#we were going to take a shower but the pipes are all frozen apparently. so we’ll have to wait for them to thaw out.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

check it out i’m in the house like carpet /echo

[voiceless-terror]

Perhaps the "stop moving!" Prompt for Jon, where he's been kidnapped by yet another avatar group and they're trying to subdue him but he's fighting too much so they break something like his leg or wrist to make him stop 👀

Hello! I’ve been thinking about this prompt for a while, and I decided to set this during the Circus kidnapping (hope you don’t mind!) and tackled it with another prompt, this one by @give-me-a-minute-to-think who asked for “ a post-circus-kidnapped fic. like, how martin and timdiscover jon was kidnaped and their reaction (espically tims.) we see in canon martin addressing that fact, but not literally anyone else. i just want some complicated relatinship and tim to be nice to jon even a little.” Hope you two enjoy!

Jon’s pretty sure bones weren’t meant to bend that way.

It was his fault, really. He shouldn’t have put up a struggle. He should’ve realized the futility of his situation and yielded to the rough, unfamiliar hands forcing him into the van. But Jon’s nothing if not stubborn, so a few flailing arms and weak kicks were to be expected. And the retaliation, of course, should’ve also been expected.

“Stop movin’,” came the gruff voice of the delivery man, with a face so nondescript Jon could forget it if he looked away for only a second. He gives one last weak slap to the hands on his body. Wrong move.

A sickening crack could be heard along with a sharp cry- Jon’s cry, because the pain currently emanating from his one good wrist is white-hot and agonizing. His eyes are blurring and the inside of the van is stifling in its darkness, but even he could see that hands and wrists weren’t supposed to look like this. He bites back the nausea and sags back into the rough hands, rendered frozen by the pain. There’s a chuckle, low and sinister, and one of the men begins to whistle the tune from the calliope.

And then his arms are yanked behind his back and the pain reaches a dizzying crescendo as his body decides it’s had enough, and sinks into oblivion.

_______

He spends his days being touched.

Cold hands and a face with a permanent smile. Sometimes there’s more of them, as if he’s a spectacle to be watched and studied. The Strangers like to learn about bodies, foreign as they are to them. Nikola enjoys narrating the process, poking and prodding at the bruises and burns and the strange, twisted hands. He doesn’t bite back his gasps and whimpers, he’s gagged, but Nikola likes to hear them. Likes to hear the wordless grumble of his voice, rendered mute and unintelligible. 

The weeks go by, he loses hope. He’s not there much anymore, he’s somewhere else, a place where the pain can’t reach him. He’s back in Georgie’s apartment, the Admiral purring in his lap. He’s back in Research with a smiling Tim and a woman he imagines to be Sasha. He even thinks back to Martin’s lunches a few months ago with a sort of fondness. People talked to him, people cared. People worried when he was gone. 

Every once in a while, his daydreams are interrupted by the sting of bones knitting together wrong or the itching flare of infected tissue. He starts to think of his eventual skinning as a sort of blessing in disguise; Lord knows he’s wanted to scratch himself out of it more than once. He just wishes they would hurry it up, not draw it out so much. Shouldn’t he be ready by now?

And then Michael comes. He feels a strange, manic strength return to him at the promise of a story, even if it ends in his own demise. I want to know. Tell me, tell me. The Eye’s gaze doesn’t reach him, but the power it’s planted within him grows. By the end, he feels strong enough to reach for the door handle himself, ignoring the pain that raising his arm causes. 

It’s locked. His one salvation is gone. But then Michael is too, and Helen gives him a different sort of hope. One that lands him directly in Elias’s office. 

His injuries are ignored in favor of a more pressing threat- Melanie. The only thing that keeps him standing and lucid is the remaining strength he siphoned from Michael’s statement. But it’s an empty, sickening vigor, one that’s sure to leave him feeling more drained than ever once it fades. Elias says nothing as he stumbles after Melanie with a limping pace, arriving some five minutes after her. She’s sitting at her desk, silently steaming when Jon makes his way in the office, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

“Jon!” Martin’s bright voice pipes up. “You’re back! We were wondering…” His voice trails off as he takes in Jon’s appearance, dirty and gaunt and yet shining with a strange sheen. A thousand showers won’t erase the feeling of those cold, slimy hands on him, Jon knows. Tim’s head pops up from his desk and even he looks a bit concerned; it’s the most positive feeling he’s shown Jon in ages. 

“He was kidnapped, apparently,” Melanie drawls, and Jon doesn’t take her ambivalence to heart. She feels trapped like the rest of them. And Jon’s safe now, so what does it matter? What does any of this matter?

“K-Kidnapped?” Martin sputters, making his way over to his side. Jon flinches back unconsciously, gripping tightly at the wall and Martin stops in his tracks, his face softening. “We didn’t- nobody told us-”

“It’s fine,” Jon croaks, though they all know it isn’t. “It was- it was the Circus. A-And I’ll tell you about it-” he nods in Tim’s direction, seeing his wide-eyed stare out of the corner of his eye.”-as soon as I have a rest, if that’s alright.”

Martin casts a critical eye over him, his gaze coming to rest at the stiff way in which he holds his arms. “Seriously? I think you should go to the hospital, Jon. You look-”

“I’m fine now,” Jon assures him- he’d wave away the concern if he could lift his arm at all. “Just- just a moment, please.”

He limps to his office and they let him, their eyes reminding him of those curious mannequins and the way they stared and dissected him as if he were a cadaver on display. You’re not there anymore, he tries to reason as he collapses into his office chair. There’s a statement on his desk and he wonders if it was Elias or one of his assistants who placed it there, just waiting for him to come back. He’s so hungry.

But opening the file is agony. His burned hand cries out at any touch, and his crooked one doesn’t cooperate. Still, he forces the movement and the tape recorder clicks on for him, a move that usually chills him but now feels like a small mercy.

The words spill from his lips, natural and all-consuming. It doesn’t energize him as much as Michael’s direct account, but it certainly goes down easier, untainted by the jagged edges of the Spiral. He only realizes at the end that the statement was written in French, a language he doesn’t speak. Another development. Elias would be proud. Probably is, sitting up there in his office. And in perfect and non-coincidental timing, his email pings with a message from the man himself, informing him of his new flat, the keys to which are in his bottom drawer.

A new flat. How considerate. He tries not to think of the lonely, unprotected darkness that awaits him there. No Georgie. No Admiral. That’s probably for the best, he thinks. You wouldn’t want to endanger them.

Martin knocks, startling him out of his maudlin thoughts. He’s got tea and biscuits and Jon is struck by not only how much he missed the normalcy of the act, but how horribly hungry he is. For real food. He almost feels giddy with the realization. 

“Thank you, Martin.” He’s rewarded with a tired smile and more questions. More apologies. He’s been reading statements. Jon worries about this, but Martin brushes it off. Jon keeps his arms resting on his lap, out of Martin’s sight. He gives non-answers to his inquiries and he can tell Martin’s frustrated- he only wants to help, but Jon won’t let him. They end the conversation at a strange but polite stalemate, a promise that there will be time for them to talk. He’s surprised Martin lets him go like this, but perhaps he’s realized what Jon already did all those weeks ago.

He’s beyond saving.

And then he’s gone again, back to that big room with those terrible waxworks and that strange, lilting tune and the faces that were wrong, the voices that were stolen. Everything echoed, even the tiniest of whimpers. And the laughter. He wants to curl up and make himself small, hide under the desk but his limbs are stiff and immovable, glued to his seat. His breaths start to come in small, tremulous gasps when another voice speaks up from the doorway.

“The Circus?”

Tim. Jon meets his eyes, attempting to get his emotions under control. You’re not there anymore. You’re back, you’re safe.

“A month you were gone,” Tim’s stomping over to his desk and Jon pushes his chair back, trying to create space but all Tim does is collapse into the chair across from him, heaving a sigh. He hasn’t sat there in ages. “Fuckin’ Elias. Where did they have you?”

Jon slumps in his seat, the tension in his frame somewhat easing. “It was a Wax Museum. I-I think that’s where they’ll be attempting the Unknowing.”

“That’s a lead, then.”

“Yeah,” Jon let out a weak chuckle. “At least something good came out of this.”

Tim’s eyes go dark. “Don’t joke about that.”

Jon nods, slightly taken aback by the fervor of the words. “S-Sorry.”

“What did you see? What happened?” He’s leaning forward now, his interest getting the best of him. Jon opens his mouth; he plans to answer- he could describe the waxworks, the van that took him away, the layout of his prison- but that’s not what comes out.

“They wouldn’t- they wouldn’t stop touching me,” he says, his voice fading to a whisper with each word. “Everyday. She came in and she smiled and she kept talking about my skin and touching me and I-I-” And once again he’s back there, cold hands on his face and mocking voices in his ear and it’s wrong, so wrong-

A hand rests on his shoulder and he rears back, an automatic response of revulsion as his heart stutters in his chest. But it’s not a smiling mannequin, it’s Tim. Tim, who’s kneeling by his chair so he doesn’t loom, whose hands are warm and real, flesh and blood. He’s staring down at Jon’s lap, where his arms lay crooked and burned and broken. Useless.

“They needed me to stop moving,” he whispers, as if it’s a valid explanation. Tim’s jaw is clenched. It’s a barely concealed rage and Jon feels guilty that it scares him so much. And yet, in spite of that anger, or perhaps because of it, he takes the hand from his shoulder, gentle and slow so Jon can see the path of his movements. He puts two fingers to the crooked arm, an impossibly soft movement as he leans in to inspect the damage. 

And there’s no ulterior motive behind it. It’s just a touch, careful and concerned, probing lightly at his arm like he’s something fragile that Tim doesn’t want to break. He feels a tightness in his chest that for once doesn’t have fear as its source.

“I would’ve looked for you. If I’d have known.”

Tim says the words more to his lap than to him. And yes, he suspected that if Tim knew the Circus had him, he would’ve looked. But it wouldn’t have been for him. His presence would only be incidental. Tim’s staring at his arm as if the power of his gaze could knit it back together right and whole. His hand remains in place, and Jon wonders if it’s for Tim more than him. It’s as if he has to be reminded that Jon’s real, that he’s here.

“I need to tell you something.” The words are loaded with import. “But not now. Are you still staying with your friend?” Jon blinks at the change in subject.

“N-No. I have a new flat, but-”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Tim’s suddenly all business, rising to his feet and looking down at Jon with a face that allowed for no argument. “Not with this Circus business. You can stay at mine, after you go to A&E. You’re not okay.”

Jon stares down at his lap, all fight leaving him. “I know.”

He lets Tim take control, lets him do that aggressive sort of care-taking he was known for in the earlier days of their friendship. It’s not the same; there’s no gentle words, no teasing but stern instruction. Just a silent tending that feels familiar all the same. Tim’s the one who speaks to the doctors, who listens to their instructions and later explains to Jon what’s going to have to be done in the coming days, as if he were a child. He knows it’s going to be bad, painful. But Tim keeps his voice level and Jon is somehow reassured. When they get to his flat and Jon’s warm and medicated and settled on the couch, he asks the question and Tim answers, his voice fluid and his words made eloquent in their grief. And Jon understands.

Tim doesn’t let him sleep on the couch. He’s curled up in the bed under a mountain of blankets and he pretends not to notice Tim standing in the doorway like some sort of sentinel. 

“I would’ve looked.” He repeats the words as if trying to convince himself of their veracity. “If I’d have known.”

Jon closes his eyes and tries to believe him.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135263

[morceid]

Snowy Sniffles

💡SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN💡

read on ao3

Summary: Derek gets the flu when he and Spencer are snowed in on a case in Colorado.

Word Count:  2k

Category: fluff, slight angst

Content Warnings: swearing, sickness, case details

A/N: enjoy my otp being cute and cuddly for my first day of 12 days of moreid :)

The snowy mountains of Colorado. A serial killer as cold as the air was out there, and It was the job of the BAU to catch him.

The team boarded their plane like normal, occasionally Derek coughed and cleared his throat. Not enough to realize what was happening, but enough to get a “You okay?” from JJ.

There weren’t many hiccups with local police, except for them withholding information about the victims. Derek and Spencer were sent to profile the dump site, JJ and Emily to interview victims' families, while Rossi and Hotch set up at the station.

