls. a bookshelf sat facing Janus’s bed. Filled to the brim with books on philosophers and snakes.

Then his eyes landed on something. A small leather-bound book that looked far older than anything on the book case. “roman,” he said, causing the side to look up from his position, looking in a small wooden box. he made his way over as Logan removed the book. it didn’t take too long for him to realise what he was holding. “looks like a diary,” he muttered.

What had caught roman was the symbol printed into the front. One he hadn’t seen in on much. but knew all to well. “why does he have Romulus’s diary?” he said to himself, but it didn’t go unheard by the other in the room.

“no… its Janus’s,” he said as he flicked through the pages, “each one was signed of by Janus. Not Romulus- wait look here,” he said.

The hand writing and use of pen had changed from black to a multi coloured one. Red and green ink swirling on the page. he read over what was written.

They re read what was written. Guilt seemed to flood into them as the read it over and over again. had Romulus and Janus been that close that… oh god… a sick feeling laid planted in romans chest. he didn’t know much about the person he had split from. But he knew that Janus had always played a part in his past. He thought that maybe he had been the cause of the split.

Not that Romulus split on purpose in hopes to better balance out the mind scape for everyone’s sake. Maybe… he would discuss his plan with his twin later. “we should keep looking. And if we don’t find anything… we can put it down to his core shifting and messing with his room,” Logan said; he only getting a nod in response.

Ohhhh... And since we know that dreams are dead, And life turns plan’s up on their head, I will plan to be a bum, So I just might become someone.

Janus needed to stop falling asleep. He was going to mess with his sleep schedule. he noticed three things as he began to wake up for the third time that day. one, he was warm. Not Logan’s blanket, just keeping out the cold. This was full on Patton hug level of warmth. second was the smell of cookies that hung in the air. It was comforting to some extent. Only he knew he hadn’t done any cooking in a long time. third was that he was lying on something soft. His bed had always been stiff and hard. This, he was able to melt into like putty.

He didn’t want to move. He was perfectly fine being here for the rest of eternity. but he was curious as to where he was. so despite his body complaining against waking up, he tried his best to crack his eyes open. A bright light filled his vision, causing him to et out a small hiss of pain.

Then noise filled his ears, the sounds of people shouting and moving filled his head as he finally got his eyes open. he didn’t expect to see all the light sides surrounding him.

“Janus! Are you alright?” Patton asked. he didn’t know what to do. His mind ran at several miles an hour, a light panic setting into his chest as he realised how close they were to him.

Virgil seemed to know the look on Janus’s face, “everyone back away, you’re crowding him. He’s already starting to panic,” he said as he shuffled away slightly.

The others followed suit as they realised Janus was indeed internally panicking. they waited a couple minutes before Patton turned to Logan who gave him a quick nod. He stood up and made his way out of the room. “sorry,” Janus muttered as he bowed his head down. “it’s alright Jannie,” Remus said as he smiled at Janus.

He looked around the room once again. Still confused as to why they weren’t being hostile as before… “what happened?” he asked as he looked at them. Virgil shifted uncomfortably, grabbing Janus’s attention, “you fell unconscious after I confronted you in the kitchen. Patton caught you before you hit the ground,” he said, keeping his eyes away from Janus.

The room fell quiet. But it wasn’t bad… it felt calm. “well, should I put a movie on in the mean time?” roman asked everyone. “I have no quarry with that,” Logan said as he adjusted his glasses. “same here princy,” Virgil said. “sure thing bitch,” Remus said punching his twins arm getting a wince in response.

Janus nodded, moving his hand to rub his arm before looking down, realising he wasn’t touching his coarse skin. Once again, he felt himself freeze in place. They had seen them…

Well he was fucked. “Janus- “he looked up from his arms and towards roman. “is there anything you’d like to watch?” Janus didn’t respond, he only looked at roman before casting his eyes back to his wrists.

It was at that moment Patton entered the room with a bowl of soup. He gave it over to the grey scaled side with a smile. “you missed lunch and dinners still a while away, I thought you might get hungry,” he said cheerfully.

He held the bowl staring at it for a couple seconds. The soup seemed to ripple for a couple seconds. And it was then that he realised he had begun to cry. a pair of hands moved the bowl from him and someone wrapped him up in a hug. That only seemed to make him cry harder despite the fact he had clung onto the person.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccupped as tears continued to pour. he tried to stop crying, but the tears continued to pour despite his best efforts. “it’s okay Janus, you’ve been too strong for a long time, its our turn to return the favour,” Virgil whispered into his ear. another several sets of arms wrapped around him to the best of their abilities.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Things were far from fine. That was for sure. But in that moment… he knew why he was crying and it wasn’t from sadness or loneliness or the never-ending coldness that laid over his heart that slowly seemed to be filling up with something warm.

The tears were from the overwhelming love he felt the others giving him despite all he had done. the warm looks given his way. he didn’t deserve them. But it felt so nice.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

He himself was by no means going to be okay for a long time… but this?

This was a start.

[josephmozzerellaswife-blog]

Expecting the Unexpected Part 1

I’m excited to share with you all my first official series! I cant wait for you all to read it!

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, child illness

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: When Joe gets back from his recent business trip he notices something is up with your new little one. Can an urgent ER trip can change your lives for good?

From the moment you found out you were pregnant, you couldn’t wait to see Joe’s reaction. His dream of being a father was finally coming true but you never expected both of your dreams to take a turn for the worst.

Almost 4 months after your sweet little girl was born, Joe noticed that Scarlet wasn’t her usual giggly self when he came home from set. She was very quiet, sleeping a bit more than usual and started to get a little fever every so often. You noticed this too but just assumed it was the nerves and protectiveness of being a new parent. Joe had no other option than to call his mom because we had no idea what we were supposed to do at that point.

You could tell by the tone in her voice that she knew something was far worse than you both expected but she just insisted to take Scarlet to the hospital right away to be cautious. She told us not to worry but anything with the word ‘Scarlet’ and ‘hospital’ in the same sentence instantly sparked the fear for the worst within you and Joe.

While Joe finished talking with his mom you when to go wake up Scarlet from her nap when you noticed a new bruise on her forehead. Tears began falling from your eyes as you realized her illness might be much worse than you thought and it was your fault. Joe could hear your sobs from downstairs and rushed up the staircase to find you collapsed on the floor while your daughter still lies in her crib sound asleep. Joe quickly rushed to your side and encased you within his warm arms, your wet sobs soaking his shirt.

“Darling what’s wrong? Scarlet is still asleep.”

“Joe she has a bruise on her forehead and it wasn’t there when I laid her down an hour ago.”

“Y/N she’s still a baby and babies get bruises.”

“Joe what’s if she sick because of me. What if I did something wrong? What if this is all my fault.”

“Babe we don’t even know if she’s sick. She could just be teething.”

“Joey, babies don’t just get bruises while they sleep.”

“You didn’t cause this. We will take her to the hospital and they will tell us she is going to be fine.”

“You heard your mom’s voice though Joe. She didn’t sound like it was just the symptoms of teething.”

“Y/N everything is going to be fine. I promise. If it’s not then we are going to get through this. All of us. Together.”

I could only hope Joe was right. Am I just overreacting?

Joe lifted Scarlet from her crib, still sound asleep in his arms, her lips partly spread to where you could hear her subtle snores. You finished packing the rest of the things you might need and grabbed the diaper bag while rushing out the door. You wondered how Joe was so calm during the whole situation. How he could be so strong while you were a complete disaster. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Scarlet for most of the car ride, constantly watching to make sure she was breathing, the steady rise and fall of her chest. It was only when Joe grabbed your hand and placed a tender kiss to it did you finally look away. His face still hiding the tears of complete fear that you had been feeling yourself all morning. He never let go of your hand for the entire trip, giving it a tight squeeze every now and then to ensure that you knew he was still yours. Every squeeze made your heart ache with love but still somehow managed to calm your nerves.

As you pulled into the parking lot of the ER, Joe looked at you with the softest of eyes, still glassy from the tears that were yet to fall. You could tell he was scared just as much as you were but he wasn’t going to let you know that. He was your rock. He had to be, for the both of you. He softly kisses your lips once, then again this time more passionately, falling deeper into your touch.

“Are you ready to do this love?” he said, his voice still quiet trying not to wake the little child.

“As ready as a scared new mom will ever be I guess.”

“Everything will be fine, Scarlet will be fine.”

“Just...Don’t let go of my hand please. Don’t ever let go.”

“I wouldn’t for the world love.”

The waiting room was surprisingly empty. The quiet hum from the lights flooding the halls. Joe went to go and sign in for you so you could just relax and hold your precious little one. You admire every feature of her face as if it was your last. Her soft auburn hair, just like her daddy’s, gentle dark brown eyes with hints of green throughout, her full puffy lips like yours. Everything about her was perfect. She was the perfect mix of you both.

When Joe came back, he cradled Scarlet in one arm and grasped you in the other. Holding you both so close as if he would never get to again. You both wished it was nothing, that Scarlet would be just fine, but deep down you both knew it wasn’t just teething symptoms. He kissed your forehead every now and then to make sure you were awake. It had almost been an hour before the nurse called the three of you back. The halls were so cold and empty. The walls filled with pictures of charts and graphs. It wasn’t the most friendly of places to want to be.

The nurse guided you into a private room, considering you husband’s status, and left to get some initial checkup supplies. Joe never let go of Scarlet. He wouldn’t put her down unless he absolutely had to. You loved how much he cared for her, for you. He never stopped loving either of you. You felt the same. The love you had for him would never fail to grow. Each day more passionate than the next. Suddenly your phone vibrated on the hospital chair.

“Breaking News: Joe Mazzello and wife Y/N Mazzello seen taking daughter into Mount Sinai Kravis Children's Hospital.”

“Joe-”

Joe takes the phone from you only to quickly place it back down beside him.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just paparazzi.”

“Joe what are the people gonna think? What if they blame us.”

“Y/N who cares what the people think. We are here for Scarlet. Nothing else matters.”

He was right. The press only made your mind wander from the anxiety you were feeling about this emergency visit, your mind was racing.

The doctor soon came in after the nurse did Scarlet’s initial exam.

“Excuse me sir but do you mind laying her down on the exam table please.” the doctor said in the most annoyed and rushed tone.

Joe looked at him hesitantly but you had to nudge his arm for him to come back to reality. Scarlet was still bundled in her blanket with the stuffed rabbit in her tiny hold, but you and Joe both knew it might be days before the either of you could sleep they way she could. The doctor had a sense of worry in his face. The lines on his forehead becoming more prominent as he continues to exam your daughter’s bruised head. It was almost as if he new it was bad, but he wasn’t going to show any sense of worry until he absolutely had to. He order a nurse to have Scarlet’s bloodwork sent off immediately.

“Do you mind if we take your little one to get a couple of x-rays done?”

You could sense Joe becoming more and more tense as the question continued to pour out of the doctors mouth.

“Not at all, anything to ensure she is healthy.” you managed to spill out the words that seemed impossible to form. Joe looked at you with his puffy eyes. You could tell he was holding back every tear that was yet to run from his eyes.

“Joey it’s ok. She gonna be ok.”

“I’m so scared babe. I know she will be fine but this is all becoming so real.”

He finally let loose. Tears spilling from his eyes and not long after yours too. You were both scared out of your minds over something as silly as a bruise. Being a parent was tough, but being a new parent was something else.

It had been about 20 minutes before the nurse brought back your sweet little girl. Joe quickly encased her in his arms almost as if he was never going to let go of her again.

“The doctor should be back with your results in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much.” He said continuing to focus his eyes on the now awake child. Her eyes red from crying but still looking into yours and Joe eyes with a smile on her precious face.

As soon as the doctor enters the room you can feel the tense presence rise. Something wasn’t right.

“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.” the doctor said sorrowfully, his eyes almost pulling away from the both of you.

“We ran her bloodwork through pathology and they found something quite alarming but we didn’t know for sure. That’s why we asked you for consent of her X-rays.”

“What are you saying?” you said holding back the streams of tears from running down your face. Joe looked at you with every fear you both shared.

“Scarlet she-“ the doctor paused for a moment knowing the rest he had to say was going to change your lives forever.

