#shes always had mildly bad vision but this really just happened so suddenly

[egberts]

on one hand it is so fucked up and sad that callie could see at least enough to confidently get around like a week and a half ago and then suddenly she's so blind that she can't even tell she's leaving her eye open in the sun but on the other hand she can't walk around without bonking into things and it's... pretty funny. i feel so bad for laughing and i'm helping her and guiding her around as best as I can but seeing her learning and exploring the world in a new way is so weirdly endearing. our little roomba

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[rayofsunas]

valentine | diluc [4] finale

A/n: excuse my little break, lol. I’ve been busy with homework and life tbh, but I’m back!! thanks to those of you who checked in and reassured me breaks are necessary, you really made me feel better thank you <333 andddd, this last chapter whoop whoop! I had so much fun with this, I’m kinda sad ;-; but I’m really excited to start my next mini-series hehe. I’m not sure who I’m going to do next, but I’m leaning towards scaramouche or xiao hmm. let me know what you guys think!! I hope you’re having a beautiful friday/day wherever you are! stay safe <333

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, swearing, OOC DILUC BECAUSE I CAN’T WRITE FOR HIM (you’ve been warned)

Word count: 4.9k (omg- I’m so proud of this chapter too, enjoy!)

Kaeya was the younger brother of Master Diluc. The anonymous man writing to you said he’d had a brother, you assumed younger and now that you knew which was the older of the pair, everything was pointing to the man being Master Diluc.

You couldn’t lie you were frazzled. Could it really be Master Diluc writing to you? You of all people? You weren’t special in any way, no matter how many times Victoria praised you for your intelligence and skills. You didn’t feel so smart right now though, seeing as though Master Diluc had completely slipped your mind as being the writer; you felt ignorant. 

Now that you were walking quietly behind Master Diluc, it made sense. The encrypted words, expensive and thoughtful gifts; Cecilia’s, Qingxin imported specially from Liyue, hell you were even gifted a gorgeous silver bracelet, a red jewel in the center that looked very similar to Diluc’s vision dangling by his left thigh. And although both Captain Kaeya and Master Diluc were well off in terms of Mora, it was your understanding that Diluc was the wealthiest person in Mondstadt, he could afford such commodities anytime he wished.

Should you ask him or would you just embarrass yourself? 

No, you should respect his wishes... If he was in fact the anonymous man, he’d wanted to stay that way for reasons he’d already stressed to you. The least you could do to return the favor was respect his decision and not force him to come clean... No matter how curious you were. 

By the time you were at the Knights headquarters - you have your own place, headquarters is just better to sleep it when you have early mornings - the cool night breeze had set in as well as the silver, twinkling stars. You stood awkwardly at your door, eyes frantically looking anywhere but those red hues. Master Diluc seemed to also be doing the same much to your comfort. At least he was feeling similarly to you. 

“I hope this doesn’t get you in any kind of trouble.” Master Diluc suddenly said, hand sheepishly going to scratch the back of his neck. 

You tilted your head, confused. “Hmm?” 

He blinked at you, eyes going wide for a minute; embarrassment it seemed. “Do Knights not have strict curfews anymore?” He asked. 

Ah, the curfew rule. You had been a young Knight when that was implemented, though, in recent years, it had fizzled down to nothing really. All thanks to a few rule-breakers, a few years back. Then rule had been made for Knights, Captains, everyone. Though now it mostly applied to Knights in training, obviously no one followed the rule. 

“Oh, no, the rule was changed a while back,” You said. “Young Knights in training kept ignoring the curfew and it became a hassle for the Captains to go search them during bed checks at headquarters, they pulled an invisible plug.” A look of distaste appeared on the young man's face, you frowned in response.  

“Of course,” He muttered. “Inefficiency at its best.” You watched silently as he folded his arms across his chest and looked off into the distance to his left. He seemed to be trying to control his anger and irritation, or at least keep it locked down in front of you. Though he was failing, the scowl was evidence on his handsome face. And almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he’d seemed to have regretted it. He snapped his head back to look at you and rushed to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect-”

You waved a hand out in the air interrupting him. “I agree,” His face relaxed. You what? “The curfews helped us all be more responsible. There was less slacking off and rogue Knights, that’s for sure,” He watched in astonishment as you laughed it off as if he hadn’t just offended you and your fellow Knights.

“My Captain still follows the rules, to an extent. The trainees are required to live at headquarters, they can’t leave until they’re eighteen or get promoted to a higher position. Knights like me or higher, on the other hand, that rule doesn’t apply to us, unless there’s a far away commission the next morning.” You explained. Master Diluc seemed to visibly relax, you assumed he was glad to hear someone still followed the rules.

“Don’t tell my captain I said this, but he’s a real old-timer; that’s why he follows your rules.” You laughed again, a small smile formed on the redhead's face, you were surprised and caught off guard by that. 

“A good man.” He approved, you laughed again. Archons, was that music to his ears. 

“That he is.”  

Diluc enjoyed the silence settling in, that’s for sure. He only realized how late it had gotten until after he’d watched you yawn, eyes closing slightly as your body seemed to shrink with each inhale and exhale; you were tired, and no doubt had duties tomorrow. How ignorant of him to keep you up like this, even if he had more of a chance to speak with you and be in your presence. 

“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” You heard him say, watching as he took a few steps back. “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

That was partially true, you did have an early day tomorrow. You weren’t sure what your duties would be though, maybe paperwork, more training, a commission or two? You would check with your Captain. But jeez, why had things slipped your mind so easily today? 

“Yes... I nearly forgot.”

He chuckled, adding, “You seem to have forgotten a lot today.” You giggled tiredly. 

“I agree. I promise, I’m usually not like this,” You said. “I did have a question, but it’s quite late...”

A single eyebrow quirked up, he shifted to lean on one side, cockily almost. “So, you’ve remembered?” Shit. 

“Yes and no?” You replied, realizing, either way, you’d gotten yourself in a mildly sticky situation. 

Okay... At Dawn Winery, it had completely slipped your mind. But it seemed the fresh air and break from Victoria’s amazing story had helped you regain your memory. You remembered your question now, it was in bold, red words right in front of you. But you’d decided to not ask him, not until he came forward and revealed himself if he really was the anonymous man he would. Maybe you’d give it a week...?

“Interesting...” Diluc thought to himself, you cringed to yourself, fearful of being caught lying, he seemed to be onto you. “When you remember, will you come find me?” He teased. “Stop by for a drink one time; tea, wine, juice, anything. My mother really enjoyed your company...”

Master Diluc knew. He had to of known you were lying. He was far too intelligent to not know. 

“I- Sure.” 

-

Diluc had never thought he’d see you in his presence so soon, that’s for sure. He thought he’d only see you when he decided to confess, which he was still working on. He never thought he’d be walking you home, but you had been great company and what kind of man would he be if he let a woman walk home by herself? Even if you were a Knight. 

He was a bundle of nerves the whole way even after he arrived back home, to greet his mother was oddly still up. 

“Mother, you’re awake?” He asked, stepping into the house for the last time tonight, eyes scanning the room to see the fireplace lit and crackling, the older woman sitting on an armchair. And would you look here, his annoying brother was present as well. That caused Diluc’s face to crease in annoyance. “And you’re here. Why?” He spat, the Cavalry Captain rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have a bedtime,” She teased, Kaeya smiling. Those two were like two peas in a pod once together, his mother was definitely the more reasonable and tolerant. “And leave your brother alone, it’s from my understanding that he helped you with that girl, Y/n.” 

Diluc rolled his eyes. Of course, Kaeya would tell their mother, but the real question was, had he told others? He definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of Mondstadt knew of his crush on you, all thanks to his annoying little brother. 

“It’s no one's business, but mine,” The wine tycoon snapped. Victoria’s face scrunched up in anger, eyes glaring daggers. “Sorry...” He apologized, moving around the couches and armchairs, to finally sit on the loveseat not occupied, his hands went to his face, elbows rested on his knees.

“So,” Kaeya started, earning a testing look from the woman across from him. A look of warning. “You walked her home, anything else happen?” Kaeya couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

“What’re you implying?” The eldest snapped. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, did you maybe tell her, kiss her?” Victoria hissed, nearly launching herself over the arm of her chair to swat her youngest on the back of his head. He groaned in annoyance. 

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?” The cryo user probed. 

Archons, Kaeya always had too many idiotic questions. Nosy bastard. Of course, he’d tell you, eventually.

“I’m working on it...” Kaeya chuckled to himself, Victoria just stared at the redhead with sadness. She felt bad, you were a great young woman, she saw that. Hell, she hadn’t even known you for an hour, but she already approved. She wanted this to work out for her eldest, he’d always been the one with the most burdens on his shoulders it seemed, he always picked up the entire world's troubles and carried them on strong shoulders. He deserved someone good, someone, like you. “Now, don’t you have better things to do? Like getting drunk? Go away.” He sounded like a child all over again, Victoria thought. He was unfolding right here, he was still her little boy after all. 

Kaeya frowned, seeing how bothered his brother seemed. An eye focused on Victoria who was mouthing for him to go upstairs, he decided to listen for once surprisingly. With less sass in his step, Kaeya found himself wandering towards the stairs and eventually disappearing up them.

As soon as the trouble maker was gone, Victoria shifted in her seat so she could fully face her eldest son. 

“Do you love her?” She suddenly asked, Diluc’s heart seemed to speed up significantly. “It’s alright if you’re not sure, I’ve been there many times-”

“Yes, I do.”

He watched with an embarrassed hue on his face as his mother smiled a genuine, bright smile. She was happy for him, proud, she approved. That’s all he’d wanted. He wishes his father could meet you, he’d like you, he was sure of it. 

“That’s great. I’m very happy for you,” She said proudly. “You should tell her. She’s a great woman, she’ll accept you with open arms.” She reassured though Diluc could only shake his head. 

“You cannot be so sure.” He mumbled sadly, Victoria clicked her tongue with the shake of her head, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I can,” She said, matter a factly. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger, though a little less reckless and in a much better headspace. She’s sure of herself I can tell, even though she looked quite frazzled in your presence; but all young women get like that around my sons.” The woman added with a teasing smile, Diluc just waved her off nonchalantly. He didn’t care about any other woman, you mattered most, above all. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” She reassured. “I’m not sure if her feelings are romantically driven, but I can tell she respects you a great deal. Poor thing though, she was so nervous she looked like a shaking leaf... I’ll have to help her feel more comfortable, after all, she might as well be my future daughter-in-law.”

Diluc nearly froze. Archons, his mother was something else... “Mother, I haven’t even told her I’m the one behind the letters-”

“Nonsense!” She said over excitedly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about marrying her?” 

“Maybe even a family...?” He knew she was getting antsy for grandchildren, though he couldn’t understand why so soon. She wasn’t even in her fifties yet, and he and Kaeya were barely into adulthood. She’d had a hard enough time raising two helions at such a young age and then by herself after their father's death, so why was she resilient for him to start a family? He’d never understand mothers' need for grandchildren... 

“Marriage and children are two different things... I haven’t given much thought towards children,” He said honestly. “I always assumed I’d either be alone for life or marry for political reasons... Father had always said Jean was perfect for me,” Victoria frowned at his statement. “And children well... they don’t particularly like me.”

“Nonsense. I knew your father for ten years or so, and let me say, he’d be proud of whatever decision you make. Jean, Y/n- he just wanted you happy,” She explained wholeheartedly, words filled with sincerity. “And let me just say, no other child will look at you with such love and adoration, other than your own. They’ll hold you in the highest regards, then it won’t even matter if other kids like you or not. The only validation you’ll need is from your own child,” Her eyes glittered with joy, a smile forming on her beautiful face. “I can say that with one hundred and ten percent honesty and certainty, from experience with you and Kaeya.”

Diluc’s heart warmed at that. She always knew what to say and he always felt this great sense of pride from her whenever talking about being their mother. She enjoyed it so much, she was proud she’d taken the offer ten or so years ago, the best decision she’d ever made. 

“I much like your father, only want you happy. If being with Y/n without marriage or children makes you happy, then those things don’t matter to me.”

He flashed a warm smile, that nearly left her starstruck, nearly frozen like an icicle from Dragonspine. “Thank you, mother,” She nodded, cheeks flaring red. 

“I think one day... if things work out, I will ask her to marry me,” 

“And if she wanted children, I’d be alright with that too.”

“I’d do anything for her.”

-

“Captain, good morning.” You exclaimed walking into your Captain's office the next morning, taking note of how he was sitting behind his mahogany desk, reviewing what looked to be paperwork and a map in front of him. 

He briefly looked up, dark eyes meeting yours, before pointing to the seats opposite side of the desk. “Come take a seat, Knight.” You nodded following orders, falling into quick, silent steps, choosing to take a seat in the left chair. 

You waited for your orders, eyes staying trained on your Captain. He eventually spoke. “I see you’ve been making quick work of your commissions here in Mondstadt,” The older man noted, you just nodded, appreciating the praise. “Five a day and you’ve managed to fit in training for the younger Knights I see.”

“Yes, sir, I believe the daily training is important.” You admitted honestly. 

“Yes, it is,” He agreed, finally meeting your eyes only after he turned the map around so it was properly facing you. “Allow me to cut right to the chase,” You gulped nervously. Were you being blacklisted? Given a higher position, maybe Captain? What was going on? You slowed your brain, remembering he was going to explain to you what was going on in a moment. But that didn’t stop you from worrying. You were a capable Knight, your stats showed that you just hoped you weren’t being let go. 

Easing your nerves, your Captain began speaking again. “Acting Grand Master Jean has recently been notified that the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, Childe, has stolen the Geo Archons’ Gnosis.” Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shock, fear, confusion was present in every form within you. Those names and titles sounded familiar, they weren’t unknown figures in Teyvat, not at all. It was a custom for all types of schooling in Teyvat to be educated on all seven of the Archons and nations, and groups such as the Fatui with their elite branch of soldiers, the Harbingers. Plus, as soon as the Knights in training passed the required tests and became official Knights, they would be taught separately from what was usually taught; learn about much rarer and dangerous types of monsters, learn every detail of the Eleven Fatui, about any assassins and people to be wary about on commissions and travels between nations.  

One question you had was why in the world were the Harbingers stealing the Archons Gnosis? You’ve heard that Lord Barbatos’ Gnosis had also recently been stolen by La Signora, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers. So, what was the reason for the Geo Archons to be stolen as well? 

The more obvious answer to that question was they were probably stealing their powers to harness themselves. They were strong enough though, they would only be selfish to steal a literal god's Celestial power and take it for themselves. Greedy, you noted.

But you couldn’t be sure because one of Alchemy's prominent figures, an elder, who closely worked with Albedo in the past, had recently been kidnapped by a Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers. Teyvat was lucky Albedo hadn’t been taken hostage, it was decided he would be under watch for now. 

You were seeing an obvious pattern here. A devious, worrying pattern. But now that an alchemist had been kidnapped and was under their care, maybe even lack thereof, one of the worst possible scenarios became evidently present and more aware. 

Alchemy could do many wonders, one is to make new forms of life; plants, animals, etc. If the pattern stayed true that they planned to be stealing all the Archons Gnosis was true, then they could possibly be creating an artificial army of sorts, with the usage of life forms created by Alchemy. This wasn’t good.

“This isn’t good.” You muttered, hand going under your chin in thought. Your captain nodded, though you missed it, too deep in thought. 

“You see the issue I presume then,” He said, you nodded in response. “Great. You’ll be a fast learner in the kind of environment you’ll be placed in.” You hummed, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

“Acting Grand Master Jean and I, have cleared you to venture into Snezhnayan territory to gather intel.”

What? You’ve never traveled outside of Mondstadt, ever. Hell, you’ve never even been into Liyue, the closest nation to Mondstadt... Snezhnaya was very, very far away. Pretty dangerous territory, so you’ve heard. Even the locals had a hard time managing the severe storms and frigid cold. 

“Sir, I’ve never been to Snezhnaya before.” You explained, eyes filled with confusion. 

“Do not worry,” The man reassured. “You may take a small team with you if you please. The Knight’s cartographer, Maria, is very skilled at what she does, she’d be a great help,” He offered. You agreed, you’ve never met Maria personally, but she’d be a great help. “Any other cleared Knight, you may take with you on your journey,” You nodded. 

“But like all Knights, you’re exceptionally skilled in the medical field and your stats are practically off the chart; you’re an elite soldier, Knight. There’s a reason Acting Grand Master Jean requested you do this.” You froze, questioning your ability no longer. You would accept this mission without a fuss. Acting Grand Master Jean choose you for this mission specifically. She trusted you, she valued your skills and assets and was acknowledging them. This was any Knight’s dream. The man’s praise, no, Acting Grand Master Jean’s silent praise and approval meant worlds to you... You wished you had the time to thank her personally, but it was from your understanding you would need to leave immediately. 

“Thank you, sir,” He sent a firm nod your way. “I assume I would be leaving as soon as possible. So, could you pass my thanks and gratitude to the Acting Grand Master?”

He allowed a smile to spread across his aging face, head-nodding gently, though the smile had disappeared soon after. “I will.”

You bowed your head out of respect. “Thank you.” 

Your Captain continued to clue you in about the journey to Snezhnaya, that you would be sent as a spy since you’ve never had any run-ins with any of the Harbingers, therefore your job as a spy would be easier. He allowed you to pick a small team of your choosing, to accompany you into the cold. Though, reassured him you would manage fine with just Maria, the young cartographer. You didn’t want to burden anyone else, especially if this journey was much more trying and dangerous than originally thought. 

He came to a standing position, you mirrored his movements as he walked you to the door to see you out.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before Valentine's day, I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though, this was your duty. You wouldn’t complain because you had no reason to.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before the day of love,” Ah Valentine's day... You’d completely forgotten that was coming up... “I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though. 

“I had no plans, so it’s quite alright, sir,” You said turning to him as soon as you were standing under the door frame. “This mission is of the utmost importance. It’s my duty as a Knight to accept and complete the tasks asked of me.”

He nodded, hand raising to salute you, once he was done you mirrored him out of respect. “Very well put, Knight,” He praised again. “Safe travels on your journey, keep me updated with weekly reports.”

“I will, sir.”

-

As soon as you had left your Captain's office, you were quick to find the cartographer Maria, she’d be helping you find your way through Liyue and into Snezhnaya. 

It was to your knowledge that around this time of year, the snow in Snezhnaya was even thicker and harder to trudge through, you needed to leave as soon as you could.

Eventually, you found Maria in the library, grabbing various types of books and maps and throwing them into a large brown leather satchel. Great. It seems as though she had already been let in about the mission before you; you could get going much sooner.

Now, you were on your way to your own house to grab any necessities not left in your room at headquarters; clean clothes, Mora, etc. As soon as you made sure you had enough Mora to buy food or anything else you’d need along the way, and clothes for a warm journey, though making sure not to shoulder too much, you were on your way to the gates with Maria now at your side.

You didn’t make it far out of the gates of Mondstadt before you were being stopped, surprisingly by Master Diluc. 

He looked to be in a hurry, out of breath as he came running up to you and Maria. When he spotted the young woman at your side, your sword on your hip and backpack on your shoulders, he realized he might’ve caught you at a bad moment...

“Apologies, you seem to be on a mission...” He said meekly.

You waved your hand, smiling back at Maria who had wandered towards the gates to give you two privacy. Looking back at Master Diluc, you said, “No worries, I was just heading out.”

“May I ask where?” You tilted your head to the side, confused. He caught onto your confusion and clarified by saying, “I just wanted to tell you something,”

It must be important to come bounding after you like he just did, unfortunately, though you were leaving...

“Oh,” You glanced back at Maria waiting by the shared entrance and exit, face buried deep in a newly made map. “I’m actually headed somewhere important, I don’t think I’ll be back for a while,” You noticed his face drained paler than it already was, but you decided to ignore it. He probably wouldn’t clarify what that was about. “You could write me a letter and leave it on my windowsill for me for when I return-”

“I’m the one behind the letters.” He interrupted, face regaining color, but this time, his cheeks tinted red, matching none other than his wavy hair kept back in a ponytail.

Your heart stopped beating. “What...?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself...” He whispered, glancing around. You followed his eyes silently, noticing people had begun to silently convene. 

You weren’t sure if they knew that he was the one behind the love letters. You assumed not.... they were probably just shocked to see the young wine tycoon out in public, nonetheless talking to a woman.

“Oh,” you said, ignoring that his face seemed to deepen in worry again. Unbeknownst to you, all Diluc could think was, she’s disappointed it’s me. Why else would she react that way? She hoped for someone else...

But you opened your mouth, and shared words that reassured him, made him feel less ashamed. “Thank you for telling me. I um- I’m very happy it’s you,” He glanced up from the ground, red eyes meeting yours. A genuine smile was on your face, and for once, a genuine smile came to his nature. “I’d secretly hoped it was you.” You admitted. Diluc’s heart fluttered with joy, he couldn’t describe the feelings and emotions that were currently present within him, he just knew they were so overwhelming, he’d only wanted to do one thing.

“May I kiss you?” He asked respectively. Your own heart began to flutter and do somersaults within your chest. 

Right here? Right now? In front of all these people? He was comfortable with that?

But you found yourself shyly whispering yes. 

And he did exactly that, he kissed you like a shy teen, quickly leaning in to peck your slightly dry lips (you wished you applied some lip balm before leaving your house, but you didn't know you’d be getting kissed by the most beautiful man in all of Teyvat) before pulling away bashfully. You giggled at that, ignoring the gasps of the woman, men, and few children - whose eyes were being covered by their mothers.

“I’m very happy to hear that you’re not disappointed it’s me.” He’d whispered against your lips before pulling away to stare at you. Archons, you wished he hadn’t pulled away soon. But the bright hue on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made up for it. He’s so cute when he blushes, you thought.

Love, adoration, you couldn’t tell... But he seemed to be feeling it all and allowing it to shine brightly in his eyes. 

“I would never be, Master Diluc.” You replied, equally as starstruck as he appeared.

“Diluc is fine.” He reassured you, you stared at him in awe, before smiling. 

“Diluc...” You whispered to yourself, correcting what you'd said earlier. You would have to get used to calling him just Diluc, though dropping the title Master would be hard. It was what everyone called him.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to accompany you on your commission,” he said, shocking you for the second time today. 

“Really? You would seriously do that?” You asked, astonished. 

“Of course,” He started. “You can handle yourself, yes, but for my own sanity I would like to accompany you to make sure you’re safe.” He didn't belittle your skill, which you were thankful for. Many men, often ones in the military belittled your skill and claimed you needed assistance because you were a woman. You weren’t some fragile being, you were a Knight of Favonius. 

“Thank you...” You whispered, he seemed to understand immediately what the gratitude was for. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, noticing how he didn’t have any bags, just himself and his Claymore. “You don’t have any gear...” You noted.

“I’ll alright, that’s all I need if I’m with you.” He whispered so only you could hear, shyly reaching for your hand.

For a moment, you stood staring at his outstretched hand, wondering how in the world this had happened and when he became such a romantic. He’d been behind the letters the whole time and had kissed you?! Diluc would surely need to tell you the story of it all on your journey. You had a long way to Snezhnaya, soyou had time for the entire story. 

The only thing ingrained in your mind as you allowed his hand to encompass your own, was that you missed the touch of his lips on yours and greatly enjoyed his romantic admissions.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.12.21, rayofsunas

[peralta-guaranteed]

i randomly remembered when enzo broke his arm around a year ago, i know it sounds mean but could you possibly do one of mac/maya doing the same (nothing major to cause it)

"It's okay." Amy hears herself repeat the phrase for probably the hundredth time now. "It's okay." It's probably supposed to calm them all down, all three adults and one little crying, screaming boy in the car, but it's barely working.

"It's not!" Jake hisses into her direction, the fear and panic and worry in his eyes more than obvious as he clutches Mac's head against his shoulder some more, tightens the grip around his back.

"It's gonna be, though." Rosa says from the driver's seat in front - she was clearly the calmest of all of them after what happened, so she'd grabbed Amy's purse, pulled their car keys out of it, and then pushed all three of them into the backseat before starting the car. And now she was making her way to the emergency wing of the hospital at about 15mp/h higher than allowed in the inner city. "The arm's broken, but not in a bad way. It's gonna heal."

"How can a bone break in a good way?" Asks the man who once stated that as long as his blood was still inside him, things were obviously good. Mac starts wailing a little louder in his arms.