The dump site was in a clearing next to a mountain frequently used for sledding. A visiting family from Texas was recommended the mountain by a friend and since they weren’t familiar with the area, the mom got lost and they came across the body. Thankfully the kids weren’t there to see it.

Spencer and Derek walked out of the black SUV and ducked under the police tape in their fleece jackets and large boots. 

“The victim was Hannah Gentry. She was a fourteen year old girl who ran away from her abusive father. No sign of sexual assault, but there were signs of restrains on her thighs and around her stomach.” Spencer walked around the area the body had previously been found, searching for anything left behind by the unsub.

“Maybe he thought he was saving these girls. How old were each of the victims?” Derek said, pulling tissues from jacket pocket.

“Ages ranged from 13 to 19. All had someone abusive close to them. You sure you’re okay?”

Before Derek could reply he was coughing and gagging into the torn kleenex in his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” The stuffiness in his nose was apparent in his voice now. “Let’s go back to the station. I’m sure Rossi and Hotch are at the M.E. now.”

The two walked back to the car and headed towards the police station. On the way it started snowing and Spencer said something about growing up in Vegas without snow, and how in Virginia they never really saw the snow fall, they just woke up to it on the ground and in the streets.

Between the snowfall rapidly increasing, the windshield wipers not doing anything to help, and Derek driving in an unfamiliar area, he began having a coughing fit and swerved off the road.

They didn’t get hurt in the accident, just a large rush of adrenaline, but the car wasn’t in the best shape. The engine made a sound that contorted Spencer’s face.

“We should probably check that.”

Derek tried to push his door open but he had driven into a ditch and snow was piled up tp his window. He rolled it down and shoveled some of the snow with his gloved hands. He got the door all the way open with a little wrestling of the handle. The boot of the car was opened and steam was rising from it. Spencer had crawled across the center console and got out from Derek’s side.

“Do you think we could get an officer to pick us up?” Derek sniffled.

“I think the snow is coming down too hard now.” Spencer’s black coat was powdered with snow that he didn’t bother to shake off, knowing it would be back there in an instant.

“I’ll call Hotch.” Derek fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You fell in a ditch? Morgan, this is a very time sensitive case. This guy kills every three days and it’s been the second day since the last body was found. We need you guys here.” Spencer overheard Hotch’s near yells over the phone.

“Okay, dad, calm down there. I’ll call up Garcia to find us the closest hotel and we’ll crash there. Reid says snowing too much for an officer to come pick us up.” It was around 7:30 and the sun was starting to set.

“Alright, we can send someone to get you tomorrow.” Hotch hung up and Derek called Penelope.

“Hey-llo my chocolate thunder! Anything I could do for you?”

Derek coughed a couple of times.

“You okay, Derek?”

“Yeah, uh, me and Reid got stuck in the snow and we can’t get back to the hotel. Are there any near us that we can crash at?”

“You’re in luck, Derek Morgan, There is a motel only a seven minute walk away from you. Anything else?”

“Not right now, baby girl, take care of yourself.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Spencer had begun chewing on his fingernails and pacing in a circle around the car.

“Kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cold hands into his warm, gloved ones. “Stop your worrying. I can see all of those gears in your head going a million miles an hour. Garcia found a motel near us and we can walk there and stay the night until someone can pick us up. We’ll be okay.”

“I know I’m gonna be okay, it’s you I’m worried about, Morgan.” Spencer took his hands out of Derek’s and leaned into the car to grab his bag.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” As if on cue, Derek started having a coughing fit.

“I’m talking about that, Derek. You’re showing signs of getting the flu. Your heart rate has sped up by 39% in the last couple of days. You constantly have a running nose and you won’t stop coughing. I am not getting sick, I cannot afford to get sick, especially on a case, so I hope this motel has two beds.” Spencer pushed away from Derek and began walking.

“Wait!” Derek ran to catch up. “Pretty boy, you’ve already been with me for almost 24 hours. I think you are already infected. Besides, you, my friend, are shivering. Now let me give you one of my coats.”

Spencer slowed his walking and let Derek drape his second jacket over his thin, purple one. Having a crush on your coworker was the worst.

When the pair reached the motel the sun had fully set and they had snow covering their shoulders and resting on their heads. They brushed it off before entering, where they were bombarded with the overwhelming scent of perfume as what could only be presumed as the owner tugged them in with both of her arms. She was short and wore a sparkly pink dress not unlike one Penelope would wear.

“What can I do for you kind fellows today? Did ya crash on the side of the road? Lots of people did tonight. Can I get you a room? Was it your engine? Faulty car?” The woman rambled.

“Um, we fell in a ditch a little bit back. We just need two rooms for the night,” Spencer looked down at her nametag, “Sasha. Thank you.”

“Well, boys, I am sorry to disappoint but we only have one more room for the night. You’re just gonna have to share.”

“Are there at least two beds?” Spencer whined.

“Sorry,” Sasha took Derek’s credit card and punched in the numbers on a computer that looked almost a decade old. “You good there? You look like you could throw up any second?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. Just give us the room key please.” Derek cleared his throat.

“Alrighty, there you go FBI guys.” Sasha handed them the room key labed 7B.

Given the overwhelming personality that brought them in, neither had a chance to look around and profile the front office. When they got to the room they realized just how miserable the stay would be.

The heater seemed to be turned off resulting in the room being colder than the outside. Complementary water bottles on the nightstand had frozen, expanded, and exploded. The pipes in the walls creaked and whined. Derek moved towards the bed, which when he pulled up the sheets, they were stiff and barely moved at his touch. Spencer moved past the bed and to the kitchen, where he found a coffee machine and cups in the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” Derek coughed.

“Making coffee. It’s something to keep me warm.” Spencer still had Derek’s jacket across his shoulders.

“Alright well, you might be right. I think I’m starting to get a fever. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Hopefully it’s just the reverse air conditioning that’s broken.”

Derek’s observations were proven correct as he unexpectedly walked into the spray of a nearly boiling shower. His muscles relaxed as he began thinking about the events of the day. His nose ran more than it had in the cold weather and it reminded him of a moment in the office that happened some while ago, back when Spencer first joined the BAU.

It was a slow day in the bullpen. With Spencer being nearly fresh from college, Derek wasn’t expecting him to take the best care of himself, no one was. Derek looked up, ready to throw Spencer a rolled up note about how bored he was. Instead he was greeted with an empty desk. After asking Hotch where the boy genius was and getting a surprised ‘I don’t know’ in response, he went in search of him. Spencer was found laying on the couch in an empty office. HIs skin was red and burning to the touch. Derek gave him a couple of shakes and he woke up, groaning. Spencer had gotten the flu and didn’t know how to deal with it at work. Not wanting to disappoint Hotch by skipping a day for something so insignificant as a virus, he settled in an office he correctly assumed was vacant. He insisted that he was okay but Derek refused to believe him. He dropped Spencer off at his apartment and immediately knew. He was in love with Spencer Reid. And he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

When Derek was in the shower for at least 15 minutes Spencer presumed that the shower was warm, so he called Sasha at the front desk from the phone in the room. She wouldn’t be able to get someone to come fix it for another day. He sat on the bed, spreading his arms and legs out in an attempt to warm the sheets. Letting his mind wander, he started asking himself questions. Why did he like Derek? He was just his coworker. Just someone in his life. An attractive person in his life, but just like anyone else in his life. Did Derek know how much he meant to him? Would he ever know? Would he be given the chance to let Derek know that he loved him and wanted to spend his life with the other knowing?

He was taken out of his day dream when Derek came out of the bathroom. Derek was shaking. He wore thick, flannel sweatpants and a grey hoodie, along with his socks, not wanting to leave a single part of his body too exposed.

“Uh, I know you’re super germaphobic and probably want nothing to do with my running nose and sore throat right now, but kid, all of my muscles are aching. Do you mind if I-”

“Not at all.” Spencer wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle as he sank onto the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief and settled in Spencer’s arms. It wasn’t long until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep in the lanky man’s arms.

“I think I love you, Derek Morgan.” Spencer whispered.

The next day Hotch called Derek to let him know that they caught the unsub. He was an amateur child groomer who left a hair in his latest victims mouth. An officer picked up the pair from the motel and they boarded the jet. Derek’s flu passed as soon as it came and he was better in the morning. A little cuddling with Spencer was just what the doctor ordered.

“Hey, Spencer.” Derek sat across from him after everyone on the jet had fallen asleep.

“Yes, Derek?” Spencer noted the use of his first name in his head.

“We need to talk about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I heard you, Spencer.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? Heard me say what?”

“Spencer,” Derek put his hand on the other’s knee, “I love you too.”

In a panic, Spencer leaned forward and pecked Derek on the lips.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He stammered.

“It’s okay. We can do that if you want.” Derek leaned back in for a real kiss from Spencer. He still tasted like the cheap hotel coffee.

“We can do anything as long as we’re together.”

TAGLIST: @greenaway-lewis @pretty-b0yy @w0rmpi3 @sunflowrly @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728 @the-sassy-one @endetit @adhd-lesbian @nobody121113​ @stalinthestripper​

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

Listen. I have been even more in my feels for Yoongi this week, considering that he’s had surgery and he’s recovering. And I KNOW as a Yoongi stan, that a lot of us are feeling helpless and wishing somehow that we could be there to help him and comfort him. 

So here. A nothing but pure fluff, feel good, caring for Yoongi after surgery drabble. I hope it can bring my fellow Yoongi stans some comfort. <3 

Rest and get well soon, bby. We’re rooting for you. @sheebaba​

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, BTS Fluff, Fluff, Min Yoongi, Suga, Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, Min Yoongi x you, Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff Fluff Fluff

Title: Rest and Recover

Every time the door at the end of the long hallway opens, and a doctor appears, tapping softly down to the waiting room on slippered feet, you feel your heart begin to race in your chest and your breath feel as if it suddenly catches in your throat. 

This time-once again-the doctor walks right past where you sit and to another waiting family in a corner of the hushed, warmly lit room. 

“Hey, here, noona.” Taehyung taps your shoulder, and when you glance up at him, he hands you the cold cup of an iced latte, as he settles back down into the seat beside you, nursing his own coffee. 

“Hey, (Y/N). Don’t worry so much.” Jin shoulders you from your other side, bumping you gently with a soft smile on his full lips, although you can see the fatigue and worry in his dark eyes reflecting back to your own. “Yoongi will be fine.” 

The condensation from the forgotten drink is making your fingers clammy and cold, and you set it on a nearby table, taking in a deep, shuddering breath, as your eyes once again-unbidden-flit to the surgery doors at the end of the hall. 

“Right. It’s a perfectly easy, normal procedure.” Your voice is shaky, and you don’t think anyone is buying your nonchalant words. 

“Hyung is tough.” Jungkook speaks up from where he is sitting across from you, next to the other boys, and offers you a front teeth filled smile as his eyes crinkle, releasing a bit of the pressure in your chest. “He’s gonna do great.” 

“Besides.” Jimin pipes up as he yawns widely, his head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “He’s needed to do this for awhile now.” 

You take in another deep breath through your nose, parting your lips to think of something to say to reassure them, when the doors once again open at the end of the hall and you’re flinging your gaze back to them in a desperate attempt at some sort of sanity. 

And this time, the doctor looks familiar, as he heads in your direction. 

Coming to your feet so quickly that you drop your phone off your lap-Taehyung’s quick reflexes the only thing that save the unfortunate electronic from hitting the tile floor-you feel out of breath, as the doctor removes his mask and offers you a tired smile as he approaches. 

“How is he?” You ask before he has the chance to say anything, your words hurried and rushed and stuttered with the lack of air that you feel squeezing behind your rib cage. 

“Mr. Min did just fine.” The doctor’s kind eyes crease behind his glasses, as he reaches out to pat you comfortingly on the shoulder. “Everything went smoothly.” His brow furrows slightly, as his gaze moves from you, to the other six standing boys gathered around. “Although it was pretty torn up in there. He must have been in terrific pain for quite some while now.” 

Your heart clenches and aches suddenly at his words. Yoongi had always been so good at hiding things that he’d thought would upset you, and apparently, this time, he’d hid his pain from everyone, including you. 

You feel Jin squeeze your shoulder from beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Can I see him?” You ask without thinking, wringing your hands together in front of your body, your fingers chilled and pale from waiting in the cold atmosphere of the hospital for so long. 