“She has something called Pilocytic astrocytoma. It’s a common form of childhood brain cancer.”

His words didn’t full register until you saw your husband sob. Tears running down his face unable to stop. They were running down your face too. You felt so empty inside. Like there was nothing left. Everything was ripped right from your hands. Joe wouldn’t let go of either of you. His grip held so tight between you.

“Now I know this seems scary but I want you to know that most children with this diagnosis have a 95% survival rate and we have the best treatments options provided to you.” his words left his mouth so easily you couldn’t wrap your head around it. He just told you that your child has cancer and expressed no different emotion than he would to someone with the flu.

Your life was changing and it wasn’t for the better. Your only child, the light in yours and Joe’s life, had cancer. Joe looked at you with sorrow, his expression empty, but his love grew stronger. You both would cherish every moment together like it was you last, but what was next?

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

Taglist:

@queens-n-roses @onehystericalqueeen @sevenseasofky @soberandfurious @toger-raylor @sincereleygmg @mrsmazzello @myfreakydeaky

[lizzieraindrops]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Far Meridian (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peri/Ruth Characters: Hesperia | Peri, Ruth Additional Tags: Wingfic, Wings, Alternate Universe - Wings, Wing Grooming, Pining, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Stargazing, Pre-Canon, they're still in high school, it's really gay, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Femslash, Pre-Femslash

I decided that angsty wingfic for The Far Meridian was a necessity.

Just a memory of a soft evening atop a lighthouse, filled with unspoken words and un-nameable longing. Girls preening the wings of close friends is totally normal - unless you're pining sapphics suffering internalized homophobia. A continuation of the sunset scene in Ep. 1.10 Whitecaps. I promise it does end soft.

Peri has the wings of a hermit thrush – an elusive migratory songbird that travels at night, rarely visits feeders, and is widely regarded as having one of the most beautiful, ethereal songs. Ruth has the wings of a northern spotted owl – a nocturnal bird with little white spots like stars on dark brown wings, and big brown eyes.

Title from the song of the same name by The Spring Standards, also featured on this Peri/Ruth playlist.

Say it Say the words I see behind your eyes If it’s not hard to say, then it’s a lie

___________

With the brilliant colors of the sunset, the brine seasoning the seaside air, and the sound of the sweetest voice in the world singing where only she can hear, this might be Peri’s idea of bliss. The soft vibrations of unexpected music twines about the two of them in the air atop the lighthouse, much like the winding breeze that breathes through Peri’s feathers. The wind tugs lightly at them like an invitation to sky. That pull revives the muscle memory of flight going back for generations, running all the way down the vanes to stir their roots. But the song reaches even deeper into her, somewhere in the region where her wings themselves are rooted.

It’s a perfect moment, even if something about it aches indescribably. But it’s alright; it’s a familiar nameless ache, one that swells or softens but never completely fades. Maybe it’s more noticeable right now because Peri doesn’t know when she’ll get another moment like this. So, she tries to make the most of it. She keeps her eyes on the sky and drinks in the air and the light and the sound, trying to sink into the sweetness and save the bitterness for later. It works until it doesn’t.

“You could always… go,” Ruth says, but the way her voice trails tells Peri she already knows her answer. “Next semester. It’d be way easier if we could cheer each other on.”

Peri folds her wings in a little tighter, so the wind’s fingers slide off of them. She doesn’t look at Ruth. “I’ve got my online courses…”

“You know that’s not the same.”

Peri leans forward into the railing of the balcony around the light room as she sighs. She’d hoped Ruth wouldn’t make her say it. “Trust me, if I were a turtle with my home on my back… I’d be there in half a heartbeat.”

“C’mon,” Ruth says, stirring the air with a playful stroke of her forewings. The tips of her soft primaries barely brush Peri’s arm. “In the grand cosmic scheme of things, the whole Earth is your home, zooming through space at sixty-seven thousand miles per hour!”

“Sounds more like a racecar than a home!” Peri protests, but she feels a smile seeking its way to her lips.

“You are – impossible!” Ruth exclaims.

Laughter escapes both of them then. It makes the brief tension recede like one wave folding under the next, returning them to bittersweet contemplation of the kaleidoscope sky.

Peri gives a little shrug of her wings and settles them to lay more comfortably against her back. A few of the tertial feathers at the base catch on the cotton of her shirt. She lifts her left wing a little and reaches her right arm around to smooth them back into place. Once it’s fixed and re-folded, she shifts to carefully lean her elbow against Ruth’s on the railing. She does it oh so slowly, so casually that Ruth can move away if she wishes, and Peri will have done nothing but adjusted the way her weight rests against the rail. Her arms practically ache with affected ease, ready to pull back, oh sorry, didn’t mean to bump you, if Ruth pulls away.

Ruth doesn’t pull away. The wind softens into something that barely dances over Peri’s skin. In the resulting quiet, she can hear Ruth breathing. Peri listens.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Ruth says in a soft voice.

Peri watches the golds and oranges of the sunset deepen toward pink. The clouds holding that brilliant light slide along the horizon like sails before swifter, higher winds than the ones that reach the lighthouse. Words fill her throat, but she doesn’t know what any of them are, much less how to say them. “Yeah,” she finally says. “Me, too.”

The two of them stand together in silence. Ruth heaves a slow sigh. That ineffable ache still lingers, as it always does for Peri: quietly, and constantly. But usually, it’s not this much. Right now, Peri can physically feel it like a sore muscle, somewhere deep in her chest in the same place where the music goes. On the surface far above it, the skin of her wing twitches in irritation. Some of the smaller covert feathers above the corrected tertials still feel askew. She cants the wing upward again, reaching. Her fingers stretch toward the mosquito-bite itch, but it’s right on the back of her wing where it’s hardest to reach.

Peri lets out a frustrated sound. She briskly fluffs her feathers up and then down again, hoping it will sort out the stuck ones without her having to practically stretch her shoulder out of socket. It doesn’t. This probably wouldn’t be as difficult if she didn’t carry so much tension in her arm- and wing-shoulders. The stiffness of it constricts her natural range of movement just a little, just enough to keep those furthest preening spots out of reach and to leave her neck and upper back perpetually tight and sore. Then again, a whole lot of things in her life probably wouldn’t be as difficult without the anxiety causing that tension in the first place.

Peri braces her hands on the rail. She stretches her rounded wings directly backward to brush their tips against the glass walls of the light room, then folds them down again, to no avail. She huffs in annoyance.

“Hey, you okay?” Ruth asks, giving her a sideways look with one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, just – nghh.” Peri shrugs her wings again, then tucks them down and holds resolutely still. She’s not going to break the spell of this perfect sunset, not going to walk away from this one of the precious few moments she has left just to go downstairs for a back scratcher. “I’ve just got a feather out of sorts right in the back. It’s fine though.”

“Oh.”

Peri tries to keep her attention on the pink-and-gold clouds, and not on the itch at her back or the light press of the arm leaning against hers. It doesn’t work very well, because she finds some of those words in her throat taking shape and slipping half a question past her teeth before she knows what they are.

“Could you – ?”

At the same time, Ruth blurts, “Do you want me to – ?”

They both break off to stare right at each other. Ruth raises her wings just slightly in a hesitant gesture. Peri quickly looks away again.

“Um,” Peri says, hoping the warm glow of the sunset hides her blush. She pulls her wings in scrunched close to her shoulders in embarrassment. She feels the offending feathers stick up along with several dozen neighbors, crinkled up along the folds of skin.

“Sorry, I – uh,” Ruth says. “I meant – I can fix it, if you want. Or not! It’s totally cool, if that’s weird –”

“No! No, it’s not weird!” Peri says hurriedly. It wouldn’t be. It’s Ruth.

But if it were, that’s why it would be: because it’s Ruth.

Peri had Ace or her mom or dad help her with preening often enough, especially in those hard-to-reach spots. It was a thing lots of people did with close friends and family. Ruth practically was family – she ate dinner at the lighthouse half the time, anyway. It wouldn’t be unusual for Ruth to preen her. Peri had seen plenty of girls at school casually combing through each other’s feathers at the end of lunch hour. That was always a little golden window of free time that the two of them spent together, where nothing consequential ever really happened. Now, though, it occurs to Peri that those casual interstices were home to a disproportionate number of oddly precious memories. They rise up clamoring inside her, as if desperate to not become part of a closed chapter.

There was the time they found a crying thrush trapped in an unused locker down by Mr. Santos’ office, and Peri opened it and got a face full of feathers so much like her own. The two of them chased it down the hallway toward the door Ruth held open for it, and the bird flew out into the sky with a call of joy that they both echoed. Then, there was Heidi’s birthday sophomore year when her grandmother sent her to school with a ton of donuts, except half of them got repurposed for a miniature food fight. Somehow, it was exhilarating instead of terrifying. Peri landed a surprisingly accurate powdered donut on Ruth’s head in a puff of white sugar that clung to her hair all day. She quickly experienced retribution in the form of Ruth seizing her and dusting her all over with a cinnamon twist while laughing and leaving sugary handprints all down her sleeves. And then, there was that time the two of them wandered the perimeter of the soccer field at the edge of school and sat together in the grass awhile, chatting and staring at the trees beyond, and nothing interesting happened at all. They were simply together. Something in the stillness of that moment echoed the bliss of this quiet, sunset-glazed evening that she was living today.

Except for the current awkwardness, today had been blissful - besides the unnamed ache, of course, but that was always there. But perhaps Peri and her escaped words shouldn’t have brought up the idea of preening. For some reason, it was something that had never been a part of any of those remembered moments. It just wasn’t something the two of them did. Peri had never questioned it, never wanted to cross an unacknowledged line. Sure, she had wondered in idle moments what it might feel like to run a hand through the softness of Ruth’s dark velvet-edged owl-feathers, to trace the little white spots that speckled them like stars across a night sky. But someone’s wings were so personal, so strong and yet so vulnerable, that she would never presume to ask, not even her best friend. Especially her best friend.

But now, the wings concerned aren’t Ruth’s, but her own. Although she never even considered the possibility before, she knows she would trust Ruth with anything and everything, including this. Including her. And Ruth herself had offered. Minutes ago, the concept of Ruth’s hands on her wings hadn’t existed. But suddenly, intensely, Peri wants. She wants this before Ruth takes the option far away with her when she leaves. The deep ache inside her twists sharply in a strange way she doesn’t know how to understand.

Ruth is still staring at her, twisting her hands together. Peri flushes again, but just says, in a voice that catches on that ache and breaks into a whisper: “Would you?”

Ruth’s face blooms with hope. Being the reason for that expression makes Peri feel like the sun itself. Ruth begins to reach toward Peri’s wing, but checks herself one more time, retracting her hands as if from a fire too warm, too close.

“You’re sure it’s not weird?” Ruth says, brows crinkling in uncertainty.

“It’s not weird,” Peri says again. Thankfully, her voice doesn’t break this time. “Well, I mean, you’re weird, so by default everything involving you is weird, but other than that –”

“Hey!” Ruth puts one hand on her hip. “Rude! You’re one to talk.”

For the second time that evening, they both dissolve into giggles. The beam from the lighthouse’s light swings over them, illuminating their faces with a glimpse of brilliance.

“Okay but no, really,” Peri says after she’s caught her breath. “That spot’s really really bugging me, can you get it?”

“Yeah yeah! Come here,” Ruth says. As naturally as if they’ve done this a thousand times, she reaches out toward her once again and twirls a finger in the air to ask Peri to turn around.

Peri turns and stretches out her left wing, resting her opposite hand on the glass walls of the light room. “It’s right down at the base there, do you see it?”

“Oh yeah, hon, you’re all kinds of ruffled up here.”

For a moment, Peri doesn’t feel anything but the breeze. But just as she’s worrying that Ruth has decided this is too weird after all, careful fingers sink into the mat of soft brown coverts at her shoulder. Very gently at first, and then with deliberate firmness, she starts combing them back into place.