"You're stressing him out." Rosa states, matter-of-fact, before slowing down just a little before a right turn so the kid in Jake's arms doesn't get jostled too much.

"It hurt." Mac sniffles and looks over at Amy with the reddest, most tear-filled eyes she's ever seen, and it takes a lot not to cry with him.

"It's gonna be okay, peanut. The doctors like uncle Jorge are going to fix it." She tries to calm him, and maybe Jake a little bit, who nods and scratches through Mac's hair like he does when he's trying to lull him into sleep.

-*-

They make it to the emergency room in record time, frankly, and if Rosa's rushed past some traffic lights and speed radars, Amy's not going to complain once the tickets come in the mail.

A bored-looking nurse informs them that there’s only enough space for one parent in the room during the x-ray and the cast and treatment, and Jake wants to debate for the first time in his life, because that’s obviously bullshit, but Amy puts a hand on his arm and then lifts Mac out of them.

“Sit with Rosa”, she says in that voice she’s started using after Mac, that mom-voice that’s always right, “Calm down, and we’ll be back before you know it. And it’s all going to be fine.”

She’s off with the crying toddler and nurse before Jake can really protest, and Rosa is already sitting in a corner of the waiting area, so he drops down next to her instead and buries his head in his hands.

“Dude, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Kids hurt themselves all the time. He’s gonna bounce back like always.”

“I broke his arm, Rosa.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as the weight of that statement settles. Rosa gives up her nonchalant pose to lean forward as well, trying to get into Jake’s field of vision, but it’s kinda hard when he’s staring down onto the floor.

“You did not.” She hisses. “Jake, you didn’t. He fell. He was climbing. It happens.”

“I helped him up on that tower, he’s too little for it-”

“It’s on the playground, he was gonna go for it eventually-”

“I was right next to him-”

“So were Amy and I-”

“You were talking-”

“So at least you were paying better attention-”

“I coulda grabbed him, I shoulda-”

“You did what you could, immediately and without question. It’s not your fault the kid drops faster than a cannonball.” Rosa ends their little squabble, and the old lady across them lets out a little harrumph, but Rosa shoots her the deadliest glare she can muster, which means a lot. “You were over there in a flash, Jake, I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

“Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough.” He mumbles into his hands, rubbing across his face and his hair that’s already a mess. Rosa watches him for a moment, and calculates. Pieces together the evidence, like she does as a detective, and comes to a solution that most people probably won’t like, but those usually get her results.

“Do you want to leave?” She asks, and he looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Amy’s got it under control, she told you. It’s probably gonna take a while, anyway, we can dip out for a drink to calm down and come back and they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Are you insane?!” Jake hisses back now, giving her exactly the reaction she’d expected. “I’m not going to leave my son in the hospital to go to a bar-”

He stops and stares at her, and it seems like his own detective brain is finally catching up with his panicked dad brain, because he sees what she’s doing. So she nods.

“You’re still good. You’re still better.” She says, and they don’t need to mention who he’s better than. It was the first of his stories that he told her, after he hurt something in his wrist at the academy - how that wrist never really healed right anyway, not since he was 5 and Bobby Linder drove over it with his tricycle by accident and his mom had to rush him to the hospital and his dad asked ‘what is that?’ with beer on his breath when he showed him the cast later. They’d known each other for barely a month back then, and Rosa was still refusing to think of anyone as her friend, but the way he’d looked at his wrist in its bandage and smiled the most broken smile she’d ever seen had set something off in her head. Something that yelled Protect at her every time he mentioned his dad later, something that made her threaten Roger Peralta with one of her knives after their graduation when Jake was in the bathroom ‘real quick’, but she knew he was hiding in there so no one could see his hands shake. Good thing Rosa never gave a damn about going into the men’s toilets anyway, because she sure as hell went after him when Roger had dipped out as usual.

She watches Jake’s tense shoulders drop with another sigh.

“Being better doesn’t make me good. That bar is set so fucking low.”

“I’m not having this entire discussion with you again, Peralta. We’ve been through this way too many times anyway. You. are. a. good. dad. One accident doesn’t change that.”

“Okay.” He nods, and she can tell he’s trying to imprint her words into his brain, so she continues.

“Mac’s going to hurt himself, and others are going to hurt him, and things are gonna go bad sometimes. You’ll probably be back here in the hospital a few times, considering how much he seems to love danger. And it’s going to be okay, just like Amy said, because you’re going to be there, and you’ll help him through it, and take care of him while he heals.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, and Rosa leans closer to him some more, and finally gets into his field of vision.

“And you’re not going to even think, for one second, that you could be anywhere as bad of a father as that piece of shit. And you’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad.”

He nods a third time, and she remembers how he jokingly told her once, after a few drinks, that the little screaming voice of conscience in his head always alternates between either Amy’s voice or her voice. She hopes she’s given him some new tracks to replay if he needs to.

“Thank you, Rosa.” He says, and leans back in the most uncomfortable chair either of them have sat in, and they’ve both been to prison. He tilts over when she leans back too, lands his head on her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrug him off for once. She can have a soft spot for the Santiago-Peraltas when no one else is there to see, she supposes.

“You looked like you wanted to punch out that nurse.” She says with a quick grin, and hears him snort.

“Was thinking about it. Not enough space for two parents, what kind of bullshit is that?!”

“You couldn’t throw a proper punch anyway.”

“Hey, I know how to hit people. I trained to do it just as much as you.”

They share a giggle as the exhaustion and stress of the last hour flows out of them, and the old lady across them seems mildly shocked rather than annoyed by now, but who cares.

-*-

Amy comes back with Mac in her arms an hour later, and they’re both all smiles. Mac sports an impressive new sticker collection on his shirt, and a lollipop that’s painting his lips orange. (Amy’s have a slight tint to them as well.)

The cast on his arm is bright green, and he carefully lifts it to show Jake as he switches from his Mama’s arms into his. (Jake had jumped up from his chair so fast he almost threw Rosa, who was also getting up, to the ground.)

“Like ninja!” he says around the lollipop, and Amy wipes a bit of spit away before it can drop on Jake’s shirt.

“Yeah, just like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, buddy.” Jake nods because of course he understands his kid’s train of thought better than anyone else, and kisses Mac’s temple, stays there a second longer for that perfect toddler scent, even as it’s mixed with hospital disinfectant and playground mud.

“Look, RoRo!” Mac yells into his ear and leans over to show Rosa as well. “Turtle shell!”

“That’s pretty cool, dude.” Aunt RoRo answers as she inspects the cast to see if it’s well done or if she has to go back there and punch out a nurse herself. “Let’s get you three home.” She says after concluding that the cast is acceptable enough to let the poor hospital workers alone.

-*-

She was planning to drop them off, park their car and then head for the precinct where her bike is waiting for her, but Amy invited her up for some coffee for ‘her nerves’, and Jake offered dinner as a thanks, and Mac absolutely needed to show her the new toy he got in that package from abuela, and then suddenly she’s on a playmat on the floor for an hour after Chinese takeout and pretending to be a Ninja Tortoise or whatever. That soft spot is gonna be more trouble than it’s worth, she thinks for a second before Mac smiles at her as his Jedi figure shoots lasers at her turtle doll, and immediately realises it’s worth so much more than any trouble. Mac looks at his cast a little worried, whenever he thinks no one is watching him, and god, could he be any more like his dad? At least she and Amy already have a good instructions booklet on how to handle him, in that case.

“That green cast is pretty cool.” She says when she catches him look once more. “But you know what would make it even cooler? Drawings.”

“Drawies? On my arm?”

“Yeah, buddy. We can draw on it with a sharpie.”

He’s up and running to Amy, asking for a sharpie, in no time at all and yep, he is just as easily distracted as his dad. Mac grins wide and unworried now as he climbs on Jake’s lap on the couch, asks Amy to draw something when she returns with a set of markers, calls Rosa over to draw something too.

Amy does a little bear, his favourite animal at the moment. Rosa does a rocket ship and a pirate ship, the two best ships in the world, as they both agree. Jake does a Ninja Turtle cartoon face yelling PIZZA!, which is obviously Mac’s absolute favourite the moment it’s done.

When Jake wants to cap the Sharpie after his work of art, Mac grabs his hand and pulls it back down. “Steady, peanut. Don’t wanna scribble over Aunt RoRo’s cool ship, right?” He says with a grin over to her as she rolls her eyes. Mac’s already tried to cover several walls, most of his storytime books, and the kitchen table with his drawings as soon as he’s handed any sort of writing tool, so Jake won’t let go of the marker just to be safe, but he does let Mac’s little hand guide his big one as he makes him draw a wonky heart, right on the cast over the back of his hand, and then places a kiss on the same place on Jake’s hand.

You’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad the little Rosa voice in Jake’s head repeats as he smiles at her, and she actually smiles back.

[krappykawa]

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.4) 

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 3.8k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: did you get home safe?

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Sent: yes (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ 

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: what’s with the hearts?? … did something happen with captain pretty face?

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Sent: captain pretty face?  

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: that was hard enough to type y/n-chan i’m not saying it again (>_<)

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Sent: he bought me a cup of frozen yogurt and free frozen yogurt makes me happy :D

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: that’s good to hear

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: i think i’ll crash for tonight, don’t stay up too late

1 new message: tooru ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Received: goodnight y/n-chan ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ sleep well

Oikawa sets his phone down on his nightstand and lets out a heavy sigh as his fingers come up to massage his eyes. His gaze comes up to the ceiling, eyes locking on a picture of you, him, and Iwaizumi that’s surrounded by bounds of glow in the dark stars. It’s from your first year -- the first time that he’d lost to Shiratorizawa. 

He’s laying a head on your shoulder, looking dejected in comparison to the grin on your face as you hold your arm up for the selfie. On his right sits Iwaizumi with a mildly confused look on his face as he pokes Oikawa’s shoulder with a lone chopstick. Oikawa feels a grin crawl up onto his lips as he stares at it. He wonders for a moment how different he’d felt about you then. He wonders if first-year him felt the same fluttering in his stomach laying his head on your shoulder the way it does now. 

The grin fades when he remembers that that fluttering should’ve died the moment he started dating Hishoko. He knows that it should’ve. 

And yet, despite it all, he ends up calling you at 3AM in the morning, feeling that same familiar feeling when he hears your mildly fatigued voice on the other end. 

He falls asleep to the sound of your laugh. 

You thought that maybe it would get easier. You thought that maybe your heart wouldn’t ache every time you saw Oikawa’s fingers wrapped around Hishoko’s smaller ones. 

It doesn’t. Not when Oikawa still smiles at you like you’re the best thing to happen to him. Not when his eyes still look for yours whenever you enter a room. Not when he still calls you in the middle of the night to tell you about his day because it’s well past midnight and he just can’t fall asleep. You decide that maybe you’d let him tear your heart bit by bit every day for the rest of your lives if it meant that he would always love you the way he does now -- even if it’ll never be in the way that you want. 

It seems like maybe you could actually do just that, to love him from a distance for the rest of your lives, when suddenly it hits you that this isn’t like the other times he’d gotten a girlfriend. That something about loving him now is different. Maybe it was the kiss you shared, or maybe it’s something else, but you realize for the first time that maybe you can’t keep holding on to him the way you do. This realization comes after Aoba Johsai’s first win of the Preliminaries. 

You’ve been going to every single one of Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s games for as long as you can remember. The only two games you missed was a day in which some bad planning landed a date with Kaoru on the same day as one of their games, and the other was when you were forced to take an extra shift at the bakery.  

Hishoko stands next to you, speaking quietly to you. You feel relaxed as she speaks, the tenseness in your muscles ebbing away with every soft word from her lips. Despite her relationship being the cause of the ache in your heart, you can’t find it in you to fault her. She’s a friend to you now, no matter what happens with Oikawa. 

Your eyes follow the small figures of your best friends as they huddle up, and a smile slips onto your face when Matsukawa looks up at you and smiles that tiny smile that he only reserves for people he really cares about. Hanamaki follows his line of vision and blows a kiss in your direction, which you make a show of catching and stomping on. 

But then Oikawa turns and smiles like he’s ready to take on the world and you think that the ground might fall out from under you. Because for a moment you think that smile is for you, but you remind yourself that you’re sitting next to his girlfriend. The knife in your heart twists. 

The game goes by the way you expect it, with Aoba Johsai winning after two relatively easy sets. You wait with Hishoko in the lobby afterwards, waiting for the team. 

It’s only when Oikawa walks out and Hishoko runs up to him and pulls him into a kiss that it finally hits you. It hits you for the first time that you might not be able to do this. That despite everything, you might not be able to watch them fall in love when Oikawa still has a firm string tied to your heart. 

You try not to cry as you run into Iwaizumi’s arms and stay there. He’s understanding. 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa each throw an arm around you. Hanamaki ruffles your hair. Matsukawa offers to hold your hand. 

For a bit, it doesn’t hurt as much. 

You think that maybe the world hates you when you’re about to close up the bakery and Kaoru walks in. You had to leave shortly after the game, but your shift was only until 6 pm today, so you didn’t really mind. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa were going to spend the night at your house to watch a movie anyways, so you didn’t feel too bad about leaving them so early. 

“Hey,” Kaoru says as he walks up to the counter. If there’s anyone that you would rather not see right now, it’s him. 

You try your hardest to muster a convincing smile. “Did you want to order?”

Kaoru rolls on the balls of his feet and you already know from when you dated that he’s about to ask you something big. You remember because he confessed to you while rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you if you’re free today?”

You almost laugh at yourself at that point. Here’s your perfect-on-paper ex-boyfriend asking you on a potential date, and you can’t find it in you to say no because you’re still thinking about another brown-haired volleyball captain that’s probably happily smiling at his girlfriend right now. 

“Not today, no. I made plans,” you reply with an apologetic smile. 

You try not to notice the way he seems to deflate. “Oh that’s okay. You’re closing up though right? I’ll buy two cupcakes and walk you home if you want?”

“As friends?”

You can’t seem to understand why he decided to ask you this today, of all days. 

“Sure. As friends, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay,” you say because you’re only human after all. 

You feel the tears flow down your face the minute that you close the door after thanking Kaoru for the nice walk.  

The tears come hot and heavy because you think that it’s fucked up how you’ve got a guy that’s so obviously still in love with you, and you still can’t love him back. All because you’re in love with your dumb, stupid, oblivious best friend. 

You wish that you’d never taken him up on his offer to kiss him in order to get the fangirls off his back. If you’d never kissed his lips, then maybe you wouldn’t be as hopeless as you are now. But you did, and now all you can think about is him and why -- just why -- the kiss hadn’t meant something to him the way it meant something to you. 

You’re still curled up on your couch with tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes when the doorbell rings. The clock on the wall opposite to you tells you that it’s not even close to the time that you and the others had set for your movie night. 

“Give me a second!” With as much haste as you can muster, you run to the kitchen and attempt to rid your eyes and face of the redness that crawled onto your features. A quick glance at the window tells you that you didn’t do a very good job, but it’d be more suspicious if you took more time. 

You open the door to find Iwaizumi standing there, his expression changing the moment he lays eyes on you. “You’ve been crying,” he says.

“No.”

“I’m not Oikawa, Y/N.” He closes the door behind him before looking back at you. “You don’t have to try so hard to hide your feelings around me.”

You sigh to yourself and make yourself busy with cleaning up the randomly scattered objects littering your floor. “I don’t do that.”

“Right,” he snorts. “You’ve been walking on eggshells with him ever since he’s started dating Hishoko, it doesn’t take a genius to notice.”

Oikawa hasn’t noticed, you think bitterly. He’s been able to read you like the back of his own hand his entire life, and yet, he seems to be completely oblivious to the way your heart belongs to him. 

“Yeah, well he hasn’t noticed, so I guess doing alright,” you shrug.

“He notices.”

Your head whips up faster than it should’ve and Iwaizumi raises a brow at you. You bow your head. “Oh.”

Iwaizumi sighs before taking a seat on your couch. “Not in the way you think he does though. Knowing that shithead, he’s probably come up with some bullshit excuse for why you’re acting different.”

“And what would that be?”

“Kaoru.”

It’s a half truth. Kaoru has been putting you on an extra edge lately. You two kept on friendly terms after your breakup, but you rarely saw him. At least, you barely saw him before. Now you see him nearly everyday, either in passing in the hallways or at Takeru’s volleyball camp. You’re not sure why he’s decided to start making the extra effort to see you now, months after your breakup. 

“He knows that I don’t like Kaoru like that anymore.” You’re sure that he should at least know that with how much you complain about the brown-haired baseball captain whenever Oikawa ends up calling you at some ungodly hour. 

Iwaizumi chuckles lightly, like he’s amused. “Does he really? Cause if he did, he wouldn’t be talking my ear off whenever Kaoru comes anywhere near you.”

“He does that?”

“Yeah, makes me want to punch him in the face. Maybe if his voice wasn’t so annoying …” There’s a smile on his face as he says it, so you know he doesn’t really mean it in a harsh way. 

A silence engulfs you as you head to the kitchen for a glass of water. You don’t know what Iwaizumi wants you to do with that information. At the end of the day, the way that Oikawa reacts to Kaoru is of no matter because he has a girlfriend who he seems happy with. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

“Do you want something to eat?” You call from the kitchen. “You came early.”

As you walk back into the living room with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other, Iwaizumi looks up at you with that same worried gaze that he had on that first day that Oikawa had broken the news of his new girlfriend. “I wanted to check on you. It’s not healthy not talking to anyone about it. I know you’ve been avoiding it.”

You hand him the juice and sit down next to him. “I haven’t been avoiding it, I’ve just been … skirting around the problem.”

“You were crying because of him,” he says as he takes a drink from his juice. 

You shrug. “People cry, no big deal.”

“I can’t just stand here and watch while you tear yourself apart watching them. It’s like seeing your heart fall to pieces. It’s painful to see.”

“I’ll get over it, Iwa. I always have.” You train your eyes to your feet and try to stop yourself from feeling that same drop in your stomach. 

“No,” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Something’s different this time and neither you or Oikawa are willing to tell me what the fuck went down between the two of you. So as much as I respect your privacy, tell me before I drag Oikawa’s ass over here and make you two sit here until you finally fess up.”

A small smile creeps up onto your face as you remember the way he looked at you after you pulled away from that kiss. Despite everything, that look is forever ingrained in your brain. “We kissed.”

Iwaizumi looks at you warily. “You … kissed? Don’t tell me that he…”

“No!” You’re quick to deny that assumption. “No, it was before he and Hishoko started dating. It was the day before we went for karaoke actually.”

Realization dawns in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “Christ. He’s so fucking dense it hurts me. How stupid is he?”

“What?”

“Nothing, he’s an asshole. I’ve got things to say to him later. But I came here for you. How are you really feeling?”

“It hurts I guess. I really thought … Iwa, he changed after we kissed. Something changed, I could’ve sworn it did.” You don’t even notice that you’re crying again until a tear falls into your lap. Iwaizumi places his arm around your shoulders. You smile gratefully at him. “But then he started going out with Hishoko and it was like waking up from a really good dream you know? I thought that maybe he finally liked me back but … I guess he didn’t.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Iwaizumi mumbles as he rubs your shoulders. You remember a similar conversation you had like this a year ago, when he confided in you about how he figured that he had a crush on Hanamaki. Though he’s since moved on to having eyes for the girl that sits to your right in class, it still brings back an odd sense of nostalgia. Iwaizumi chuckles from beside you. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? It makes me want to gag, but he loves you. That much I can tell.”

You shake your head. “He loves me as a best friend, just like he loves you. You know that.”

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit. He’s never looked at me the way he looks at you. You know that.”

You know that maybe Iwaizumi has a point, that maybe all the years you spent denying that Oikawa could ever see you as something else might have been in fruitless efforts. But, even if Iwaizumi has a point, Oikawa has a girlfriend. You don’t know what hurts you more - that Oikawa might actually love you the way that you love him but decided to get a girlfriend anyway, or that Iwaizumi is wrong and that Oikawa doesn’t think of you that way at all. 

“Whether he’s in love with me or not, that doesn’t really change the fact that he has a girlfriend,” you sniff. 

Iwaizumi sighs. “Yeah, well he fucked up.”

Before you can even think of a reply, the doorbell rings. Neither of you have even moved from your place on the couch before it swings open. 

“Makki, you can’t just go around opening people’s doors,” comes Matsukawa’s exasperated voice. 

There’s a snort, and you’re sure that Hanamaki’s about to reply with something mildly sarcastic until you find his eyes on you. Evidently, you forgot to rid your face of the evidence that you were just previously crying. “Woah, what’s going on here?” 

Matsukawa’s head appears right behind Makki’s shoulder. “Y/N? Why are you crying?”

You shuffle away from Iwaizumi’s hold and wipe at your face before moving to get up. “Nothing,” you say as you flick your arms.  “Just stressed.”

Matsukawa snorts. “Didn’t know that Oikawa’s name is ‘nothing’ now.”

Your head snaps up to where Hanamaki and Matsukawa are standing. They’re both looking at you with raised brows that are so similar that you have to suppress a shiver. 

“Does every person know?”

Matsukawa walks into your living room and puts his bag down next to your coffee table. Hanamaki follows after him. “No, just us. The rest of the team could really care less because they all have some weird massive crush on you, and Oikawa’s been living in denialville for a while now I think,” Matsukawa says as he takes Hanamaki’s bag from him to put it down next to his own. 

You slump back down against the couch, feeling a fatigue that you’re sure is a result from all the crying that you managed to do. Makki hurries towards you.  

“Ah, ah, ah. No getting down on yourself. Seriously though, moping over Oikawa? Not a chance. Come on, up, up,” Makki extends a hand towards you, but you simply look at it stubbornly. 

“No, you’re mean. I’d rather talk to Mattsun.”

Matsukawa smirks. “You hear that Makki? She likes me better.”

“Yeah, Mattsun’s my favorite.” You nod. “He’s nice to me and is only irritating when it comes to bombarding me with requests for lemon squares.”

Iwaizumi cocks his head from beside you. “Hey, what am I then? A pile of dog shit?”

“You transcend all of them, there’s no competition there. Though you might be marked down points for not carrying me everytime I ask.”

“So all I have to do is carry you? Fine then.” Before you can protest, Hanamaki takes you by the midsection and throws you over his shoulder. You slap his back in an attempt to get him to let you down. You can practically hear his crooked grin when he yells, “I’m not letting you down until you stop crying over a stupid brown-haired bitch!”

You hear Matsukawa yell out from where he’s leaning on the wall. “Yeah fuck brown-haired bitches!”

Iwaizumi scoffs, but even as you hang upside down, you can see the small smile gracing his face. “Mattsun, you have brown hair dumbass.”

“Okay then fuck brown-haired bitches.” You can’t see either of their faces, but you’re sure that Matsukawa is smirking at Hanamaki. You can only guess that Hanamaki has turned red from Matsukawa’s comment. 

“Oi! Don’t flirt with me when Y/N is crying over her love life! It’s rude.”

“Who said I was flirting with you?”

Hanamaki gasps dramatically. “So you want Y/N and Iwaizumi to fuck you then? I’m wounded.”

At this point, the blood is beginning to rush to your head. You continue to thrash around in Makki’s grip. 

“Makki, let me down!”

You can feel Hanamaki stand straighter and you’re sure that he has the stupidest triumphant grin on his face. “No. Not until you stop crying over captain pretty face.”

“Y/N-chan’s crying over who now?” 

You feel Makki freeze in the middle of his marching. Awkwardly, you turn to see Oikawa’s figure at the door from your position thrown over Hanamaki’s shoulder. You forgot that he was the only one that doesn’t knock. 

Something in Oikawa’s expression is odd.

“Makki, fix this or I cut off your dick,” you whisper into his ear. He gulps.

“Oh, hey Shittykawa. We’re just helping Y/N with her captain pretty face problems,” Hanamaki says. You already don’t like the way that this is heading.  

“Who … exactly is .. captain pretty face?” Oikawa’s eyes are on you. The irony of the nickname is not lost on you. You can only hope that the words that come out of Hanamaki’s mouth next are not the words you’re dreading. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not captain pretty face. Kaoru is!” The world does not seem to be on your side. 