The doctor nods. “Yes, of course. I’ll have the nurse show you the way.” 

Finally, after hours of panic, as you bid the boys farewell and head to follow the doctor down that long corridor, back the way he had came, there is a sense of relief. 

Yoongi is okay. 

******

“Min Yoongi!” Your voice is full of exasperation, as you return from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of stew, to see your boyfriend trying to adjust himself into a sitting position on the bed. 

You hurry to his side, setting down the hot bowl, as you shoot him a warning look and push him back down into the plethora of pillows, careful to avoid his right shoulder, held immovable against his chest in the tight sling. 

“You’re supposed to be lying down!” You scold, sitting down on the chair beside the bed with a huff. 

“I know, I know.” Yoongi grunts out, rolling his eyes, as he winces slightly and tries to position himself more comfortably now that he’s inclined once more. “But I feel fine.” 

“Oh really?” You ask sarcastically, reaching for the discarded bowl of stew and the spoon you had brought back from the kitchen, as you shoot him a glare. “Because the way you were moaning in your sleep last night tells me differently.” 

“Baby-” Yoongi starts to protest, but you cut off his words with a spoonful of stew, and it’s his turn to shoot you an annoyed glare, as he chews and swallows, before continuing with his protests, “Listen, I have work to do-” 

“No you don’t.” You shake your head forcefully, and feed him another mouthful of stew, as you glance over your shoulder at your phone on the bedside table. “I already asked Joon to take care of everything at the studio.” 

“You let Kim Namjoon into my studio??” Yoongi blurts out in disbelief, struggling to rise back into a sitting position at the apparently shocking news. “That bumbling buffoon’s going to break everything! There’s a reason I have a keypad on the door, you know!” 

“Will you just relax?” You exhale with effort, as you stand once more and forcefully push him back down onto the bed, but not without some strength. Min Yoongi was deceptively strong. You reach up to brush tousled hair from your forehead and let out a long exhale. “Dammit, just stay put will you? I’m trying to get you better and you’re not helping at all!” 

For once, Yoongi looks sufficiently apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, baby, you’re right.” He sighs out before grumbling under his breath around another mouthful of stew, “But the Genius Lab better be standing after all this.” 

You grin and lean over to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’’m sure everything will be fine.” 

*******

“Dammit!” 

You glance up from the book you’re reading as you hear Yoongi’s forceful expletive through the cracked doorway of the bathroom, and rising to your feet, you pad across the room, carefully pushing open the door to peek around the edge, as you ask, “Everything okay in here?” 

“Yeah, just fine.” Yoongi replies, voice laced with frustration, as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his good hand, eyes closing for a brief moment, as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just that I can’t get this damn shirt off.” 

You stifle a smile, and slip into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The room is hot and foggy and full of steam, the shower running heatedly in the background, and for probably quite some time, if Yoongi’s struggle is any evidence. 

You move behind him and lean back against the cold marble of the counter, carefully lacing your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his unaffected shoulder, as you bury your nose in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent for a moment. 

He hasn’t had a shower since he got home three days ago-only washcloths and sponges-and he smells like himself, but mingled with hospital and sweat and antiseptic. 

“You know,” You murmur, lips finally curling up into the smile you had been holding back, as you tilt your chin to look up at him and meet his gaze. “You could just ask for help.” 

“You know I hate that shit.” Yoongi says, almost on a whine, as his dark eyes-still full of frustration-meet your own. “It makes me feel weak. Like I can’t take care of myself.” 

“Min Yoongi.” You come around front to face him, reaching up to catch his chin in your hand so he is forced to hold your gaze, as you say seriously, “You are the most independent man I know. I know that, the boys know that, your fans know that.You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. So just let us help you for this once.” 

He holds your gaze for another brief moment, and then heavily sighs, before nodding imperceptibly. “Fine.” 

You help him slip the sleeve of the shirt from his good arm, and then move to the bandaged side, fingers hovering over the material of the sling, slightly unsure, as you shoot a glance up at him, almost to ask him what to do next so that you don’t cause him any pain. 

“Just take the damn thing off.” His voice is gruff, but you sense the sudden tense fear behind the words, and his body is frozen beneath your fingers as you move to the strap of the sling, almost as if he’s preparing himself for the pain. 

You are delicate and careful as you slip the cotton of the sling from his body, letting it drop the floor at your feet, and your eyes rove over the suddenly revealed bandaging that is wrapped tightly around his shoulder. 

Purple and black bruising spreads from beneath the cover, and you can just see the dark outline of stitching beneath the sheets of gauze. 

“How does it feel?” You ask softly, eyes scanning his face, as you watch him for any signs of subtle pain. 

Yoongi winces slightly, as he moves his fingers gently-free of the sling for a moment-arm still cradled protectively against his now bare chest. “It hurts like hell.” 

“I can get you pain meds-” You say hurriedly, as you turn back toward the door, only to be stopped by his thin, long fingers encircling your wrist.You glance back at him curiously, and note, with a pang, that his amber irises are wide and warm and more than a little bit affectionate. 

“No, it’s okay, baby.” He offers you half of a gummy smile, and you’re relieved to see it, because it’s been several days. “You know what will actually make me feel better?” 

“What?” You ask, coming back to him, closing the distance between the two of you, his fingers still looped loosely around your wrist. You reach up to press a careful, quick kiss to his lips. 

“First off, showering.” He wrinkles his nose in the common expression you adore. “And second off, you showering with me.” 

You laugh, and nod, careful not to jostle him, as you lace your fingers through his and tug him toward the still running shower. “Well, somehow has to wash your hair, don’t they?” 

******

“He’s driving me crazy you know.” You say, throwing your thumb over your shoulder to where Yoongi sits, reclined on the living room couch, clearly and obviously within earshot of your complaining. 

“I can hear you, you know.” He grunts out, grumpily, shifting his weight to move his injured arm above the pile of blankets. 

“That’s the point, hyung.” Taehyung grins at him over your head, and Yoongi rolls his eyes at the two of you. 

“Can’t you keep him in line, Taehyung?” You whine, taking a sip of your tea, as you implore the younger boy teasingly for help. “Just this morning I found him in the kitchen trying to cook. With his arm in a sling! The man never learns.” 

“Sorry, noona.” Taehyung holds up his hands in a gesture of dismissal, as this time, he turns his bright boxy grin on you. “He’s your responsibility now.” 

“Aish.” You let out a dramtic sigh, and swivel on your stool to shoot a look at Yoongi, who is watching the two of you interact with a somewhat affectionate grumpy look on his handsome features. “You could be a little easier responsibility, couldn’t you? Your’re so damn stubborn, Min Yoongi. I’m getting grey hairs trying to force you to rest and recover.” 

“You should listen to her, hyung.” Taehyung stands from his stool, and stretches long arms above his head, as a slight smirk comes across his full lips. “Otherwise, it’ll take you longer to recover, and Namjoon will have more access to your studio-” He reaches for his coat with a wink. “which means more opportunities to break things.” 

Yoongi starts up at the younger man’s words, eyes bright and wild, as he waves an accusing finger in your direction. “I knew it! I told you!” And then he calls after Taehyung, who is laughing and already making his way to the door,  “Dammit, Taehyung, keep that man out of my studio!” 

*******

The bedroom is dark and quiet, and underneath the nighttime sounds of Seoul that are seeping in on the cool breeze through the open window, you hear Yoongi sigh in discomfort from beside you. 

Turning carefully to face him, you slide beneath his good arm and gently rest your cheek on his chest, the bare flesh warm and pulsating with his slow, steady heartbeat, and through the darkness, you reach up to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, as you whisper, “Are you okay?” 

He lets out a low groan beneath his breath, and you feel him shift slightly beneath you, as his good hand, trapped beneath your head, moves up to trace patterns across the bare skin of your back beneath the blankets. He lets out another long sigh, and then murmurs back, “I guess. It’s so hard to get comfortable with this damn thing aching and stabbing at every movement.” 

You push yourself up on your elbow to look down at him, and even though you can’t quite make out his features in the darkness, you can tell the way his lips are drawn into a thin line, and the way his eyes grimace slightly in pain. 

“Yoongs.” You breathe out, letting your fingers fall from the lines of his face, to carefully feel across the wound that marks his unbandaged shoulder-the stitches rough beneath your fingertips in contrast to his smooth, warm skin-and you feel suddenly helpless, and your voice quivers with emotion as you choke out softly, “I wish I could help you. I wish I could take your pain away. I don’t like to ever see you like this.” 

There is a moment of silence, and you reach up hastily to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye before it falls on his body beneath you, and gives you away. 

The fingers on his good hand reach up and cup the outline of your face, and even though it’s dark, you don’t dare meet his gaze, because you know if you do, in that moment, that you’ll burst into tears. 

“Baby, don’t do that.” Yoongi mumbles, his fingers finding purchase beneath your chin, as he forces you to look at him once more. He offers you a somewhat pained smile, and flicks away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, before he resumes stroking his fingers across your skin. “I’m fine. Really. It hurts me more to have you worry about me so much, more than anything else.” 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle out, reaching up to wipe a hand across your suddenly dripping nose and eyes. 

“You have done more for me than anyone else.” Yoongi continues, as he pulls you back down beside him, your cheek going to his chest once more, as his hands reaches up to stroke across your hair and down your bare back, over and over and over in a comforting manner. The rumble of his voice in his chest vibrates soothingly in your ear. “And I love you for it.” 

His finger goes beneath your chin once more, and you tilt your head to look up at him, his pupils dark in the blackness of the bedroom. 

“We’re going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.” He cracks you a gummy smile, and his teeth are white in the dark, making your heart leap in your chest at the familiar expression. “So stop worrying.” 

“Okay.” You breathe out, tilting your head even more, so that you can reach up and kiss him-lingering and slow-on the lips, before settling back down into the warmth of his side. 

“And listen.” Yoongi speaks again, and his voice is drowsy now, and his words slightly slurred, as his good arm tightens around you, pulling you against him. “The only good thing that has come out of this is the sponge baths. Because I have an incredibly sexy nurse. So don’t think those will end anytime soon.” 

You grin to yourself in the darkness at his words, and close your eyes, listening to the slow, even rhythm of his heart and breathing as he drifts back to sleep. 

You are okay. 

Yoongi is okay. 

And everything is going to be fine. 

[smegdwarf]

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer X Reader) - Chapter 2

A/N: ..........👀

Warnings: Eh not really

Summary: Pretty much just giving Rimmer the love he deserves ☺️

It was no surprise that your new found friendship with Rimmer lead to teasing and wind ups from the rest of the crew but you being you, you took it on the chin. Something Rimmer admired you for.

“So let me get this straight? You’re friends with Rimmer now?” Lister asked, mischief in his voice.

“Is that a problem?” You replied, your eyes not leaving the book in front of you.

“No no...” Lister paused for a second “It’s just a bit weird”

“Well I am weird Listy!” You looked up with a smile.

“Ain’t that the truth” Lister laughed as you stood up “Where is his royal smegness anyway?”

“Working which is more than I can say for you Lister!” You smirked before flicking Listers nose and leaving the room.

“Ow you smegger!” You heard him shout after you.

You knew without putting too much thought into it where Rimmer would be, after all someone had to make sure Red Dwarf was running smoothly and headed in the right direction ...although he may not have been the best choice.

“Good Afternoon” You smiled as you walked into the Dwarfs navigation room, Rimmer quietly making his way through the book he was borrowing from you “Enjoying the book?”

“Well I was until they brought in a love storyline” Rimmer screwed up his nose “What’s wrong with a having a good story without love?”

“Is love really that bad?” You laughed a little as Rimmer’s eyes met you with a dead stare “Anyway...”

“What brings you here?” Rimmer asked putting the book down, maintaining friendships was always a challenge.

“Here, the dumb snack dispenser chucked out two bars when I only paid for one” You smiled as you placed the extra chocolate bar down next to the book followed by some almost inaudible jabbering from the snack machine just outside the door “Now it’s giving me back chat”

You’re little escapade with the snack dispenser brought a small smile to Rimmer’s lips as he let out a soft laugh while the snack machine outside continue to lose it.

“Hey buddy, you chucked out two snacks instead of one not me” You shouted out of the door at the machine.

“You didn’t have to take the second one” The snack machine was clearly up for a fight.