“Yeah, the one that’s really the problem is just belo– ahh!” Peri shivers as Ruth untangles the feather’s barbs from its neighbors and flattens it between her fingers to zip them back into alignment. Then she rubs the pad of her thumb against the feather’s base where it meets the skin, erasing the twinge of irritation with comforting pressure. Peri’s wing involuntarily sags to the ground in relief, yet again crinkling up all the feathers where her wing meets her back into disarray.

Ruth just laughs. “Starshine, you’re gonna undo all my work if you do that. Here, why don’t you sit down.”

“Oh - okay.”

Peri settles herself cross-legged at the end of the balcony. She rests her arms on the lower rail and fully stretches out both wings, resting them on the ground at a more relaxed angle. Ruth sits down behind her, and with a deep breath sets to fixing her feathers again.

If this evening was blissful before, now it’s approaching something more like wonder. It’s hard to believe it’s real. Sitting here watching the bright clouds fade while Ruth cards deft fingers through her feathers, making the skin underneath tingle with pleasure... it’s a whole new kind of exquisite. Maybe the only thing that could make it better would be if Ruth started singing again – and sure enough, Ruth starts humming to herself as she works. Peri’s left wing goes slack, followed by her right as Ruth works her way through the tiny scapulars on her back toward the opposite limb. The corded tightness of those great flight muscles slowly begins to untie itself, chased away by strokes of careful pressure and gentle scratches.

After she finishes the covert feathers at the elbow bend of her wing, Ruth goes quiet and pauses. Peri hums a softest protest in her throat. At the sound, Ruth lays a silent question on the expanse of her ungroomed secondary coverts with a gently placed palm. Peri can’t help but press an answer into her touch.

Ruth chuckles and resumes, soothing sensitive skin and smoothing down all those little rounded feathers. She even massages the underlying wing, wrapping her hands right around the marginal coverts and squeezing her fingers deep into the muscle. How did she get so good at this? If Peri had known earlier....

Ruth continues to hum as she goes, softly enough that she might be just singing to herself. But when she sings Clementine again, the notes trace their way right into Peri’s core, lancing that eternal ache with unbearable sweetness.

This might be both the happiest and saddest Peri has ever felt.

Once Ruth finishes grooming the coverts, front and back, she starts running her fingers along each great flight feather. She hums another song Peri doesn't know, making sure all the feathers' little barbs knit together without gaps.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs in between the notes.

“Huh?” Peri glances at the plain brown wing in Ruth’s hands. “They’re just brown.”

“So are mine!”

Peri rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yours are dark and gorgeous and you’ve got all those little white spots that look like constellations. Mine are all the same and just kind of dusty-looking.”

“What! No they’re not. They’re such a warm color. They’ve got this gradient...” Ruth supports the back of one of Peri’s long primaries with one hand while reaching over the top of the wing to trace the raised rachis on the feather’s underside with her fingers. “They’re kind of pale golden at the base, and then they turn more sort of, I dunno. Like hot cocoa. And look! You’ve got this adorable little stripe of dark tips on your primary coverts. And your alula.” Ruth tweaks the three little ‘thumb’ feathers at the top of her wing.

“Oh.” Peri blinks. “I mean, I guess.”

“They’re right here! There’s no need to guess. You’re adorable, and that’s that.”

Peri rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh and a smile.

Ruth goes back to fixing up her long remiges. Peri’s wings sink ever closer to the floor, limp with relaxed pleasure. Finally, after what could be either hours or mere minutes, Ruth runs her hands down the length of them and stops.

“There,” Ruth whispers into the evening air, so soft she can hardly hear it. “How’s that?”

In answer, Peri stretches both her arms and wings out to their fullest extent with languorous ease. On impulse, she falls back into Ruth’s chest with an enormous sigh, wings still splayed. The soft whoof of air Ruth lets out makes her hair flutter by her ear.

“Good,” Peri says.

“Good.” Ruth’s voice is oddly high.

Ruth’s chest rises and falls against her back and wing-shoulders, and Peri finds that they’re breathing in rhythm. It’s lovely.

Ruth shifts her arms like she’s not sure what to do with them, with Peri practically in her lap. Apparently, she settles on stretching them out to lay along the margins of Peri’s prone wings. It increases the points of contact between them, and Peri certainly isn’t going to complain. They both hold still, simply breathing, Ruth’s breath brushing against her cheek.

She’s going to miss Ruth so much. The reality of her leaving has been circling closer for days, weeks, maybe even years, but now the fact has finally come home to roost in Peri’s ribcage.

Peri’s body is far more relaxed than usual. But the softness draws an unbearably sharp contrast with this hurting in her chest – – her heart fucking aches.

A shudder of pain that has nothing to do with Peri’s muscles runs through her, making her breath stutter.

“Whoa – Peri, what’s wrong?”

Peri squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head sharply. Don’t, please don’t, don’t ruin this, she tells herself.

“Peri,” Ruth says more urgently. Her voice is soft, but it goes low and resonant, like she’s trying to throw it across a canyon. Her hands cup Peri’s wings, holding her as they curl inward with pain.

Peri opens her mouth, desperately trying to cough up all the unspoken things trapped in her throat, but she has no idea how to make them turn into words that she can say.

Water wells in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says in a broken whisper, and turns her face into Ruth’s neck to hide them.

Ruth stiffens as she leans in, but just as quickly goes soft and curls around her. Her cheek rests against Peri’s head while her arms slide past the curtain of her feathers and wrap around her waist to hug her closer.

“Oh honey,” she breathes, “For what? You don’t need to be. It’s okay.”

Peri’s shuddering breaths shake them both a few times before subsiding under the comforting pressure of Ruth’s arms.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ruth whispers into her hair. The evening breeze twists around them, throwing one of Ruth’s stray locks into Peri’s eyes.

Peri shakes her head again, softer this time. She can’t. She wants to. But when she tries to say any or all of the unknown things she desperately needs to, the only sound her throat wants to make is a cry just like that thrush when it was trapped in the locker.

“Did I do something?” Ruth’s voice goes thin with uncertainty. “Was this too much?” Her arms begin to loosen unforgivably.

“No!” She lays her own arms over Ruth’s to keep them from pulling away. Right now, they’re the only thing keeping the ache inside her from growing so large it consumes her. “You’re fine.” You’re perfect. You’re wonderful. You’re everything. Please don’t go, she doesn’t say. She has no right to be saying such excessive things. “Please, just... stay here awhile?”

Ruth tightens her hold around Peri again. “Of course. I’m here, starshine.”

For now, she thinks with a pang, but she turns away from the thought. No matter what happens next, nothing can change the fact that Ruth has soothed her wings and called them beautiful and held Peri close in her arms. That’s real now, and nothing can ever take that away from her. That’s something she wouldn’t give up even to avoid all this hurt. She lays a hand over one of the darker ones splayed across her ribs, and Ruth tangles their fingers together. The gesture makes Peri melt back into her embrace. It acquires even more layers when Ruth brings her wings around parallel to Peri’s own to shelter her from the stiffening breeze.

Although being so close is what made her aching flare up so terribly into this storm of unutterable words and nameless longing, drawing even closer like this gently ushers Peri into something of a storm’s eye. Here, body to body and wing to wing, the aching releases its grip on her, and she finally goes completely soft. She knows it’s still there, rooted deep within her. But for perhaps the first time since it sprouted unnoticed in her heart an unknown number of years ago and began trellising itself all through her chest and shoulders, it doesn’t hurt. It just holds her, steadies her, the same way Ruth is holding her.

The breeze grows cooler and the surf grows fainter as the tide goes out. The pink clouds have long since taken a turn toward purple, and are now fading into dusky violet in an inky-blue evening sky.

Eventually, Ruth stirs without letting go of her. “Hey, Peri, look.” She points out west toward where the sun’s setting leaves a pale halo on the horizon. In between the smoky clouds, there’s a bright pinprick of light.

“It’s you,” Ruth says. “The evening star. Hesperos, the Greeks called it. And Phosphoros, the morning star – back then they didn’t know it was the same thing. It’s Venus, really. But I guess we’ve never really forgotten what it meant to us, in the beginning, when we started looking at the sky. And we’ve carried the story of it with us ever since.”

“Mmhmm.” Peri’s heard this story many times before. But she could spend all night listening to the way Ruth’s voice goes soft and full of awe when she talks about the stars.

They both gasp as a broad streak of blue-white brilliance arcs right past the gleaming planet and vanishes behind a trailing cloud.

“Oh, that’s a fireball!” Ruth exclaims, holding on to her tight. “I’ve never seen one that bright. Blue usually means high magnesium content – quick, make a wish, girl!” She gives Peri an extra squeeze.

“What, because it has high magnesium content?” Peri asks, baffled.

“No, dummy, because it’s a shooting star! Quick now.”

Peri looks out to the horizon where the ‘star’ fell, blinking at the afterimages of its descent. The only wish she can possibly make right now is the one that she doesn’t have words for. Her chest and throat go tight and sharp as she tries once more to force the yearning inside her to name itself, even if only in her mind. But it’s like trying to pick unripe fruit that clings tenaciously to the vine. It’s just not ready. Maybe she herself just isn’t ready.

Then again, maybe wishes don’t need to be trapped in words. That planet glinting on the horizon has meant enough to people to be given many words – names – of its own, but it’s still the same thing it always was. Perceptions must have shifted over time, and yet Hesperia’s own name is a lingering echo of what a light in the sky meant to humans who lived centuries ago. The nature of things matters, but so does the way people feel about them.

Peri stops fighting the thing inside her, and it immediately releases her into the softness of Ruth’s arms again. Okay. Squeezing her eyes shut, she holds the memory of that shooting star close to her heart. She pulls that spark of light into the soft eye of the storm with her, thinking deliberately: this. And then, because her human mind clings to the language it knows, gives it the only vague words that she has.

I hope this works out.

She heaves a great sigh as she sets the wish free and leans into Ruth even more.

“Starshine?” Ruth.

“Yeah?”

“You make a wish?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Don’t tell me.” Ruth pulls her in closer, until Peri’s nestled into her chest close enough to feel another heartbeat.

They’re quiet. The sky has finally darkened enough that the lighthouse’s swinging beam has become a solid thing in the dimness.

“Did you?” Peri asks.

“Did I what?”

“Make a wish.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we do that? Both make wishes on the same star?”

“I dunno. Maybe if we wish for the same thing? Guess we won’t find out unless it comes true.”

“Well, you’re the star expert. I believe you.”

“Not yet, I’m not.”

“You will be. I know you.”

Ruth only hums in response. Peri feels the vibration of the sound against her back and wings. A chill runs across her skin, making her feathers stand up briefly.

“You alright?” Ruth asks, running a gentle hand along her feathers once more.

“Mmmm.”

The stars are starting to fill all the gaps between the clouds now.

“Do you wanna go back in?” Ruth asks.

“Mm,” Peri says again. “Not yet. Can we stay just a little longer?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Although my leg is kinda asleep.”

“Oh, gosh, I'm right on it, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry. Maybe let’s move back so I can lean on the light, though?” Peri nods.

Ruth lets go of her and scoots the few feet back to the light at the center of the circular balcony. Peri’s heartache whines a little at the temporary loss, but she soothes it with a wordless whisper. She clambers after Ruth and leans against the light next to her, the intermittent brilliance shining through their feathers. She leans into the wing that Ruth spreads for her and the arm that Ruth wraps around her shoulders. She curls an arm around Ruth’s waist, weaving it under her beautiful barred and spotted feathers. The slow, regular creak of the light turning hums behind and below them. Its familiar gleam and grumble insulates them from the rest of the world. They’re cupped in their own little universe of light and sound, nothing but the sky and the sea and the shining.

The weight of Ruth’s head against her shoulder takes Peri by surprise. She hardly dares to glance at it, afraid she might move, but she dares just enough to allow herself a glimpse of Ruth’s dark hair only inches away. It’s really there. She’s really there.

Peri leans her head against Ruth’s, and her chest is a garden thinking of flowers. The two of them share a sigh and watch the stars and the swinging light in the darkness.