Oikawa’s smile drops and suddenly you have the urge to cut Makki’s dick off anyways, because he just made this a lot, lot worse.

note. don’t read too much into the hanamaki-iwaizumi crush thing,, it’s really up for interpretation but at this point in the story, mattsun and makki have this weird will they-won’t they relationship so iwaizumi’s crush on hanamaki was unrequited and he never confessed. (also, iwaizumi’s crush on makki wasn’t huge, it was just important to him because it was how he realized that he liked guys too). 

taglist. @bumbledunce @angelkogane @waitforitillwritemywayout @mrsbakug0u @salty4tsukki @ppangiiroo @pharvhs @haksblade @whosmorales @yoitsseulgi @seijohreign @intheawks @smellssharpies

just send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[swanpyart]

The Short Lived Adventures of RAPH and Casey Jones

This is an old pic that was made for a zine that was never published. So I’ll leave it here. It might not ever be finished, but I think the story is decent enough on its own.

Part 1:

Casey was completely fine by herself.

Sure, her parents never really paid her any mind, but she never needed them to; Casey was a fast learner, and was able to cook, clean, and do pretty much anything the adults could do.

“Look!” Ten-year-old Casey held up an English vocabulary test, with an “100%” written in the corner in cursive. “I passed!”

“Honey,” her mother barely looked at her from her seat at her desk, “One hundred percent is the bare minimum. Anything less means you practically failed.”

There was always an empty space in the bleachers whenever Casey had a hockey game. She would cross her arms as she waited for her parents to pick her up and watched as the people in the audience rushed down and hugged their own children after a game, regardless of whether they won or lost. When her parents finally showed up, she sat in the car quietly as they drove.

Casey spent almost everyday after school at her Granny’s while her parents were at work. The old woman’s house was always warm, mostly because she was always baking; cakes, cookies, and especially her famous brownies - made with a special ingredient.

At twelve years old, Casey had failed a math test for the first time, and burst into tears as she walked through her Granny’s front door. “I’m a failure!”

“Sweetie, everyone fails every now and then,” her Granny wiped a tear from Casey’s cheek and got out an antique mixing bowl, “but I can tell you tried really hard. That’s what matters; that you don’t stop trying your best.”

Afterwards, Casey and her Granny spent the afternoon baking brownies, and that was when she was granted the knowledge of the secret ingredient. She swore her secrecy and never told anyone.

Of course, that was a while ago; her grandmother had passed away sometime afterwards. Her parents reacted with more emotion when Casey had shaved her head than when they attended the funeral.

They also seemed only mildly surprised when, at thirteen years old, Casey was accepted into the Foot Clan and never came back home.

There, Casey promised to herself to show the world just how much of a not-failure she really is! Even if she had to work with the most vile Clan in all the world to achieve it and release the Shredder, the ultimate evil, unto the world. She had worked above and beyond to get where she is, and no one could stop her!

At least, that’s what she thought before the Shredder disappeared, and with him, the Clan’s purpose. And way before those strange, overgrown turtles with no sense of honor or discipline showed up and destroyed their chances, time and time again.

Suddenly, the group she had worked with since she was a preteen, and the closest thing she had to any family, were dragged away by outside obligations she never understood.

Foot Brute and Lieutenant were better parents than her own, but, in the end, they were her bosses and coworkers, and no replacement for a family.

Sure, everyone else may have given up, but she would stay committed to the Clan’s ultimate vision, even if she had to use her dear Granny’s recipe for evil. Grandma CJ’s Brownies were an absolute bust, but she had to try something.

Then, she met this weird, giant, smelly rat with a Japanese accent dressed like a teenager who somehow turned out to be the father of those overgrown turtles.

And, as weird as it was, despite not even being human, he sat next to her and heard what she had to say; and, for those few minutes, it was almost like being next to her Granny again.

“Just because you failed doesn’t make you a failure.”

If she had been smarter, maybe she should have listened a bit harder to what he was saying. If she had been smarter, maybe she would have calmed down and talked to the girl that was beating up the Girl Scouts. There were so many opportunities to just talk.

But then the Shredder was restored, and she really thought it would be the return of her Clan’s glory. Even as she looked at the beaten down forms of her previous bosses. Even as she saw Splinter and his family struggling for their lives. Even as she realized winning would mean the end of everything, including her.

There was no more Clan. She was still alone. She was just alone with a giant evil suit of demon armor.

But, now, she wasn’t.

Even after everything, Splinter offered her an invitation into their...

Family.

------------------------------------------------------

He had invited her to the lair a few weeks after the fight with Shredder.

“I’m working at the Foot Shack. After my former clan disbanded, they got bought out by another company, Splinter, sir.” She squeezed the mug of tea in her hands.

“Just ‘Splinter’ is fine,” Splinter had opened a bag of chips, and was reclining in his seat. The turtles were out with April at the arcade, taking a break from repairing the lair. “Where are you staying? Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, I actually have my own apartment.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Splinter sighed. “Listen, Casey, I know that it’s probably hard having to... uh, sort things out by yourself-”

“What?! No, I’m fine!” She flapped her hand dismissively. “My life is fantastic! It’s definitely not in complete shambles after losing everything I know.” She blinked, realizing that she overshared, and collected herself. “I’m doing great.”

“I-I never said it was in shambles,” He massaged his temple with two clawed fingers, his beady eyes squinting in frustration. “Look, all I am saying is that, if you ever need help, or if you ever get lonely and just want to talk, I am here. And my sons would probably say the same thing. You’re a Hamato now, at least in spirit.”

Casey’s eyes widened, then she looked down. “Thank you, but I’m a very independent person. I’ll be sure to not bug you unless it’s an emergency.”

Splinter nodded, but he’d dealt with enough children to see that Casey was a bit lonely. Still, he said nothing.

For a good while, Casey stuck to what she said; she didn’t really come by the lair unless she really felt the need to or if they needed an extra set of hands with repairing.

But… occasionally, she found herself asking questions. She found out Michelangelo loved cooking, and somehow he got her to agree to bake her Granny’s brownies together. She realized that Leonardo wasn’t just annoying in battle, but all the time, and that she started getting more and more used to it, even occasionally laughing along. She found out while playing video games with them, that Donnatello was just as vicious as her, and that April was equally as competitive.

And Raph, well… they didn’t talk very much. But he seemed nice every time they spoke.

But she kept her distance. After all, it was better if she didn’t get too attached.

She occasionally goes down to the local hockey rink and plays a few rounds with total strangers, and usually gets kicked out due to a combo of delinquent children and complaining parents.

So, here she is, lying on her bed, staring blankly at her phone, with a half eaten sandwich laying on her chest, and old sweatpants that she’s been wearing for a week because her clothes are in the laundromat. For a ninja-slash-ex-cult-member, her life had fallen into a fairly mundane pattern.

Everything could always be worse. So why did she still feel like such a failure?

And for some reason, Casey found herself at the sewer grate. She didn’t even know why she came here, really.

She was about to turn back when a feminine voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, CJ, what’s up?”

She spun around. It was April.

“I was just coming to visit.” Casey tensed up. She hadn’t expected to run into someone else.

“Oh, me too!” She opened up the grate, and started climbing down the ladder. “You coming or what?”

Casey gulped. She couldn’t back out now.

------------------------------------------------------

Raph paced the lair, quietly groaning as he tapped his chin.

It had been about six months since the fight with Shredder, but another challenge had presented itself; cleaning up the lair after it had been almost completely demolished. Thankfully, with Draxum’s help and Donnie being able to scavenge some old tech that didn’t get destroyed and whip up some devices for reconstruction, the place was finally fixed up after about a month and a half.

Now what? Well, in Leo’s words, it was the time for “rest and relaxation.”

That was pretty easy for the rest of his family to do.

Leo’s entire existence hinged on “rest and relaxation”; Mikey has an assortment of hobbies to keep him busy; Donnie had a tight schedule trying to repair all of his broken inventions; April was trying to adjust to all of the changes at school due to all of New York recovering from the recent Battle Nexus catastrophe; and Splinter, of course, was parked in front of the TV, finally at peace after the Shredder was defeated, and helping himself to milk and cake.

Raph should be relaxing, or at least recovering from all that’s happened to them. The fight with the Shredder was the most stressful and terrifying time of their lives. They lost their Gram-Gram, and even if she was now able to rest with their ancestors and her father, it still stung.

But it’s been such a long time since he’s been in a real fight, and he can tell he’s going a little bit stir-crazy.

Of course, the turtles would spend a lot of time out of the lair; but whenever Raph gets a call on the phone, he finds himself hoping it’s some kind of an emergency, only to turn out to be Todd calling them about the puppy farm, or Leo pestering Senior Hueso with an order for pick-up. It seemed like even their strongest enemies have gone on hiatus as well; there was no word of Big Mama as of late, and every other major bad guy they fought recently seemed to have been exhausted by the Shredder ordeal as well.

Raph’s usual sparring partner, Frankenfoot, is absolutely wonderful, but fighting him wasn’t exactly what Raph had in mind; it was fun, but couldn’t really be compared to the thrill of a real fight.

“Come on, guys,” Raph stood in front of the screen, blocking Leo and Mikey’s view of a Jupiter Jim rerun while Pops was passed out on the couch, snoring, a bag of chips lying open on his stomach. “We’ve been cooped up in the lair for a million years. Who wants to go wreck some bad guys?” He pounded his fist in his opposite hand for emphasis.

“Raph, I can’t see!” Mikey waved his hand in a dismissive way as he said it, and leaned to peek around his older brother and continue watching the screen.

“Ugh, we’ve been over this,” Leo exasperated from his spot on the ground, on his stomach and his head resting on his propped arms. “No crime fighting while we’re on vacation! This is the time to chillax, my guy.”

“How long are we gonna be chillaxing, exactly?” Raph put his hands on his hips, an inquisitive look on his face, even if, deep down, he knew what response he’d get.

“I don’t know, until some other crazy evil mutant guy tries to take over the city? There’s bound to be another one of those eventually.”

“What, so we just wait until some evil mastermind has some evil plan and gets all of New York in their evil clutches? It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Raph tried to summon the energy he usually exudes when he attempts to make a rousing speech, but the rolling eyes and groans from his youngest brothers quickly made its effect futile.

“You know,” Donnie said from the back of the room, the other three having not noticed him walk in, “We did, oh, I don’t know, save all of New York City, take down Big Mama’s Battle Nexus scheme, and, most importantly, defeat our bloodline’s greatest enemy?!”

Raph furrowed his brow, his sharp fang digging into his lower lip.

“We deserve an indefinite break, and I need it, because I actually refuse to do any fighting until I have all my stuff back online. I’d love to fight with only my impeccable mind, but let’s be realistic.” The sandwich in his hand was brought to his face and he swallowed it whole. Donnie knew he had made an excellent point.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey beamed, tucking his arms and legs into his shell, “We’ll get back into the groove of things before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, “Think of it as, like, you know, self-care. Sometimes, you need a break from what you’re used to. Now, can you move out of the way?”

Raph sulked out of his siblings’ view of the screen and sunk into a beanbag, next to the couch their father was snoring in.

------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, guys!” The turtles turn around to see April and... Foot Recruit walk in.

Raph didn’t really know what to think of Foot Recruit, or Casey, as she preferred to be called. Pops insisted that she wasn’t dangerous anymore, but it was hard for him not to be a little wary; I mean, come on, she used to work with the Shredder!

 She’d been over only a handful of times over the past few months, usually to speak with Splinter and Mikey.

“Casey! April!” Mikey stuck his hands out of his shell in joy. He ran over and hugged them both. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Apes. And, hi to you too, Casey.” Leo kicked his legs up behind him.

“Above ground has been pretty hectic,” April leaned on Donnie’s shoulder as she spoke, “Everyone has been freaking out about disappearing from New York for a few days. Relaxing on a yacht sure beats coming back to the city in shambles. And finding another job is so hard when everyone’s paranoid we’re gonna all disappear again. Ugh, I wish we did, then I’d get another break!”

“Well, if you want a job, you can help me repair what’s left of my s- I mean, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. The Shredder tore him apart.” Donnie put his hands on his hips and relaxed his posture to cover his slip-up.

“Aw, your cute robot son isn’t repaired yet?” April teased.

As the two bickered while walking towards the lab, Raph looked back at Casey, who was standing by the entrance, visibly tense. 

“Hey, Casey. Um, why are you here?” Raph asked innocently, not realizing how rude he sounded.

“Smooth,” Leo chimed in unhelpfully.

Before he could take it back, Casey spoke, with a glare on her face. “I’m here for the orange one.”

Raph blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re gonna bake brownies!” Mikey clarified, his chest puffed out with pride. “Casey decided that I’m worthy of learning an old family recipe.”

“Yes!” Casey grinned, in a way that was far too menacing for someone talking about brownies. “I decided that, as a new member of your- um…” clan? Group? Committee?

“...Family?” Raph assisted.

“Uh, yes, that,” she turned shy for a few brief seconds, only to return to her previous bravado, pumping her fist in the air, “I will honor you with the knowledge of my grandmother’s most nefarious secret!”

------------------------------------------------------

Raph peeked into the kitchen as Mikey and Casey got to work. Of course, he trusted Mikey; but he had a hunch that Casey might be up to something.

Or maybe the boredom was just making him a bit more paranoid than usual.

Dirty dishes, half-full cups and brownie mix were strewn about the kitchen counter. Whatever this recipe pertained, it must be pretty intense.

“And, now, for the final ingredient. This one was given to me by my grandmother.” Casey pulled a canister of brown powder. She leaned over and whispered close to Mikey’s head. Whatever she was saying, Raph couldn’t hear.

Mikey gasped. “PUMPKIN SPICE?!”

Casey shushed him, then yelled herself. “It’s a secret, remember?!” She poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl full of batter.

The two of them looked so happy baking together, and Raph felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for assuming the worst. He really needed to chill out.

------------------------------------------------------

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Leo sunk into the bean bag chair, “You’re a fan of Lou Jitsu, right?”

“That is correct.” Casey was sitting stiffly in her seat. Her expressions were intense, like she was about to strangle someone, but Raph had realized pretty quickly that this was just her default.

“You have all of the movies memorized?”

“Of course! I used his guidelines for self improvement in my schemes to take over the world! I mean, that’s not really relevant now, but-”

“And you said you spend almost all of your available money on Lou Jitsu merch?”

“I hide them all so my guests don’t see.”

“And, yet, you’ve never watched a Jupiter Jim film? The Jupiter Jim, his longtime franchise rival and co-star in Jupiter Jim Vs Lou Jitsu?” Leo clutched at his chest, as he held up the DVD case of the movie he was talking about for emphasis.

“Leo,” Raph warned, looking up from his phone, “don’t make her feel bad-”

Leo chuckled. “Oh ho ho, trust me I won’t. I’m definitely putting on a Jupiter Jim Vs. The Galaxy Riders Part 1 and Part 2, and you are going to love it!”

Casey cackled ominously. “You really think this ‘Jupiter Jim-’” She made quotation marks with her fingers for emphasis, “-can measure up to the greatness that is Lou Jitsu? Fine, I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raph ended up dozing off after the fifth film, and woke up to see Casey and his brother still openly debating whether Lou Jitsu would beat Jupiter Jim if they were both in a desert completely unarmed and at full strength.

------------------------------------------------------

“I’m not scared of much,” Donnie mentions offhandedly one day, while Raph was doing a bicep curl, “but she -”

He points to Casey eating a sandwich like a hyena, while April sat next to her, texting.

“She terrifies me to no end.”

Donnie’s strange relationship with their new friend took Raph a while to comprehend. Then it became clear as day. If anyone could match Casey in moral ambiguity, it was his immediate younger brother.

“I made you a little gift,” the softshell grinned smugly, as he handed Casey what looked like a metal hockey stick.

“Oh, um,” Casey's eyes were wide, and a little watery, and her lips were in a warbly smile. “Thank you… no one’s ever given me something so nice.”

Donnie grinned. “Press the button on the side.”

When she did, the widest end of the hockey stick flipped open like a lighter, and a stream of fire shot out of the tip. Casey’s tears of joy gave way to maniacal laughter. “Those kids at the hockey rink won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Donnie joined her in glee, his eyes and teeth shining menacingly in the light of the flames. Raph watched in mild horror (He was plenty used to Donnie’s antics), at least until the fire alarm sounded and they were all drenched from the sprinklers.

------------------------------------------------------

Another month had passed since Casey started coming around, and Raph seemed like the only one in the lair who hadn’t quite jived with her yet. Sure, his suspicion had pretty much subsided, and he liked her company plenty, but the two of them hadn’t really clicked.

However, he noticed some slight changes over time. Casey’s eyes had bags under them which were more obvious in brighter lights, and sometimes she fell asleep on April’s shoulder (and snored louder than his Pops, somehow). Sometimes, there were hints of sadness on her face, even when she was laughing along with everyone.

Raph didn’t mention it for fear of being rude, but he couldn’t help his concern. After all, if she was upset, she probably wouldn’t mention to him all of the people.

------------------------------------------------------

Hockey wasn’t a sport Raph and his brothers knew much about, but he couldn’t help but get excited as Casey gushed about it, holding tightly onto the treasured tech-hockey stick Donnie had gifted her, wearing a huge grin on her face.

The two humans and four turtles (disguised as humans, of course) were just entering the hockey rink. The hall to the auditorium was cold and echoey.

“I come here every other Friday. The regulars here know my face, and they fear it. It’s ‘cause they know I’ll decimate everyone in my path!” She pumped her fist as she spoke, a sinister grin on her face, before she caught herself and straightened out. “Well, I do until the rink’s supervisors kick me out for making a scene and being mean to children.”

“Don’t sweat it, Casey,” Donnie spoke up, “You’re not the only one whose been kicked out of establishments for scaring kids.”

“Uh huh, exactly!” April agreed a bit too eagerly, and Raph looked back to see the distant, traumatized look in her eyes, and he could tell she was remembering the screams of children and the  sinister laughter of animatronics at a certain pizza joint.

The six teens got to the rink’s auditorium, and put their bags down on the bleachers. There weren’t too many people around.

Mikey whistled. “This place is massive!”

As Raph put on a maroon hoodie and pulled on his skates, Casey rolled onto the rink, over to a huddle of teenagers wearing hockey gear. “Hey!”

One of the teenagers - a boy with messy brown hair covering his eyes - responded. “Oh, you again. Guys, look, it’s that crazy girl from last week.”

“The name is Cassandra Jones!” Casey pulled down the hockey mask she was wearing and held up her stick. “I’m challenging you to another round! Did you really think you’d escape my wrath?!”

The kids started laughing. “You challenge us every time we’re here, and you always lose. What makes today so different?”

Casey laughed. “Well, for one thing, I’ve got my own team now, so you better get ready to go crying to your mommy!”

The group hadn’t stopped laughing, even as Casey walked back to the bleachers. Raph raised a brow. “Uh, what was all of that?”

She looked down. “Those are my enemies,” She clenched her fists, “A group of jerks who manage to beat me every time I come here.”

Raph paused for a second. The look on her face was determined, but had a hint of sadness to it. Raph understood how she felt; wanting to fight, but getting beaten down time and time again. He’d realized a while ago that he didn’t have to do it alone; and neither did she.

Raph put an arm around Casey’s shoulders, and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting to the teenagers from across the rink. “Hey, knuckleheads! You get ready for a match; you’re not just dealing with Cassandra Jones anymore! you’re dealing with the Mad Dogs, now!”

“Yeah, right!” One of the kids, a girl with a ponytail, shouts back.

He turned to face his brothers and April, who were sitting on the bleachers, their attention already on Raph from his shouting. “Hey, those guys over there are saying we’re gonna lose! What do we say to that?!”

“Oh ho ho, I like this energy!” Leo stood up on the bleachers, joining in the hype. April and Mikey stood up beside him.

“Yeah, you chumps aren’t even at our level!”

“Ya’ll ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Donnie stood up slowly, his arms crossed from the cold. “Yeah, we’ll definitely beat you! But-” He switched to his normal volume, “let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

Raph dismissed him, and looked at Casey, who was smiling. Together, they were able to beat the Shredder. This would be a piece of cake.

------------------------------------------------------

“Are we done? My mom is here to pick me up,” One of the kids, a girl with pigtails, mentioned as she walked towards her belongings on the bleachers.

Raph was gasping for air from his spot on the cold ground. Hockey was hard. Like, really, really hard.

In hindsight, their loss made sense; this was the turtles and April’s first time playing hockey, and even Casey, who’d been playing since she was a kid, wasn’t able to beat these kids. They really were just that good.

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Leo had fallen in front of the goal, two huge purple bruises visible on his face; one on his forehead, and the other under his eye, popping out from his green skin and red birthmarks.  

Mikey was crying on his knees, while April patted his shell, cussing out one of the kids who she felt pushed him too hard. Even as the kid was walking away. “And another thing-”

Donnie lay flat nearby, looking like a purple stain on the white shiny floor. He was never good at sports, but he tried. Geez, it was almost more embarrassing, with just how hard he tried.

------------------------------------------------------

They found a vending machine, and after Raph gave Leo a cold soda can to hold over his bruises, he walked past Casey, sitting with her head in her hands.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked around to see if the others were watching. April, Mikey and Donnie were going off about losing the match, while Leo sat dejectedly in the corner, nursing his injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and her lower lip wobbling. She hastily rubbed at her face with her sleeve, her eyeliner smearing. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Is this about us losing?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” She sighed. “It’s a lot of different things- It’s just…”

She trailed off, and Raph sat down next to her on the bleacher. He realized this had definitely been bubbling up for a while. If only he’d talked to her sooner.

“Ugh, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a success. Taking over the world was everything for me- helping the Foot, working for the Shredder, making that whole brownie pyramid-scheme. But now? I don’t have anything. I’ve hit rock bottom. Now, I’m stuck in a stupid rivalry with a bunch of kids in a hockey rink.”

She began to cry again. “What am I going to do? Am I just doomed to be a failure?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not taking over the world doesn’t make you a failure. Most people just stick to regular, everyday stuff and they turn out fine.”

“It’s not just about taking over the world,” Casey sighed. “I don’t have a purpose. No Clan, no commitments, no future. It’s like everything I do is a failure. I’m a failure.”

Raph felt himself start to tear up, too. What she was saying felt way too familiar. “You’re not the only one whose failed.”

“Huh?”

“My Pops told us we were supposed to die in order to protect the Dark Armor. We failed to do that, but we realized how messed up that was, and we decided to do our own thing. And it totally worked out for us, ‘cause we ended up destroying Shred-face once and for all.”

He stood, wiping the small tears from the corners of his eyes. “Think about it. So what that you don’t got a purpose? I get it, but your ‘purpose’ was handed to you by those Foot-faces. What do you wanna do? What do you wanna succeed at?”

Casey sat quietly for a few moments, thinking, and Raph feared that he might have said something hurtful. He was never as savvy with people as Leo or Mikey.

Then she spoke. “I spent all of my life trying to be the best, even if it meant being the biggest bad guy in the world. Now, I want to be the best good guy!”

Her expression softened. “I guess what I really want - I want to stop people who were like me once. I want to stop evil people who want to control others. But...how?”

Raph thought. Then, an idea struck him. “You and me can team up!”

“For what?”

“I was a vigilante for a little while. I mean, I used to be, but I guess since I was already part of a team, and with the whole Shredder thing, I just sort of stopped. But, since my bros are on hiatus, you and me could fight crime undercover!”

Casey was looking at her lap, her head bowed. Raph cleared his throat. “I mean, only if you wanna, it’s just a suggestion-”

“That sounds amazing.” Casey looked up at him in awe, her dark eyes glossy with unshed tears. Suddenly, she stands up, and pumps a fist into the air. “Raph and Casey, the most feared vigilante duo in all of New York!”

“Yeah, Go big or go home!”  Raph pounded his fist into his other hand in excitement.

“Oh me gosh, stop yelling!” The two look behind them to Leo, still holding the can to his face. He turned in the direction of his twin. “Donnie, get me another can! This one’s warm!”

Casey was giving him a big smile, a far cry from her previous mood. Raph smiled back. Finally, he’d be able to go out and fight crime again; and this time, he wouldn’t be at it alone.

[stories-to-tell-by-lantern-light]

Who Am I Really?

(Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Iron was all he could taste, as he hugged his arms close to his chest. The white snow that speckled the forest floor contrasted greatly with his newly acquired ash-grey skin. He could feel blood crusting under his fingernails, he could feel the sting of the cold snow underneath his bare feet as he walked. Whatever they did to him, he was no longer human that much was clear, his feet turned more animal-like and had ripped through his old shoes. If he was being honest with himself he knew that from the moment he awoke and could still see that he was no longer human.

Jack Nichols shivered as he caressed the hollow sockets where his eyes should’ve been. They were dripping with the black tar that was mercilessly poured in there by Jenny and her cult.