“Shut it or I will unplug you!” You threatened the machine as Rimmer laughed behind you “Am I really about to throw punches with a snack machine?”

“Apparently so” Rimmer smiled, still tickled by your snack fight.

“Well if it keeps you smiling” You shrugged with a smile “So what’s the plan for today?”

“I ...erm ...no plan yet” Rimmer stuttered, it would honestly be a miracle for him to accept your kindness without almost having a full blown panic attack.

“Ok well give me a shout if anything changes, there’s a few things Kryten wants me to take a look at” You smiled as you went to leave.

“Erm I’ve been meaning to ask ...what exactly is it that you do?” Rimmer was generally curious as you had never confirmed exactly what your position on your old ship was but you also couldn’t help but feel that Rimmer also didn’t want you to leave just yet.

“I’m an engineer” You smiled leaning against the door frame.

“What kind of engineer? Snack machines? Drink machines?” Before Rimmer wouldn’t even look at you and now here he is trying to hold a full conversation.

“An engineer engineer, I’m trained to fix anything that’s broken”

“C-can I help?” Rimmer asked innocently.

“I’m sure there’s a chicken soup dispenser that needs fixing somewhere” You smiled with a wink “Come on”

Rimmer didn’t know whether to groan and glare or smile and laugh at your dig, settling with a playful glare and a soft ‘you little smeg’ as you made your way to Kryten.

“So where do you need me to start Krytes?” You asked the mechanoid enjoying mopping the floors of the ship far more than anyone ever should.

“Oh of course, this way ma’am” It was only then when Kryten looked up from the floor he was cleaning that he realized that you wasn’t alone “Excuse me ma’am but are you aware Mr Rimmer is standing behind you?”

“Yes Kryten, he’s going to help me” You laughed as Kryten pulled a face of worry “Don’t worry it’ll be fine Krytes”

“Yes of course, this way” Kryten walked on a head.

“Bloody gimboid!” Rimmer muttered.

“Lister corrupted him, you know he can’t help it” You smiled as Rimmer’s shoulders relaxed and all tension left his body, you clearly had a stronger affect on him than you thought.

“Don’t you need tools?” Rimmer asked, noting your lack of a tool box or trolley.

“Who needs tools when we’ve got Kryten” You smiled as you patted the droid on the shoulder “He is basically a walking multi-tool ...no offense Krytes”

“None taken ma’am ...you are technically correct” Kryten gave you a smile only a droid can give.

“Let’s get fixing shall we?” And with that you took off to fix the many, many issues on Red Dwarf.

A few hours later and you were joined, in Rimmer’s eyes, by an unwanted visitor. Despite working away behind a soup dispenser you knew exactly who it is was without looking.

“What’s going on here then?” You could tell Lister was grinning, making a clear point about you and Rimmer working together “See we don’t even need to set it up anymore”

“Set what up?” Rimmer asked completely blind to what the boys had really been up to the moment you glitched to the ship.

“Just ignore him” You grumbled from behind the dispenser, rattling a pipe “Hey Arnie? Could you move the dispenser nozzle over for me please?”

“Ok” Rimmer replied quick and short as he did as you asked, apart from Kryten as soon as you were joined by either of the remaining crew Rimmer would instantly withdraw, almost too scared to even speak incase Lister would pick him apart or even worse he’d upset you., after all the filter between his brain and his mouth was faulty and he was much more aware of it with you around.

“Perfect!” You smiled at Rimmer from behind the machine as you triggered the machines cleaning system, a projectile wave of old chicken soup chunks covering Lister “Well that might explain why it wasn’t working?”

“YOU BLOODY SMEGHEADS!” Lister stormed off in a huff, presumably to the nearest shower.

“Have fun!” You called down the corridor after him as Rimmer broke into laughter “Two can play that game Listy!”

“Was that actually the problem with it?” Rimmer asked referring to the machine.

“Oh no, as soon as he opened his mouth I thought you know what would make him look better? Old chicken soup chunks!” You laughed as Rimmer looked at you almost in awe.

“You’re perfect” Rimmer let slip as he laughed, catching himself almost instantly attempting to covering it up.

“Arnold?” You replied surprised, for Rimmer that was the last thing you were expecting to escape his mouth.

“The prank!” He stuttered “I meant the prank was perfect”

“Come on, Kryten will almost be ready with dinner” You smiled, sparing Rimmer from more embarrassment than he was already feeling as his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink “I’m starving”

“Erm you’re a hologram, holograms don’t eat?” Rimmer pointed out, his smile slowly returning.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel hunger, let’s go!” You smiled as you walked off ahead, a soft chuckle from Rimmer travelled down the corridor.

Arriving back at the crews quarters The Cat and Lister were already digging into their dinner, the usual vindaloo.

“Your dinner ma’am” Kryten smiled as he placed the pasta dish down in front of you.

“Thanks Krytes, it looks great” You grinned at your plate.

“See Listy, I told you other food existed besides vindaloo curry” Rimmer grinned as he sat down at the table continuing on with his book from earlier earning a not so subtle groan from Lister.

“Hey pretty lady” Cat scooted his chair over to you, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Don’t even think about it” The Cat had made it his mission since you got here to try and ‘win you over’ but no matter how many times you turned him down he was reluctant to give up.

“Oh come on” Cat tried again, you noticed Rimmer watching you from the side of his vision behind his book.

“You need to back off before all 9 of your lives flash before your eyes” You said sternly enough that he eventually moved back.

“Obviously you’re not interested in the Cat or Kryten ...so what about me?” Lister looked up from his plate with the devil in his eyes.

“Why has my love life suddenly became topic of discussion?” You sighed as you tried to continue eating, Rimmer had completely stopped reading as he hid behind his book.

“Well would you?” Lister pushed a little more.

“I wouldn’t no” You replied bluntly as a grin formed on Listers face.

“What about Rimmer?” You choked on your pasta as the words left Listers mouth, Rimmer completely frozen behind his book.

“Just because there is a woman on your ship doesn’t mean one of you has to sleep with her?” You shouted as you dropped your fork, a loud clang radiating through the room as the metal hit the plate.

“It’s just hypothetical, you don’t have to date any of us” Lister pointed out.

“Lister shut up!” Rimmer growled, sensing your anger.

“Damn right I don’t” You stood up in a huff “Why do men never think with their brain?”

And with that you stormed out, leaving your dinner unfinished and you not quite sure where you were storming off too.

Realizing the only place you could really escape without being bothered was your room. Asking Holly to lock the door before throwing yourself in your bunk. It’s times like this that made you glad you chose to have your own quarters. Who knows what kind of hell would ensue if you hadn’t? You knew in their minds the boys probably didn’t mean it to be harmless but you weren’t standing for it ...and for that matter neither was Rimmer, it wasn’t much but he did try and get Lister to stop.

After losing yourself in a book for a couple hours you decided to go hunt down a snack machine, after all you had abandoned your dinner earlier. It would be your luck though that you didn’t have enough money on you, your foul mood insisting you take a hit on the snack machine but before you could an arm in a blue sleeve appeared over your shoulder to place a coin into the slot.

“Here” Rimmer said softly but still managing to scare the life out of you ...well metaphorically.

“Bloody hell” You grumbled as you held your chest, you maybe a hologram but holograms could still have heart attacks.

“Sorry I didn’t meant to...” Rimmer panicked.

“It’s fine and thank you, you didn’t have to do that” You managed a smile as your snack hit the bottom of the machine.

“Sorry about earlier” Rimmer’s eyes shot to the floor.

“It wasn’t your fault Arnie?” You looked at him a little sad, he didn’t do anything wrong and yet he was still taking the blame “Please don’t blame yourself”

“If you want I can get Kryten to make you another dinner...” Rimmer started to blabber “It’s not a problem”

“Arnie it’s fine” You smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder and feeling him instantly relax.

“The boys are having a game night, if you want to join?” Rimmer asked

“Erm I think I’ll pass this time” You spoke softly “I’m not really in the mood”

“Yeah me neither ...I best get going though” Rimmer turned to leave.

“You know you don’t have to go to game night...” You hesitated to see if he’d pick up on where you were going.

“What?” Rimmer froze, as far as he was concerned he was dreaming and he’d wake up any moment.

“You’re more than welcome to keep me company for the evening... if you want?” You smiled as Rimmer mulled over your offer “Come on”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the footsteps behind you, pleased that Rimmer had chose the option that would make him happy and instead of going with what everyone else was doing so he didn’t feel left out. Rimmer had only seen your quarters from the door as you swapped over books for him, this time he was actually inside, looking around and taking in all of his surroundings.

“Excuse me while I change” You said calmly.

“Wait what?” Rimmer panicked, completely forgetting in that moment that you were a hologram and only focusing on the ‘change’ part of your sentence.

“Comfies please Hol!” You asked the computer as your blue uniform changed to leggings and an oversized jumper “Ah much better ...maybe you should try changing into something comfier?”

“I don’t think I have anything like that?” Rimmer spoke quietly, you were clearly distracting him.

“Holly, find some comfy clothes for Rimmer please?” You asked Holly again.

“Don’t look!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“What?” You laughed.

“I’m know I’m a hologram but don’t look while I change” Rimmer chuckled.

“Alright fine I won’t look” You laughed as you covered your eyes “Go on Holly!”

“Oh god this feels weird” Rimmer looked over his new clothes, black jogging bottoms and a blue jumper and even you couldn’t deny how soft and sweet he looked as he stood in front of you confused.

“Good weird?” You smiled as you sat down on your bunk.

“Too soon to say” Rimmer was completely occupied by what he was wearing to notice you had sat down.

“Hey Holly, is there anything new to watch?” You asked as Rimmer stood next to your bunk “Well sit down then”

“Are you sure?” It was clear he was nervous, it had been a really long time since he’d had any interaction with the opposite sex and even when he was alive it wasn’t something he was particularly experienced with.

“Yes” You laughed softly as you patted the spot next to you gently “Please sit down”

“You know if the others find us they’ll rinse us?” Rimmer sat down next you cautiously, as far he was concerned this was all some sort of elaborate joke and you were going to walk away or tell him to leave.

“Oh I have a plan don’t worry” You smiled as you looked over at the screen “Holly?”

“Yes Y/N?” Holly replied.

“Could you make sure the door is locked please? ...oh and see if you can get one of the scutters to bring up some snacks too please?” You made your demand, a sweet but nervous smile lighting up Rimmer’s face.

“Bob should be up in a few minutes, shall I tell him to leave your delivery outside the door?” Holly asked.

“You know the drill Hol!” You grinned.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before?” Rimmer raised his eyebrow, his hands resting in his lap.

“Well I need an escape from the rest of you sometimes you know” You teased “Well the other 3 anyway”

“You chose me over them?” Rimmer looked at you confused as the scutter tapped the door outside.

“I suppose I did” You smiled as you went to retrieve the delivery, turning back round to see a smug and rather pleased smile on Rimmer’s face “Hey no need to be a smug git ...or I might have to start calling you Ace?”

“Oi?” Rimmer shot you a glare as you sat back down.

“I’m joking” You laughed a little, picking up the chocolate bar Rimmer had got you earlier, breaking it in half and offering it to him “Here...”

“Erm thanks” Rimmer smiled as he took the offer.

“You’re welcome ...Holly start the film!” You asked the computer and that was it.

From that moment on movie night with Rimmer became a regular thing, you had both agreed not to speak a word to anyone else. After all you didn’t want everyone invading your space and for Rimmer, although he would never admit, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. Arnold Rimmer was starting to feel something he’d never really felt before.

[yuki-yozora]

Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)

 : !!:  Author's notes ◌ °: !!:

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “

If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.

As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *

I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “

That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *

The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹

If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °

Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *

· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·

Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)

CENSOR:

Not for fragile hearts.

CONTAINS

(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.

GENRE:

Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance

˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *

1 Chara is a boy;

2 Has original characters.

˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *

1 slight violence;

2 Citation to depression;

3 drama.

Attention:

Big chapter ahead.

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍ A year has passed… No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)

We.

I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life. Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him. Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:

"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"

Heh. People can be cruel.

We were four. He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old. The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted. Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity. He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him… That was two years ago. I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted. Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape. He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo. Affectionate surname. We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye. Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...

It was like magic.