[han-jumins]

RFA Greek Demigod AU Part 1

I’m back after quite a hiatus! jeez, school + writer’s block is horrible. Anyways this is part 1 of this series, i need votes on who the other rfa member’s godly parents should be and i might get some ideas ooooo

Set in Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson Series but not quite a crossover

ZEN:

He was the son of Apollo and the shining sun cabin counselor

Was often mistaken for Aphrodite’s son because of his incredible handsomeness and is swarmed by girls constantly

He is an expert archer, one of the best among his siblings but he specializes in singing and healing

His position and contribution to the camp is being one of the best healers and girls use this as an excuse to meet him, often faking an injury

New campers arrived and and one of them was MC, a daughter of Ares

Despite being a child of a war god, she had a lithe body and a face worth being claimed by Aphrodite

Zen’s heart sped up a bit when he saw her, admiring her looks and her shy demeanor, totally unlike her brute siblings

Everyday he would watch her train from a distance, it was no mistake who her godly parent was now, she possessed the skills yet had an elegant aura to her

“You’re totally gawking at her man” One of Zen’s brothers waved a hand over his slightly pink face

“I’m not, I was only judging her archery. I mean that posture was kind of slack” He spouted an excuse and continued to read, now completely distracted 

“Is your eyesight alright? She had perfect stance!”

“She did not” 

“Yeah she did”

“Did not”

“Well if you’re so superior with your bow and arrow why don’t you teach her right now” 

“Well then I would!” Zen stormed out of where he came from and was slightly stomping towards her

Now realizing the situation he was in, with his brother smirking in the distance, his steps slowed and his breathing became ragged at the sight of her training, her hair being tossed in the wind and her demeanor changing into that of a war goddess

He gulped and stopped just beside her

“Your arm is a little off” He squeaked, the confident aura completely disintegrating

“Oh thank the gods a son of apollo! I was getting frustrated with this thing, can you help me out Zen?” 

“You know me?” He asked

“Well I mean yeah, who doesn’t?” She slightly giggled and Zen’s heart warmed at the sight

Finding his confidence again he started showing her the proper way of holding the bow, telling her about projectile and the wind factors 

Engrossed in his passion for explaining the sport he didn’t realize that he had his hand over her waist and his other around her shoulders guiding her

His face completely burned but he tried to stay calm and speak without stuttering

Once they were over and MC was getting bullseye by bullseye they had to part

And Zen was quick to come back to his cabin to greet his brother with a punch

“You’re horrible” His face burning a fiery red

“I’ve never seen you so embarassed before it was quite entertaining”

“Shut up”

The following weeks they were as close as ever, often training archery and him showing her around the campus whilst telling stories

One time she asked him so sing for her and he was shocked

“I mean, you have to be great at singing right? You probably are” She scratched the back of her neck in embarassement and Zen was completely smitten

He was so inlove

One day, a group of people holding an unconcious girl came up to the infirmary

But he was more alarmed to see that it was MC they were holding and prompted them to lay her down

They said she hit her head in a game of capture the flag and Zen started working immediately

His hands trembling as he sang his sweet tune of healing

Making her drink nectar, he clasped her hand in his, kissing it over and over again and whispering words like “You’re going to be okay” “Please be okay”

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him sleeping with his hand on hers

She stroked his white hair and his head immediately shot up

Overwhelmed with relief he tackled her in a hug 

“How are you feeling? Do you need more nectar?”

“I’m fine thanks to you” She placed her hand on his cheek and he leaned against it, feeling on the moon being with the woman he loves

“Tell me if you want me to stop, I just- I want to do something”

Leaning in to her face he placed a chaste kiss on her lips

She smiled and grabbed the front of his shirt meeting his lips again as her hands toyed with his hair

YOOSUNG:

Yoosung is like the baby in the Demeter’s cabin

Though he is the cabin counselor, his siblings are wary of his mood because of the blessing his mom has given to him

Demeter being the goddess of seasons bestowed upon him a gift of altering it though in a miniscule scale

Depending on what he’s feeling would determine the temperature of the area he was in

When he was feeling happy, his cabin radiated a sunny flowery aura rivaling that of spring 

And when he’s feeling gloomy, the temperature drops and they all suffer what it would feel like to have winter

So his siblings feel the need to always satiate him and keep him happy for the sake of everyone

He is an expert gardener like the rest of Demeter’s children and possesses the natural ability to cook well so he is often seen at the cafeteria giving people food with a smile

“Delicious as always Yoosung!” A girl smiled at him and his face reddened

He really really likes MC

She’s a really bubbly girl who seemed to always brighten Yoosung’s day

His siblings take note of this thus play a little matchmaking to keep him happy which worked all the time

They were best friends and would often train together and cook together

He loves her so but was failing to find the courage to confess to her 

“What on olympus am I going to do?” He sighed and continued watering some plants 

Then an idea hit him whilst looking at the lilies, her favorite flower

He had picked and gathered the loveliest ones he’d grown and was currently coming over to MC to profess his love

okay calm down deep breaths you can do this yoosung

When he got there, his face dropped at the sight

MC was smiling, holding another boquet of flowers that certainly did not come from him 

“Yoosung! Look at this, someone got me these beautiful flowers”

“Really and who’s it from?” He spat bitterly

MC didn’t quite get the tone of his voice as she continued

“I really don’t know, it came with a little card saying that it came from my secret admirer, how sweet!”

“Yeah how sweet” He looked down and the flowers he got and was hiding behind his back wilted, turning dry and darkened

“Look MC, I gotta go”

“Are you okay?” She looked up at him with concerned eyes but that just made his heart ache even more

“Yeah”

“You don’t look fine to me”

“Just mind your own business”

“And when did you ever tell me to mind my own business! Yoosung this isn’t like you what happened” She stood up and they were meeting eye to eye with hard gazes at each other

“Well maybe you never knew me at all! 

“Maybe I haven’t! All I ever done was care for you and now you’re treating me like this?”

Yoosung’s eyes pricked with tears knowing what he said but he didn’t stand down

“You know what forget it”

He left feeling crestfallen as he threw the flowers away near the forest and stomped on it

When he arrived at the cabin, all the members were in a panic, the weather turning awful with constant blizzards and the accumulations of ice

They had to stay out that night but Yoosung sulked, indulging in the cool temperature

“Yoosung what has gotten into you?” They all asked once morning came, he didn’t really get much sleep so he had dark beneath his eyes

“I don’t really want to talk about it so you can all go enjoy your day”

“Not when the cabin freezes in the evening, gods!”

They dragged him out and attempted to have him enjoy his daily activities such as cooking and gardening but all were in vain when they still felt the temperature drop when they were around him

“Can’t you guys see? He’s obviously been dumped by the love of his life” An Aphrodite kid tells them when she too sensed what was going on

Both MC and Yoosung didn’t speak with each other for a week and for a week Demeter’s children either had to wear coats to bed or sleep in other cabins

They finally snapped when they noticed the plants surrounding the cabin beginning to wilt and practically banished Yoosung to stay in the forest to think

MC noticed how everything was wilting and was hurt at the sight

She frantically looked around for Yoosung to apologize and found him 

“Yoosung!” She called out as she crashed into his body, hugging him tight despite the cold around them

It took him a couple of minutes before he raised a hand to stroke her hair

“I’m so sorry Yoosung, I shouldn’t have snapped at you this is all my fault” she sobbed on his chest

“I’m sorry” He took a breath as if he was only beginning to fully take in air as he wrapped is arms around MC and hugged her as tight

“I’m such an idiot I’m so so sorry”

“I don’t like seeing you this way, I care about you truly” She lifted her head up to wipe the tears from his eyes 

“Gods MC I love you so much”

Feeling her tense under him, he was about to take back his words when her lips slammed against his in a passionate kiss

Yoosung returned it with the same fervor, a fire igniting in the pit of his stomach and his former glow returning, the warmth finally being felt

“I love you too Yoosung” She smiled at him

(a/n btw before y’all roast me for his personality, it’s easy for him to get carried away by his emotions because his gift is too great and his body sometimes cant handle it)

My other work in here: MASTERLIST

[stray-peace]

frhrh

Cold

weepyfox

Summary:

yoongi is raped while walking home from work and tries to hide it from hoseok

aka hoseok thinks his boyfriend is cheating on him, but is so far from the truth

Notes:

please observe the major trigger warnings in the description. avoid this if you cant handle what's mentioned.

also, this is my first fanfic in the fandom, so this most likely won't be good.

all comments/kudos/advice/bookmarks welcome and appreciated

title and chapters named after 'cold' by maroon 5

Chapter 1

: enough to chill my bonesChapter Text

The front door to the apartment finally squeaked open around 11. Yoongi snuck in, toeing his beat up sneakers off his sore feet on the rug beside the door. Slowly, he crept down the hallway, wincing with each step as his whole body struggled to move.

He passed the storage closet. Holding back small whimpers, he continued lightly down the old wooden floorboard, carefully stepping around dips and divots he knew would make the wood groan with age.

A pair of eyes caught his as he passed their bedroom, dark and heavy with exhaustion and something else that Yoongi couldn't decipher at the moment.

His breath catches in his throat, a small gasp escaping his chapped lips, and he knows that he heard it too.  

Yoongi steps into their shared room, forcing himself to walk without limpng and without his mouth grimacing from sharp pain shooting through his whole body with each small movement. Hoseok's gaze almost hurts more though, cutting through him like the glass shards littering the dark alley that pressed into his skin less than an hour ago.

He stands in front of their bed now, where he can see Hoseok is sitting with his knees pulled close to his body, a pillow wedged in between his folded arms and chest.  His face shows no emotion, his eyes still exhausted but this time seeking answers.

"Yoongi, where have you been?"

Automatically, he answers-

"Work was a little later than usual, boss says he's gon-"

"I didn't ask for excuses. Again, where have you been, Yoongi?"

Yoongi really  hates lying.  He hates it even more when the person clearly knows he is avoiding the truth, especially when the person is his boyfriend.

"I lost track of time when I was talking to Jimin and Taehyung. I'm sorry."

Hoseok's eyes soften this time, the pillow previously gripped tightly in his hands now thrown to the side of him, his soft pajama shorts visible in the dim aura of light filtering in from the bathroom across the hallway. Their mattress dips in from his weight, shifting as Hoseok crawls forward to the end of the bed where Yoongi is still standing.

Hoseok reaches his hand out, the soft skin making him flinch when it finally brushes his cheek adoringly. It takes everything in Yoongi not to back away from the touch, back away from the beautiful and precious boy in front of him.

"So you're telling me," Hoseok starts, his voice lighter and airy as he gently strokes Yoongi's cheek, "that your coworkers are more important than me?" His thumb sweeps across his cheekbone, ending at the outer corner of his eye and playfully dragging the skin there.

"It was an accident, sorry Hoseok," Yoongi breathes, his words quiet as his intended listener was inches away. Hoseok pulls his lips tightly together, the corners of his mouth lightly tilting up in a soft smile, a sigh eventually escaping his lips after searching Yoongi's face for anything other than what he had told him.

"It's okay. Come lay down with me?" Hoseok's hand begins to trail down Yoongi's cheek now, heading for the neck of his sweatshirt.

Yoongi feels a rush of adrenaline surge through him as his own calloused hand zips up to Hoseok's and grabs it, pulling it away from his neck and setting it down at Hoseok's side.

"No, sorry, I need a shower. I'll be out soon, though, alright?" Yoongi offers, offering a lippy smile before quickly shuffling over to their dresser and pulling out a pair of flannel pants and an old university sweater and a pair of soft cotton briefs.

________________

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Yoongi immediately lets the hot tears leak from his eyes. They fall down his face, hot beads of salt and water leaving sticky trails on his neck that pool right under the neck of his sweatshirt.

He slowly leans down to slip his socks off, droplets landing on his toes and the cold tile beneath him. Sharp pain sparks through his body again, radiating from his lower back and somewhere deep inside him, flowing through his slim thighs and all the way up his chest and back. He knows his back has scratches and cuts; some from glass shards and rough asphalt, but some that drag all down his shoulder blades from someone else's nails.

Next to go is the sweatshirt, quickly tossed aside as the cool air sends shivers running through Yoongi's body, raising goosebumps against his clammy skin.

He avoids his reflection in the mirror, scared of what he may see.

Finally, his hands make their way down to the waist of his tight jeans, his mouth and the back of his throat practically flooding with hot waves of saliva from flashbacks.