‘That absolute fucking bitch.’ He thought, and an animal-like snarl tore through his throat. He could feel the stretching and popping of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Killing her and her stupid friends was therapeutic to him, remembering the taste of their blood as it filled his mouth when he tore out their throats made him feel euphoric. Pausing his steps only for a brief moment he let those memories of eating their flesh and organs consume him, it only served to make his mouth water.

What was wrong with him? Why did that memory, which happened only hours ago, make him so god damn hungry? What exactly had they done to him, as much as he tried not to dwell on that thought the hunger that ate away at him even after the slaughter was almost too much to handle. All Jack wanted when he woke up this morning was to go on a date with a cute girl, get a little drunk, and maybe get lucky (though realistically that was just wishful thinking). The true college experience one might say, even for a med student. Especially with a schedule as busy as his...that was as busy as his. He knew he should’ve just stuck to focusing on school and studying his brain out, god why did he have to listen to his friends as they urged him on the date.

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

This. This was clearly the worst possible outcome.

What he really couldn’t believe, however, was that he allowed one of the cultists to get a hit on him, and a bad one at that. Turning his head to glance down at the tear in his thigh, it was a deep gash that desperately needed to get medical attention and fast. The only problem the former medical student faced was that whatever was pouring out of his leg wasn’t blood. It was a deep black ooze that stained the white snow that littered the forest floor. In fact, Jack wasn’t even sure if normal medical supplies would even heal his wound. Jack grit his teeth trudging onwards into the forest, a faint buzzing reverberated around in his skull like flies buzzing around a corpse that he couldn’t seem to shake.

He placed his hand against a tree the world spinning around him. Whatever the blood-like substance that was pouring out of his leg was, he was losing it fast. Jack heard the crunching of snow in front of him and a small gasp. It took most of his strength but he picked his head up and snarled. Jack bared his teeth and tried to make himself look as dangerous as possible, he felt like a wild animal that was cornered by the hunter. There was a girl in front of him, she had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was stuffed under a furry winter hat. She took a few steps back, her brown snow boots making giant footprints in her wake. He could hear the blood flowing through this girl’s veins, as her anxiety levels seemed to spike. The anxiety caused her heartbeat to quicken drastically, hearing the sound only served to increase Jack’s seemingly ceaseless hunger. Jack tried to take another step towards her, flexing the sharp nails on his hands but collapsed under his own weight, his fucking leg. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“What are you?” The girl’s voice held a slight quiver to it and Jack could feel her sharp eyes burning holes into his body. He watched as she hesitantly took a step closer, her (f/c) parka standing out against the muted colors of the forest.

“I don’t know.” He responded with a raspy breath, she smelled divine but he had no strength to attack. Something in his bones told him that he was beyond human, something so much more, a god perhaps? What a silly thought that he couldn’t shake away. Through his quickly blurring vision, he swore he could make out a pair of fancy dress shoes a little bit behind the girl. He saw the girl drop to her knees and cover her ears, his vision went black and the sound of static accompanied the darkness.

---

Jack was expecting to be dead. He expected to be accompanied by beautiful white light, maybe an angel or something. However, it caught him very off guard when he suddenly awoke in a rather plush bed. He threw the plaid covers off himself unceremoniously and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The baby god never got far because he let out a howl of pain as a sharp sensation traveled up his thigh. Shit right, his entire upper thigh was practically ripped open. He forgot all about that, glancing down at his wound he noticed it was wrapped tightly in medical bandages and he assumed it was stitched up underneath the dressings. Whoever fixed the wound seemed to have done at least a semi-decent job, at least he wasn’t dead. Sniffing the air with his newly acquired sense of smell he could make out the distinct smell of humans and...was that lavender?

Jack felt his stomach growl and he doubled over clutching it. They smelled delicious. He could practically hear their organs singing out to him, rip open the human, steal us, devour us.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the door opening, in the middle of the doorway stood the exact girl he’d seen in the forest. Immediately going on the defense he bared his teeth opening his jaw as wide as he could, he heard the popping sound of his jaw as it extended, he felt something swirl around in his mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine at the unwelcomed sensation.

Did he have more than one tongue?

Shaking the thought away Jack didn’t move to attack, he was never the type. He would always rather listen to rationality before getting his hands dirty, the only issue was he was starving and the girl would absolutely make a fine meal.

“Don’t try demon.” The girl scoffed eyeing Jack up and down, if he was still his old college self he would’ve gotten flustered at the gesture. A girl showing him attention? Unheard of back them. However, after Jenny, he was almost positive he’d never let that happen again. His sockets looked down at what the girl held in her hands, it was a plate, a plate that had kidneys on top of it. He was only mildly aware of the fact that he was drooling all over himself. “Oh gross.” She scrunched up her nose placing the organs on the bottom of the bed.

Without hesitation, Jack attacked the cold meat shoving it in his mouth with vigor. He knew blood was all over his face and hands but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack knew the girl’s calculated eyes were watching his every move, even so, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as the food slid down his throat. Once the meal was finished and Jack was satisfied he finally felt he had enough strength to start asking questions.

“Who are you?” He rasped, whipping his mouth with the back of what was left of his sleeve.

“Really? You’re asking ME that question.”

“I’m not a fan of your attitude.”

“I’m not a fan of you bleeding out on my property.”

Jack growled low and guttural.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” The girl had the audacity to laugh in his face was she not aware of what he was capable of now?

“Nice try but I’m not scared of you. You’re not allowed to hurt me as long as you’re under my care.” She pointed to herself with her thumb, puffing out her chest a little however he could hear her pulse increase just the slightest bit.

Jack only scowled.

“What pray tell is exactly stopping me?” He raised an eyebrow watching carefully as the girl lifted up her sleeve to her sweater. Scared into her wrist was a symbol that Jack had never seen before in his life, but for some unknown reason, he felt dread wash over him. Carved into her wrist was an O with an X slashed through it. “What’s that supposed to prove exactly? That you’re into weird tattoos?”

The (h/c)-ette let out a loud sigh like this conversation was boring her. Oh he’s sorry it’s not his fault he was turned into a fucking organ-eating monster by a cult at his local college! If he still had his eyes they would be rolling so far back into his skull, yet he still waited for the girl to explain.

“My name is (y/n), I’m a medical proxy under The Operator. Currently one of the only ones he has left because we keep getting killed off by rogue killers.” The girl, (y/n), clicked her tongue in clear distaste at the mention of said killers. “Since I’m under The Operator it means if you kill me, he’ll kill you, that’s the deal Jacky boy.” That put him on high alert.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“You’re certainly full of questions for someone just waking up out of a coma. If you must know The Operator gave me a brief rundown of your file after we found you in the woods.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest “It’s your lucky day because you just got hired to work for him.” She gave him a round of applause, but it sounded more mocking than serious and he only grew more confused.

“This doesn't make any sense to me. I hope you’re aware.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. It’ll all be explained in due time. For now, all you have to focus on is getting better so you can begin your training. Lucky for you, I’m your registered nurse and caregiver, so enjoy your stay at castle de la (Y/n). Trust me when I say you should value your time here while you still have it.” A thousand more questions ran through Jack’s mind and his little question and answer session with his self-proclaimed nurse didn’t really help.

“So you’re a med student then?” She made a noise of affirmation picking at the strings of her sweater.

“Was a med student Jack, that pretty much came to a screeching halt after I was scouted by the boss man. That, however,” He watched as (Y/n) put a hand to her lips signaling him to stop asking questions, “Is a story for another day. The first order of business now that you’ve eaten is a shower. Cause no offense but you smell like dried blood, and coming from me that’s saying something cause I smell blood all the time.”

Jack still didn’t trust this stranger fully and it got under his skin that she seemed to know everything about him and he knew next to nothing about her. Yet, a shower did seem nice at this moment, he glanced down at his hands and noticed his nails were caked with dry blood. He could only imagine what every other part of his body looked like, (y/n) clearly didn’t bother cleaning him up aside from dressing his wounds.

“A shower sounds good.” Jack nodded in confirmation and the girl gave a relieved smile.

“Oh thank God you agreed, it took me a week of convincing to get Jeff to go take his first shower.” Jack decided it was best not to ask who Jeff was deciding that that was a can of worms he shouldn’t open just yet. She reached out to touch him and he immediately recoiled back almost biting her handoff, the smile that appeared disappeared into a frown.

“Don’t touch me.” Memories of Jenny’s friends holding him down while he pleaded for his life flashed across his mind. The blade coming closer and closer to Jack’s crystal blue eyes before making contact and-

“Alright, cannibal boy snap out of it. Can’t have you succumbing to blood lust just yet. You don’t wanna injure yourself more.” (Y/n) snapped her fingers next to his ears and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she snapped him out of his stupor. “I was going to help you to the bathroom because you really shouldn’t put pressure on your leg. Is that okay?”

Jack felt himself nodding reluctantly. She was right, he really shouldn’t put stress on his leg or it could cause more harm than good. Especially since he didn’t know the extent of the injury yet, for all he knew he was lucky they didn’t hit the femoral artery. Her arms went around his waist as the god and the human girl hobbled to the bathroom together. On the short walk there Jack was trying to get a feel of the house, in case he needed to make a grand escape in the future.

“I’ll put some fresh clothes outside the door for you, call for me when you’re done so I can help you back to the bedroom.” (Y/n) explained as Jack hobbled into the bathroom, he didn’t feel the need to respond to her as he shut the door in her face. He heard a faint click of a tongue from the other side of the door and listened to the girls retreating footsteps.

Jack leaned against the sink putting most of his weight on his hands. The sink creaked at the newfound pressure and Jack wasn’t sure it was because it was an old house or because he had newfound strength. He glanced up at the mirror, it was weird somewhat seeing when you had absolutely no eyes. It was the first time since the incident he got a good look at himself, he looked about as good as he felt.

Terrible.

His auburn hair curled around his now pointed ears and was caked in mud and dirt. He was almost grateful that (y/n) didn’t touch him aside from the wound while he was unconscious, Jack couldn’t imagine what he might’ve done if he felt anyone go near his face. Speaking of his face, he opened his mouth and saw his teeth were shaved into razor-sharp fangs. His stomach turned as he remembered the exact reason why they were like that, organs. They were like that so he could eat organs. The thought wasn’t nearly as nauseating as it should’ve been.

His skin was unnatural and sickly grey color, as he lifted up his shirt the color seemed to spread all the way down his body. He glanced down at his hands and saw his nails were long and black, almost like those girls who wore acrylics, except he was sure their nails couldn’t rip into people's chests with a single swipe. Continuing down his body he lifted up one of his padded feet, he was correct in his assumption from earlier. They were much more animal-like, he wondered if they made him faster, what purpose could they possibly serve other than that?

Gently letting his footfall back down on the floor he shuffled to the shower and turned it on, the water sprayed out in a burst and he patiently waited for it to heat up. Eventually, he was able to step inside, not before knocking his head not only against the curtain rod but also on the showerhead.