The search began in a human pursuit. All in vain. Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.) The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised. Escape, death. I thought of all this. But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate. All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work. It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes. To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'. All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security. Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me. Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off. No strolling around, (Y/N).

* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.

A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself. This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation. Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:

* But no one will come ...

I got. Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it. With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance. I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence. I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom. A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned. At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….

Ah…

I looked into the mirror.

* After all, it's still you.

Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully. This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.

" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face. " I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.

It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)

I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later. Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out. A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.

So ... so ... perfect.

Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment. Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything. A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games. I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed. Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner. Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last. Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.

A bang ... Coming from the room. Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door. My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon. That stick was from Luka ...

More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins. This was strangely familiar. I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.

* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.

I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased. All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception. I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago. The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party. The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall: - You know where to find me. - My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.

"... All right, all right. "

I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving. I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door. I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things. Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing. I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait. Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this. I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.

* You are full of justice.

It was night when I started to cross the forest. The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back. Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared. I needed to continue. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all. Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting. I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.

* You need to move on.

Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding. As expected, climbing was not an easy task. The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks. My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything. I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away. Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.

- It is not bad. -

With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get. My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh. " Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.

" What you want? " I growled. He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin. " Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.

* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.

" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "

With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness. A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground. I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty. Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw. It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin. Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time. Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose. It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him. He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core. Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion. One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility. No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.

" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. " He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. " Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave. " Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed. It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel. Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole. Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him. I was completely defenseless. There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red. "Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -" And a kick threw me in my death. Soon, only darkness painted my world.

*It's the end.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes

My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator. If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it. (Y/N) - your name (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color More legends will be added in the future! Word Count: About 2,880 If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.

[be-more-heidi-hansen]

The Cliché Gods of Overused Teen Movie Tropes (Jeremy Heere X Reader)

Word count: 6k I’m so annoyed at myself

Warnings: not really any....cursing?? overuse of the word “incredulously”, I’m sure...is bad writing a warning?

(A/N): It’s finally here! I got really carried away so this one is really long, I’ll put the rest under the cut. Enjoy! Maybe like/reblog? I’d appreciate it a lot!

~

Jeremy was avoiding you, that much you were sure of. This morning he had walked right past you, not even acknowledging your wave. Then, in class with him, he didn't even glance your way when you whispered his name. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he acting so weird? It hurt your feelings. You had been friends with Jeremy for years, Michael too, and had been harboring a crush on him for most of them. You asked Michael if he knew, but he was in the same boat. He had been ignored just as you had, and he was equally pissed. He hadn't even so much as spared either of you a glance all day long. That is, until lunch.

You and Michael had been walking to his car to head to 7/11 when Jeremy suddenly appeared next to you, looking overwhelmed. "Michael? (Y/N)?" you both looked up in surprise at finally being acknowledged, but were quick to turn around, ready to leave. "Oh my god, I'm so glad to see you!" You stopped, turning around incredulously. "Really? So you haven't been avoiding us all day?" Jeremy seemed confused. "What are you talking about? I haven't even seen you since-" he froze suddenly, looking deep in thought. There were a few moments of silence, and you looked to Michael confusedly before turning back to Jeremy, waving a hand in front of his face, but he just ignored it.

You would have been a little worried, had you not been so annoyed at him. It seemed like he was just looking past you, through you, and you had to double check that there was nobody behind you. Michael finally spoke up. "Jeremy? Why are you standing there all creepy and stuff?" he asked, and you nodded in agreement, wondering the same thing. You were totally, 100% ready to call Jeremy out on his shit. "Seriously, what's up with you? You've been shady ever since...since...." you trailed, off, realizing something. You had thought about it before, but saying it out loud made you finally piece it together. His squip.  "It worked, didn't it?" Michael realized just as you had. "Jeremy! That's amazing!" You exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "We gotta test it, we gotta celebrate! We gotta- get stoned in my basement!" Michael exclaimed, and you nodded excitedly, looking from him to Jeremy.

The one reaction you hadn't expected was for Jeremy to stay stock still, frozen like a statue, and remain silent. It was like you weren't even there, hadn't even said anything. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion and slight worry. It remained silent, and you were about to ask him what the actual fuck his deal was, when Michael spoke. "Jeremy? Are you coming?" Michael asked, looking at Jeremy expectantly. Suddenly, Jeremy jolted, turning around and walking the other direction. He just left the two of you standing there, staring after him.

There was shocked silence between you and Michael. You were the one who broke it. "What the hell?" you asked, staring after him. Michael put his hand on your shoulder sympathetically, and you turned to him, sighing. You readjusted your bag before clearing your throat and trudging in the direction of the school, Michael's hand sliding from your shoulder. "I'm gonna.. go work on some homework." You excused lamely, and Michael sighed, nodding, before turning and walking back to his car.

~

It had been days since then, and you had hardly spoken to anyone except Michael, but even with him you had been unusually quiet. You hadn't raised your hand in class, hadn't told your mom about your day even once, and you hadn't even tried approaching Jeremy again. You decided to spend every waking moment outside of school in your room, playing video games into the early hours of the morning. It was unhealthy, but it kept your mind off of Jeremy and that stupid squip. You were becoming a shell of your former self, and as much as you hated it, there wasn't much you could do.

One night, you were playing Apocalypse of the Damned for the fourth time that week when Michael called you. "Hello?” you answered, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hey, I think we should talk." you sighed. "About what, Micah?" His response was immediate. "You know what. You've barely been talking to anyone, you've been shut in your room, whenever you're not at school, and your mom told me you haven't eaten much." your jaw dropped as you scoffed disbelievingly. "Dude, you talked to my mom? Low blow, Micah." you could hear him huff into the receiver. "I was worried about you!" He defended. "There's nothing to worry about! I'm fine!" you exclaimed. It was silent until Michael spoke again with a tone of finality. "I'm coming over." then he hung up.

So you waited. Five minutes had passed when you heard something tap against your window. You opened it to see Michael waving at you from your front lawn. You sighed before sneaking downstairs and opening the door quietly. Michael quickly and silently walked up to your room, and he arrived there before you did. When you reached your door and walked inside, Michael was sat on your bed, arms open and inviting. "Get over here, dork." he muttered, and you sniffled, a wave of emotion coming over you as you crawled into his arms. He wrapped them around you, one hand running up and down your back as he shushed your sobs.

"What's wrong with us? Aren't we enough for him?" you croaked, and Michael only squeezed you tighter, knowing you were talking about Jeremy. "I know. Shh, I know. It'll be okay, we'll fix this." he soothed, and you realized suddenly just how tired you were. So that's how you fell asleep. Crying in the arms of your best friend over your other best friend and crush. What a night.

~

It was Halloween eve, and you were going to Jake Dillinger's Halloween party. Michael had insisted you come with him to confront Jeremy. Not that it had taken much persuasion on his end. You wanted to slap some sense into the guy, personally, but telling him what you and Michael had found out was just as good. As a last-minute costume, you had decided to dress up as a witch, pulling on a black dress that went below your knees and a witch hat you had in the attic. You had come inside, uninvited, and were thankful that nobody noticed. Most of them were either drunk or high or something else, and you almost gagged at the strong smell of liquor with an underlying scent of sweat. Michael suggested you both hang out on the sidelines and look for Jeremy. You just nodded, it being too loud to speak, and grabbed a slice of pizza, pulling him to the corner.

It was thirty minutes later and neither you or Michael had spotted Jeremy. You had long since finished your pizza, and were starting to get bored. The party around you was raging, people screaming and dancing to the music. A girl puked not ten feet away from you, and you cringed at the smell that clashed with the thick stench of weed. Suddenly, Michael yelled your name over the loud music. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom, I'll be right back." You just nodded, watching him walk through the crowd of loud, sweaty teenagers.

It was ten minutes later when you realized Michael had been in the bathroom for a while. You started walking towards the stairs, bumping into people here and there. When you reached the bathroom, it was slightly open. You walked in and saw Michael wasn't there, and you started to worry. Had he been caught by Jake? Neither of you were even supposed to be there. You began to panic as you plopped yourself on the edge of the tub. A hand landed on your shoulder and you screamed, whipping around to find Michael sitting in the tub. "Michael? Oh my god, you dick! You scared me!" you exclaimed. He just laughed and shrugged. "It's really loud out there."

You rolled your eyes before nodding in agreement. "You have a point," you muttered. "Now, scooch." he chuckled before scooting over, giving you what very little space was left to sit in. You squeezed yourself into the tub, sighing when you finally got situated. You both sat there in comfortable silence when the door opened. You couldn't see who it was, your sight of the door obscured by the shower curtain. When they sat down on the edge of the tub, you realized it was Jeremy. He hadn't noticed either of you yet, and was taking deep breaths. You looked at Michael, as if to ask, 'should I?' and he nodded excitedly, grinning wide.

You reached up and latched your hand on Jeremy's shoulder just as Michael had done to you. He screamed and jumped from the edge of the tub, watching as you and Michael pulled yourselves out of the tub. "Sup." "Hey," You and Michael greeted. Jeremy looked surprised. "Michael? (Y/N)? I didn't know you were invited to this party." You scoffed. "We weren't. Which is why we're wearing...." You paused for dramatic effect. "These clever disguises!" Jeremy just stared at the both of you, and Michael piped up. "You're speechless. Squip got your tongue?" Jeremy looked awkward. "It's....off." He muttered. "That would explain why you're talking to us." A beat. "I've been thinking about this moment. What would I say to you? I had this really pissed off monologue, an epic journey through twelve years of friendship...." he trailed off. Jeremy was just looking at the two of you, relieved. "What?" Michael asked. "It's really good to see you two." Jeremy said.

Apparently, the fuckin' cliche gods of overused teen movie tropes decided to look down upon you, and your stomach fluttered with butterflies. You scoffed. "It won't be. Once you hear what we found out." you said. Jeremy looked at you. "Found out?" he asked, looking between you and Michael. Michael nodded. "About..." he trailed off, tapping his head. Jeremy's face becomes one of understanding. "How? There's nothing on the internet-" Which is weird, right?" Michael interrupts. "I mean, what's not on the internet? So I started asking around. Finally, this guy I play Warcraft with... Told me how his brother went from a straight D student to a freshman at Harvard. You know where he is now?" Michael asked. "Really happy and successful?" Jeremy said hopefully. You shook your head. "He's in a mental hospital. Totally lost it." You said, and Jeremy frowned.

"I don't see what this has to do with..." he trailed off, and Michael huffed disbelievingly. "Think, man! We're talking an insanely powerful super-computer. You really think it's primary function is to get you laid?" Michael asked, looking incredulous. "Who made them? How did they end up in a high school? In New Jersey? Of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it's doing inside you?" He finished. Jeremy stood in stunned silence for a moment.

"And I thought Chloe was jealous..." he muttered. You huffed incredulously. "You absolute dick! We're honestly asking!" Jeremy scoffed. "Really? Because I think you're pissed I have one and you don't!" you grit your teeth. Michael spoke before you could. "Come on-" "Maybe I got lucky, is that so weird? With my history, I'd say the universe owed me one. And I don't know about your friend's brother's whatever, but if you're telling me his SQUIP made him crazy-" "His SQUIP didn't make him crazy." Michael interrupted. Jeremy paused. "Oh. Well... There you go." Finally, you got a word in. "He went crazy trying to get it out."

A beat of silence. Then Jeremy spoke. "Then I've got nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?" He asked, heading for the door. But you and Michael stand in his way. "Move it." he orders, and you narrow your eyes. "Or you'll what?" Jeremy scoffs. "Get out of my way. Losers." Michael steps aside, pulling you with him. Your stomach churns at the venom in his tone, but instead of grief, you just feel angry. You rip your arm from Michael's, blinded by rage as you storm out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. You bumped into Jenna Rolan as you passed. "Fucking asshole..." you mutter, walking out. You don't even realize you've walked home until you almost walk head-first into your front door. You went to your room and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, drained emotionally from the night's events.

The next day you slept incredibly late. You decided not to think about the party, putting that emotional shit off until later. It was hours later, after your parents had already gone to bed, that you feel a pit of horrible guilt in your stomach when you remember that you left Michael alone, in a bathroom at a party he wasn't even invited to. You were such a bad friend. He probably hated you, and you couldn't blame him. He was even closer to Jeremy than you were, but you left him to grieve by himself. Quickly, you pulled out your phone from your pocket, going to Michael's contact and texting frantically, trying to make amends.