Hands running down his sweatshirt, up his thighs, his shoulders, his face... everywhere, as he whimpers, soft and high.

"S-stop."

A wet sound escapes from his mouth, the bathroom suddenly all too small as his head produces spinning images and blurring thoughts, words, and pictures together into an incoherent jumble.

"No... stop, please,".

The jeans lay on top of the sweatshirt now.

Yoongi lurches for the shower, yanking the plastic curtain open and reaching for the old knob for hot water, turning the dial all the way to the right. He heard the water coursing through the pipes, the dull hum lasting for seconds before the first spray came out of the showerhead.

Stepping back, Yoongi finally stole a glance at himself in the mirror, his gaze focusing on his eyes for a few moments before gradually sliding down his form, taking in his appearance.  

His eyes were dark pools of liquid onyx, shining from the bright bulbs above his head. Hoseok loved his eyes, always staring into them and saying he could see right into Yoongi's soul, that he could always know exactly what he was thinking if he looked deep enough.

His slim shoulders and jutting collarbones, which he usually admired about himself, were littered with dark red and violet bruises, from rough hands and sharp teeth that weren't from love. Weren't from his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, lying in their bed just a hallway away, probably wondering why Yoongi was so distant, why he never wanted to be touched by him anymore, why he was practically ignoring his perfect boyfriend.

Hoseok.

If Hoseok would have tugged down the neck of his sweatshirt, he would have seen, would have seen the foreign marks that didn't belong to either of them.  

Yoongi tore his eyes away from the mirror, his mind still tangled and spinning as he noticed steam billowing out of the top of the shower, over the curtain and into the muggy air of the small room. The moisture gathered on his already too hot skin, above his lip and the back of his neck and the backs of his knees.

He yanked his underwear down his legs, trying to ignore the faint spots of dried blood in the fabric.  

The first thing Yoongi did as his feet settled against the hot ceramic tub basin was stand under the stream of water, the steam still pouring out of the showerhead and surrounding his body almost as thoroughly as the water itself. His muscles twitched under the scalding liquid, loosening as his pale skin turned a shade of pink.

His thighs ached, the insides ready to give out from exhaustion and misuse.

Rivulets of water danced over his body, rinsing away the dirt and grime, the sweat and blood, but not the images in Yoongi's brain, or the cuts over his body, or the mantra currently spinning round and round and round and round in his thoughts,

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic,

It was his fault, really. If he hadn't walked so slow, or looked so open and vulnerable, or if he had been looking up instead of examining the sidewalk as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.  

Maybe he wouldn't have been dragged into the alley, maybe he wouldn't have been thrown against the rough asphalt, maybe he wouldn't have been...

The word enters Yoongi's brain, but quickly vanishes.  

Maybe he wouldn't have been raped.

He was disgusting, purely pathetic, undeserving of any pity.  

You deserve it.

Yoongi scrubbed shampoo in his hair, not stopping to look if it was Hoseok's bottle that was three times the cost of his own, since he constantly dyed his hair.

He was pretty sure he was actually mumbling the words whirling in his brain, but he couldn't tell with the water pounding in his ears and his body wanting to just curl up and rest after all it had been through.

His hands catch the edges of his old scars resting in the junction between his hips and thighs as he washes the rest of his body, thick pink skin that healed into raised lines. He remembers in his first year of university, how he spent his nights alone and lonely, how much better he felt after hurting himself with blades he had so easily bought from the corner store for the price of a ramen cup.

That was a few years ago.  

But now, he misses it.  

He still has a package of blades in the apartment, buried underneath all the junk in the second drawer of the bathroom vanity.  

The water falls against an empty basin for half a minute, the body previously occupying it now standing naked in front of the fogged-up mirror, small hands frantically digging to the bottom of a drawer, fingers clutching around a thin pack of blades.

Yoongi returns to the shower, forgetting about washing the rest of the night away as stares at the wall, then his thighs, then the wall again, before finally bringing his hand down, down, down, resting the sharp metal against soft skin.

He hesitates for a moment. Hoseok's face floats into his thoughts, how he really should not be doing this, its been so long, Hoseok is so proud of you for staying clean, and  

Swirls of red dance down the drain mixed with clear water.

The feeling sweeps over him again, pure bliss as he drags the blade across his skin, his brain momentarily free of clutter and the only thing he feels is selfish pleasure. It feels so wonderfully good, so freeing and he can't figure out why he ever stopped doing this. It worked so well.

Hoseok.

Immediately, his hand stops, tossing the blade away from him, where it makes a clink against the ceramic tub.

_______________

Yoongi doesn't know how much time has passed between when he left Hoseok in their room and when he gingerly slips on his flannel pajama pants. He figures it had been around an hour, which causes him to feel guilty. He didn't deserve to take such a long shower, the water bill was already more than enough as is.

Yoongi does know how his thighs sting under fresh bandages, how dull pain emanated from his ass and had spread throughout his whole body, and how guilt is seeping from his pores, at what happened to him, what he just did, how he lied to Hoseok, how many mistakes he's been making that can't seem to stop.

The hallway is quiet and peaceful, although pitch black. The boards under his feet stay silent as he crosses into the cool oasis of their room.

Hoseok gets really hot at night, heat hovering over his body, so they sleep with the windows open and a box fan whirring full power throughout the night. More than once, Yoongi has woken to Hoseok standing in front of the window, in nothing but boxers, just staring down onto the street below with its neon signs and empty storefronts, the thin sheen of sweat on his skin evaporating slowly into the night air.

It was a beautiful sight, and when Hoseok would finally turn around, his eyes droopy with sleep, they would meet Yoongi's and a slow smile would stretch across his cheeks as he crawled back into the bed, covers thrown off his overheated body as he snuggled into Yoongi's side, his sticky skin never fully cooling off as they both fell into a content and deep sleep.

Tonight, Hoseok wasn't in front of the window, instead lying on his side facing away from Yoongi on the bed; the covers were jumbled up next to him, his bare back a contrast to the pale blue sheets. Natural moonlight filtered in from outside, but it was still quite dark in the room, and Yoongi could barely see as he shuffled to the bed, feeling with his hands until he reached the softness of the worn down mattress.

He couldn’t tell if Hoseok was awake or asleep, so Yoongi tried his best to slide into bed without causing the mattress to dip or the springs to creak or a gasp to escape his lips.

Hoseok turned around anyways, his long arms already reaching for Yoongi, his dark eyes fully open and searching his own. It took so much not to tell Hoseok everything then and there, his throat pulsing with the urge to form words, but nothing came out.

Hoseok wrapped an arm under Yoongi's back, his arm snaking up from the other side of him and resting in the crease of his armpit, while his other arm draped across his chest, his fingers rubbing smoothly against his sweater, making him flinch.

He didn't want hands on him.

Even if those hands had never hurt him, only loved and soothed and fed and caressed him.  

Hoseok put his face in the junction of his neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of his own shampoo drowsily.

"That's my own shampoo, fucker," he breathed out, and Yoongi could feel the words vibrating against his throat, dangerously close to the violent marks that painted his skin.

"Yeah," he breathed back, closing his eyes and willing his heart to stop beating so rapidly.

Minutes later, Hoseok fully slumped against him, his cheek nuzzled in the warmth of Yoongi's sweater, and whispered sleepily, "I miss you," before closing his eyes.

Yoongi fell asleep to the sound of the box fan whirring electrically and to Hoseok's slow, deep breathing.

____________________

Chapter 2

: i see there's something going onSummary:

the morning after

Notes:

haha look at me updating a month later with a shitty update :)

anyways, there were around a million ways this could have gone and trust me when I say that this was the least shittiest version of everything that I wrote.

Tell me what you think, every comment, kudos, and advice are all welcome

thank you!

Chapter Text

The faint beeping of his phone's alarm is the first thing that Yoongi is aware of when he comes to. He's too drowsy to reach over and turn it off himself, instead staring up at the ceiling until Hoseok inevitably wakes up, curses him, and leans over to switch it off himself.

The next few minutes allow for Yoongi's mind to air out, the early morning's sweet coolness washing over the two lovers as they enjoy the presence of each other. It is one of the only things that make waking up at the asscrack of dawn somewhat manageable.

That and Hoseok, who looks like an actual ethereal being in the dimness of their room, all dewy skin and puffy eyes and caramel strands of hair haphazardly sticking up in wild angles from his head.

Yoongi smiles.  

This is the way life should be.

But then Hoseok is hopping out of bed, and zooming over in a Naruto-run fashion to where Yoongi was lying on the other side of the mattress, a toothy deranged smile stretched across his face as he gets closer and closer to his target.

"I'm gonna get you, I'm gonna get you!" Hoseok squeals as he hops on top of Yoongi, landing square on his chest and leaning down to pepper kisses across his cheekbones. It was a typical get-up morning ritual by Hoseok.

Yoongi's thighs burn under the pressure of his boyfriend, and he knows that Hoseok can feel the crinkly, thick bandages underneath his thin sweatpants from how he's practically sitting on top of the smaller man.

But if he does notice, he doesn't say anything, he just keeps smiling and cooing and pecking Yoongi's face tenderly as he squirms underneath him.

"Good morning, jagiya," Hoseok whispers sweetly.

"Morning, Hopi," Yoongi breathes out, looking away from Hoseok's wondering eyes and instead at the sheets next to them.  Anything to avoid those dark eyes, constantly searching for answers that he would rather not give. Hoseok seems to sense his discomfort though, and slowly leans back, sitting on his haunches to the side of him. Yoongi feels guilty though, feels his cheeks flush hotly with regret.

Fuck, why can't he do anything right?

Hobi gets up to leave, pausing to pick up a thin night shirt that was thrown on the wooden floor last night and slips it on. Its still too hot to put any pants on though, at least for Hoseok. He can't stand the heat, it affects him terribly.  

He turns to mumble, "Gonna go start the coffee," before leaving their room, his bare feet hitting every squeaky board down the hall.

Yoongi sighs.

You're such a piece of shit.  

He loves you.

Ungrateful.

This is all your fault.

His hands are tight in the sheets now, writhing and twisting the fabric and bunching it in his fists until his knuckles are white. The room is stifling, the air too hot to breathe, and Yoongi is suffocating. His heart is pounding in his ears, too loud, too fast, too much of everything at once and then he isn't in control of his own body and its all so sudden and he can't get anything out of his head and he's lost now, not a part of anything else. Yoongi doesn't know where he is, only the flashbacks of the night before playing like a movie he doesn't remember paying for.

"Please no, I beg of you, not me, please..."

There are clammy hands running all over him now, huge and burning and touching everywhere they shouldn't and then they're ripping his shirt, his skin dragging across rough asphalt. It burns, and he knows there's blood, his blood, dripping onto the dark stone beneath him.

"You're far too sweet for me not to taste, baby,"  

Yoongi is shivering now, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and then he's screaming, except that nothing is escaping past his lips and he's trapped, the room spinning and getting smaller and smaller until it stops.

Everything stills.  

And then it's silent, the only sound being his ragged breathes and gasps for air, something to fill his lungs, and his shaking body settles against the mattress.  

His mind is completely empty again. Sweat pools underneath his sweater, sticky and slick against his skin and its too much. He takes it off.

The last thing Yoongi wants to do is hide from Hoseok. He doesn't deserve to be lied to after everything that's happened between them. He's already let down the only person he truly cares about so many times that he doesn't know why Hoseok even bothers to stick around anymore.

The closest thing to a promise Yoongi can make at the moment is pathetic, but its something.

I'll try. I'll try for you, Hoseok.

______________

Hoseok's shift starts at six-thirty, and so far, he's actually pretty good on time. Which is an oddity in itself, really.  

He works at a shitty, rundown convenience store a few blocks away from his shared apartment with Yoongi. It's not a bad walk, and the free soft drinks and icy cold air conditioning makes working there worth it.  

Sometimes.

And then there's Jeongguk, the cute younger kid who thinks he's all that in his name brand, unscuffed Timberlands and shiny hoop earrings. His coworker really is something, but he isn't the worst person to be around. He's pretty cute, actually, if Hoseok's being honest. And he doesn't make fun of how much Hoseok can't stand the heat, instead bringing him cups of ice to place in front of the vents of the air conditioner to cool him off.