“Fuck!” He snarled glaring down at the showerhead. Jack did a little double-take, okay he was also super tall, at least he got one blessing out of whatever the fuck was happening. Jack had to kneel on the ground in order to let the water roll down his body, with a deep breath he enjoyed the warm water pelting his skin. He fumbled around with the shampoo trying to figure out how to open it without popping a hole in the container. As the lid popped open he was hit with the calming scent of lavender.

~~~

“We’ll send someone to come back and check on him in about a month give or take, see how he’s adjusting and healing.” A figure spoke from the kitchen shaking a cigarette into an ashtray, as (y/n) stood across from him. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair “Then we’ll reassess him, give him a test and see if he’s fit to come to the mansion.” Meanwhile, the girl heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against the cool tiles of her kitchen wall.

“So it’s gonna be my responsibility to explain everything that’s happening to him? Isn’t that supposed to be your job Tim?” (y/n) raised an eyebrow “You realize he’s, like, almost seven feet tall, has no eyes and eats organs right? I’m not even sure WHAT he is.” She muttered, “The rundown I got really only gave me his background and his clear trauma.”

Tim clicked his tongue like the girl in front of him was wasting his time, it made her ball up her fists subconsciously.

God, the main proxies really got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

“You won’t have to worry about that, The Operator will handle all of that throughout the coming weeks. No need to worry. You also don’t need to worry about harvesting organs for him, and hopefully, once he’s healed he’ll work on doing that himself. But for now, someone on a kill close by will be dropping off organs.” Tim’s nose scrunched up a little and the (h/c)-nette’s did the same, she normally prided herself on her strong stomach, but this was a lot even for her. “The only thing you have to do is monitor his eating, see how much he will need on a weekly basis, and obviously keep him alive.”

“Obviously.” They both seemed to have a mutual understanding about that at least, she fucks up and he dies they’re both in deep shit with The Operator. Tim reached to the side where his porcelain mask sat against the countertop.

“Don’t fuck it up.” He pointed to her before slipping out the door leaving the women alone with an organ-eating monster. (Y/n) mimicked ‘don’t fuck it up' in a nasal voice before kicking off the wall and heading back in the direction of her guest's room, she pulled out a pair of crutches from the closet and rested them by the bedside. She gently scratched at the faintly buzzing symbol on her wrist, this is going to be a long month.

[demonkidpliz]

Things I learned while re-watching Star Plus Mahabharata (Part 19/many):

Kansa’s death scene is A+, 10/10. 

Boy Krishna literally looks like Devaki!

I know where else I have seen Boy Krishna! He plays Pradyumna in Radhakrishna!

Arjun, Bhim and Drupad have no chill and I am here for this rage. Let’s keep this going until the war starts.

It is very sad that in Kalyug a woman has to fend for her own honour when ideally it should be a joint effort by men and women.

The only appropriate reaction to a man attempting to dishonour your wife was shown by Krishna and by Ram before him = decapitation. I will not be hearing arguments against this at this time.

We should not be resorting to war. WELL YOU AND YOUR NEPHEWS SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE THAT GAME OF DICE KAKASHRI VIDUR.

I am here for this Panchali. What did you decide? What did Madhav have to say?

Panchali is against the peace proposal and honestly I am on her side.

Panchali is 100% right. The decision to fight or not is Panchali’s. Not the Pandavas. Because for every action and reaction of men, it is the women and their children who suffer. She is 100/100 right.

At least she has Krishna on her side who has absolutely no qualms in pretending anything other than the fact that he really badly wants this war. This is literally what he was put on earth to do.

In the actual story, Duryodhan offers to put Krishna up in Dushasan’s palace which was allegedly bigger and better than the main palace. And Krishna declines because he wishes to stay in Vidur’s palace but StarBharat fails to show why. It’s because Krishna’s aunt, Kunti, lives with Vidur and I think it is the most natural thing in the world that he would want to stay with his aunt rather than with these random cousins by marriage.

I am sorry sweetie (Krishna) there is no dharm ka phool in Angaraj Karna’s heart. He's a social climber.

Aye hai laddoo Gopal really be here turning all this karela into laddoos.

Nice that they gave some screen time to Vidur’s wife. Now they need to do this 200x with all the female characters.

Krishna is…right? Yudhishthir should have been crowned Yuvraj the moment Pandu died and the Pandavas came to Hastinapur. Dhritarashtra was a placeholder king and his son cannot inherit this throne. It is a different matter altogether that Dhritarashtra was the rightful king and that they should have never crowned Pandu as king. 

Krishna coming at the Kauravas with one banger after another. Their behaviour towards Draupadi cannot be forgiven. And not just Duryodhan, every man in that Sabha was culpable.

Is Duryodhan really going to bind Krishna with those big ass fake looking gold chains? This seems like a bad idea.

Krishna is asking for five villages for the five Pandavas. But Duryodhan has nothing if not his principles.

Karna is sooo annoying. Oh my god, we get it. You would give your life for your rich pals.

At least Bhishma, Vidur and Dronacharya are showing some good sense now. Long overdue.

Oho! Even Dhritarashtra has the good sense to agree to this five village business.

Lol, I can’t wait for Duryodhan to try and imprison Krishna.

I’m also waiting for the needle’s head worth of land line. Will StarBharat oblige?

StarBharat has obliged! Duryodhan will not concede a needle’s worth of land.

Krishna looks...mildly discomfited.

Arrest this cowherd LMAAOOO 

The big ass fake looking gold chains are here.

The soldiers can’t even get up, let alone pick up the chains. How underwhelming.

Is StarBharat also going to show me the wondrous scene where Dhritarashtra temporarily gets his vision? Coz that would be cool.

Oh finally someone (Karna) has the sense to say that this is not how one behaves with a peace messenger.

Chal, gwale! I am ded 🤣

What happened to the Vishwaroop scene in the middle of the Hastinapur court??

Very attracted right now to moustached Krishna dressed like a guard.

Calm down, think of Jesus.

Is Krishna also dressed like Vikarna and Karna?

Accha, Drona also.

And Pitamaha.

This is fun! 

Mamashri Shakuni 😂

Kakashri Vidur. I could do this forever.

SRJ looks amazing as all these characters. Even Dhritarashtra.

Where did Krishna transport them? On the banks of the Ganga? Dwarka? 

Did Krishna strike Duryodhan’s thigh?

YAAAAS

Dhritarashtra can see the Vishwaroop! 

Apparently, after this, Krishna gave him the option of retaining his sight. And Dhritarashtra said that after having seen the Vishwaroop to see other sights on earth was simply not worth it. 

Should’ve kept his sight for the war but he has his satellite dish Sanjay.

Okay Krishna has left. This was anticlimactic.

Oh cool, Krishna is going to play the Kunti card.

I simply love Kunti’s character and every scene with Krishna and Kunti in the same frame is simply golden.

Kunti’s entire personality is so on brand with the no chill Yadav mood.

Please do not for one second pretend that you altruistically care about the child you abandoned at birth. You’re doing this to save the skins of the five sons you actually give a damn about.

At least Radha is slightly more realistic about Karna than Kunti is.

Radha and Vrushali are like, how do you know this, Vaasudev? Vaasudev (probably): I drink and I know things.

Nothing will astonish me as much as my progression in life going from a Karna Stan to an absolute Karna Skeptic.

Karna is a social climber. That is all I have to say on this topic.

The only thing admirable about Karna’s character is his loyalty towards Duryodhan.

Also, where is this conversation between Krishna and Karna taking place? On the banks of the Ganga? Yamuna? The sea beach at Dwarka?

Where is the big speech Krishna gives to Karna? Where he promised that Draupadi will marry him (HA, AS IF) and that Yudishthira will crown him King of Hastinapur (that fool might just) if he fights on behalf of the Pandavas.

Are all Radhas this terrible? Are they all hell bent on stealing for themselves things that do not belong to them? Why won’t this awful woman own up to the fact that she’s not Karna’s biological mom?

Okay Karna is back on the banks of this mysterious water body.

I will have you all know that Karna may be suddenly having feels for Kunti, but was totally okay to sacrifice her during the Varnavat episode.

Oh goddamn it, Starbharat! 

Hitting me right in the feels when I least expect it.

Karna thinking back to all the times he was with Arjun, not knowing that they were brothers.

I’m not going to lie. Karna is in an impossible spot. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Now I am remembering why child me Stanned Karna so much.

I may not like Karna but at least I respect him for supporting Duryodhan.

I can’t wait for Queen of Resting Bitch Face, Kunti, to come and beg for her sons’ lives from Karna, when she literally does not give a damn if Karna lives or dies. Kunti knows which side her bread is buttered. Such a Yadav.

Oh this Karna-Vrushali scene is A+, 10/10. I really wish StarBharat gave more screen time to its women.

Okay I feel bad for Kunti also, mostly because I love Kunti. 

But let us not pretend that given a choice between her Parth and this veritable stranger, she will always always choose Arjun.

She had to do this for Kuntibhoj, her poor father, who loved her so much, who couldn’t have children and all he ever wanted was a child of his own, so much so that he begged Shoorsena to give him one of his daughters.

I think what’s worse is that Kunti knew. Right from the beginning. And she stayed quiet. That was not right. 

StarBharat really be here trying to make me feel for Karna again. Smh.

How tf will Karna be a Pandava? When Kunti wasn’t even mf married to Pandu when she gave birth to Karna?

Karna talking about Duryodhana while the Dharmecha shlok plays in the background. Chills.

I have a story called The tree stump on Karna, in case you are interested. 

Yeah Kunti f*cked up here. I support Karna. He is nothing but a prisoner of birth. 

Pretty big of Karna to ask Kunti not to tell his brothers. Uncharacteristic of a social climber. He’s not a bad soul, I guess. 

I don’t know if it’s Kunti’s dialogue or her acting or the background score but I am tearing up. No assholes here.

Kunti might as well cry because if Karna refuses to call her Mata until Arjun dies, she’s never going to hear it from him. Coz he will be dead.

It’s okay, Kunti, you can relax. You got what you came here for (ish).

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You miss Seokjin.   You know that you shouldn’t, but in the middle of the night while you’re unable to sleep, you pick up your phone again. And you send him a text.   2:03 am. Y/N: hey   The bright screen stares back at you, illuminating your face and blinding your vision in the darkness of your quiet dorm room. Your messages are lined up in a row, the same exact text left unanswered. Ones you sent from a week ago to two days ago.   The radio silence makes the realization sink in — he broke it off. Jin really has no plans of communicating with you again, of giving you an explanation other than telling you that it’s run its course and that you’re not the one at fault.   It doesn’t sit well with you, so your thumb moves, quicker than you can list the consequences for. You call his number. It dials. But instead of hearing the tone ring, you hear an automated message.   Seokjin changed his number.   //   It’s morning while on the way to class with you hiding beneath the hood of Jin’s sweater that you end up catching sight of someone familiar walking towards your direction. It’s your only strand of hope, but you step forward before the opportunity is lost. “Hani?”   “Y/N?” Hani stops and greets you with a smile. She’s a friend — well, Seokjin’s friend. But she still regards you with the same warmth as she gave to you for the past two years, albeit the atmosphere is awkward.    The both of you know what happened, know it’s looming over your heads. But no one speaks about it, no one dares to broach the subject. “Hey, how are you?” And her question is asked at a higher pitch, cautious as if you were a wounded animal that she was afraid of scaring.   “I’m...fine, how are you?”   “I’m okay.” Hani nods and gathers the courage to approach the issue that you’re skirting around. “I...heard about what happened. It’s a real shame. I hope you’re holding up well.”   “Trying.” You muster a smile, shrugging your shoulders.   Yet in spite of her friendliness, you can still feel it — the distance.    Like you thought, they sided with him. They’ve chosen him with no plans of getting between you two and involving themselves in the conflict. “Well, I should go. I might be late. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”   You nod and she brushes past you. But then you twist on your heel. “Hani?”   “Yeah?” She spins around.   “Did,” you hesitate, “Jin say anything about me?”   “No, he didn’t,” she says, quietly and sadly.   You bob your head again, meeting her eye. “How is he?”   “He’s okay.”   You wonder what that means — if he never really cared, if he’s already over this. But you’re also glad that he’s okay. You’ll never have any ill wishes against Jin. You still love him.

Jungkook and his friends have a system, if one could call it that — a shitty system of crashing each other’s dorms. Sometimes they’re crowding around Taehyung’s gaming consoles, other times it’s Jimin’s computer. Or Jungkook’s flat screen that he spent his entire summer job’s savings for. Or even going to Hoseok and Yoongi’s apartment to raid the fridge and be as loud as they want without getting noise complaints.   Hoseok and Yoongi didn’t like the dorm life, so they were willing to raise their living expenses and pool their money together for an apartment off campus. And that’s where Jungkook finds himself this evening.   They’re watching a soccer game, but the only person invested is Taehyung who actually knows the teams and who is who. Hoseok is preoccupied pigging out on the snacks, Yoongi sipping his drink, and Jimin is playing a game on his phone.   “Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, smacking his lips after taking a swig of the beer. He can’t wait till Taehyung gets curious and drinks some — he’d probably gag from the taste.   Yoongi looks up. “What?”   “It’s not about me, but I have a friend of a friend and this friend of theirs was...dumped pretty badly and now they’re depressed and not talking...at all….and they don’t really have friends anymore because all their friends were my friend’s friends, so it really sucks for them.”   “Uh-huh.”   “So what would you hypothetically say to my friend’s friend to make them feel better or like what would you do?”   “Well, for one, I’d take Y/N out,” Hoseok pipes up while chuckling.   Jimin lifts his head and Taehyung looks over. The two of them exchange expressions and burst out laughing. Jungkook sighs in irritation. “Who said this was about Y/N?!”   “We’re not total idiots, dude.” Jimin grins. “Sometimes.”   In the meanwhile, Taehyung leans down to give a punch to Jungkook’s arm and winks. “Trying to slide into her DMs now that she’s single, huh? I see you, Kook. Still got game. Can’t say I’m not impressed. Go get that puss—”   “As if.” Jungkook scoffs. “I just feel bad, alright? Forget I asked. Whatever.”   But Yoongi isn’t ready to drop the subject quite yet. His cat-like eyes narrow in on him as he sips on his drink. He puts the bottle down on the coffee table with a clank. “Since when did you start caring about her?”   “I don’t—”   “You don’t have to get defensive,” Yoongi deadpans boredly. He isn’t that interested, merely stating a fact. “I’m just surprised.”   “She’s going to be my internship partner whether I like it or not in a few months.” The youngest sighs. “I don’t want to make it awkward. And I thought it would be better in the long run if we become friends now. It would be nice to have each other’s backs. Or at least be civil enough where she’s not trying to rip my head off every other second.”   Yoongi appears mildly understanding and nods. “So it’s a diplomatic thing.”   “Yeah.”   “Invite her to our game night,” Hoseok says from the kitchen.   “Don’t do that.” Yoongi scoffs, expression wrinkled like he bit into a lemon. “It’s our thing.”   “Are we ten? Boys only?” Hoseok argues, “We already have our thing every single night anyway. Plus, it might be a nice change since Jungkook always wins.”   “Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Do whatever you want.”   “That actually sounds kind of fun!” Taehyung grins, tearing his eyes away from the soccer game. Jungkook’s amazed that he had half a mind to pay attention to the conversation. “But I wonder if Y/N is any good at board games or if she even plays.”   “Is everyone cool with me asking?” Jungkook looks around — Hoseok and Taehyung are enthusiastic about the prospect while Yoongi is passive aggressive at worst and apathetic at best.   It’s Jimin who looks uncertain.   “She’s….intimidating,” he mutters. “But….I think you’re right. Y/N looks like she’s having a tough time and if we can help, then we should. At least then we know we tried.”   He nods. There’s only one issue left. “I don’t even know if she’ll even accept…”   Knowing you, you might just laugh in his face and then spit at him for even making such a suggestion. Then again, with how you’ve been acting lately, you might just start crying from gratefulness and freak him out. Both scenarios are equally horrible.

The pair of you bake alongside each other as the teacher watches for technique and the order of the procedures done. Jungkook works on the dough while you focus on the custard filling. It’s surprisingly perfect teamwork — you’re in sync with one another and assemble the final cake together.   And when the teacher returns to eat it, he’s astounded that it’s been exactly replicated. From the taste to the presentation.   You leave the room with a ninety percent grade, having absolutely aced the midterm.   “That was pretty good, huh?!” Jungkook grins, putting his hand out. You muster a small smile, and high-five him back.   “Yeah.”   “Man, all our hard work paid off! Did you see the look on Mr. Chu’s face?”   He was over the moon, especially considering that napoleon cake isn’t all that easy to make under strict time constraints. But when Jungkook glances at you, you don’t seem very happy over it. Your eyes are on the floor with your downcast head.   “Hey.” The doe-eyed boy pokes your shoulder until you look up at him. “Do you wanna…”   “Pardon?” Your brows furrow. His voice became so quiet, you couldn’t hear him.   Jungkook clears his throat noisily. “I asked how you were holding up?”   You shrug. “Fine. I don’t know. Do you really want to hear about it?”    You doubt he would trouble himself with your problem, but what catches you off guard is that he stops in the middle of the hallway and nods. You stop with him too. “Sure. Shoot.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, I don’t see why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”   You inhale a deep breath. It catches in your throat. Your fist tightens, nails digging into your skin. You swear you wouldn’t cry again. “I texted Jin, even though I know it wasn’t a good idea and yeah, it wasn’t. He changed his number.”   “Oh….shit.”   “And I talked to one of his friends yesterday and she said he’s doing fine. He hasn’t really talked about me. And I don’t really know what any of that means. I haven’t seen him around either. I think he’s avoiding me and I can’t help thinking about what I did that was so wrong for me to be treated this way. I don’t….I don’t think I deserve this.” You exhale a shallow breath, eyes stinging painfully.   Jungkook suddenly plops his hand on the top of your head. You frown at him and he realizes what he’s doing and withdraws his hand awkwardly. “That really...sucks.”   “Yeah, thanks, I know.”   “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.”   “You don’t have to say anything,” you tell. “Thanks for not laughing, I guess.”   “Why would I laugh?” Jungkook asks, genuinely confused. You shrug.    You always thought Jungkook would be the first to applaud your misery — he’d goad you and cheer you when you’d cry. You guess you severely misjudged him. “Are you free tonight?”   “Why?”   “My friends and I are doing this thing.” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck and diverts his vision elsewhere. “We meet up to play games sometimes. It’s really Taehyung’s thing cause he’s the one who likes games, but if you’re free, then you should come along. We’re in need of new players actually, cause it gets boring when it’s the same people over and over again….”   “Would they mind?”   He swallows hard, taking in the way your head is quirked to the side, your eyes big and glimmering with hope. It seems like you’re taking him up on the offer or at least considering it and he’s pleasantly surprised. “No, no, they wouldn’t.”   “I don’t want to make it weird or anything…”   “No, you wouldn’t. Trust me. They’re just a bunch of lame dorks, and you kind of already know Taehyung and Jimin. They’re nice guys. So if you wanna come, you should. No pressure whatsoever though.”   “Sure.” The corners of your mouth lifts.   “Really?”   “Yeah. That’s….okay, right?”   “Totally. Yep. I’ll text you where and what time.”   You never knew one day you’d be going off campus to some random apartment for a night of game boards, much less with Jeon Jungkook. Part of you is skeptical about his offer, envisioning that he’s catfishing you somehow, that there isn’t actually anything happening and he’ll text you ‘sike’ after making you wait hours.    But then you remind yourself that he hasn’t been exactly an asshole lately and that you’re not in the cruel world of High School anymore. Jungkook would have to be sick to prank you in this state.   You can already hear the boisterous noise on the other side of the door before you even knock. But after some hesitation, the sounds taper off when you do.    The door swings open and Jungkook greets you with his doe eyes and messy dark hair flopping in different directions. He’s in a black shirt and loose, gray sweatpants, casual unlike how he usually dresses for class and the kitchen.   “Hey!” He reaches in to give you a quick hug. You stiffen and he lets go. “Come in!”   “Finally, she’s here!” Hoseok stands from the couch with his beer and moves to the table Taehyung’s setting up.   “Sorry, am I late?”   “Right on time actually,” Jimin says with a gentle smile.   “Beer or cooler or wine?” Yoongi suddenly asks, twisting around from the fridge.   “A-Any.” It’s fast paced, but they’re welcoming. There’s not a moment for awkwardness to settle in. Yoongi comes over with a beer can, tosses it, and you catch it with both hands. “Thanks.”   “We usually start with a game of good ol’ Janga.” Taehyung grins from his spot at the table. “Usually the person who goes before the loser gets to pick the next game, but since you’re our guest of honour, you can pick. There’s a whole shelf of them over there.”   He gestures towards the living room and you head over to look at the boxes that are accumulating. There’s a ton of boxes stack on each other on the shelf — The Game of Life, Risk, Twister, Battleship, Monopoly, Connect Four, Snakes and Ladders, and even CandyLand.   “What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the bottom shelf with a huge bin. There seems to be small bags inside, place mats, and books too.   “It’s stuff for D&D,” Jungkook clarifies with a sigh, popping a can of beer open to drink. “Dungeons and Dragons.”   “Taehyung’s been wanting to get us to play,” Jimin tells with a smile.   “I’m a great DM,” Taehyung chirps, “It would be so much fun, but we don’t really have time for a whole campaign. Otherwise I’d pull together official content and stuff from Unearthed Arcana and run a module from Wizards of the Coast—”   “Alright, nerd.” Yoongi sighs after a swig. “I’m not trying to re-virgin myself and remain abstinent for the rest of my life, alright? You can do that by yourself.”   “Don’t hate on my game, bitch,” Taehyung spits as Jimin and Jungkook laugh. A smile comes to your face and it isn’t one you have to muster for once. “Wait till the day you come to me and ask me advice on what kind of spells a halfling bard should have at level six.”   “Over my dead body.”   “Okay, can we not argue for once? We have a guest.” Hoseok intercepts with his hands out, literally standing between them. “Let’s try to not scare her off?”   You go back to looking, but you can’t seem to decide what game to play. “There’s a lot.”   “It’s not ours,” Yoongi pipes up again, wearing a friendly smile that is more like a smirk. “This is Hoseok and I’s place. Taehyung just always finds a way to put his shit here too.”   “Hey! That’s cause no one else has a big table like this at their dorm, plus my place is too messy to store my precious games there. They’re expensive, you know.”   “All I know is that somehow I always come home to furniture and clothes on my bed that I swear I didn’t purchase….”   “Alright, alright.” Hoseok intervenes for the second time, having enough of this nonsense. “Is the game done being set up or what? Y/N come sit, you can choose the game later.”   You gather around the table with Jungkook beside you. He leans in while the others are figuring out who gets to start and what direction to go in. “Sorry about that.”   “No, it’s okay,” you say and mean it too. “Your friends are a lot of fun.”   Yet the moment the game begins, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. It goes quieter, less fooling around as it intensely dials down. There are half-lidded stares across the table, snarky remarks exchanged. They’re a competitive group and you feel a lot of pressure to perform well.   Jimin seems to go for the easy blocks. Hoseok tries to make it more difficult for the next person. Yoongi is the designated asshole, going for the second top layer while Taehyung argues that it isn’t even allowed. On the other hand, Jungkook somehow flicks the Jenga block with his middle finger and thumb. He’s cocky about his technique, leaning back as his arm drapes over the back of your chair. He runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek with his brow lifted.    You remember why you fucking hated him now. He’s so unbearable sometimes.   “What?” He looks at you when he finds you staring.   You frown at him. And for a second Jungkook gets a glimpse of the bitch he remembers — the one he misses. “Why do you have to be so extra about it? Who are you trying to impress?”   “Right?!” Taehyung stands up and the entire stack of blocks nearly topples over. “I keep trying to tell him that! It’s so goddamn annoying! You won’t even believe it!”   “Watch it,” Hoseok shouts, “You’re going to make it tip over.”   That’s when you become fired up. You’ve never felt this kind of motivation surging between your veins before. But it’s not a thirst to win — it’s a ravenous hunger to beat Jeon Jungkook.   And you do.   After playing to Hoseok’s tactic and being an asshole, you risk it all to remove an important block and it collapses on Jungkook right as he tries to remove another.   Then there are screams — hoots, hollers, like your country won the damn world cup. You stand up and everyone cheers. Hoseok chest bumps you. Taehyung lifts you up and spins you in a circle. Jimin starts to record the moment on his phone and even Yoongi pats you on the back.   “God, why are you guys making such a big deal,” Jungkook moans, still seated at the table, embarrassed from all the teasing.   “Maybe because you’ve never lost anything in your life!” Taehyung laughs in his face, rubbing his loss where it hurts.   “Say something for the camera.” Jimin sticks his phone right between Jungkook’s eyes, and dodges with giggles when Jungkook tries to slap it away.   “Hey, send me that.” Yoongi points. “I’m going to post it on facebook for my grandma to see.”   “Has Jungkook really not lost any game we’ve played before?” Hoseok questions, the realization finally hitting him and the gravity of the situation sinking down onto his shoulders.   “I don’t think so,” Jimin says after sincerely contemplating for a long moment.   “Oh shit. You’re our lucky charm!” Hoseok slings his arm over your shoulder, giving you finger guns and winking.   It’s ridiculous but you’re beginning to believe it too — especially when the game you pick is Uno and it ends up with a similar outcome.   Somehow, someway, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi finish their cards and the only people who are left are you and Jungkook. The tensions are high and you see the sweat accumulating at his hairline. It’s apparent that he’s never even been second last in a game before.   You’re so close to victory, you can taste it. You’re down to a single card while he has three more.   Jungkook slowly places down a wild card. “What colour do you want, Y/N?”   “Hmmmm.” You rest your chin in your palm, arm propped up on the table. You glance at your card before looking straight at him, locking your gaze together. “Would you even choose the colour I pick?”   “I just want to hear what you want.”   “Fine. I want yellow. Please?” You bat your lashes. “Pretty please, JK?”   The ass smirks. “Red.”   “I knew you’d say that,” you sigh. Your fingers reach down to the pile to grab another card, but then your other hand slaps down — slamming a red four onto the pile. Your arms shoot in the air. Again, it triggers cheers. “I win!”   Jungkook throws back his head and groans. He tosses his one red and one blue card left onto the table. What’s worse is the way you gather with all his friends — the five of you huddled together with arms around one another, like you’re preparing for a football game. But instead, you’re all hopping and cheering while belting out the national anthem.   You’ve stolen his own friends from right under his nose.   But despite how the loss is rubbed in his face, Jungkook’s happy that it seems like for a moment, you’ve returned to yourself again.   Eventually, the games go so much into the night that you have to bid your goodbyes. You didn’t know Jungkook’s group of friends were so easy to get along and get comfortable with. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the time passed so quickly and you’re sad to leave.   Hoseok and Taehyung hug you until Yoongi has to help you pry them off.   “I’ll miss you so much,” Taehyung fake cries. “You and the way you absolutely demolish Jungkook.”   “Oh please.” Jungkook rolls his eyes.   “I’ll come back...if you’ll have me again.”   “Are you kidding? Of course!”   “You have to come back,” Jimin insists with a sheepish smile like it should be obvious. “You’re good at Monopoly, right?”   You shrug. “I’ve been told I’m decent.”   “You better be.” Yoongi grins. “I’ll expect you to win against Kook.”   “I’ll try my best.”   “Let me walk you back,” Jungkook says as you grab your coat. You look at him and he elaborates, “It’s a long way back to the dorm and I’m tired too. Gonna call it an early night.”   “Oh, okay.”   The two of you get ready to leave, and at the doorway, you turn around one last time. “Thanks for having me.”   “No problem.” Hoseok smiles. “Come back soon.”   You think this is the longest time you’ve been without crying for the past month. It went by too quickly — you wish you could do it all over again. But you consider how lucky Jungkook is. He has great friends and surrounds himself with great people. You’re jealous.   The night is silent except for the sound of your shoes against the cement of the sidewalk. You’re illuminated by the lamp posts above you and you watch your shadows alongside Jungkook’s.   The air is cold enough that you can see your breath as you exhale. Jungkook’s own hands are dug into his pockets, but the chill makes you feel alive.   “Sorry about them. I know they can get a bit much.”   “It’s okay. They’re really nice actually.”   “Yeah, they are.”   “I had a lot of fun.” You steal a glance at him.   Jungkook’s doe eyes widen, the corners of his mouth quirking. “Really? I’m glad.”   “It was a lot of fun destroying you.”   “Wow.” He laughs. “Okay.”   It makes you giggle too.    You know what he’s been doing. From him listening to everything you have to say and doing more than necessary during the midterms. From that time he called you over in the dining hall to sit with him to tonight, bringing you over to play games with his friends….   “Thanks, Jungkook.”   “Hm?”   “Thanks,” you repeat, looking at him, and he meets your eye. “For helping me. I don’t think I’ve said it yet. But I really appreciate it.”   “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, really.”   “It’s a big deal to me.” Your gaze softens. At the moment you had no one, he was there. You didn’t know you would find such an unlikely friendship during such a hard time, but you don’t mind at all.   Jeon Jungkook is your friend.