(y/n): shit Michael i'm so sorry

(y/n): i just got really mad and i wasn't even thinking

(y/n): i shouldn't have left u alone. i'm an asshole.

(y/n): wanna come over and watch hercules?

All the messages were written and sent in the span of 2 minutes, and you waited anxiously for a response. If Michael was stayed upset at you, which he was definitely justified in, then you would be alone. Jeremy and Michael were your only real friends. Sure, you talked to Christine on occasion, but that was about it. You sat staring at your phone, hoping for an answer. You pounced on it when it vibrated.

Michael Smell: you got popcorn?

You smiled.

(y/n): you know it

Michael Smell: i'll be there in 5

And so with that, you snuck downstairs to select Hercules on Netflix, putting some popcorn in the microwave. While it popped, you got a twitter notification from Jenna Rolan and Brooke. You clicked on it, almost dropping your phone in shock as you read it.

Jenna's on a Rolan tweeted:

OMG! Rich set a fire and he burned down Jake's house!

"Holy shit," you muttered.

Brooke Lohst tweeted:

Rich is flecked!

Your brows furrowed in confusion before reading Brooke's reply to her own tweet.

Brooke Lohst tweeted:

No, i meant 'fucked'. Did i say 'flecked'? Sorry, guys, it's just my auto correct.

A small huff of amusement escaped you, and you were about to read the replies to Jenna's tweet when the popcorn dinged and there was a knock at the door. You pulled the popcorn out first, then ran to open the door. Before Michael could get a word in, you started talking. "I'm really sorry. Have you been crying? Fuck, I'm really sorry. Come in, we have to be quiet, though, because my mom's asleep-" Michael cut you off with a small huff of laughter. "(Y/N), it's okay. I'm okay. I guess. I kind of had a panic attack, but that's more on Jeremy than you." you smiled. Michael held up a small baggie. "I brought weed." you laughed quietly. "Let's get stoned in my basement." you suggested, pulling Michael inside and grabbing Hercules, the popcorn, and your phone before heading down to the basement.

You remembered to stuff a damp dowel under the door so the smell wouldn't spread as much. Your mom never came down here anyway, so as long as the rest of the house didn't smell like weed, it was likely she would never find out. You put the disc in the DVD player and turned to Michael. "Hey, did you hear about Rich? He burned down Jake's house. They're both in the hospital, 'cause Jake broke his legs trying to escape." you showed him your phone. "Holy shit." He muttered, brows furrowed. "I know, right? Anyways, let's get high and watch Disney movies?" He nodded, and you pressed play.

~

The next time you saw Jeremy in person was at school, but you avoided him like the plague. Whatever that SQUIP did to him, you didn't like it. Or him, really, at the moment. But could anyone blame you? He had abandoned his only real friends. You had gone to visit Rich in the hospital once since the fire. He was in a fully body cast, and you could see a few burn scars starting to form on the exposed skin of his neck. He was kind of awkward about seeing you, considering you never really talked, but you felt bad. You had an inkling things weren't all sunshine and rainbows back home.

"You're (Y/N), right? I see you around with Jeremy, or at least I used to. And that antisocial headphones kid. Is he your boyfriend? 'Cause..." He asked, with a slight lisp you had never heard from him before. You laughed. "Michael Mell? My boyfriend? God, no way. He's just a good friend. We've been friends since we were, like, four." Rich looked almost relieved. "If you're into him, though, go for it. He's definitely not straight." he nodded, and the silence got awkward quickly. "I think I'm gonna go." You said, pointing towards the door. "Uh, get well soon?" you said, before walking out.

The next time you actually talked to Jeremy was the night of the school play. You had gone with Michael, who informed you quickly of his plan. He had somehow found out how to deactivate the squip, and you were relieved. He showed you the big bottle of Mountain Dew Red, and you made sure to keep it close to you. You both settled into your seats, waiting for the show to start.

Christine came out first to introduce the show. "Welcome, everybody. Thank you so much for coming to our production of 'A Midsummer Nightmare About Zombies'. It's been a rough week for all of us at Middleborough. That's why this play is so important - to bring this school together! To show you something special! I know that if Rich were here, instead of at the intensive care unit at Beth Israel, he'd say: 'Go out and show everyone the relevant power of live theatre!'" there was a quiet cough from offstage, and a voice spoke quietly, as if reminding Christine. "Costumes." Mr. Reyes said. "Oh... And thanks to Hobby Lobby for the costumes."

You and Michael watched the play. It's not so bad at first, you suppose. At least, for a high school production. Then the play gets oddly good. Like, really good. Everyone onstage is suddenly perfectly in character. Chloe actually seemed to know her lines. Something isn't right. You turn to Michael, whispering to him. "Isn't this, like, way too good for a high school play?" he nods. "I was about to say the same thing." he muttered, clutching tighter.

From backstage you could hear a faint shout. "Michael! Call: Michael!" and a scream. You looked at Michael to ask him if he had heard it, but he was already standing, pulling you backstage with him. Once you had successfully snuck backstage, Jeremy was flung at your feet by an invisible force. "Michael makes an entrance!" Michael sings, and you laugh. "I'm here too!" you say, doing jazz hands. Jeremy looks up at the both of you like he's never been more relieved. "Michael! (Y/N)!"

"We were in the audience, thinking, 'this is really good for a school play'. Then we're like, 'this is way too good for a school play'. They've all been squipped, right?" you asked. Jeremy seemed more surprised than anything. "You came to see me in the play?" you smiled. "Even brought our own refreshments." you said, gesturing to Michael, who held up the 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew Red. Jeremy's eyes widen. "Is that-" "Mountain Dew Red. Told you I did my research." Michael said smugly.

"That's amazing! Give it to me!" Jeremy demanded, hands outreached and grabby like a toddler. "Okay. Wait. No." Michael said, holding up a finger. "But I need it!" Jeremy said incredulously. "And we need an apology. I think that's in order." you nodded in agreement. "I mean, you treat us like we don't exist for months, blow us off when we try to help you-" "Fine! I'm-" Jeremy seemed to choke on his words, hands clasped over his throat as he looks at an empty spot on the floor in indignant shock.

Jeremy tries again. "Saaaa- Srrr-" "Seriously, Jer? Is it that hard to say sorry?"  you ask, and Jeremy seems to struggle saying his response. "Yyyyyyes! C'mon, guys, this is important!" "Well, this is important to us!" Michael exclaims, and you nod. "It's a word!" Jeremy exclaims, annoyed. "It's a gesture! Gestures matter!" you exclaims. Jeremy jolts and suddenly looks angry, fists raising. You step back as he lunges towards Michael and begins to....kung-fu fight him? They begin to argue, and you stay frozen in the corner.

"This is so you! You love to feel superior, just because you listen to music on vinyl and eat eel in your sushi and don't care about being popular!" Michael dodges him. "Of course I care! I just know it's never gonna happen!" Jeremy swings for Michael again. "So you resent me because I wouldn't give up like you did?" "No, I don't resent you! I'm jealous you try!" Jeremy seems to get angrier as Michael dodges him again. "Well I'm jealous you don't!" Jeremy pins Michael to the wall, and they both scream. "Then why are you hitting me?" Michael asks, and Jeremy grunts. "I'm not- trying to!" "Well, don't try harder!" Michael exclaims, and Jeremy seems like he's in pain. "It's - not - me! It's - my - SQUIP!" he screams, managing to throw himself off of Michael. "It's taking over my body! I need your help! I'm sorry!"

Finally you feel as if you can move again, lunging towards Jeremy to help Michael hold him down and drink the Mountain Dew Red, but the scrawny boy you know (and love maybe shut up) somehow puts up one hell of a fight, flailing like a boy possessed. You look around for help when you see Jake Dillinger walk in on crutches. Michael addresses him quickly. "Jake! This is gonna sound weird, but if we hold down Jeremy, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew Red?" you tossed him the 2-liter. Surprisingly, Jake didn't ask any questions. "Actually, that doesn't sound weird at all." your eyebrows rose in surprise. You had kind of expected more of a reaction than that. Jake jolted suddenly, and you watched in horror as he turned the bottle over, draining it onto the floor. Then he started to....sing?? This isn't The Sound of Music, Jake.

"I was already pretty boss before. Now I'm totally boss and then some more! I'm livin' the upgrade, hey, hey! Livin' the upgrade, hey, hey!" You just looked at him in confusion for a moment before he started speaking again, y'know, like a normal person. "Plus, check this out." He throws his crutches down, still smiling. "It healed your legs?" Jeremy asked, surprised. "No. But I can't feel the pain. It's awesome." You just stare at him in horror. "Holy shit," you mutter. Then Jake starts to sing again. "Livin' the upgrade, hey, hey! God, I love me!" well, at least he had self-confidence while standing on two broken fucking legs.

Brooke and Chloe enter, holding hands and singing creepily, like a sinister lullaby. "La la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la." Brooke addressed Jeremy. "I just want you to know, I'm not mad you broke my heart and slept with my best friend." now Chloe turned to Jeremy, too. "And I'm not mad you dated my best friend and wouldn't sleep with me." Brooke turned to Chloe, surprised. "He didn't sleep with you?" she asked. "No!" Chloe exclaimed. "He didn't sleep with me!" Brooke said. "No!" said Chloe incredulously, and you almost rolled your eyes. This is a matter of life and death, probably, so they shouldn't be acting like valley girls. Even when squipped, they were annoying.

The two spoke in tandem. "Oh my god, why was I so jealous of you? You were jealous of me? That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Sisters forever! JINX!" you really wanted to slap these girls. Jeremy interrupted your thoughts by whispering. "Guys...The bottle. There's a few drops left." Michael looked at you, then to Jeremy incredulously. "How are we supposed to get past them?" Jeremy smiled slightly. "Apocalypse of the Damned. Level Nine-" "The Cafetorium." You, Jeremy, and Michael spoke at once. You all had been playing that game together ever since Jeremy had bought it. He had called you, exclaiming, "I got it! I got it!" and you both knew what he meant, rushing over immediately. "Got it." you and Michael spoke together.

You both began to perform video game-style stealth moves to navigate past the squip-zombies and to the bottle. You briefly caught a glimpse of Michael ducking underneath Jakes legs and crawling through. You spoke with Michael and Jeremy in unison. "Find the bad guy, push 'em aside, then move on forward with your friend at your side. It's a three-player game, so when they make an attack, you know you'll have each other, gonna have your back. Than you stay on track, and-" Brooke lunged for you. 'AH! - Remain on course! And if they give you a smack, you-" You quickly dodged Chloe who moved to grab you. "GAH! -You use your force! And if you leave each other behind, it's lame, 'cause it's an effed up world, but it's a three-player game, hey!"

Michael grabbed the bottle with an exclamation of, "Got it!" and you ran to join him when Jenna Rolan appeared. The final boss. "I know what you're doing. I know what everyone's doing! ALL THE TIME!!!" you watched in horror as all the squip-zombies spoke together. "I just feel so connected to you guys right now!" Michael seemed to make a last-second decision. "Jeremy! Catch!" and he threw the bottle to Jeremy, just as the zombies descended upon you both. You could hear Jeremy's shout of your names as they covered you. Suddenly, the cast parts to reveal Christine. She looks, admittedly, great, radiant, even. And you understand with a pang of sadness why Jeremy likes her so much. She's talented and beautiful, charismatic and goofy.

"Jeremy?" She says, and Jeremy seems surprised. "...Christine?" he asks, and Christine smiles brightly, looking exhilarated. "Did you see me out there? The audience loves me!" Jeremy seems to hesitate. "I....That's great! I mean, of course they did." "I'm so glad I found you here. I wanted to apologize." Jeremy frowns a little, confused. "You.....Why?" Christine scoffs a little. "Because, silly. You were right. About how it feels. I...feel....amazing." Jeremy looks at her in disbelief. "No..."

Christine starts to sing, which you're starting to get a little tired of. We get it, you're theater kids. "I hate play rehearsal, so says my voice that comes from within. I am perfect sans rehearsal, because I don't need to practice to win." You glance at Jeremy through the squip-zombies and see he looks horrified. "I feel so....brave. And...safe. And, Jeremy, I was so scared to say this before, but...I love you, Jeremy." Your heart clenches. "Don't you have something to say to me?" Christine asks expectantly. Jeremy seems to have a conversation in his head before looking at Christine. He holds out the bottle of Mountain Dew Red. "Drink this." Christine drinks the last few drops and Jeremy looks at her expectantly. "How do you feel?" He asks.