Anyways, it's starting to get a little boring watching Yoongi's coffee brew, so Hoseok heads back down the hall to take a shower before he heads out. As he reaches the bathroom door, his boyfriend stumbles out, still wearing a sweater and sweatpants even though it’s a million fucking degrees inside the apartment.

"Look who decided to crawl his ass outta bed," Hoseok cooes at him, reaching a hand out to cup Yoongi's chin before shooting up to ruffle his thick black mass of black hair playfully.

"Yah, shut up. Gotta get ready to leave soon," Yoongi mumbles, speaking thick satoori this early in the morning.  

"Coffee's on the counter, babe," he responds before quickly stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door, leaving a droopy eyed Yoongi standing dazedly in the hallway.

_____________

Sometimes Hoseok liked to pretend that everything in his life was okay.

Like that he really would find a better job, or maybe even buy a car for him and Yoongi, or that maybe they could move out of their shitty apartment into one with actual air conditioning, at least.

And that maybe Yoongi was getting better.

But Hoseok is smarter than to believe in made up fantasies that fill up his mind during slow hours restocking the shelves at the convenience store. It's too much to ask for one thing in his life to work out the way he wanted it to. Of course, he's being really dramatic, but still. It would be nice.

It hurts to see the one you love in pain and there's nothing you can do to help except be there and watch, hoping that maybe your presence is enough.

And lately, it doesn't seem like Hoseok will ever be enough.

Yoongi had been cutting for a few years now, Hoseok knew. In university, the two of them had gotten pretty close, always crashing in each others dorms if they were too lazy to walk back to their own, because hey, a futon is a futon. They would stay up until the sun came out drinking soju and reminiscing their childhood, but it was worth it even if they fell asleep in class the next morning.

Hoseok didn't know how he had missed it, really, because now it seems so obvious. It doesn't take a genius to know that Yoongi had relapsed again.

Its just that he didn't know why.

There were a lot of whys in their relationship, or at least on Hoseok's side.\

Why did you get home so late?

Why are you cutting again?

Why haven't we kissed in weeks?

Why haven't we touched each other in months?

And really, he shouldn't be so upset about it, and crying in the damn shower at six in the morning. But it had become routine now. Hoseok was pretty sure that the shower enjoyed his presence more than his boyfriend did most days.

And with Yoongi, you really never knew. He was so good at hiding behind his dark glassy eyes and lately it had been harder to tell what was going on. It was starting to worry him because usually Hoseok could read Yoongi like a book. Or at least he thought he could.

Hoseok was beginning to believe that maybe there was someone else, because there was no other excuse. Yoongi had been avoiding being affectionate, and when he came home last night later than ever before, and ended up relapsing, Hoseok had began assuming the worst.  

But he couldn’t be too sure.

With Yoongi you really never knew.

Chapter 3

: it feels like i don't know you anymoreNotes:

hey so sorry about not updating for literally two months. I tried to write a longer chapter, and its taken me about a whole week at least. I got my first job, and work too much to focus on writing, so I'm still trying to figure out a work/life balance.

I hope you like this chapter, Its kinda self indulgent but it also is really awful in general so I'm sorry I suck really bad at writing.

any advice, comments, opinions, anything at all is welcomed and so appreciated. I love every single kudos and comment and bookmark left on my work, it only motivates me more. this is only lightly proofread, so please excuse any mistakes, or even point them out if you'd like!

thank you so much, enjoy (read the trigger warnings please!)

Chapter Text

Yoongi is just coming out of their shared room as Hoseok steps out into the creaky hallway.

Sometimes Hoseok can just feel the dense cloud of uneasiness from his boyfriend, and lately, he can't help but wonder when the storm will hit. It seems like there's fog between the two lovers, so thick they can't even see each other from inches away.  

Yoongi is just inches away; his smooth honey skin, messy hair that never seems to lay just right, gummy smile that rarely shows up anymore, just right there, within reach.  

Their eyes meet for a few moments, just enough for each to tell that there are untold things between them before glancing in some other direction. Yoongi starts walking to the kitchen, probably to put on his sneakers before heading out to work. Hoseok follows him, needing to head out soon anyways.

"How's that kid you work with lately, Hobi?"

The question hits him off guard, but it's a question nonetheless. Which is pretty good, according to Hoseok, who stutters his way through an answer.

"Oh, well, uh... actually he and his boyfriend just got an apartment a little ways away from us. So, yeah, that's cool, I guess. How's Jimin and Tae doing? Still annoying?" He smirks near the end of his question. Hoseok knows those boys are nothing but downright pranksters at work from what Yoongi has told him.

He finishes tying his laces before looking back up to meet his eyes.

"Still annoying," the corner of his mouth curls up slightly. A good sign.

Hoseok laughs a little, still genuinely all the same. The time on the microwave catches his attention though. Only ten minutes until six thirty.

"I gotta go, jagiya. Be home for dinner tonight?"

Yoongi nods and then Hoseok is grabbing his set of keys from the counter, and their apartment door clicks closed, leaving him alone in their outdated kitchen, the only sound the constant hum of the refrigerator whirring.

                                                                                  ......................

Even though the walk takes three minutes maximum, a light sheen of sweat already collects on Hoseok's skin. Last time he checked, most people don't sweat through cut off jean shorts and a flowy tank like him this early in the morning.  

Jeongguk's shiny red bike is already locked in the rack to the side of the building. Bless the kid for being here on time for once in his life.

Swinging open the glass doors, Hoseok spots his coworker behind the counter, stocking the packs of cigarettes and gum. Today he's in a sweatshirt and jeans, apparently immune to the hellish weather.

"Hey boss-man. Was' poppin'?" Jeongguk asks, standing up to ruffle his hair and offer one of his toothy smiles. Silver hoops dangle in his ears like always, and upon a quick glance to the floor, his signature Timbs adorn his feet. Typical.

"That's not my name," Hoseok responds just to appease the younger boy. Jeongguk scoffs before ducking down to continue stocking the front counter.

Hoseok is pretty much the only reliable manager employed at the store, so it's his job to make schedules and hand out paychecks and make sure everyone gets to work on time. Generally, he's here half the day, with others coming in to take smaller shifts and then another manager-ish guy to take the other half day.  

It's not professional in any sense of the word, but it works. They aren't really busy anyways, just busy enough.  

After a minute of getting set up behind the register, a customer walks in, immediately heading to the coffee machine. Hoseok rings her up when she's finished, smiling when he hands her back her change. That's the best part of the job; trying to make other people happy, even if it's just by smiling or by wishing the customer a good day.

After a while, Jeongguk starts to get annoying. He likes to hide behind aisle corners, peeking around the corners with his fingers raised like a gun before "stealthily" rolling past the open aisle. It was funny the first time, a few months ago.  

"Bring me a cup of ice, kid. And hurry up too, before I decide to actually fire you," Hoseok chided. Jeongguk sighed before setting the cup in front of the small fan whirring full speed a few feet away from Hoseok's face.  

Spending a few hours in the store usually prompts Hoseok's brain to go off into it's own world, especially on agonizingly slow days like today. Even Jeongguk has run out of things to do, instead heading to the back room so he can sit in the office chair and most likely play games on his phone.

Hoseok met Yoongi here, a few days before they found out they went to the same college. That was a few years ago, back when working at the convenience store was the only interesting part of his day. Which says a lot, if you really think about it.

Sometimes, he wishes he never met Yoongi.

But Hoseok knows that's not really true.

"Gguk'," he calls out for the kid. He can hear the groan even from the front of the store, which makes him a little smug. Jeongguk finally appears in front of him, leaning on the plastic counter and looking expectantly at his hyung.

"I have a question, and I want you to be honest with me, no smart-assery alright?" Jeongguk nods, his bangs bouncing as he does.

"What would you do if your boyfriend cheated on you?" Hoseok asks before his mind can stop him, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. Not as easy as he thought though, because he can feel his eye twitch. How annoying.

And then Jeongguk laughs, he literally starts laughing right in front of him, doubling over and even bringing his hand up to slap the counter. Hoseok frowns, because what the fuck, this is important.

"Gguk'! I'm being fuckin' serious!"

Jeongguk finally starts to calm down, eventually looking at Hoseok to see if he was being for real or not. Because what kind of question even is that? But his hyung's eyes are kinda liquidy now, like he's upset and genuinely asking, so he straightens up and wills the smirk off his face and wipes the stray tear in the corner of his eye from laughing so hard.

"Well, firstly, Seokjinnie-hyung wouldn’t even dream of cheating on me-" the younger starts, but then Hoseok cuts him off with a huff, practically jumping out of his chair.

"I'm being seri-" but then Jeongguk puts his hand on Hoseok's shoulder, gently nudging him to sit back down, because he's not finished yet. Hoseok huffs again, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep himself controlled.

"Alright, like I was saying, he wouldn’t, but if he did, I would....Wait. Hoseok, why are you asking me this?"

Hoseok looks at him, not saying anything, as if he hadn't heard him at all. It's a few moments until Jeongguk notices his eyes are filling with unshed tears, and then he's pushing himself off the counter and reaching a hand out to rest on the man's nape. Hoseok's body shakes slightly under Jeongguk's hand as he lets everything out, bringing his palms up to cover his tearstained face.

The bell above the glass doors rings, and Jeongguk looks up to see a middle-aged man stop, take a glance at the scene in front of him, and walk out.

All of a sudden Hoseok stops crying, and instead starts laughing, much like Jeongguk was only minutes before. Shoulders hunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open laughter that has the man gasping for breath in between hiccups and pockets of sound. It's so bizarre, seeing his hyung go from having a good cry to laughing hysterically in the span of a few minutes.

And Jeongguk still doesn't even know what this is all about.  

"Hoseok, what's going on?" The younger boy is now leaning on the counter again.

"I-I think Yoongi...I think he's c-cheating on me," Hoseok lets out, some of his words caught in giggles still. It's not something you would usually say while trying not to laugh. Quickly though, he straightens out and leans back in his chair, clearly realizing how much of a show he must have put on for his friend and that one customer.

Jeongguk just nods, waiting for Hoseok to continue. Listening is sure as hell better than restocking foam cups by the leaky soda dispenser.

                                                                                    …..........................

Only a half mile separates Yoongi from the bus stop, only 2,640 steps, only seven and a half minutes. If he walks fast. Which he won't.

Normally, the walk isn't pleasant, but its definitely doable. But under certain circumstances, like the burning cuts rubbing against the bandages on his thighs, or the throbbing in his lower back and his mind hazier than a fifties smoke lounge make the daily commute that much more fucking difficult.

Plus, he only drank half a cup of coffee that Hoseok brewed him, which makes him feel shitty, because his boyfriend always wakes up early just to make it for him.

Not to mention the fact that his whole body tenses with the first step he takes down the concrete steps of the apartment complex. He's scared, for fucks sake. It's irrational, Yoongi knows, but the man that did it to him last night could be anywhere.

He could be waiting for Yoongi again. A shiver jolts through his spine.

Okay, okay, okay, one step first, one step, one step, you can do it, come on, people are looking, do it,

Yoongi is at the sidewalk without knowing it, his body automatically walking in the direction it has for a few months now. Even if his mind can't handle it, his body takes him to where he needs to go. As if it hadn't betrayed him last night, as if it had done nothing wrong.

Every alley has Yoongi turning his head, walking just a little quicker, holding his soft, brown leather satchel tighter to his chest. The sidewalk he takes to the bus stop is busy even at this time in the morning, full of people walking to work, picking up a coffee, walking their dog, jogging, but Yoongi feels eyes on him, he can just feel them, and he's starting to feel lightheaded, but then his legs stop walking.

He's already at the bus stop. His phone screen says he's a minute early.

Its so fucking dumb, but sometimes seeing something simply being there, working properly, comforts Yoongi. Things that are set in place, doing their job, like a routine. Like the exact number of rows of seats before he gets to his seat, or the bolts keeping the slightly grimy window pane in its frame, or the number of buildings he counts on the drive to work.