[confused-stars]

Alienfam AU - Chapter One

ao3 link here! ko-fi link here!

Chapter One: The house lay still and empty beneath the overhanging trees when Hitoshi approached on the road.

Just as he'd planned. He didn't want to talk things out right now, just wanted to quietly fume for a while because didn't he deserve it? Having a parent who always tried to understand everything sucked sometimes.

And some things couldn't be fixed by talking.

Hitoshi unlocked the front door and toed his shoes off. He was immediately greeted by the welcoming meow of their cat, Coffee. For once, he didn't immediately lean down to scratch her head, and she seemed mildly perplexed at that.

Hitoshi just ignored her and moved past into the kitchen living room combo. There was a covered bowl of something sitting on the counter, along with a note.

The note read 'if you need to talk, text any time. i'll see you tomorrow otherwise.'

Short and to the point. Hitoshi looked at it for a long moment. Then he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash.

He ignored the food, too, instead grabbing a pack of cookies from the snack drawer - he deserved comfort food right now.

He hated fighting with his dad. He didn't want to snap at him, ever, but it had been happening more and more lately. Sometimes, Hitoshi couldn't stand his worried looks, his prying questions, his 'your teacher called again' this and 'you don't need to shut me out' that.

Hitoshi wasn't six anymore. He knew his dad couldn't just magically make everything better.

Besides, it was fine. He was fine. He just wanted to be left alone for a change, was that too much to ask?

Except... no, that wasn't quite right, was it?

The crux of the problem was that Hitoshi didn't have anyone. Aside from his father and the cat, that was. Maybe Aunt Nem when she wasn't off traveling.

And Hitoshi didn't like to socialize, either. But sometimes... sometimes he just felt entirely alone in the world. Mostly when everyone else in school ganged up on him, calling him names, whispering about him, even throwing things at him or breaking his stuff, sometimes. He hadn't told his dad about the broken spinner keychain yet. He didn't want him to get angry and make a fuss with the school. No, this was Hitoshi's own problem to deal with and he was doing just fine.

He sat on his bed and booted up his laptop, wrapped in a comforting cocoon of blanket, cookies in his lap. Maybe a good horror movie or something would help. No way was he sleeping yet, despite being bone-tired. He wouldn't be able to, anyways.

Hopefully he'd collapse some time close to the early morning hours so he wouldn't have to pretend to be asleep when his dad checked on him. He never quite believed he was all that convincing.

Hitoshi clicked his way around Netflix aimlessly, nothing really catching his eye. Not even his usual comfort movies seemed to hit the spot. There was just... nothing. Staring at the one slightly off colored spot on the ceiling all night was starting to sound tempting.

But he had to think back to the insults thrown at him by a handful of boys in his class today. Well. Not at him. More like they'd all grouped together and talked about him so loudly he'd be sure to hear.

'Obviously she didn't want him. If I were stuck with him, I'd try to get rid of him, too.'

Since they'd learned about his mother, things had only gotten worse.

It was fucking unfair. Hitoshi had done nothing to them and he couldn't understand how they didn't even have the common fucking decency to not make digs at family stuff like that.

He didn't even miss his mom. He hadn't known her. His dad had always been enough.

But the fact that they had dared... he'd gotten so angry. He hadn't gotten physical, he'd never been the type and the martial arts classes his dad had signed him up for helped channel any of that sort of energy into something safe. But he had cursed quite a bit as he'd shot back at the boys, talking about how one of their dads was probably fucking his secretary who always picked him up from school, and how another would die alone in a ditch somewhere by twenty-five, high out of his mind.

They had laughed. But the teacher who had overheard him hadn't been so amused.

And neither had his father.

Hitoshi closed his laptop forcefully and fell back on the bed. No one gave a shit about his opinion. He couldn't even fight back - all they ever did was laugh and not at all take him seriously. That feeling of complete and utter powerlessness, combined with how much he just wanted a single friend... it was overwhelming enough that he felt his throat tighten painfully now, and tears shooting into his eyes.

It wasn't fucking fair.

The universe had it out for him specifically.

... said universe chose that moment to make itself known.

The bright light outside the window flashed up so suddenly, and was so strong, that Hitoshi instinctively wrenched his arm up to protect his face and still only saw little dots of light for a good few seconds, long enough to almost panic. A cacophony of noise followed, cracking, frantic beeping, something... impacting.

Then silence.

His vision returned, and Hitoshi was left blinking into the darkness of his room. The hair on his arms stood on end. Not only from whatever shock this had been, but because the air felt almost charged with... something.

He slowly sat up and looked towards the window.

Nothing. He couldn't have just imagined this, could he?

When he stood, his knees buckled underneath him for a moment. Huh. He walked over to the window and peered outside.

There was no more glow.

But the forest that started beneath their house seemed... oddly shaped against the dark night sky. He couldn't see much, but it seemed like some trees had been forcefully bent out of the way of... something moving through them. As he watched, one of them slowly leaned further to the side and finally, with a loud crack, broke and fell.

Hitoshi stared for a long moment, his own heartbeat loud in his ears. A... meteor? Did that kind of thing happen outside of tv? Didn't people have ways to predict their flight patterns now, so they would've been warned?

Except... what if it wasn't a meteor?

Hitoshi wished his dad was here, but only briefly, as he scrambled to find his phone buried under his sheets. He shoved it into his pocket and all but sprinted to the front door to pull on his shoes.

Hitoshi didn't believe in aliens. He didn't believe in much of anything, really. Only in himself and his dad and maybe that cats had nine lives.

But he wanted to know what was going on, and if it was something weird, the area would be off limits soon enough. He just wanted to be the first to get a look. Just one look.

The event had shaken him from his self-pitying stupor, so he felt like he had to keep the momentum going.

Coffee was nowhere in sight even though she normally tried to slip out at night if he wasn't careful about the door. T he crash must have freaked her out, too. Hitoshi made a mental note to check on her when he got back, even as he rounded the house and jogged towards the edge of the woods.

The faint smell of smoke lay in the air. Was something burning? There was a... metallic note to it. It almost bit into Hitoshi's nose as he breathed.

He climbed over the low fence separating their backyard from the woods, and then he was off, following the path he'd followed hundreds of times in his life, deeper into the woods.

The smoke in the air got thicker as he walked, until it was bad enough that he had to stifle coughs, but there was a faint flickering of light visible through the underbrush now, and he just wanted to catch a glimpse. Then he'd turn around. Just a glimpse.

Hitoshi climbed over a fallen tree, pushing through the branches that made up its crown. As his feet hit the forest floor again, his field of vision was finally cleared.

And... fuck.

Hitoshi stared.

Coughed against the smoke.

Kept staring.

That... wasn't a meteor.

In front of him sat a crater, with smoldering fires dotting it here and there, and there was an object resting in the middle of it. But said object was not a large rock like he'd expected.

It was a spaceship.

It was undoubtedly, irrefutably, a spaceship.

Or what was left of one anyway.

It didn't look like just some piece of space station trash, either - there were thrusters and what looked like a windshield, or whatever you would call that on a spaceship... fuck, it was a spaceship.

Hitoshi shook his head. His eyes were stinging from the smoke, but they weren't fooling him.

He really needed to get out of here. What if the authorities came and decided to silence him or something, because he'd seen too much? A Men in Black style mindwipe would be the best outcome in that scenario.

He took a slow step backwards, not taking his eyes off the wreck.

And then the latch on its side opened with the hissing of decompressed air.

Hitoshi should have bolted right there, but for the first time he understood why deer didn't just run off the street when a car came barreling towards them. He felt rooted to the ground.

A hand appeared, grasping onto the edge of the opening Hitoshi couldn't quite see into from this position. Then a second hand. There was a soft noise of effort, and then out came tumbling a small figure.

The alien hit the ground with a pained, high-pitched cry, and stayed curled up there, face turned away from where Hitoshi was standing.

It looked... human. At least its shape did. There were four limbs and the hands had looked just like normal hands, even if they were small.

The alien had silvery white hair that was splayed about it in a messy tangle now, and it was wearing some kind of white, shapeless tunic.

It wasn't moving, but Hitoshi could see it still breathing.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

Then he begun his descent into the crater.

[shiftytracts]

Stop Wanting More, part 1 of 2 (T/M/A fic)

In which season-four Jon tries to quiet his hunger for live statements by gorging himself on paper ones, and Daisy tells him what she used to do when she got shaky between hunts. Part two here.

…For almost ten thousand words (~5.1k in this half, ~4.3 in the other), beeeecause of course I did.

Content warnings:

Disordered eating (mainly of the statement variety, but mentions also the literal kind)

Nausea, and brief descriptions of prior vomiting

Brief but not-ungraphic description of Jon’s (canon) Boneturning incident—so, injury, very mild body horror

Vague discussion of Daisy’s passive suicidality (in part two)

Animal cruelty and death: Daisy talks about hunting rats for sport (in part two)

—

Jon paused the tape recorder, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe. A statement’s second-to-last page was the hardest to get down. The dull ache that had begun under his ribs twenty minutes before now stretched down far enough to converge with the one in his stiff hips. His pulse throbbed in his stomach; he could feel it swell and recede beneath his hand with every beat. Nausea boomeranged up from somewhere under his navel. He reminded himself he could stop for now, finish this later—and, as always, that thought made him feel even colder than the sludge of other people’s fear pooling in his stomach. With his free hand Jon pressed Record again, and turned to 0101702’s final page. Oh, god, there was barely anything on it. Just the rest of this paragraph and then one more. He kept his eyes on the page, didn’t stop speaking its words, but fumbled blindly for another statement with his fingers.

“Knock knock,” Daisy said as she entered. “Christ—you’re still recording?”

In a flash Jon folded his hands on the table, sat up a little straighter, tried to suck in his gut. “Er—”

“Thought you said you were gonna do one more.”

“I’m almost done.”

“You’ve got another one right there.”

“I…” he considered I’m sorry, but then she’d say For what. “I don’t know what to tell you. It is my office.”

“Yeah, and your home,” Daisy scoffed—“and mine. Sort of.”

“D—did you want…? You’re welcome, to. Sit down, or….”

She did, on the arm of his couch. “I know, Jon. That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.” To show he’d meant his welcome, Jon pushed his chair back from his desk and turned in it to face Daisy. Hopefully she’d remember he couldn’t ask What did you mean.

“I mean, don’t pretend this is work. How many statements have you had today? You don’t think that one can wait til tomorrow?”

Seven? Or would this one be eight. Jon forced himself to exhale out the portion of gut he’d been holding back since she arrived; it hurt too much to keep sucking in anyway. “A lot. I’m just.”

“Hungry, yeah.”

“Even when I’m stuffed I’m hungry.” He snarled a laugh, and set a rueful hand over his stomach like a fig leaf.

At first he’d tried sating the hunger with garden-variety food. That didn’t help much. Way back when he’d first transferred to the Archives Jon had fallen back into the old habit of forgetting to eat—which, yeah, not great, but, it did mean he remembered well how amazing it used to feel to cram down even a stale biscuit after too many hours’ inanition. All the hidden notes he’d found in yogurt and dry toast. He even remembered tearing up once at the taste of a banana, early in 2016. Before that he’d been sure he didn’t like bananas; afterward, for a short while he’d eaten one nearly every day, hoping vainly to recapture the ecstasy of banana after 14-hour fast. No luck, of course. After a few weeks he’d concluded he still didn’t much like banana as final course of healthy lunch. He’d especially disliked peeling them: how sometimes the stems bent without breaking, and the more times you tried the warmer, softer, more flexible they got. How little strings of peel still clung to the banana after you peeled off its main body, like static when you pull off a jumper. Or like the lint it leaves behind on your shirt. And the way bananas bruise, like people do. All these vestiges of its previous life—reminders it had lived to feed itself rather than him.

Since the coma, all people food—er. That was, all food intended for human consumption—tasted like that chase after a faded spark. Cloying and mushy and… organic, reminding him too much of the garden it came from. And the way it landed in his stomach was far worse. The original banana, the one Martin had pressed on him in the Archives in April 2016, had gone down like nectar, ambrosia, manna from heaven, &c.; the ones afterward, like an unwanted dessert always does. (Cloying. Mushy. A biology lesson mildly tapping its watch.) These days, though, eating regular dinner on a stomach empty of other people’s trauma felt like trying to fill up on cake. Not like cake after fourteen hours of nothing; Jon was pretty sure his 2016 stomach would have welcomed that. But like cake at dinner time. When you’re expecting, you know. Dinner. It gave him the brief, fake-seeming energy of a sugar high, and made him sick before it made him full.

Especially when he was otherwise ailing, for some reason? After Hopworth he’d treated himself to a lie down and a sandwich. The rest had helped, but he’d squandered most of the energy it gave him on the effort to keep the sandwich down. At that moment nothing, not even the coffin, had scared him so much as the thought of what it would feel like to throw up when you had only ten ribs on one side. He hadn’t expected losing them to hurt, at least not for long—had expected the rib to flow out of his skin into Jared Hopworth’s hand like an ice cube through water, which in retrospect was stupid given the testimony of Mr. Pryor in statement 0081103, but he hadn’t had time to reread that one beforehand and at the time Jon remembered only that Hopworth didn’t break his victims’ skin when he pulled out their bones. Turned out that wasn’t much comfort: he’d still had to break the ligaments attaching Jon’s ribs to his spine and chest. It had felt like a bad dislocation (four of them, technically), only instead of the feeling of bone pressing on things it shouldn’t there was an equally violating sense of tissue wallowing in holes that shouldn’t be there. He’d had this horror that if he were sick the flesh would crumple and pop where his ribs used to be, like when you try to suck the remaining water out of a near-empty bottle.

A few months after that he’d caught cold. (A point in the still-human column, Daisy had called it.) You know the first day or two of a cold, before the encroaching mucus takes out your ability to smell or taste properly, how innocuous olfactory phenomena like cheddar and laundry soap suddenly become Bad Smells, on par with the olive bar at a posh supermarket? Well, in a similar way, this one seemed to sharpen the dichotomy in his body’s opinions of people food and monster food. His lack-of-ribs had mostly healed by then though, so either vomiting with only ten ribs on one side did not cause the anomaly he’d feared, or, if it did, it hadn’t hurt enough for him to notice it in the cacophony (pucophony?) of other sensations.

(Daisy liked to play on words, so he’d been doing it more lately. This project the Eye seemed happy to help with, though in this case the suggestion arrived in his mind at the exact same moment as a reminder that, technically, the word cacophony can apply to sensations other than sound only by synecdoche.)

And then, a few weeks ago, when the whole Archives went down with norovirus… well, it wasn’t a fun time. He’d at first mistook the lethargy, weakness, trouble concentrating for signs of hunger—the new kind of hunger. Ms. Mullen-Jones’ statement about the Divine Chains cult hadn’t seemed all that bad, when he’d first recorded it. Scarier than if he’d read its events in a novel, of course; that was just how statements worked. He experienced them more vividly than stories, though less so than the events of his own life. (Because the people they happened to thought they were real! he’d told himself when he first took this job. It’s empathy, that’s all. Nope, sorry—evil magic.) When he read a paper statement these days, though, the knowledge it wouldn’t give him nightmares never quite left him. And he’d thought he was growing desensitized to the kinds of horror most people came to the Institute to report. Coming back up, though—maybe it was the fever, but god, the visions he got on that statement’s way out, of Agape and the soft, sticky hivecorpse of Claude Vilakazi’s followers—the way it made the donut he’d shoved down that morning (in a show of team spirit, god help him) come back up tasting like rotten rice wine—it was worse than the dreams. Worse, he could have sworn, than even the first time he ever dreamt Naomi Herne’s empty graveyard.

While hanging over the bowl of the Archives’ toilet waiting to see if he’d got it all up or if there was still more to come, Jon remembered thinking again of the banana Martin had given him. A few days earlier Daisy had made him watch the video of the I don’t understand this meme and at this point I’m too afraid to ask man vore-ing a banana; Jon had confessed to her, in a conspiratorial whisper-laugh, that for him vore itself had been one such meme until that very second, when the Eye had seen fit to inform him. But when applied to a banana, the term apparently just meant eating it peel and all. In 2016 Martin had broken the banana’s stem and pulled back a section of peel before handing it to Jon, so as to brook no argument. Was it really the banana itself he’d cried over? Not the gesture of friendship, when Jon deserved it so little? The thought of someone caring for him enough that when he got hangry at them they handed him a snack. Martin had been living in the Archives then, like Jon did now. Sleeping in Document Storage—a guest in a room owned by pieces of paper. Those bananas may have been the only thing that felt like his.

A Guest for Mr. Spider was about vore, technically. Not an uncommon topic in children’s literature. Some surmised that was where the fetish came from, though others maintained kinks like that were inborn, and the stories merely alerted their hosts to them for the first time. Red riding hood, three little pigs, little old lady who swallowed a fly. The Leitner touch was only the part where he drew you to his real-life lair and real-life ate you.

Looking back, that was probably the first thing he’d ever admired about Martin—how easy he’d made it look to skin a fruit. Not at the time admired, of course, but in those weeks afterward, when every banana Jon ate made him claw at the peel til his finger joints throbbed.

That stomach bug had struck the Archives with serendipitous timing, though. If he’d not found out how thin abstinence from the Hunt had made Daisy on the same day he’d barfed up a statement, Jon might not have pieced together what their combined evidence meant. Until then he’d put down his own post-coma weight loss to the fact he rarely ate more people food than a donut in twenty-four hours. Lots of avatars were scrawny, after all. Jane Prentiss, Mike Crew, Justin Gough, Annabelle Cane, John Amherst, Simon Fairchild. Jude Perry and Jared Hopworth could mold their respective fleshes however they wanted, so he didn’t count them as exceptions. True, Trevor Herbert’s bulk had struck him as odd; surely a homeless man wouldn’t waste cash on food his body no longer wanted. And what about Breekon and Hope? Did butterflies and a quartermaster’s pen and tongue sustain them? But maybe, Jon had told himself, it was like with alcohol. Maybe the avatars with more flesh on their bones had worked to develop a tolerance for (air quotes, heavy sarcasm) people food, for the sake of their physiques, or. So they could, he didn't know, eat socially? Without feeling sick, like Jon did whenever one of the others brought donuts.

Preposterously stupid, this theory seemed in retrospect. The truth was much simpler. It was like Jude Perry’d told him. She was strong and he was weak, because she fed her god with her actions, while Jon’s had had to resort to eating his flesh.

He wasn’t going back to live statements! That wasn’t an option; he knew that. He couldn’t feed his god with his actions. But he could have more paper ones. Maybe they were like the candles poor Eugene Vanderstock used to bring Agnes—the ones she’d sat over for hours. Hours and hours, inhaling the suffering that made them. They’d kept her strong enough, right? At least in body. All those people in charge of her care, all so much in her thrall—if she’d looked hungry one of them would’ve mentioned it in a statement.

During Jon’s school days, back when he was still trying to learn how to be a girl, this brief window had opened up right around age thirteen where the girls around him had enough self-consciousness to start developing eating disorders? But not enough to keep them secret. Thirteen had been this phase of, like, I’m a teenager now, see? I’ve got the teen angst now—SEE?! Where after they’d finished the day’s maths assignment, or while setting up microscope slides, one could overhear girls swapping self-harm anecdotes and tips for how best not to eat. Anne, whom he’d been almost friends with, went through two packs of chewing gum a day for a while. She would shove three or four sticks at a time in her mouth, then spit them back out into their wrappers as soon as they lost their flavor. Eventually they made her sick, and she switched to chain-sucking butterscotch discs. (Most artificial sweeteners, as the Eye now informed him, had mild laxative properties—including those used in gum.) Other acquaintances had brought comically large thermoses of coffee to school every day, and scurried to the toilet between classes. But it was another polyurious crowd that Jon kept thinking of, these days—the kids who would chug water every time they felt hungry. Trying to fill up on paper statements felt just like that.

He’d never understood that urge until now. Hunger was already a bad sensation; why would it help to add the further bad sensations of nausea and stomachache and cold? But now it made sense: feeling better was not the point. The point was to stop wanting more. He couldn’t get rid of the hunger, exactly—not in a way that mattered. Not the shards of glass in his belly, not the itch in his esophagus like a finger tapping behind his gag reflex, not the way simple motions like soaping his hands made his whole body ache. Not the sharpening of his senses to such a fine point that he jumped whenever Thérèse in the office above him shut her desk’s sticky drawer. (He hadn’t known that was what made the squeaky noise until a few weeks ago when the Eye decided he might like some office gossip. Even now he didn’t know which of the faces he sometimes passed up there belonged to Thérèse. She had no statements to make.) Nor the fog in his mind, though he tried sometimes to blame that on the Lonely. He couldn’t sate his hunger with paper statements—couldn’t make himself full, in the rosy way we usually connote that word. All warm and carefree and pleasantly sleepy. But he could cram the hole inside him with enough stale horrors that the temptation to chase down a fresh one momentarily left him.

And that was the new plan—to stuff himself with paper statements.

Tomorrow would mark two weeks since the day he’d first tried it. Brian from Artefact Storage had a statement to give him, Jon could feel—either Stranger or Spiral, it was hard to tell quite which. Something that caused paranoia. Not a great fit for that department. Good fit for a temple of the Eye, Jon supposed, remembering Tim and Michael Shelley. But Artefact Storage? God help him. He wondered if Elias had done it on purpose, hiring a paranoid man to work in a room full of objects that wanted him hurt. If so it must’ve been this one—this purpose. And on Wednesday mornings Brian manned the place all alone. Poor soul was already clinging to this job by a thread, though (so, Web…? That could cause paranoia too, as Jon well knew). Surely if Jon made him relive his trauma that would break it. Though perhaps that’d be a mercy. And but besides, two weeks ago Melanie had still lived here, and sat all morning between Jon’s office and Artefact Storage. Until she went to lunch. But by that time the woman whose laugh Jon could sometimes hear through the walls (Pooja, the Eye had since told him her name was) would have joined Brian. And it’d just be too weird, too risky, to go in and ask him about it with a third person in the room. Even if it wasn’t also evil.

So he’d read 0132210—the statement of Sierra Talbot, regarding a swimming pool whose depth changed every time she entered it—in hopes that’d make him quit thinking about the paranoid man down the hall. It didn’t, not really; paper statements didn’t take up as much of his attention as they used to. But he couldn’t get up and walk to Artefact Storage in the middle of one. When he finished and still couldn’t think of anything but Brian, he dug out another statement (this one from 1938, regarding a bad penny). Just to keep himself chained to his desk til lunch. And then a third (Liza Ho, attack of the killer seagulls). And by the end of that one he felt too heavy and cold inside to want to go anywhere but the couch. It made his stomach swell until it hurt to sit up straight, and the thought of shoving anything more inside made him feel sick—exactly like chugging water every time he felt hungry.

Basira had said maybe the Web just wanted to keep them so afraid of their own impulses they sat and did nothing so they couldn’t be puppeted. Maybe she was right. He’d never felt more like a spider, with his weak, skinny limbs and bloated stomach. Lying on the couch massaging other people’s horrors into more comfortable shapes inside him. Thank god he’d already given up tucking in his shirts, when he came back after the coma. Jon had worn the same trousers for three days in a row, now—shucked them off at the end of the day, hoping if he left them on the floor that’d convince him they were too dirty to wear again, and then slipped them back on over clean boxers in the morning. They were the only trousers he had that stayed up with the button left unfastened.

(Technically, the noun bloat refers to the feeling of weight or tightness in the abdomen. To describe a belly which has expanded beyond its typical size, one should use the word distended. Though these phenomena can occur separately, most people conflate them under the single word bloated. This trivia had seemed worthless when Beholding told him of it. But now he knew better. Every morning he woke up feeling like he’d had his whole torso replaced with the aching void of space, empty but for silver glints of pain that were the stars. And then he’d look down and find his belly still distended.)

Melanie and Basira didn’t know—at least not officially. They both seemed to have noticed how much more often lately they’d walked in on him recording, but Jon was pretty sure they suspected him less of bingeing on statements, more of pretending to record so as to avoid talking to them. He welcomed this misapprehension.

It was also possible they knew but declined to comment, since. Well, it was kind of a pathetic habit? Physically, a bit pathetic. Morally, though, such a big improvement over compelling statements by force that maybe they figured they ought to let him have it. If so he should be grateful, he reminded himself. Their pity, after all, was humiliating only in principle; Daisy’s teasing and concerned questions embarrassed him in practice.

“Enough navelgazing,” Daisy scoffed, but when Jon looked over at her he could see a smile creeping its way onto her face. “Look—finish the one you’re on, then come over here and I’ll. Tell you a story.”

“I—what?”

“Don’t know if it’ll count as a ‘statement,’” she said, with air quotes; “not much fear in it, more just.” She looked at the floor, then shrugged. “But it seems worth a try, yeah? Might make you feel better.”

“I-I, er. I really shouldn’t?” He meant in case it had a taste of human blood effect, but set his hand on his stomach again in hopes she’d think he meant he was too full.

“Yeah, you should. I want you to hear it.” Daisy shrugged again. “Think it might do you good to know.”

Jon turned back to his desk, unpaused the recording and wrapped up the statement. He’d quit bothering to record end notes on most of these—told himself he could add them in later, like he used to when he’d first taken this job. How proud 2016 Jon would have been to see how many statements the 2018 Archivist got through in a week.

He paused for a moment before standing up, to take as deep a breath as he could manage when stuffed full of paper. The end of that statement had gone down easier, since he’d had that few minutes’ break talking to Daisy, but he still didn’t love the idea of standing and walking. Especially since he knew once he got to the couch he’d be glued there by fatigue. If he didn’t pee now, he’d spend most of the night far enough into sleep to be paralyzed, but not far enough to numb his bladder. He excused himself to Daisy, promising to come right back. Then hauled himself up, with help from his cane and one arm of his chair.

Six limbs it took to maneuver this body now. Two more and he’d’ve gone full spider.

Three quarters of the way to the bathroom—that’s how long it took before the ache in his legs outpaced that in his stomach. He arrived on the toilet seat shaky and out of breath, as always. Months ago he’d given up standing to pee. When you sat you could rock back and forth, and cross your arms tight over waves of quease.

Not much came out, as was also usual lately. As far as Jon could tell, his body now required only enough water to keep his mouth from drying out while recording. Dehydration no longer made his head hurt, so, why bother. Good thing, too, he supposed—the last two weeks he hadn’t needed much non-metaphorical water inside for his body to parse that as needing to pee.

He let his trousers stay pooled around his ankles until after he’d washed and dried his hands. Then pulled up his shirt, to judge from his reflection whether they’d stay up with the fly undone. If he kept his hands in his pockets, yeah. Could you tell the difference, visually, once he put his shirt tails back down? Not for such a short distance. They wouldn’t have time to get disarranged.

It didn’t matter; Basira didn’t even glance at him on his way back, and all Institute staff who didn’t live here had gone home.

Jon opened the door to his office, said hello to Daisy but didn’t manage to look at her, and sat himself down on the other side of the couch. From the corner of his eye (or someone’s anyway) he saw her rise to her feet. “I’m gonna pee too,” she told him, picking her way toward the door; “get yourself comfortable, like you’re going to bed.”

“Where will you sit.”

“I’ll squeeze in.”