Christine's head snaps down like a computer shutting off. You look at her in confusion while Jeremy calls her name once more. Suddenly, her head snaps back up and she, along with the rest of the squip-zombies, emits an ear-splitting screech, before they all - including Jeremy - collapse.

~

After that fiasco, you and Michael head to the hospital to visit Jeremy again. It was a silent drive until Michael turned to glance at you, then back to the road before speaking. "What are you going to say to him?" he asks, and you glance back at him before shrugging. "I dunno. Why do you ask?" Michael shakes his head. "(Y/N), I think you should tell him how you feel. He deserves to know." He said, and you went pink. "He likes Christine. I don't see the point in telling him if it's just gonna make things weird." you replied, turning to face the window. Michael was silent for a moment. "I still think you should get if off your chest. It'll make you feel better." you don't reply as he parks in the lot of Beth Israel.

You let Michael do the talking when you reach the receptionists desk, and stay silent during the walk to Jeremy's room. You can hear Rich talking. "Ask your buddies. Anti-social headphones kid and that other geek kid? They've been by like, a ton, by the way. What, are you dating them? No judgement. Just curious. Totally bi now." You chuckle as you and Michael walk in. "I'm sure someone will be lucky to have you, Rich." you say, and Rich looks surprised. "You think?" he asks, and before you can answer, Michael pulls the hospital curtain separating Rich and Jeremy shut.

"What happened? All I remember is that noise, and..." Jeremy trails off, looking between you and Michael. "Oh, man, it was genius!" Michael exclaims. "They were communicating with each other - they were linked! Which means... when you consider the kind of high-frequency sonic disturbance needed to wipe a system that powerful-" "Michael. My head still hurts." Jeremy interrupts, and you laugh a little. Jeremy looks at you and smiles. "Right, ah... Turns out you didn't have to destroy every squip. Just one. And the rest..." Michael mimes an explosion. "Boom boom boom." Jeremy takes a moment to absorb all this information. "I don't get it. After everything I did... You guys were still there for me. Why?"

Michael smiles. "We can't take all the credit. Your dad can be shockingly persuasive." you and Jeremy both have confused looks on your faces. What did Jeremy's dad have to do with anything? "My dad?" Jeremy asks, and, speak of the devil, he walks right in through the door. For the first time in a long time, you see him wearing real pants, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Jeremy, are you okay?" his dad asks. "Actually, I'm great-" "I'm glad. Because you're grounded. You're going to see some serious changes, young man, starting-" Jeremy's dad notices the grin on his son's face. "What?"

"Dad.....you're...wearing...." he trails off. "Don't look so surprised. I'm your father. And I wear the pants around here! Now let's get down to business: Who's this person you like, and why did I have to hear about them from him?" Jeremy's dad motions to Michael, and you feel a twist in your gut as you realize they must be talking about Christine. "I'm gonna go, um, get a snack." Jeremy looks at your slightly pale face with concern as you hurry out of the room and down the hall to the vending machine. After a minute you see Jenna, Chloe, Brooke, and Jake enter the room, and decide you'll stay out for a bit longer, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the hall.

Christine walks in next, and you decide this is gonna take a while. You pull out your phone and start playing pointless games until they all exit, including Michael and Jeremy's dad. "You coming?" Michael asks, and you shake your head. "Nah. I'm gonna talk to him." Michael smiles at you and says, "I'll wait in the car for you." You nod and walk into the room. Jeremy smiles widely at you. "Hey, (Y/N)." he greets, and you smile back. "Hey, Jer." you take a seat next to his hospital bed. It's silent for a moment.

"Hey, I just wanna say I'm really sorry for being an asshole to you guys." Jeremy says, and you smile. "You were definitely an asshole," you chuckled. Jeremy winces, guilt apparent on his face. "But I get it. I guess." Jeremy looks back at you surprised, like he was expecting you to say you never wanted to see him again. "I really do, Jer. You just wanted to be popular, and I understand. This just really wasn't the way to do it." Jeremy nods. "I know."

There's a moment of silence and you decide to change the subject entirely. "Anyway, I think Rich likes Michael? I told him he should totally go for it." "Wait, you and Michael aren't, like, secretly dating?" Jeremy asks, shocked. You groan. "Oh my god, no! Why does everyone keep asking that! I like you, dumbass!" you slap your hand over your mouth as Jeremy's eyes widen, and you curse those shitty fuckin' cliche gods of overused teen movie tropes again for letting you say that dumb shit out loud. "Fuck," you mutter, grabbing your phone. "I'll- uh, I'll just go-" "Wait, no!" Jeremy grabs your arm as you pass his hospital bed.

"You mean it?" he asks, with what looked like hope in his eyes. "I... yeah. I'm sorry, I know you like Christine, I just-" "(Y/N), shut up for a second." Jeremy interrupts, and you freeze. He was gonna tell you that you're weird, wasn't he? How it was gross to even think he'd like a loser like you? Then you mentally kicked yourself for thinking that. This is Jeremy, not whoever he became when he had that shitty squip. Jeremy looked deep in your eyes, searching for something. "You really mean it?" now you just scoff at him, starting to get annoyed. "Yeah, Jer. Shit, do you want me to fuckin' spell it out for you? I L-I-K-E Y-O-" Jeremy doesn't let you continue your sarcastic remark, pulling you close. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and kissed you. Holy shit, he kissed you. And it was good. Jeremy kissed like he meant it, slotting his lips downward to take your lower lip between his own. Maybe those cliche gods weren't so bad if they were gonna use their powers for stuff like this. It only took you a second to get with the program and kiss back.

You were interrupted by a voice. "Uh, hi?" you pulled back and spun around, and were faced with Michael. Your cheeks burned. "Hi, Micah." You said awkwardly. It was silent for a moment while Michael looked back and forth between you two. "I just came in here to say hurry up, but now I'm just gonna say this: if you guys do gross couple shit, I'm gonna jump off a building, or something." He jokingly warned. You all laughed as Michael turned and left. An awkward silence fell over the two of you. "So.....do you want to... go out, maybe? I think it's pretty obvious I like you too." Jeremy said, and you laughed. "I'd love to." you laughed, leaning down to hug him.

Then something occurred to you, and you pulled back. "Wait, what about Christine? I thought you were, like, crazy about her?" Jeremy shrugged sheepishly before speaking. "I dunno, I guess I thought you could never like me, so I wanted to get over you. I thought if I dated Christine then I would stop thinking of you that way, and I kind of needed a squip to do that, 'cause I'm not exactly the ideal guy." you scoffed. "Whatever, Jeremiah Heere. You're nice, a good listener, you're really cute, and you're a nerd! I think you're pretty great how you are." Jeremy smiled wide, face a soft pink, and pulled you into another kiss.

Once you two broke apart to breathe, Jeremy rested his forehead against yours. "Thank you, (Y/N). I love you." you smiled wide, overcome with joy as you took Jeremy's hand. "I love you too, dork."

[bambyeol]

This Band (p.8)

B.A.M SEQUEL now updating daily!

pairing/s: band! park jihoon x oc ; band! bae jinyoung x oc ; doctor! hwang minhyun x oc

character/s: park jihoon, park woojin, bae jinyoung, ong seongwoo, kim jaehwan, ha sungwoon, lai guanlin, kang daniel, yoon jisung, hwang minhyun

genre: angst, fluff, music (band)

summary: never date your band mate.

warning : a sequel so I’d appreciate it if you’ll read B.A.M first. though you can always live dangerously and read this immediately.

This Band (p.1) This Band (p.2) This Band (p.3) This Band (p.4)  This Band (p.5)    This Band (p.6) This Band (p.7) This Band (p.9)  This Band (p.10)   This Band (p.11)   This Band (p.12)   This Band (p.13) This Band (p.14)  This Band (p15) This Band (final)

B.A.M p1 // B.A.M p2 // B.A.M p3 // B.A.M final

wanna one masterlist

song inspiration: Sick by Got7

Now that you leave me and whatever you do

 I hope that you think of me 

That your days without me 

Are as sad as mine 

---

The following week, the chaos over the upcoming reunion was increasing without limit. There were speculations that the previous controversy surrounding the ex-lovers was merely a publicity stunt to put the reunion in the radar of the public’s attention. Although, this accusation was not enough to stifle the thrill over the December event.

Social media was blowing up with fans predicting the exact date and venue, broadcasting stations were promoting the event every chance they got, and old BAM songs have even made their return on radio countdowns. Some have thought up their own dream reunion setlists and boosted BAM songs back up into the charts. Needless to say, it was going to be bigger than they all anticipated.

The Underground housed the rehearsals for the whole month leading up to the big day. Plastered on the walls of the small event space were snapshots of their early days as BAM and the members tirelessly stared at these bits and pieces of memory as they waited for everyone else to arrive for the concert planning process.

Jaehwan bustles into the Underground all disheveled, making his way to the side of the room without looking at the members due to his rush.

“Guys, sorry I’m late, I spent too much time in the shower wondering how I’ll act with Jihoon and Riseul in one room--”

“Hyung, relax.” Jihoon piped up from behind the amplifier, shrugging and pointing to Riseul who arrived way before anyone did.

“You look more tense than we are.” Riseul chimed in to lighten up the mood. She then brushed off Jaehwan’s dumbfounded stare and stood up, signalling the commencement of their first ever production meeting.

“So, the management informed me that all we need to worry about is our setlist and promotions. Everything else from styling to lighting and other equipment would be taken care of.” Sungwoon announced in a rather professional atmosphere, setting the tone of the discussion perfectly.

“What do we have so far?” Seongwoo asked.

“A blank setlist and thousands of excited fans.” Woojin threw his arms up sarcastically and flailed his arms around in mock excitement.

“Well, we better start filling that list up now.” Jisung, the trustworthy leader, clapped multiple times to make sure he’s got everyone’s eyes and ears.

“Already on it. I’m on randomizer.com, now if you could just enumerate all our songs from day one.” Baejin whipped out his phone, beginning to type up song titles to feed into the raffle website.

“Jinyoung, you’re really taking after me.” Grabbing a seat from the nearby table, Seongwoo sat beside Baejin, taking no notice of the disapproving glances of the other members.

“Yah, yah. Guys. You’re telling me that we’re putting our fate in the hands of the internet? I think we’ve done too much of that these days,” Woojin slumped into his seat, showing disagreement.

“Our supporters are already creating their own dream setlists so we can look at those to get an idea of what they want to hear most.” Jaehwan sat on the floor and opened his laptop, redirecting to an online music chart and some blog posts written by their listeners.

“I know it’s a reunion concert but I think the audience would really be psyched to hear a new song or two. If that doesn’t make things too hectic.” Riseul proposed, scanning the members faces to see if they approve with the extra work.

Sungwoon, Jaehwan and Jisung were almost immediately won over by this idea but the others took turns and expressed their concerns over the time frame and the composition process itself.

Riseul notices Jihoon nodding along as she further explains her request, visibly weighing the pluses of coming back with new music at the end of the year.

“I think that’s a great idea. After all, it’ll be touching to write a song solely about reuniting. That boosts the emotional impact on the fans.” The convincing tinge in Jihoon’s voice along with that bit about making much more of a mark on the fans made the others nod as well.

“It might be possible. I mean, unlike before we have more hands and minds now.” Riseul’s response seemed to do the last push.

“It’s settled then? We’ll make a bomb setlist before we go home today and start working on the new songs starting tomorrow. Overnight is enough to get our thoughts in order?” Jisung finalized the plan to conclude the informal voting.

“Yep!” They said in unison and gathered closer to get into today’s business. Growing up has indeed made them more systematic and professional in their dealings. They knew in that moment that going beyond  the expectations of the audience was what would make this reunion as explosive as it has been made out to be.

They all sat in a circle, each holding either their own instrument or their phones, all set to create.

Riseul sat between Jaehwan and Guanlin, directly in front of Jihoon to whom she smiled to for supporting her stand on adding to the setlist. He smiled back and turned to his phone with his cheeks frozen to the same stretch.