Yoongi lives a routine, not a life, and that's what's wrong. He wakes up, goes to work, comes home, showers, and sleeps. Throw in the occasional occurrence of eating, drinking coffee, literally cutting himself, or fucking, and that's basically it. Which feels really pathetic in his mind, but he's just being introspective or something.  

It’s not like his life is really like that. Yoongi isn’t sure why he's thinking like he is right now, but he knows it isn't good. His mind is acting like he's back in university, when killing himself seemed easier than living. Not a good way to think.

He snaps back, realizing a few minutes have passed just sitting in his seat.

Hoseok.

Somewhere deep down inside of him, Yoongi knows that it isn't his fault about what happened, but that does nothing to stop the guilt anyways. It was Yoongi's fault that his relationship was on the verge of failing, not Hoseok's; it was Yoongi who was distant, it was him who shied away from kisses, hugs, compliments, and everything from the only person who had ever cared enough to stay.

There was something wrong even before he was raped.  

                                                                             …...............................

"Yoooongiiiiii hyungggg!" Taehyung's squeals could be heard from practically every cubicle on the floor. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he continues to read the report in front of him. His glasses help, but his eyes droop from exhaustion still.

There's a flash of bright color past the opening of his cubicle, and then another, but then a loud thud sounds from a few feet down the aisle. Yoongi sighs.

Jimin and Tae are dumbasses, no matter the situation.

"Hyung! Goodmorning!" Jimin inhales and exhales heavily, clearly out of breath from racing across the whole floor and then faceplanting into the scratchy carpet in his excitement just to see the older man. The same could be said about his partner in crime, Taehyung. The two were inseparable, after all, and Yoongi was surprised Namjoon hadn't fired at least one of them already.

Jimin was wearing sunshine yellow chinos, while Taehyung was wearing goddamn Gucci loafers. Yoongi was pretty sure everyday they broke at least one dress code rule. At least. He rolled his eyes again, hoping they got the message.

"Hyung, I brought you a donut. Oh, and Namjoon wanted to see you in his office first thing!" Taehyung was bouncing on his feet as he talked, all too loud and drawing attention from everyone.  

"Okay, thank you, just set it on my desk, and I'll go see him now then," Yoongi told the both of them, knowing that agreeing with whatever they told him is easier than arguing against it. Getting up from his stiff office chair, he looks down at the donut Tae set on his desk.

It was cinnamon sugar, his favorite. A small smile appears on Yoongi's face because of the  gesture. He nods in Taehyung's direction. Jimin practically swoons and drags his younger friend off, hopefully to their own cubicles to actually get their own work done.

Its definitely not a good thing to personally be called down to the boss's office, even though the guy is nice and all. In fact, the only reason Yoongi even had a job here was because Namjoon knew him from university and knew personally the extent of his skills in the music industry. Only, Yoongi was stuck in an office job of reading reports and documents and reviews of his company and others until maybe he was noticed by some higher-ups.

But he's still thankful, of course. It pays the bills and is close to home.

Namjoon calls him into his office after Yoongi knocks on the heavy wooden door. Immediately, Yoongi can tell that whatever he's going to be told isn't good.

"Go ahead and sit down, Min." Namjoon's voice sits heavily in the air, friendly, but with a slight air of annoyance or disappointment, Yoongi can't tell the difference. Maybe its both.

His cheeks heat up as he stares anywhere but the younger man's eyes. Yoongi is all too aware of his puffy eyebags, his jittery hands, and his clean but fluffily unkempt mop of hair. An awkward, quiet moment passes before Namjoon clasps his hands together and begins.

"Well, Yoongi, I'm going to try and keep this as nice and short as possible. You're a good man, and a good friend, but corporate is having me evaluate all of the employees in your division. They're trying to limit the number of people by a few, and unfortunately, you're on the bottom."

Yoongi looks up at his boss, his friend, Namjoon, his eyes darting back and forth. He knows he isn't the best employee, but it's not like he doesn't try. Both of them know that.

Namjoon starts again, his voice even and smooth as he speaks. "Now, it is the last thing I want to do, is to let you go. So I'm going to give you a few solutions. Either you can be demoted into a position lesser than yours, and be successful there, or I can keep you here only if you put in more hours."

His mouth begins to open in protest, but Yoongi knows a hell of a lot better than to say something without thinking.  

He can't afford to work more hours and miss even more time with Hoseok, knowing that there would be no way to save whatever he has left with his boyfriend if he stays any later at night. But Yoongi literally can't afford to work for less than what he's making now; its just enough to get the two of them by, with a little bit of cushion for emergencies or Hoseok's thirty fuckin' dollar shampoo.

Yoongi inhales deeply before speaking, trying to keep his voice level as possible.

"Could I have some time to think about it before making a decision?"

Namjoon nods, "I can give you a week to give me your answer, but the sooner the better."

"Thank you Namjoon," Yoongi breathes out into the quiet of the large room. He starts for the door, almost reaching out to turn the handle before he hears his boss speak again.

"You need to stay late tonight, there's a few documents I know were due a few days ago sitting on your desk, Yoongi. Don't leave until you finish them." And then Namjoon is dismissing him and turning to his own stack of work to complete.

Yoongi stiffly beelines to the closest restroom on the floor, his eyes trained to the carpet below him, his fists closed at his sides. He can feel dozens of people watching him, wondering why a man they probably don’t even care about is rushing out of the boss's office when they know cuts are being made.

It seems like forever until he finally pushes past the weight of the restroom door, entering the dimly lighted men's room. There aren't any feet under any of the gaps in the stalls, and there isn't anyone washing their hands or looking at themselves in the mirror. A relief.

Immediately, Yoongi feels himself begin to overthink, his mind trying to process too much at once and suddenly the room is too much, and then he's stumbling into the large stall at the end of the room and closing it and turning the latch before sinking down in the corner. It stinks of toilet water and piss from down here, but his legs are too shaky to support him and he doesn't trust himself not to fall.

Everything he thought he had worked to reach, all the late nights he had already stayed over the months and coming home to Hoseok either already sleeping or wary of his whereabouts, all the time he spent walking to work and the money he spent on the bus fare and office attire, all wasted as if it meant nothing.

And Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok, the most important factor in everything. What would he do? They needed that money, because Yoongi knows living on one paycheck from a rundown fucking convenience store was nowhere near the amount they needed to afford rent, clothes, food for fucks sake.

Yoongi can't even think of making Hoseok work more hours, he already works too much for his liking.  

The stall is becoming tighter and hotter, the scratches on his back are stinging against his shirt, and his body is starting to tremble as a pathetic cry escapes his lips. Why doesn't anything in his life go right?

How fucking pathetic are you to have a mental breakdown in the bathroom? Is this kindergarten?  

Are you a fucking baby?

Yoongi doesn't even hear the restroom door open, doesn't hear the metallic clank of the lock, doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching the last stall. All he can focus on is the grout between the dark tiles on the walls, slowly rocking himself back and forth and breathing, in and out, in and out as he desperately tries to numb himself enough to maybe try to go back to his cubicle and pretend like nothing even happened.

Yoongi?

Yoongi?

Hyung, are you in there?

Yoongi hyung, are you okay?

Suddenly, he's aware of a presence in front of him, and two hands shaking his shoulders, and a deep voice echoing in the small space. The room stops moving and his eyes focus on a tear-blurred image of Taehyung.

"Yoongi, are you alright?" he hears someone ask, but the voice doesn’t belong to Taehyung, instead coming from Jimin who is kneeling beside them on the tile floor. His puppy eyes are full of questions, and he looks scared. But he reaches a hand out to smooth down Yoongi's arm, trying to comfort him.  

Yoongi's just dazed, so he nods his head and tries to move his legs to stand, but he ends up slumping into Jimin's lap, his head landing on Jimin's pillow-soft thighs. Yoongi could fall asleep on them, they're so plump.  

"Maybe this is why Tae loves you so much, Jimin, because you're so soft," he knows he's rambling and must seem like a total lunatic, but he can't help it. His head is completely fucked right now, everything is slow and syrupy and animated and Yoongi swears that he can see stars but maybe that's just the design on the bathroom ceiling?

Jimin and Taehyung exchange worried glances before making the decision to get into comfortable positions, sliding their legs out and slumping against the wall with their hyung draped over them, his head resting comfortably on Jimin's upper thigh. Yoongi yawns and closes his eyes, his hand latching onto Taehyung's and bringing it close to his chest, keeping it there as if holding a stuffed animal.

Since there isn't anything better to do, Tae lays his head on Jimin's shoulder and closes his eyes, and the older lets him. He'd let the younger do anything he wanted to, just because he deserved it. Jimin wasn't trying to be sappy, he was just being honest. Which may be sappy and really gay, but so was he.

Jimin's eyes drifted shut as he listened to the other two breathe deeply, the water flowing through the pipes, and the occasional angry knock on the bathroom door, people probably wondering why its locked in the middle of the day.

Oh well.

When isn't a good time for a spontaneous bathroom nap party?

                                                                                       .................................

Namjoon peeks his head into Kim Taehyung's cubicle, ready to collect his morning reports, only to find his chair fresh out of his ass sitting in it.  

Then, he heads straight to Park Jimin's cubicle, which is only right next door anyways, because Lord knows the two of them are probably goofing off somewhere instead of actually fucking working.

The shit Namjoon has to put up with as the boss around here, is astounding sometimes.

Turns out that Jimin is missing as well, his ass conveniently not finding a seat in his office chair either. Where could they be?

At least both of them finished their work, or else he would be really aggravated. But he can't really complain when both of them do their job and choose to take a piss at the same time or decide to go have a face sucking session in the paper supply closet with the lights off and the door jammed shut.

Namjoon almost missed the empty cubicle in the next three aisles down.

But he didn't.

Where the hell is Min Yoongi?

                                                                                      ….........................

"It wouldn't be completely unreasonable to confront him about it, hyung."  

"He doesn't like being confronted. It's his least favorite thing, Gguk'."

"Does that mean that your feelings mean less than his comfort?"

…

"But what if I'm wrong? There's no coming back from that, you know that."

"But what if you're right? He acts shady for months, starts acting up and coming home later with no explanation, lies to you, practically ignores you for fucks sake-"

"Watch your language-"  

"Okay, okay, basically, just do what seems right, Hobi hyung. I'm not trying to pressure you, its just that you asked for help and well-this is my advice, so..."

…

"Thanks, Gguk'."

...

Hoseok leaves the convenient store after checking a few items in the frozen cooler, making sure the replacement shifts clocked in on time, and grabbing himself a citrus lime slush. Because he feels like it.

Luckily, the world seems to have pitied him a little bit, as the temperature is a few degrees lower than it was in the morning. His hairline still beads with sweat, and the hot air still sticks to his skin, which is uncomfortable but then again, Hoseok pretty much always deals with this.  

Hoseok focuses on drinking his slush before it melts, savoring every sip of liquid bliss.  

The brain freeze keeps his mind off all the possibilities of tonight, how everything could change.

Was he being dramatic? He really doubts he is, especially because he trusted his younger employee even though he could be childish most times. He had experience with dating, him and Seokjin had been dating for years already, since Hoseok had first hired him at least.

Before he knows it, Hoseok can see his apartment building, with its crumbling concrete steps and path and tiny grass lawn behind a chain fence. The windows are all tinted a dark yellow, reflecting the sun that shone against their panes. Not the most inviting, but still home.

Home.

His home, that he shared with Yoongi.

Yoongi, his best friend, his lover, his fuckin' soulmate. Or at least that's how Hoseok viewed him. He could only hope and dream that maybe Yoongi felt the same way.

The dusty lobby welcomes him with icy air conditioning, the only room in the whole complex that actually has a unit. Hoseok nods at the receptionist, a kind older woman who kinda shakes when she talks, and she smiles at him.

Riding in the elevator is honestly slower than just taking the stairs, since it's only a few flights. Hoseok reaches their floor, and eventually their door is in sight, and he's turning the key in the old lock. He toes his sneakers off on the rug, next to his strappy sandals and a few pairs of Yoongi's work shoes and running shoes.

It's only seven, so it's not a surprise that no one is home yet.  

There's something relaxing about being alone, and as Hoseok dumps out this morning's coffee and cleans the breakfast dishes and starts a simple dinner, he ponders what he will say when Yoongi walks in the door.