“I don’t mind leaving room for—?” Finally he made himself look up at her, in time to see her shake her head. Daisy hadn’t been strong on her feet either, since the Buried; she held herself up now with a hand on the doorjamb, elbow bent so her shoulder leant against that wrist. He regretted quibbling. “Never mind; I’ll just.”

“Really? You’re comfortable like that? You look like a sheep in clover.”

The knowledge came to him before he could ask her what that meant—complete with a nasty visual of what happens in cases acute enough to require rumenotomy. Jon swore he could feel himself swelling to accommodate this tidbit. His eye twitched in discomfort.

“Think I prefer ‘windbag,’ if it’s all the same to you.”

She made a face like that was grosser than what she had said. “You ruined my joke. I was gonna say I won’t let you have any more leaves til you look less like you might explode.”

“Sheep in clover suffocate,” Jon frowned; “they don’t explode. You must be thinking of how they cure them when—”

“Leaves. In. A. Book, Jon. That joke.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” He made himself chuckle.

Daisy sighed and shifted on her feet. “I’ll be right back. Just lie down, alright? Like you’re going to bed.”

Jon agreed to lie down, but couldn’t decide whether to face the wall (as he would to sleep), leaving her to slide in between him and the back of the couch the way she had a few times before when she’d walked in on him catnapping, or whether he should lie on his back, where he could see her as soon as she opened the door. It was important to make sure she knew he appreciated her offer to give him a statement. Or, no—to tell him her story, he meant.

Ultimately he picked the latter course.

“You sleep like that?”

“Sometimes."

“I’ve never seen you sleep like that. You always face the wall.” Daisy crossed her arms, blew hair out of her face. “That for the tummy ache, or for me?”

“Uh….”

“Would it hurt you to face the wall.”

“No, I just.”

“Turn around, then. I’ll squeeze in,” she said again.

“I-if you’re sure.”

He rolled onto his side, gritting his teeth as the cramps in his stomach swirled in new directions. What made it slosh like that, he wondered. While he fought to regain his breath Jon watched Daisy climb up onto the back of the couch on shaking elbows and knees, then avalanche down hands- and feet-first so she fit between him and its cushions. He’d never watched her do this before—always either startled out of a doze at the sound of her thumping down next to him, or simply woken up to find her there.

“You’re just like the Admiral,” he informed her.

“True words spoken in jest,” muttered Daisy. Too quietly for him to hear what she said over the couch’s tortured creaks, but half a second after she finished speaking the words appeared before his mind, in white, all-capital letters with a black background like closed captions on the news. “That’s Georgie’s cat, right?” she said aloud.

“Yes.”

Her knee jostled the cap of his; when it made him gasp she snarled under her breath. “Sorry. Can you move your leg?”

“Yes, it’s fine, just—”

“I mean would you move your leg.”

“Oh.” He did so.

“Thanks. Ugh—you’re cold,” Daisy accused him; “where’s that blanket.” He pointed behind her to the arm of the couch where it lay folded. She shook it out, and draped it over both of them. Reached around behind him to make sure it covered his whole back. Jon tried to ignore the way his stomach lurched every time Daisy’s weight shifted against the cushions. Finally she settled next to him to catch her breath. Their foreheads touched; her stomach pressed into his, though not as tightly as the last time they’d lain like this. “Can you breathe or am I crushing you?”

“Not at all, you’re fine—in fact, if the couch cushions are chafing you too much you can—”

Daisy huffed, and scooted herself in closer to him. “That better?” She set her warm hand down right where his belly diverged from pelvis. Jon tried to keep both voice and tremor out of his exhale. Since the coffin, Daisy’s hands and feet suffered at night and after any exertion from the same excess of heat his sometimes did. So the cold inside him probably felt nice on her hand, if not to the rest of her.

(Like snuggling up to a hotel mattress, she’d described it, after the first time she joined him for a nap when he’d just had a statement. Cold, hard, covered in lumps and dents, and creaks when you roll over on it. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” he’d replied, while praying her elbow wouldn’t come any closer to the crevasse where his ribs used to be.)

“Christ you’re stuffed,” commented Daisy. For emphasis she lifted her fingers, then set them back down on his gut.

“I don’t know what you expected.”

“You won’t pop if I tell you a story?”

“Not literally,” Jon said, blinking.

“Of course not literally,” she scoffed; “you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Will it make you sick. Don’t want you throwing up on me; this is Melanie’s shirt. If you ruin it she’ll hit us with her cane, and I don’t trust you to hit as hard back with yours.”

“Mine’s shorter and thicker,” he mused. “I don’t have to hit as hard.”

“Stop. Avoiding. The question.”

Jon sighed to show her he capitulated. Then thought about it. He felt cold and sick, but the idea of saying no to a statement made those feelings worse, not better. And the sharp clusters of pain in his belly were harder to sleep through than quease.

“I’ll be fine,” he decided. “It’ll help.”

“Alright. When you’re ready, ask me what I used to do when I got shaky between hunts.”

--

Read part two here.

[fallinnflower]

worth it

hoshi x reader (university!au, strangers to lovers, fluff)

The first time you met Soonyoung was during the co-curricular fair during your first year of college. Soonyoung sat at a fold out table in the quad with three of his friends, music playing from a Bluetooth speaker and a big poster taped to the front of the table which simply read ‘DANCE CLUB,’ surrounded by hand-drawn emoticons. You thought it was a cute booth, and you thought he was a cute boy, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when he called out to get your attention. 

You weren’t sure what clubs you were going to join, but you didn’t think you’d make for a good dancer — you’d only ever danced by yourself in your room, and one time at a school dance. But there was Soonyoung, calling out at ‘the girl in the blue cap,’ which you suddenly realized was you, imploring you to join. You attempted to conceal yourself in your jacket as you shook your head, mumbling an apology and waving as you wove your way deeper into the crowd, cheeks blazing. 

You didn’t look back. 

The next time you interacted with Soonyoung (beyond him smiling at you when you crossed paths, which you figured he did to everyone because he was just that friendly) was in a marketing class the two of you had together. You didn’t sit anywhere near Soonyoung, and for the first quarter of the semester nothing of consequence happened between you two. 

Then there was the midterm assignment. Randomized partners, open-ended topic, all culminating in a twenty-five minute presentation given by the both of you. 

You hated the waiting most of all. Sitting, listening to your professor call out what seemed to be everyone else’s name but your own, biting down on the inside of your cheek the longer you had to wait. 

“Soonyoung and Y/N.” Your head snaps up, and suddenly Soonyoung is waving excitedly at you, motioning to the seat beside him with a big grin. With your heart beating a mile a minute you pack up your things and slip down the row to sit beside Soonyoung. 

“Hi!” He greets. You manage a quiet reply, not sure why you feel so bashful in his bright presence. “Do you have any ideas for the project?” 

“Um, well...” You pause, flipping a few pages back in your notebook. “We could always talk about social media’s impact on marketing… I know it’s simple, but maybe we could pick a specific platform and get some data about how marketing has developed there. Maybe Instagram?” You chance a look at Soonyoung out of the corner of your eye to find him still beaming at you, peering down into your notebook. His face is closer to yours than you expected, and his cheeks are bunched up in such an endearing way that you just want to pinch them. And just like that, as if you weren’t blushing enough as it is, you feel your cheeks heat up tenfold. 

Suddenly, everyone starts packing up, and you close your notebook in a hurried manner,

“So, um, I’m free every afternoon—”

“How about tomorrow then? At 7 in the library?” You nod, caught off guard at how enthusiastic Soonyoung seems to be about this project. He’s never been active in class, and, to be honest, you were expecting him to drag his feet a bit more. 

It’s 7:15, and you can’t keep yourself from biting at your lip, a mix of agitated and concerned that keeps you bouncing your knee as the minutes tick by. You’re close to just sending Soonyoung an email and ditching, but suddenly you catch sight of him jogging frantically between the shelves of books. You stand and wave to catch his attention, and he grins when he notices you, brushing his hair back from his face. 

Upon closer inspection, you realize that his hair is damp, sticking up in a multitude of different directions. 

“Hi, sorry,” he pants, somehow still looking chipper. “I let dance practice run late and I didn’t wanna come here all sweaty. But, I brought snacks to make up for it!” He drops a bag of gummy bears on the table between the two of you, eyes sparkling. You sink back into your seat, averting your gaze as a sense of guilt washes over you.

“The library has a no food policy,” you mumble, and all it takes is a glance to see that Soonyoung’s smile has dropped a bit. 

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and all you can hear is the rhythmic clicking of other students' keyboards, until suddenly there’s a crinkling sound and the bag is once again in your vision. 

“That’s fine, you just take them then! As an apology for me being late.”

When you look up, considering denying his offering, you can’t help but pause. His smile is as gummy as the candy he’s offering, his cheeks looking just as squishy and his eyes glittering with anticipation. You feel your heart skip a beat as you accept, slipping the bag into your backpack. 

“Thanks, Soonyoung,” you whisper, and he laughs. 

“You can call me Hoshi, if you want. All my friends do.” This, too, gives you pause, but you shake it off and return his smile — albeit shyly. 

“Okay, Hoshi.” You turn back to your laptop, missing the way his ears turn red, and pull up the Google Doc and Slideshow you had made for the project. 

“I went ahead and shared the project materials with you, did you get them?” 

It’s then that you realize Hoshi isn’t the best with technology. He looks a little bit like a confused grandfather as he leans in towards his screen, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, and he lets out a little whine. 

“It won’t let me type anything.” You tilt your head, equally confused. You had given him editing access, hadn’t you? 

“Let me see.” Hoshi not only turns his laptop to you, but moves to the seat beside you to see what you do. You let out a little laugh as soon as you realize what it is. 

“Ah, you weren’t in editing mode.” You switch his system over, and Hoshi leans back in his seat with an embarrassed pout on his lips. To put it mildly, it’s adorable, and you’re not sure how you’re going to deal with looks like that if he’s always this bad with his laptop. 

Despite that little obstacle, Hoshi is relatively prepared. He’d found a couple of sources that he had to dig around in his bookmarks to get to again, and he seemed genuinely interested in working hard. The two of you laid out the basics of your project, throwing little notes into the doc and talking through your points. 

“I can make some infographics for the project,” you offer. “I can probably have them ready by this weekend.”

“Should we meet up on Sunday then?” He asks. “We can go to a coffee shop! My treat!” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts, dark eyes sincere as one of his hands comes to rest reassuringly over your own. “You’ve been really helpful, and I’m not very good with technology so you’re going to end up doing a lot more than you should have to, so I want to make it up to you.” 

Well, you don’t know how you’re supposed to say no to that when he’s smiling so cutely at you and his hand is on yours — so you don’t. You just nod and agree, before you both pack up your things. Hoshi carries your bag for you until the two of you part ways at the quad, him heading down to the house he rents with a few of his friends and you back to the dorms. 

Later that night, as you’re checking your emails one last time before bed, you’re surprised to find a notification that Hoshi had made a relatively recent change to your Doc. You click to open it and can’t help but giggle at what you find. 

I forgot to give you my number at the library!! (***)-***-***!!! ヽ(´▽`)/

You can’t help but think the emoticon looks just a little bit like him, and you fall asleep with a smile still lingering on your face. Kwon Soonyoung, you think, what a guy. 

Hoshi texts you throughout the week — at first, just to ask questions about various little tech issues and what you think of the sources he’s found; you simply laugh when he asks you what font you like for the slideshow, but your best friend (who’s peeking over your shoulder) has a slightly different reaction. 

“Oh my god,” she says. “He’s just coming up with random shit now!”

“Huh?”

“He’s just finding reasons to text you,” she continues, exasperated. “Like, fonts, seriously? He just wants to talk to you!” You shake your head, texting Hoshi that you don’t have a preference. 

“No, he’s just bad with computers, that’s all. Besides, we barely know each other.” Your friend huffs. 

“You’re oblivious.”

But as time goes by, you can’t really deny that he seems to be texting you about almost nothing. But you also can’t deny that you’re enjoying talking to him, with his excessive emoticons and use of exclamation points. Even when he’s distracting you from class, his messages leave a smile on your face. 

And Hoshi is the King of Distractions. In fact, the next time you have class together, Hoshi repeatedly catches your eyes just to point at his phone to get you to check yours. You wonder how he’s been doing so well in class if he’s always like this, and so you mime back that he should take notes. 

He pouts. It’s unfairly cute. He points at the phone again and you finally give in, rolling your eyes before tapping the screen. 

Hi

You give him the most withering look of disbelief you can manage, and he only beams back at you like it’s the best thing he’s ever done in his life. You roll your eyes, but as you turn away you happen to glance at your phone again just in time to see his message before your screen fades to black. 

:D

Dork, you type back with a smile on your face. He’s just too cute to ignore. When you happen to glance up from your phone again, Hoshi is pouting more prominently than you’ve ever seen before. You try not to think it’s cute, try to keep from smiling, but you just can’t help it. It seems you just can’t help anything when it comes to him, at this rate. 

Sunday comes and you’re less prepared than you’d like to admit. After sleeping through your alarm, you’d barely managed to remember to grab your laptop and charger to show Hoshi the infographics you were meeting to talk about before running out the door with your moisturizer barely slapped on. To say you were self-conscious entering the cafe, slightly winded and with stray hairs falling into your face from where you had it pulled back, would be an understatement. 

You’re quick to find Hoshi, who is staring at you with his lips slightly parted, expression unreadable. The apologies burst from your mouth like a flood, barely pausing for a breath as you explain your morning situation. 

“But don’t worry,” you say, plopping down onto the seat and smiling brightly at him as your laptop boots up. “The infographics are done!” Hoshi stares at you for a moment, that same expression from before still on his face before he shakes his head slightly and replaces it with a familiar smile. 

“I’m sure they’re awesome,” he says, pushing his chair back. “Want anything? My treat.” It takes you a moment to decide on a pastry to go with your coffee, but his smile never once fades — he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit impatient, even as he goes to stand in line. At some point, he turns his head to try and catch your eye, and when he does he scrunches up his nose and smiles; you giggle and do your best to mimic his expression, and when you do he’s quick to turn away, but not before you see his cheeks turning pink. You wonder if he’s feeling alright.

He returns a moment later with both your coffees and two chocolate croissants on a plate. You push your laptop so he can see it and begin operating the mouse with one hand, taking your croissant in the other. 

As is your usual tendency, you fall so far into explaining your work that you forget anything else — which is why you’re shocked to see Hoshi staring so intently at you and not the screen when you finally finish your spiel with a hopeful, “So?” He blinks rapidly, turning a little red again, before nodding enthusiastically at you. 

“They look great!” He chirps, then takes a long drink of his coffee. You sigh in relief and do the same, turning your laptop back to yourself. 

“Um, Y/N?” You hear him ask, and you lift your gaze from your screen.

“Hm?” Hoshi looks very determined, and although you don’t understand why, you realize it’s a very good look on him, one that leaves you feeling flustered.

“You have some chocolate on your face.” You immediately feel yourself turn red, and begin looking to see where the napkins are.

“Where?” 

You feel a light touch on your chin, and Hoshi is suddenly leaning across the table towards you. His eyes are focused intently on your lips and it only makes you more self-conscious; your breath stalls in your chest.

“There,” he intones, his voice low as his thumb gently glides along the corner of your mouth. His gaze flicks up to meet yours, and you feel your heart skip a beat as a smile spreads across his face, “Perfect.” 

Maybe his touch lingers, or maybe you’re just imagining things, but either way Hoshi sits back in his seat and goes back to munching on his croissant with no more than a light laugh, leaving you light-headed. You duck your head slightly, staring at your keyboard as you feel your face continue to burn, and wonder if you might still be asleep and dreaming.

If you are, you consider, you don’t really want to wake up. 

Your best friend hits you with a pillow when you tell her about your café meeting with Hoshi.

“Hey!” You snap, swatting the pillow away from your face. “What was that for?” Your friend lets out a long-suffering groan and falls dramatically back onto your bed.

“I’ve failed you!” She wails, clutching the pillow to her chest. “A hot boy flirts with you and you don’t even notice!”

“I don’t know,” you say, plucking at a loose thread on your blanket. “Maybe it was nothing. It’s Hoshi, be realistic.” At the sudden quietness of your tone your friend lifts her head and fixes you with a glare.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Y/N?” You shift awkwardly beneath her gaze.

“Just… just that Hoshi is kinda out of my league, okay?” You’re not usually the type to think about leagues, but Hoshi has always seemed sort of untouchable to you, a polar opposite. He shines as bright as his nickname would imply and you tend to prefer not being noticed because it makes you anxious. The thought of Hoshi liking you feels a bit like Aphrodite liking Hephaestus, and you just can’t shake that little cloud of self-consciousness away.

“Y/N,” your friend says sternly, sitting up and forcing you to meet her eyes. “There is no reason for Kwon Soonyoung not to like you, and there is no reason you should reject him if you like him, too.” You press your lips into a thin line, frustrated that she’s making sense. Sometimes you really just want to be irrational and take the risk.

And you have a feeling that having your heart broken by Kwon Soonyoung is one hell of a risk to run.

The project goes much more smoothly than you previously expected, especially considering Hoshi’s schedule is as crazy as it is. You know that his club has an event coming up, so you try your best to keep the workload light on his end — not because you think he can’t handle it, but because he definitely seems to be pushing himself to the limit. His normally bright eyes seem duller when you catch him off guard, and the bags under his eyes are significantly heavier than before. Luckily, you’re both almost done with the whole thing after that long session in the cafe. 

That doesn’t stop Hoshi from asking you about it after class one day. You barely notice him bounding up to you until he taps you on your shoulder, his face lit up in that familiar grin. 

“Hey,” he chirps. “When should we meet to finish the project?” You can’t help but smile at him, and you lightly wave it off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I can finish it up.” Suddenly, Hoshi stops in his tracks, gently pulling at your sleeve so that you do the same. His face is now set in a pout, which is undeniably cute but you swear you won’t fall for it this time.

“That’s not very fair,” he grumbles. You avert your gaze, nervously playing with some of your hair,

“Well, I mean, it’s just that you’re so busy—”

“And you aren’t?” He interrupts, and you look up at him. 

“I don’t run a club with a showcase coming up,” you argue, and Hoshi huffs, entirely unconvinced. After a moment, however, his expression suddenly shifts to a smile.

“How about this,” he begins. “You come to the showcase, and then afterwards we can finish the project together!” 

“Won’t you be tired?” He shakes his head immediately, the sparkle back in his eyes.

“I’d never be too tired for you.” 

You nod without even thinking, and Hoshi is excitedly bounding off before you can even consider what his words might mean.

After telling your roommate about Hoshi’s ‘compromise,’ she screams at you for a few minutes about how oblivious you are before telling you she’s going to pick out your outfit for the showcase whether you want her to or not. By the time the showcase has actually rolled around, you realize you actually do want her to figure out your outfit because suddenly you feel like you have nothing to wear.

However, she dresses you pretty simply. She shoves you into a cold shoulder style sweater you rarely ever wear and what she knows are your favorite jeans. She points to various shades of eyeshadow and has you apply it and your lip tint yourself, and as you stand in front of the mirror looking basically the same as always, you can’t help but look at her in confusion.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, and she playfully shoves your shoulder.

“He already likes you, idiot. How you dress doesn’t really matter, I just knew you were gonna overthink it so I chose for you.” You stick your tongue out at her, annoyed at how well she knows you but grateful, nonetheless, that she’s helped you out so much. She even agrees to go to the showcase with you for moral support, since she knows you aren’t really into crowds.

The downside is that she isn’t above elbowing her way through the crowd to make sure you’re directly in front of the stage, where you and Hoshi will have a very clear view of one another. She stands beside you, squished so close that your arms brush together, and as the stage goes dark and the crowd falls silent you find yourself grabbing at her hand out of nervousness. She laughs at your antics but gives your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

A spotlight falls upon the stage, where Hoshi and the other three boys in his unit are lying on the floor in a pile, somehow still managing to look elegant. You bite down hard onto your lip the moment the music starts, and even though Hoshi isn’t the first to move you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him. This is Hoshi, you realize, so much fiercer than the tired, goofy boy you see in class. Someone has done his makeup, the eyeshadow smoked out into a dramatic wing that contrasts his pristine white clothing. 

And then suddenly you realize they’re singing. All four of them, and you swear Soonyoung’s gaze catches yours right as he begins the first chorus and you’re ready to die, you are, holy shit—

Your mind falls completely blank from then on, and you only come to again when the lights fall and the crowd erupts into applause. Your best friend yanks her hand out of your grasp to clap along with them, and you do so as well, blinking rapidly to clear your mind. She gives you a teasing look and you don’t bother to sass her; you don’t have the brain power to say anything at all.

A few more members of the dance club perform, but Hoshi doesn’t come on stage again until the fourth song. This time, he and the three other boys are dressed in all black, and you realize with sudden and extreme force that Soonyoung’s shirt is mesh. You think of all the times you’ve seen him in baggy sweaters and t-shirts, looking comfortable and cozy and overall like a great cuddler — you hadn’t ever considered he would have abs, even though you probably should have given his dancing regimen. You can feel your best friend’s elbow nudging your side, but you’re too laser-focused on Soonyoung to give her even a sliver of your attention. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been mad that a person looks sexy before. First time for everything.

When the performance ends, you’re shocked to find Hoshi’s gaze locked with yours. A shiver runs down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, and although you know you’re blushing you can’t bring yourself to look away until the lights fall once more, plunging you into darkness. You can hardly hear the applause over the thundering of your heart in your ears, and as people begin gathering their belongings and moving to the back of the auditorium space, your best friend takes hold of your arm excitedly.

“Okay, we have to go backstage!” 

That snaps you out of it.

“What? No!” You shake your head wildly, but your best friend merely continues to smile. “Most of the crew has no clue who we are, we can’t just walk backstage—”

“Well we can’t just leave after all that,” she retorts, smirking devilishly. You cover your cheeks with your hands, hoping to quell the raging blush.

“I hate you,” you grumble, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why can’t we just wait here, or—?”

“Y/N!” Your eyes snap open, and you find that your best friend is now gazing past you, towards the doors you know lead backstage. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe, barely audible, but your anxious response goes ignored as your best friend waves to Hoshi excitedly.

“Hey Hoshi! Great job tonight, is Minghao back there still?” She’s standing before he even answers her question, and you’re pretty sure she would’ve walked away regardless of if Minghao was around or not. You curse yourself for forgetting that the two are lab partners. As she walks away, you take a deep, calming breath, and fix a smile to your face. When you turn, Soonyoung is already standing in front of you, dressed in a plain black shirt and sweats with just his familiar smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greets, beaming. You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Hi.” Why does your voice sound so small? “You did great, but I’m sure you know that already.” He laughs, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“I do, but it’s still nice to hear you say it,” he replies, looking extremely pleased as you feel the blush rising high on your cheeks once again. You find yourself rendered speechless, thinking of the intensity of his eyes when they met yours on stage. Thankfully, he’s the first to break the silence, smiling fondly down at you in your seat.

“I was gonna go for bubble tea. Do you wanna come with? My treat.” Looking up into his bright, smiling eyes, you wonder how you could ever say no.

“Sure, let me just text my roommate and let her know.”

The bubble tea place Hoshi takes you to is only a few minutes’ walk from campus, and the majority of that journey is passed in amicable silence. You keep sneaking glances at Hoshi, although each time you do it makes you flustered and you ought to be avoiding that kind of situation. True to his word, when you get to the shop he pays for both of your orders before you can say a thing. As you leave the shop, preferring to walk back towards campus while the weather is nice, you find yourself breaking the silence,

“If you keep treating me like this, I’ll never be able to repay you.” You look up at him with a pout, but he just responds with his usual good humor, gently nudging you with his elbow.

“Who said anything about repaying me?” He asks. “You deserve to be treated to things, anyways.” You let out a sigh as he sips on his drink, running a hand through your hair.

“But I feel bad. I’ve hardly done anything for you since we met.” Hoshi hums, glancing at you thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

“You could repay me by going on a date with me,” he says, so casually that you nearly choke on a tapioca pearl. Thankfully, you manage to wash it down with a sip of tea, though looking into Soonyoung’s serious, star-filled gaze makes you feel just as breathless as any coughing fit would have. 

“I—” He waits patiently on your response, standing before you on the sidewalk, the gentle breeze ruffling his hair. “Wouldn’t you still be paying, then?” 

For a moment, in the silence that falls after your response, you worry that you’ve ruined it all. And then, true to his nature, he breaks into laughter, running a hand through his hair. As his face tilts slightly towards the streetlight, you realize he’s blushing — just as nervous as you are — and can’t help but smile.

“Ah, that’s a good point,” he says, sighing. He fixes you with a playful grin, “But maybe I should just keep you in debt to me.” You laugh and playfully prod his shoulder, stepping closer to him.

“Or,” you reply, slowly looking up to meet his gaze, hoping your confidence holds. “Maybe, once we ace this project, I could take you on a date.” Somehow, his eyes seem to sparkle even brighter once he hears your response, and the smile that splits across his face is blinding.

“Deal,” he says, softly, gaze falling to your lips. 

As you find the burst of confidence to close the gap between the two of you, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to wait until the project is finished to treat Soonyoung to that date. When he smiles against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and inadvertently pressing his cup of tea into your side, causing you to shiver and melt further into his embrace, you realize that the answer to that is no. 

And you couldn’t be happier.

[mason-knight-retired]

from X (they were talkative tonight)

It took most of the day before Mason was able to grab a moment with Marie, and by then the hour was late and he had to track her down in her quarters.

“Nice digs,” he says, walking into the spacious room. It surprised him, he wouldn’t have expected anything this comfortable on an Alliance ship but it was just one more thing to add to the list of readjusted expectations when it came to the Alliance.

But then he spots Nico lounging by the viewport and suddenly the luxe cottons of the bedspread and the soft lighting from the lamps and the extra plush pillows make a lot more sense. He raises an eyebrow, and Nico jerks one shoulder up in answer before turning back to the datapad in his hands and ignoring him.

Nice to see somethings didn’t change.

“Masey,” Marie smiles as she motions for him to slide the door shut behind him, only for Maddox of all people to slide through the gap before it seals. Mason throws the other adept an irritated glance before choosing to ignore him and he wonders briefly when did their little squad become just an anti-trust exercise of who could pretend the other didn’t exist the hardest.

A pair of certain gold flecked eyes comes to mind before Mason ruthlessly shoves them aside - along with the heavy ache in his chest they try to drag with them. Case in point.

“What can I do for you?”

“Just checking in,” he says, although there’s more to his visit than that. He’d spotted her in the small crowd of crew and marines as the captain made his welcome speech earlier and he had recognized her stance and her mildly humming signature straight away.

A fury.

Marie gives him a disbelieving look as she pulls off the jacket of her uniform. “Really? You didn’t do that earlier?” she says dryly.

“Looks like Huntsman has something on his mind,” Maddox mutters, making himself comfortable in the middle of the wide bed that takes pride of place in the XO quarters. He throws a hand over his eyes and sighs loudly, and that’s all it takes for Marie to cross the room and rub her fingers over his scalp gently. Maddox rumbles something Mason can’t hear before she smiles down at him and plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