It's nice to imagine the perfect evening; right at eight o'clock, Yoongi comes home, wraps his arms around him from the back, kissing his nape and they both soak in the moment before Hoseok turns to face him, and then they look into each other's eyes before they both lean in and their lips meet and,

Well, it's nice to daydream sometimes.

The clock on the oven reads seven thirty, and Hoseok begins to worry. Slowly, the anxiety grows in him, like weeds in a flower garden, but he reassures himself that it's normal. He'll be okay, everything will work out, right?

"Oh yeah, uh, jagiya, have you been fucking someone else? Just a little curious is all."

He grabs some of their nicer bowls from the cupboard, and sets them on their small dining table, and then sets down their silverware and newest chopsticks alongside the bowls. He knows better than to actually serve the stew and rice yet, though. The pot simmers lowly on the stovetop, already finished.

Just to pass the time, Hoseok lazes down the creaky hallway to their room, slipping off the day's clothes. He stands at the foot of the bed, stripped down to only boxers, before tearing off all the sheets and quilts and comforters and throwing them to the floor in a heap. Then, he picks each of them up, starting with the sheets, and remakes the bed.  

His mind is in a different place, but his arms continue their folding and tucking in and fluffing and then he's finished.  

In his dresser drawer, he finds another flowy tank, this time with his faded university logo sprawled across his chest. The fabric is soft against his skin, like the cotton shorts he slips on over his slim hips.

It's been a long time since him and Yoongi have touched each other.

He opens their window before returning to the kitchen. This time, the stove clock reads eight fifteen, and the pot is still simmering so he takes it off the heat and serves himself a scoop of rice before ladeling the stew into his bowl.  

Hoseok eats in silence, the only sound the whirring of the refrigerator and his metal chopsticks clanking the ceramic bowl and honks from cars below.  

It's another hour and a half before he hears keys turning in the lock.

                                                                              …............................

Yoongi doesn't remember making it back to his cubicle, but when he opens his eyes, he's greeted with florescent lighting and a stack of paperwork right in front of his face. His head pounds and he feels as if he just took the shittiest nap of his life, but after glancing at the time on his computer monitor, his body jolts awake.

It's six thirty and he has at least two full hours of work ahead of him, if he works fast.

Immediately, he flips open the first file and starts reading, making corrections and writing when he needs to, and honestly its probably the fastest he has ever worked.

Chatter from coworkers leaving for the night surrounds him as he furiously inks, trying to block out the noise to focus. It is surprisingly really fucking easy.

Eight o'clock rolls around, and his wrist feels like he's 15 again and just found out about masturbating, but anything to leave sooner is worth it. A small knock near his head wipes him out of his trance momentarily. Jimin and Taehyung look down at him, their work bags slung over their shoulders and their hands tucked in their pockets.

It is annoyingly endearing.

"Hey hyung, we just wanted to stop by to see if you were alright?" Tae asks. Jimin nods beside him.

Yoongi's cheeks flush as he remembers what happened a few hours ago, and nods in response. The younger two exchange glances before looking back to him, and then Jimin speaks up.

"If you need to talk about something, don't be afraid, Yoongi," and he doesn't even comment on the lack of an honorific, instead nodding again.  

"Thank you, really." And then Jimin grabs Tae's hand before they turn to walk down the aisle and disappear behind the shiny elevator doors.

Yoongi will never really understand the relationship he has with his two dongsaengs, but he does appreciate it, even if it doesn't show. The two have a way of understanding even though they really have no idea who he even is or why he literally had a panic attack in a bathroom stall and then fell asleep while snuggling on top of them.

Namjoon walks out of his office a few minutes before Yoongi leaves, offering him a polite "I'm your boss I have to do this" nod and a quick wave before he disappears behind the elevator doors as well.

With no one else in the office, he finishes the remaining few documents quickly, and more sloppily than the first few, but done nonetheless. A groan escapes his lips as he leans back in his swivel chair, letting his joints settle and his back straighten out.  

The computer monitor reads eight forty five.  

Fuck.

Grabbing his leather satchel, Yoongi dashes out of his cubicle, trying not to trip on anything in the dimness. He takes the elevator, smashing the buttons as if it would make a difference.

Come on, come on, come on, hurry up already,

He races past the front lobby doors, right into a sea of people all walking in different directions on the sidewalk. But Yoongi quickly finds the direction to the bus stop, ignoring the way his whole body aches and burns, instead putting one foot in front of the other before he finally reaches his stop.

The bus pulls up not a minute later, and a steady stream of people step off before there is enough room for Yoongi to squeeze past. He shows the driver his pass again before rushing to take his seat and cradling his satchel in his lap.  

The engine rumbles to a start and then they're moving, and the weight of Yoongi's bag is really starting to press against his cuts painfully. He knows they will be raw and irritated when he changes the bandages later, but it doesn't matter, not when he was supposed to be home a few hours ago.

Yoongi counts the buildings until he sees his stop and stands up before the bus even slows down. He thanks the man sitting in front before hopping down the steps, barely catching the last one and almost faceplanting the sidewalk below.

He doesn't even care.

The sun is almost fully set now, and the street looks just like it did last night; the streetlamps shine dull circles of yellow against the pavement every twenty feet or so, the neon lights of the storefronts are all turned off, and every dark corner and alley feel as if they could swallow him if he gets too close.

Yoongi presses his satchel against him so tightly that he fears he could stop breathing, but would that really be such a terrible thing?

He swears he can hear footsteps behind him, to the side of him, but his fear doesn't allow him to turn around to see if its true.

It won't hurt baby, just be quiet, if you're loud people will hear you.

His legs are heavier than stone, but the adrenaline in his veins pushes him forward. His body is on autopilot, much like this morning. It knows where to take him, even if his mind isn't there to guide him.  

Suddenly, he hears the footsteps again, and his heart jumps so hard that he loses his breath for a second before he starts blindly running towards home, not daring to look back to see if he was right or not. Numbly, he runs until his legs stop him, and he's facing his apartment complex.

The elderly receptionist lady must be in for the night, as there isn't anyone behind the front counter when he walks into the lobby. Yoongi takes a moment to catch his breath, his hands on his knees as he bends over and inhales deeply, exhaling through his mouth. The air in here is too cold, sending chills down his spine.  

Yoongi steps into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor before leaning against a guard rail in the small box. The machine lurches before shakily rising up, his stomach fluttering and his hands shaking around his satchel.  

Stepping out of the elevator, Yoongi crosses the hall to their apartment, a set of keys resting heavily in his palm, cold metal against clammy skin. He's so on edge right now, he feels like he could burst at any second.

The lock clicks and then he's walking into their kitchen.

Hoseok's dark eyes meet his from across the room, where the younger man is sitting in a dining chair, his elbows propped on the table and his hands folded underneath his chin. The look is cold and unfamiliar to Yoongi, and if he wasn't already on the verge of a mental breakdown, well, now he is.

He pushes the door shut before starting to take a step towards his boyfriend, but Hoseok speaks before he can so much as set one foot past the rug with all their shoes thrown on it.

"Could you maybe explain why you finally show up at home, oh, only a few hours past when you were supposed to be here?" Hoseok's voice is deep and accusing, so different than his usual uppity and charming demeanor.

"W-well, Namjoon wanted me to stay and fini-"

Hoseok jolts to his feet, palms resting flatly on the dining room table, wondering how the fuck Yoongi could just lie to his face so easily.

"Don't lie to me, don't you dare lie to me, Yoongi."  

"Hoseok, please...I swear I was at work, Namjoon had me stay to finish some paperwork, I promise-" but the younger has his eyes closed, his head downturned and his shoulders slumped as if defeated.  

Silence occupies the short distance between the two lovers, heavy and pushing on Yoongi's chest and head like an unseen force. There's only a few feet separating them, but they've never felt farther apart than they are right now.

"I don't know what else there is I could possibly do, after all these years....All you do is keep lying to me, acting like everything's alright, pretending that you're alright, that we're alright, when it isn't. Yoongi, why do you hide from me?"

"Because I don't want you to deal with my shit, you don't deserve it." He speaks only loud enough for his words to reach the younger's ears.

Hoseok scoffs, his eyes meeting Yoongi's again as he shakes his head in disbelief.

"But I deserve to be in the dark about everything? You think it's easier for me to watch you struggle than to let me in?"

A lump rises in Yoongi's throat, making it hard to talk, as if it wasn't already difficult having this conversation.

"No, I'm just selfish."

"Why did you relapse last night, Yoongi?" Hoseok is softer now, a few feet closer to his boyfriend, his hip resting against the edge of the table.

"Doesn't matter."

The distance between them disappears and Hoseok now stands right in front of the shorter man, his hand tentatively reaching out to rest on Yoongi's arm, right above his elbow. He doesn't miss the flinch when he does so, or the quiet wet sob escaping his mouth at the contact.

"It does, it matters so much," he whispers in the space between them. Tears paint Yoongi's cheeks, rolling down until they meet his neck, pool beneath his earlobes, or settle in the corner of his lips. He shakes as Hoseok's hand wanders from his elbow, down to his wrist and then the palm of his own.

"I...I wanted to forget the pain," Yoongi whispers barely audibly, eyes avoiding anywhere near his boyfriend's own. Hoseok is confused, his fingers tightening around the older's.

"What happened?" He pushes, wanting to get an answer out of this. He wants to help Yoongi, but deeper down, selfishly, he wants to find answers to the questions he has floating around in his own conscience.

"I can't tell you," Yoongi answers, and it's not good enough. Hoseok takes his chin in his hand and pushes it up to where the shorter man is forced to look at him, tears still nestled in the corners of his puffy eyes. Yoongi tries to pull away, but he's too tired to put up much resistance. It's not like he was any good at putting up any kind of fight anyways, or else he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

"Why not?" Hoseok pushes harder, anger starting to flood through him again.

"It's disgusting, and pathetic, it's not even worth saying out loud," Yoongi answers, still being held against his will in the younger's grip. He has gotten awfully good at being controlled lately, it seems.

"Why can't you just tell me? Can't you see I'm trying to help you? You can't get better without telling someone why you relapsed after being clean for so long!" Hoseok's tone becomes condescending and manipulative, he's so desperate for something at all.  

"By forcing me to tell you when I'm not ready?" Yoongi says, a little louder to make his point.

Neither of them noticed that Hoseok's hand had loosened it's grip on Yoongi's chin and had fallen on the neck of the older's shirt, pulling it down and exposing his neck and one of his collarbones.  

Dark bruises, red and violet mark Yoongi's milky skin.  

Hoseok sees them before he does, eyes widening at the hidden expanse of skin not visible before. His hands immediately leave Yoongi's shirt, falling to his sides and balling into fists as he steps a few feet away, staring down at the hickeys disbelievingly.

He was right?

"H-hoseok, it-its not what you think, please-" Yoongi pleads, voice wavering and thick with tears.

"Then what the hell is is then?" Hoseok yells back, his eyes searching desperately for any hint of truth hiding within Yoongi's. He finds it incredibly difficult to find any, no matter how long he looks.

A wave of silence crashes through the apartment, a moment of thick tension before anyone talks again.

"Are you cheating on me?"

"No-no I would never, Hobi believe me, please," Yoongi stutters.

The younger man shakes his head in disbelief before crossing his arms over his chest, smiling as his bangs fall over his eyes. Yoongi doesn’t know a single person with a smile brighter than his lover, but now the smile is the farthest thing from welcoming and full of sunshine.  

"I can't believe that I was right," Hoseok mumbles, but Yoongi still catches it.

The words cut him deeper than any blade ever had.

"Hoseok, it's not true, whatever you think happened, it didn't," now he's practically pleading, anything to be believed.

"Why don't you tell me what did happen then, or is that too much? Are you too fucking weak to admit what you did wrong?"

Even he knows it, you're weak, you let yourself be attacked like the worthless piece of shit you are.

Yoongi can't help the words that spill out of his mouth next, so softly he barely hears himself say it,

"I was raped."

…

Yoongi shuts the front door behind him, already bounding down the apartment complex's stairwell before Hoseok even has a chance to say a single word.