It was still the weirdest fucking friendship Mason had never been able to work out and he darts a glance to Nico, wondering how the grumpy, uptight Italian took the casual affection between his girlfriend and his fellow phoenix, only to find Nico quite clearly doesn’t give enough of a shit to be concerned.

Mason frowns, waiting until Marie turns her attention back to him. She raises her eyebrows expectantly as she starts to kick off her boots. “So, you have something on your mind. Speak.”

Mason pauses, wondering exactly how to broach this before opting to take a leaf out of Maddox and Nico’s books and go for direct.

“What’s with the fury?”

Marie doesn’t look surprised by his blunt question. She glances down, working on her other boot and yanking it off before she stands up to answer him. He folds his arms across his chest, the concern floating inside him making his jaw turn hard. 

“You have four phoenix on board,” he tells her, like that should be obvious. And it should be. Granted, Ajax wasn’t in fighting shape yet, but Ben and Nico and himself were all salivating for a fight.

There’s a muffled “Could have been five,” that comes from Maddox and those four words send ice flooding down his spine.

“Shut up, Ajax or I’ll shove you out the fucking airlock.”

Maddox props himself up onto his elbows slowly and looks directly at Mason, eyes cold. “I’d like to see you try.”

“That makes two of us. Might be worth tearing half the ship apart to put you in your place once and for all.”

“Like you could take me, old man.”

“Maybe I should finish what the phantom started-”

“That’s enough!” Marie’s yell is the only thing that makes the red around his vision recede and Mason is immediately pissed at himself and more than chagrined by Marie’s furious glare. It’s always been Ajax’s unique little skill, he always knew just where to slip the knife in and twist and make it fucking hurt.

Marie jabs him hard in the chest, wincing when it doesn’t give under the soft flesh of her finger. He spares a second to hope she didn’t hurt herself. 

“No one is putting any holes in my ship,” she continues angrily. “Jesus Christ, if you’re both finished with the dick measuring contest, will the two of you kindly get lost? It’s been a long day and I’m tired and I think I want Nic to give me a massage on the inside-“

“Can I help?” Maddox asks hopefully.

Marie plants her hands on her hips and glares. “That was a one time thing,” she hisses and Mason has to stop and rewind that moment in his mind to make sure he’s heard it properly.

“Wait, you fucked Ajax? And Nico let that happen?”

Maddox snickers. “Nico was there-“

“Holy shit!”

Marie pinches the space between her brows and takes three deep breaths, clearly trying to find her calm. Mason casts a glance at Nico, still engrossed in the datapad and pointedly ignoring everything. He finds himself eyeing Nico in a new light suddenly. “Wow, I’m kinda impressed, Zeus. Didn’t think you went for that.”

Nico levels a stare at him over the datapad but says nothing.

“Right,” Mason rolls his eyes. “Good talk, mate.”

He turns his attention back to Marie, only to discover she’s apparently done with all of them. Her uniform pants are peeled off and so is her singlet. She’s about to remove her bra when she levels a baleful stare at him, gesturing for him to turn around but he doesn’t bother to budge.

“What? We’ve all seen it,” he says with a shrug.

“If you put this in your spank bank for later, I’ll sic nico on you,” she threatens.

Mason offers her an exaggerated leer before he glances at Nico, just to be a pain in the ass. “It’d be worth it.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” she mutters, turning her back and pulling off her bra to quickly swap it for a sleep shirt.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Maddox says idly, now sprawled back on the bed with his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “He’s just gonna tear it off you anyway.”

“Not as long as you two assholes are still here. Seriously, Mase. What is it? I know why he is,” she swats Maddox’s boot. “But why are you here?”

Mason pulls his attention back and all his good mood and humour dissipates like smoke on the wind. His expression turns serious, recalling the reason why he’d sought her out in the first place. He could have asked the Captain, he supposes but he was still finding his feet around the other man. He had the ability to be much more candid with Marie. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know why there was another formidable biotic on the ship. A biotic that they didn’t need.

“Why does the Alliance need the phoenix and a fury all in the same place?”

This time it’s Marie who folds her arms across her chest. She looks tired and Mason has a sudden bout of regret for bringing this up now. “You sound a little put out about it, Mason.”

“Maybe I am. You don’t need her.”

Marie tilts her head, eyes suddenly hard. Mason knows he’s just pissed her off, but he’s not sure it’s in him to feel bad about it. When they had approached him about making the SSV Berlin the base for any phoenix led operations, no one said shit about having a fury along for the ride too.

“She’ll give you a run for your money, Mason. So, you’d better check that ego.”

“An unenhanced, unaugmented biotic with a standard alliance issue amp?” he scoffs. “Not bloody likely.”

Marie plucks the datapad out of Nico’s hand but he doesn’t protest when she flicks it to Mason. He catches it easily, frowning at the scrolling text. “What’s this?”

“Have a read of her file,” Marie tells him and Mason scans the screen, his frown slowly morphing into surprise and something else that leaves him cold.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yep,” she says sweetly. Mason suspects she’s enjoying this a little too much. “Better get used to not being top dog around here anymore, Huntsman. Who knows, maybe she can even teach you a thing or two.”

[callboxkat]

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 5/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone.

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Fic Warnings:  food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 2329

Part 1 : Part 6 

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman gasped and sat upright. Or at least, he tried to. Gentle but firm hands pushed him down as Roman realized he was moving, being carried on a stretcher. Blue sky shone above, rather than those endless trees.

“Sir Roman, it’s the guard, we’ve got you—“

“Logan,” Roman interrupted, “Where’s Logan; is he okay?”

“He’s here,” said a voice. Roman quickly tried again to sit up and turn to look, which... judging by how his stomach rolled and black rushed in from the edges of his vision, may have been a mistake.

…

He caught glimpses of blue sky and anonymous faces, snatches of conversation, but he couldn’t seem to properly hold on to reality until he realized he was being lowered onto a bed. Several sets of footsteps left the room, their owners murmuring quietly. A door shut. He opened his eyes.

“Please stay down,” said a voice. “You’ll be alright; you’re safe now. Just let me look you over.”

A woman stood at the bedside—a doctor, judging by her appearance. “Logan?” Roman asked.

Hands began gently examining him, feeling along his arms and legs. “He’s alive. They’re taking him for surgery. They’ll bring him here after.”

He’s alive.

“Surgery?”

“For his leg. They’re trying to save it.”

Roman swallowed. “Will he be okay?”

The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “He’ll live. I saw his leg, though, and I won’t lie to you. If he does keep it, I’d be very surprised if he didn’t need a cane.”

Roman sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh.” Logan would not be happy about that. Even if a cane would make him look distinguished.

“For now, let’s focus on you. Does anything feel broken? What hurts? I see that bruise on your head, and your feet aren’t in great shape, either, but if there’s anything else. Like that blood on your side—is that yours?”

Roman swallowed, suddenly very aware of where his coat stuck to his side. He could still feel Logan’s head pressed there. “Ah... no. But I hurt my ribs,” he admitted.

“Okay. I’ll look at those after we get this head wound sorted.”

She reached up, and Roman belatedly noticed the ice pack that had been placed on his head as she took it away. “It looks like the swelling’s already gone down. Can you tell me your name?”

“Roman. Uh, Sir Roman.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir Roman. My name is Valerie. And what day is today?”

Roman hesitated a little too long, but he was able to tell her.

“Okay. That’s good.” She held up one finger. “Follow this please?” She moved her finger from one side to the other, and Roman did his best to follow it. He had a feeling he didn’t do a great job, based on her expression.

In the end, Valerie told him he had a minor concussion, two likely cracked ribs, some bad cuts on his feet that had to be cleaned and in one case stitched, a badly sprained ankle, and a lot of bruising. She’d had to cut off the shirt of the uniform he’d been so proud of, but Roman found he didn’t care.

After Roman had been treated, some of the knights came in to find out what exactly had happened to him and Logan, and why they had gone so far into the woods alone in the first place. Roman had to admit that they were right, saying that he should have found more knights to accompany them once they had decided to go further from the settlement, or should have tried harder to stop Logan from going at all. Some of them seemed rather angry about it. Roman didn’t blame them.

It was late afternoon by the time they brought Logan back. When it became clear Roman had no intentions of staying horizontal, Valerie helped him to sit up against some pillows.

The people who brought Logan in carefully lay him on the second bed in the room. The apothecarist had been dressed in loose medical garb that didn’t suit him at all. His eyes were shut and shadowed, and his head and leg were thickly bandaged. He was still very pale. But his leg was still there, and Roman could see his chest gently rise and fall. The sight filled him with a dizzying relief.

One of the doctors, or nurses, or whoever they were who’d brought Logan back to him, stepped aside to quietly converse with Valerie.

Roman just watched the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing, a part of him fearing it might stop if he looked away.

The other person stepped out, and Valerie turned to Logan, picking up a blanket and laying it over him. She left his injured leg exposed. After a glance in Roman’s direction, she also folded it down just enough that Roman could still see his chest move.

“How is he?” Roman asked, his eyes not leaving his friend.

“They saved his leg,” she replied, “though it’s almost certain he’ll need a cane. He also has a concussion.”

“But he’ll… you said he’ll live, right?”

Valerie gave him a reassuring look. “As long as nothing changes, he will.”

“When’ll he wake up?”

Valerie hummed. “He might wake up sometime tomorrow. They gave him a sedative for the surgery, and he needs time to rest and recover. He’s not in great shape.”

“…Okay.” ‘Might wake up tomorrow’ was certainly much better than ‘might wake up’. And they had saved his leg—also very good news. Logan would kill him if he found out someone had cut off his leg on Roman’s watch.

Logan still had his leg, and his life. At least Roman hadn’t entirely failed to protect him.

…

Logan slept through the entire next day. Roman also dozed for much of the time, admittedly exhausted and without much else to do. His day was broken up by small, plain meals, and when Valerie or one of the other doctors came to check on Logan and Roman. Each time, they’d look them over, give Logan and Roman some medicine, and if necessary, change their bandages. Roman was not a fan of the bitter taste of his painkillers, but they were better than putting up with the pain. It looked like Logan was receiving more medicines than Roman, which he supposed made sense. Roman didn’t ask what any of the potions were. Logan probably would have known.

Over the course of the day, Logan’s color seemed to improve, and Valerie seemed pleased by whatever she was looking for when she examined him. But, still, he stayed asleep. Roman was worried.

“He could wake up sometime tonight,” Valerie mused, her fingers pressed to Logan’s neck, “but I would not count on it.” She took her fingers away, then took a bottle from her coat and dabbed a liquid from within on Logan’s lips, letting a small amount trickle into his mouth. “He’ll likely be pretty out of it, if he does. Try not to overwhelm him. Just keep him calm, and call for a doctor if none of us is in the room.”

Roman wilted a little, but he nodded. He really, really wanted to talk to Logan—he needed to—but more than that, he needed Logan to be okay. And it wouldn’t exactly be worth it to talk to him if he wouldn’t remember it, or be present enough to really take part.

Roman was silent for a moment.

“When he’s well enough,” he asked hesitantly, “would you mind giving us a moment alone? I’d, um... really like to talk to him. Alone.” Sure, Valerie wasn’t always in this room, but she or another doctor seemed to always be just in the other room beyond, where Roman was sure they could hear anything said in this one.

Valerie looked confused for a moment, glancing between him and Logan, probably wondering what on earth he could want to speak about; but then realization flickered in her eyes. Roman felt mildly embarrassed, but Valerie just turned back to him and nodded, smiling kindly. “Of course. I’ll make sure you two get some time alone. But if anything seems wrong, you call me back right away. I’ll go far enough that you can talk in peace, but I will not leave the building.”

Roman did his best to pretend his face wasn’t flushed pink. “I will, I promise. Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, then went to change Logan’s bandages. Roman watched as she carefully unwound the gauze from Logan’s head, checked and cleaned the wound, and spread a salve over it before wrapping his head in fresh bandages. She then went to the foot of the bed and did the same for his leg. Roman didn’t watch that. He wasn’t squeamish; he was a knight, but... this was Logan. And he’d already seen what the giant had done to his leg.

“Will he be in much pain when he wakes?” Roman asked.

“We’ll give him a potion for that.” She glanced up at Roman, who continued to look away, since she wasn’t quite finished with Logan’s leg. “Don’t worry. He’ll be getting the good stuff.”

Roman chucked weakly.

Valerie finished tending to Logan, then turned to Roman, who was not exactly eager to have more of that salve put on his cut feet. It stung.

Finally, she was securing the last bandage in place.

“Okay, I’m just about finished here. Someone will be in in a couple of hours; but of course, if something happens, just call out. Do you need anything before I go? I could help you lay back down—might be more comfortable, for sleeping tonight.”

Roman glanced at Logan, who was still sleeping peacefully, then shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine like this. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

“It’s no problem. It’s my job.”

“Still. Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, gathered her things, and left.

Roman sighed, settled back against his pillows, and closed his eyes.

…

Even during the night, every hour or two, someone would come in to check on Roman and Logan. Roman was not exactly happy to have his sleep repeatedly disturbed. How was he supposed to get back to his normal, fabulous self if no one let him have his beauty sleep? But he was glad that they were keeping an eye on Logan, at least.

Then, there came one instance when he couldn’t have been less annoyed to be woken up.

He’d been dreaming, he thought, of shadowy forests and bloody faces and glowing, sickly green eyes, when a sound brought him back towards wakefulness. As Roman drifted out of sleep, he placed it as a quiet moan.

Roman frowned and opened his eyes, looking around. It was clearly still nighttime, and the room was dim, lit only by moonlight filtering through a thin white curtain over the window, and by a soft glow from under the door. Daybreak had to be an hour or two off, yet.

There was a shifting of fabric from his right, and suddenly Roman realized what—or rather, who—had woken him.

“Logan?” he asked softly, looking over at the other bed.

Logan’s head shifted, his eyelids fluttering, then opening halfway. He let out another, even softer groan.

Roman sat up straighter, trying not to wince as his ribs protested. “Logan,” he tried again. “You with me?”

After a pause, Logan’s eyes slid in his direction. Even in the dimness, Roman could see how drowsy he looked. His normally sharp blue eyes looked glazed. His eyebrows furrowed, and Roman realized he appeared to be growing more nervous and confused.

“Hey, it’s me, Roman. We’re home,” Roman whispered, hoping to reassure him. “They got us out. We’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but they’re going to have you all fixed up in no time.”

The words didn’t seem to register. Logan shifted again, looking agitated. He made a distressed sound.

Roman bit his lip. Time for plan B. He pushed aside his own blanket, and, taking a second to brace himself, pushed himself to his feet. He gritted his teeth, grimacing, then hobbled over to Logan’s bed.

The bed wasn’t very wide, but his favorite nerd was very skinny, so there was plenty of room for Roman to sit on the edge of the bed. He took Logan’s hand, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. The apothecarist usually wasn’t exactly cuddly.

“Hey,” Roman whispered, as Logan’s eyelids drooped, then opened again.

Logan mumbled something. Something about a potion? It didn’t make much sense. Maybe Logan thought he was at his apothecary, or that they were still out in the woods, gathering supplies. Valerie had said he’d be out of it.

Roman hesitated, nodded to himself, then carefully swung up one of his legs onto the bed, the one whose ankle was sprained. There wasn’t enough room for him to fully lay on the bed, but this was more comfortable.

He rubbed his thumb across the back of Logan’s hand in small circles, still nervous about whether Logan would be okay with this, but the injured apothecarist seemed to relax as Roman continued the gentle, repetitive motion. Roman’s heart swelled, and he swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat.

He’d nearly lost this. For a while there, he had thought he had. Even if Roman himself had somehow managed to escape, he would have never had the chance to tell Logan how he really felt. It would have been too late. Logan could have been gone forever, and Roman would have never known if things could be different.

“Roman?” came a weak, wavering voice.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. We’re in the hospital.”

Three seconds of silence passed. Roman thought perhaps Logan had fallen back to sleep, but then his hand twitched in Roman’s, like a weak attempt to squeeze it. “You okay?” he mumbled.

A tear leaked down Roman’s cheek. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay. Just rest.”

[transsexualwolverine]

SO

UH

CRAPPY CAEJOSE ONESHOT THAT’S NOT BEEN PROOFREAD, WRITTEN AT ONE A.M. ANYONE???

TOO BAD, READ IT ANYWAY

PLEASE

I NEED APPROVAL-

WRITING UNDER THE CUT

1999

Joseph sighed quietly, pulling his banana cap over his eyes.

He didn't want to move from the bench.

The parks in Morioh were so nice, and it was a lovely day. Josuke and company were off doing whatever, and they had left Joseph in the park, alone, and the old man was just relaxing.

A bubble floated in front of his face.

Then another.

He looked up. "Caesar...?"

His closest companion had died well over sixty years ago, yet every time he saw bubbles, he couldn't help but remember him.

A small child, around four or five, was blowing bubbles not five feet away.

No... of course not...

Joseph never failed to be disappointed, and often, he would go into a quiet, somewhat depressed mode, thinking of his friend, all the good times, and bad, they had shared, all the memories that had been made. He would often retreat to a solitary place, and could sometimes be heard crying.

--------------

2001

Bubbles were floating all around.

Some large, some small. Shining, iridescent, shimmering, graceful and fleeting. Joseph reached out to touch one, and instead of popping, it floated gently above his hand, hovering peacefully.

But the bubble was no ordinary bubble. The bubble was turning red, turning the color of blood, and something was forming inside it, something with purple and and orange-pink triangles, and it was curled up and long, and oh, it was Caesar's bandanna, and the calm scenery of Air Supplena Island was changing, and now it was the temple he had fought Wamuu in, and now there was blood on the floor, and now the scent of death was wafting through the air, and the smell of iron and blood was thick, and there was an enormous rock on the floor, and...

Joseph woke up, tears streaming down his face.

"Caesar..."

2012 (araki said he'd be alive during stone ocean shhhh-)

Joseph was bed bound. Unable to get out of bed.

The world seemed, oddly calm and serene that day.

And there had been bubbles appearing at the edge of his vision.

Of course, nobody could see them but him. He thought he was going insane, full on.

Nah.

Noon.

Time for his daily nap.

Joseph was already sleeping peacefully, but he felt something was off.

He woke up, and managed to get out of bed. Within minutes, he was walking around the house, feeling better than ever. He felt young again, he felt stronger. He could feel energy flowing though him, he could feel his spirit returning.

He turned the corner, and was no longer in his New York penthouse. No, now he was... on Air Supplena Island? Yes, that's exactly where he was.

In fact, the Hell Climb Pillar was not even ten meters away!

And, there was a figure there... Someone with blond hair, he was tall... was wearing a bandanna...

Joseph realized who it was, and ran. Ran at top speed, as the man opened his arms, Joseph crashing into him as the strong arms closed around his torso, Joseph clinging onto him.

Of course, by now, Joseph had realized this was no dream. No, he was dying. He knew.

"Caesar! Is it, is it you? Really?!"

The Italian smiled, hugging Joseph tighter. "Yes, JoJo, it's really me. I can't tell you how much I've missed you all these years.."

JoJo, now crying, nodded. "I-I've missed you too!! So much, Caesar!"

After hours of talking and reminiscing, Joseph suddenly hugged Caesar, planting a kiss on his lips, pulling back with a cocky grin as Caesar blushed, stammering out something in Italian.

"I've always wanted to do that, Ceasarino~" he said teasingly, hopping backwards.

The next day was mildly chaotic, Joseph meeting all his dead friends and family.

The last person to meet, was Lisa Lisa. She met him with an icy look, and within seconds was ranting about how he gave up Hamon training and such. This resulted in The Secret Joestar Technique.

And Caesar tackling him. And joining Lisa Lisa. And a lot happened. And chaos when Erina got to him.

Happy chaos. That was exactly how Joseph liked it.

"Welcome home, JoJo," Ceasar whispered later in the day, planting a kiss on Joseph's forehead.

Joseph smiled. I'm home.

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Everything is Going to be Different Now

I didn’t know how long I had been crying when Illumi finally pulled me away from the scene of the crime. Police were patrolling the park even since they saw a huge flock of crows heading towards there. I couldn’t even stand facing the corpse of beloved friends again. I should be comforting Machi. She knew them better. These were her friends . 

“I’m going to take her out of here,” said Illumi to Machi. 

“Good idea,” she said. Her voice was hoarse due to the screaming match she had earlier. “I’ll clean this up. The boss will at least want to bury them.” 

“No,” I mumbled feeling tired from all the crying and exhaustion from the last few hours. “I-I can help.” 

My weak pleas fell on deaf ears. Illumi only pulled me along as I didn’t have much strength to fight him or did I have the drive to try. I couldn’t even have the energy to leave the crook of his arm. My feet would only carry me as far as he would take me. 

Before long, we’d reached a hotel at the edge of town away from the park, Heaven’s Arena, and the silent call of the police. I stood silently as Illumi asked for a room from the front staff. He gave a fake name and I.D. Once we’d gotten the room, Illumi finally led me to the bed. 

I collapsed on top of it. My body felt a numb tingle that reminded me of static noise. Too much of this seemed like a dream while all being too real. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” muttered Illumi as he took a seat in the armchair across from the bed. 

I wanted to respond; however, my voice wouldn’t come. I felt a sickness surge through my body. A nausea that I only feel when anxiety spikes beyond belief. My body moved on its own as it carried me to the restroom to relieve myself of all contents inside my stomach. Kneeling besides the toilet, all I could think about was Kortopi and Shalnark discussing how they’re going to be traveling. The two unknowingly less than an hour away from their death. 

My head pounded against my skull as I wretched until I felt nothing but an empty stomach that left me in pain. Illumi watched me from the entrance of the bathroom. My hand weakly went to flush before closing the lid and leaning back against the tub of the shower. 

Illumi took a seat right next to me but sitting on the tub itself. “You don’t have to watch over me,” I mutter while leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I hear the water running before feeling a cool cloth on my forehead. 

“I know,” he spoke. 

“I’m just tired.”

“I know.”

“You can leave,” I say while pressing the cool towel so that water rushes down every inch of my face. “I just want to stay here a little longer.”

He didn’t respond; however, I could still feel the heat of his body next to mine. His long hair tickled some of my face but I refused to move. This spot was perfect for letting the emotions wash over me once again. Tears refused to appear. I was only left with shaky breaths and a cold forehead. 

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my head. Illumi’s cold fingers ran through my hair. I opened my eyes to see him looking down at the floor while trying the most physical contact as he can muster. He’s trying to help even if he doesn’t know how. His gesture broke my heart all over again. “The first kill I saw was by Father. One of the butlers had acted up. Father told me to kill him, I refused. Father got more angry at my refusal and killed him for me. As punishment, I was forced into the prisons. He beat me endlessly for days.”

“Oh god,” I said while moving my hand to hold his on top of my head. His eyes never left the absent void that took over his vision. It was as if he was reliving the pain all over again; yet, he said it with such conviction. “How old were you?”

“Two.”

I sat up even further even though my quaking body pushed against me. “You were only two? H-how? Why?”

“I disobeyed. It is what happens.”

“And all your brothers?”

“Their experience was a little later. Milluki at 2 and a half. Killua, Alluka, and Kalluto at 3. I and Milluki had too many nightmares or he would have started sooner. 3 seemed to be the perfect age.”

I didn’t know how to respond to the messed up situation placed before me. He was trying to help but all I felt was bad for everyone around me. Everyone had lost so much and I was finally catching up to the program. I entered a war with kicking and screaming. 

“I’m sorry,” was all that fell from my lips. 

“I won’t treat our children that way. Since I’m not the heir…” his voice trailed off for the first time since I’d met him. This was a very different Illumi. His past is held under a tight lock and key. He holds it all in so tightly that he has to pick his thoughts. He’s always so calm and collected because a wrong choice could lead to more punishment by his father. 

“Already thinking of our children?” I ask while pulling my hand away from my hair. Illumi catches my hand first and takes off the blood soaked white cloth that I’d wrapped around it long ago. 

“Yes of course.” My hand was a sore, bloody mess. The bleeding had stopped a while ago; yet, the coagulated blood had become dry and itchy. I removed the other hand’s covering. “How did this happen?”

“Nen,” I mumbled. “I used my Nen to create a makeshift metal to cut through Hisoka’s ability. All I could think about was saving Machi yet I was hurt in the process.”

“I see.” His eyes finally left the void as he turned to look at me. If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn his eyes were a little more glossy than before. “We need to get you clean. I’m hoping the concierge doesn’t call the police.”

I scrunch my nose in confusion before I notice all the dried blood on my shirt. I lifted the cloth from my face to see it stained in the same crimson as my clothes. “Oh,” I responded with realization at how I must look. I tried to push myself up but the wounds on my hands sent me spiraling back down in pain. 

Illumi held onto my arm as he pulled me up and into the tub. “You don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” He said before walking to the door. “If you need, call. I’m going to see about getting you a change of clothing. You can take a bath by yourself?”

“Yes,” I said while already starting to strip off my shirt. Illumi nodded before leaving the door open a crack. I finished getting undressed and the water started. A bath was perfect for what I needed. I didn’t want to move but I needed to get clean. Slowly, the bath started to turn a light shade of pink as blood mixed with water. I washed every bit of my body until I felt mildly clean. 

My mind cleared a bit in the soaking tub. The heat made me feel even more tired than my aching body did. Once I felt I was clean enough, I let the water out, grabbed a towel, and finally stood on my own two feet. 

Illumi hadn’t returned when I finally was able to walk out of the bath. I laid down on the bed with only a towel wrapped tightly around my body. The air conditioning pumped out a cool breeze while giving a high pitched hum. I could feel my mind wander to sleep before I registered that it was what was actually happening. 

I only awoke to Illumi shaking my body. “I’ve gotten you some new clothes and some food.” I sat up while looking at the fashion sense that Illumi had picked out for me. He had gotten a few outfits and a set of pjs to wear. They weren’t terrible. In fact, I’d call them fashionable.  I changed into the PJs in front of him before taking a bite of the toast given to me. 

“Thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Yes,” he says while removing his shirt to crawl into bed. He looked as tired as I felt. Sleep still held me tightly. I finished the simple platter of toast and a hard boiled egg before climbing back into bed with him. Instead of splitting sides like back at Kukuroo Mountain, Ilumi held out his arm so that I could lay on his chest. I obliged.

“Illumi?” I asked as his arm wrapped around me so that I could feel a little comfort in this tiny room. 

“Hmm,” he said while raising an eyebrow and looking at me. 

“What is your plan for us in the future?”

He paused to think. I was getting used to the pauses before answering questions. Weirdly enough, I knew he would actually answer them. Before, it was so easy to not hear an answer to my questions. Now, I knew he wanted to answer. 

“We have 4 kids. We move off the mountain and into another location as we have to. I’ll still keep with the business even though Killua has returned. You can work if you want. You don’t have to. We’d teach Nen to the children so they can be protected. That’s all I have planned so far.”

“You’re really stuck on four kids.”

“It's how many siblings I have.”

“I see.” With my head on Illumi’s chest, I could hear his soft heartbeat. My eyes closed at the sound. I wanted it to null me back to sleep. “Everything going to be different now?”

“Yes. For you it will,” he responded with the same groggy tone as me. He was falling asleep as fast as I was. 

“Why not you?” 

“I’ve been through this before.”

“Illumi?”

“Yes?”

“How many people have you killed?”

“You don’t want to know?”

“Then how old was your first kill?”

“2. Only three days after.”

“I’m sorry, Ill,” I mutter. The pounding of his heart felt more like a metronome that was slowly putting me into a deep trance. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded before kissing the top of my head. That was the signal to my brain to finally allow me to rest.

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