As a tease to Jaehwan’s grand entrance a few minutes ago, Riseul leaned to her side and whispered, “See, this isn’t so tense isn’t it?”

Jaehwan blocked his ears. “Don’t rub it in.” ---

“Yah. It really feels like I’m back in time.” Woojin stretched his arms after settling in his seat. It was 1am and with proddings from the youngest Baejin, the whole band was now sitting around a long table at a barbecue restaurant, throats still strained from rehearsal yet ready for a long night of drinking. Tonight they were back to being a simple group of friends in their youth; not a famous band nor individuals who were separated for several years.

It took some time to ease the tension between all of them when rehearsals for their reunion concert started. Apparently, not only Jaehwan felt a tinge of awkwardness brought by the two. But a few sets later, they were all reminiscing about their first ever gigs, the contests won and the countless songs composed, all of them apparently adhering to a silent agreement not to mention anything about the recent controversies nor the past relationships.

“The difference is that we can all drink now.” Baejin pumped his fists in the air and looked up, followed by cheers from the rest of the band.

“But you still act like a child, Baejin-ah.” Seongwoo pushed the younger man’s arm down and tapped him on the top of his head.

“Yah, say that to me when I have to drag your drunk ass back home.”

“Okay, okay. Everything’s on me. Order up!” Sungwoon announced as he stood up to wave over the server.

More cheers erupted from the group as everyone picked a dish and a drink of their choice. At the corner of the table Jihoon and Riseul sat facing each other.

Throughout their rehearsals, Jihoon and Riseul felt more and more at ease. The warmth was coming back, or it was there temporarily anyway. They’ve shared some glances and some smiles, although reluctantly, scolding themselves afterwards. But they end up repeating the actions anyway. They glance up as familiar lyrics come up, one-liners they remembered they thought up together. They glance up as difficult notes were hit, their eyes expressing a tap on the shoulder.

“Beer for you?” Jihoon asked, earning a nod from Riseul.

“And soju for you?” he smiled at the mimicked response, tone and all, and nodded back.

“Soju for everyone!” Jaehwan, seated near the ex-lovers, tapped the shot glasses with his chopsticks and got everyone’s attention before they noticed the exchange at the corner of the table. In a while, alcohol will take over their systems and the mindless teasing will inevitably start. Where that will lead, it’s probably best not to know.

The orders arrived as the conversations continued. The two wordlessly predicting and subtly observing what dish will end up on each other’s plates. It surprised both of them how much they remember about each other’s tastes.

He eats everything but he can’t handle too much spice.

She loves garlic. Maybe a little too much.

“Riseul-ah, you love this, right?” Jihoon got a little too over-excited at the sight of the steaming tofu stew placed in front of them. Without thinking twice, he grabbed Riseul’s empty bowl and started ladling some of the stew onto it.. “Here, while it’s still hot.” He said, eagerly looking at her and gesturing for her to try it out.

“Huh--Oh, yeah. Thanks…”

“Jihoon-ah, last time I checked Riseul had hands of her own…” Seongwoo nudged him multiple times with the sole purpose of annoying him.

“You’re already drunk? You’re the weakest, hyung.” The eagerness gone from his eyes in a split second, he pushed Seongwoo aside jokingly and went back to eating. He sees a meat jeon that was not on his plate before.  

“It’s your favorite.” Riseul mutters without looking at him directly and took a swig from her mug.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere or maybe it was the alcohol slowly getting into their systems that’s making them take such bold steps like this. Or maybe it was their inner consciousness, in all its genuineness, trying to make its way out. It felt good somehow, pretending nothing was ever wrong between them. It felt good to have that fluttering feeling again; the feeling that someone was looking at you admiringly from your peripheral view. It felt secure. It felt familiar.

“I see your tolerance is still as high as ever.”

“Uh-huh. Sad to say, yours is still at an all-time low.” Riseul proudly jutted out her chin and stuck out her tongue at Jihoon.

It was already a couple of hours past midnight and most of them were already out of it. Jaehwan and Sungwoon can be heard singing their hearts out at the coin-powered karaoke machines, while the younger members were in the middle of a pointless contest of who could consume the most soju with chopsticks.  

“It became a habit I guess?” Jihoon shrugged.

“Being a weak-ass became a habit?”

“No, not that!” Jihoon just shook his head at how silly she was acting. Nonetheless, he finished getting his point across. “Drinking little became a habit. Because I always had to take care of you back then.”

“For the record, I never black out when I drink. All I become is a bit tipsy and nothing more. Totally self-aware. So you really didn’t need to worry that much.”

“Ey. I was just doing my job as--”

“Hyung, noona, we’re playing never have I ever, want to join?” a flush-faced Baejin called out, cutting Jihoon off mid-sentence, and pulled his chair nearer the pair. “You know how it works right?”

“Just put a finger down when you’ve done what the other person tells you. We’ll go clockwise.”

“Person with the most fingers down by the end of the game should give us a consequence.”

Guanlin and Seongwoo took turns explaining and eventually everyone around the table except for Jaehwan and Sungwoon, who were still at it straining their throats, had their fingers up, either forced or willing to participate in the supposedly lighthearted drinking game.

“First! Seongwoo-hyung, never have I ever had to flirt with a lady to get my drums repaired for free.”

“That’s strangely specific! Yah!”

“Riseul-ah, never have I ever been friends with someone who has pink hair.”

“Seriously?! Remember when you had pink hair?”

“Guanlin-ah, never have I ever been to America.”

“That’s really lame, hyung.” Guanlin put a finger down followed by a roll of his eyes.

And as more fingers went down, the players started decreasing as well. The restaurant was filled with their laughter and banter mostly from Seongwoo who was the first to be eliminated.

“You better not give me a consequence that involves public humiliation.”

“But isn’t that the point of it all?” Riseul shrugged and put on her pretend thinking face to tease the losing player.

“Ah! I won! In your face, Baejin-hyung!”

“Yah, I’m still older than you!”

Guanlin and Baejin, who were the last players, noisily settled their childish conflict and ended up teaming together to give Seongwoo “the worst possible consequence in the history of consequences.”

Their night ended as each of them tapped out, deciding too late that it was probably best not to stay out until the sun begins to rise again. Their game was long over and Seongwoo has done his dare (with much delight from his tipsy younger members).

But a particular boy was not yet done asking for answers.

Before all of them could file out of the restaurant, Jihoon gently held both of Riseul’s wrists, pulling them to make her palms face him. With Riseul’s fingers now outstretched in front of him, he mirrored her, their palms almost touching.  

The question Jihoon was about to ask has been stuck on the back of his mind ever since he first saw her again. It was wishful thinking, selfish even; he’s been hoping that she never had eyes for anyone after their separation. He thought knowing this would once and for all ease a fraction of his insecurities. Or worsen them if it goes the other way.

It certainly has crossed his mind that Riseul deserves someone better than him after all. Someone who did not hold her back. But he didn’t have the guts to concede and admit this to himself. Deep inside he believed that their story was meant to continue.

“Never have I ever….dated anyone after you.”

All of Jihoon’s fingers stayed upright. He looked straight into Riseul’s eyes, with a soft and expectant expression. There was a long pause in which none of them spoke and even their breaths seemed like they were on hold. But just as Jihoon’s hopes were skyrocketing...She’s not putting any fingers down...Riseul finally let go of the heavy breath and slowly folded her thumb in.  

“I have.”

“I see…” Jihoon looked down and coughed as if doing this would brush away the warmth slowly creeping up his face.

Riseul nudged Jihoon’s hands with her own and eyed his still outstretched fingers, nodding to signal him to continue. She, too, was waiting for a response: a simple movement from his fingers or the lack of it.

“I haven’t.”

“Ah. Is that so…” With her hands now back to her sides, she decided to try and probe further. Despite her already knowing what he was about to utter. “Why not?”

“Because I couldn’t...I still can’t.”

Riseul started to say something but closed her mouth just as soon as she opened it, stopping to think twice about letting this conversation flow on. But Jihoon took care of that for her, leaving his words hanging vaguely in the air around both of them and saying his goodbyes without any further explanations.

“Go home safely. See you in rehearsals.”

“See you. Be safe.”

They asked questions and it left them with more.  

---

[words-writ-in-starlight]

OMG that sky high fic was grrrreat. Let me rant about it... I feel like will and layla are little pure cinnamon rolls. And everyone's reactions with their powers was great. And yeah that mad science class could use some theory. I really want to see warren's mom's reaction to him having friends over.

(the first bit, the bit with the Strongholds)

It’s seven-thirty PM when Meilin Peace comes home and finds Warren pointing a knife at Zack.

It’s not as bad as it sounds.

“Glowstick, I swear to god, you touch those carrots again and we’re gonna see if you leak neon,” Warren snaps as Zack reaches out, and Zack holds both hands up in surrender and scuttles back when Warren brandishes the knife at him menacingly.  “Not the peppers, either,” Warren adds, and turns toward the sound of the door opening.

It’s not a big apartment--two bedrooms, one bathroom, not in a great neighborhood. They have about five square feet of counter space in the kitchen/living room, and when the front door is open it blocks the hall to the bedrooms, opening right into the main room.  With six teenagers scattered across the couch and floor, plus the kitchen table, it looks smaller than ever.

The relevant thing, though, is that when his mom walks through the door, she has a perfectly good view of Warren, the knife, and Zack, frozen with one guilty hand outstretched toward the bell peppers.

For a moment, Warren considers that he probably should have called her.  She looks alarmed, sort of--not really concerned about Warren’s physical health, because she more or less put that one to bed after he got kicked through a concrete wall, but clearly concerned about the rest of the situation.  She has her hair tied back and the fresh-scrubbed look of someone just out of a rapid shower, and she’s wearing a hoodie rather than her paramedic’s coat, and her dark eyes settle on each of the teenagers blinking at her in turn before she looks back to Warren.

“Hi, Mom,” he says, and goes back to cutting up the carrots before Zack can reboot and start risking his fingers again.  “Mom, everyone.  Everyone, this is my mom.  I expected you to be back a couple hours ago.”

“Sorry, baby.  Transport up to the Trauma One,” she says.  “And then cleaning the rig.  What--the hell is happening right now?”

“Mrs. Peace!” Layla says gamely, jumping up and offering her hand.  “It’s so great to meet you!  We’re friends of Warren’s, from school, and uh, he offered to let us do our homework here!”

“It’s Miss,” she says, bemused, and shakes Layla’s hand, eyes still on Warren.  “You must be Layla.”

“Aw, Warren talks about us,” Magenta drawls.  

Meilin grins a little at that.  “Complains, mostly.  Come here, Warren,” she adds, and Warren leaves the cutting board to go over and let her pull him down into a hug.  “Are you all right with them here, baby?” she murmurs into his ear while he’s there.

“They’re fine,” he says as he straightens up again.  “Probably all going to fail their classes, but they’re fine.”  

She holds him there for a moment, studies him, and Warren can’t blame her.  He hasn’t brought friends home since he was a kid on playdates, before--well, Before.  That means that the last few hours have been.  Strange.  Not bad, but foreign, unnerving and uncomfortable.  He tries to let her see what he means, tries to let her see that he’s trying for the first time in fucking forever and that it’s awful and exhausting and he doesn’t want the others to leave, and she nods slowly before giving him a clap on the shoulder.

“All right, then,” Meilin decides.  “What are you making?”

“Fried rice,” Warren says.  “Did you eat already?”

“No,” she says, crossing the room and taking Warren’s seat at the table.  “Transport, like I said.  And is he all right?” she adds, nodding to Ethan in the other seat, where he’s all but vibrating.

“He’s like that,” Magenta says.  “I’m Magenta, Miss Peace.”

“Wow,” Ethan says before Meilin can answer, eyes wide behind his glasses.  “You’re Adamant.”

It’s been a really long time since Warren saw his mother speechless, and he grins to himself as he chases Zack off the carrots again and dumps the lot into the wok.

Everyone knows that his mother was a hero, Before.  If pressed, they might even be able to remember that Baron Battle fought with a partner, sometimes, a petite Chinese woman who couldn’t be harmed.  But for some reason, no one ever seems to expect to meet her.  It makes parent-teacher conferences...entertaining.

“I...was,” Meilin says warily.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Wow!” Ethan says again, bouncing in his seat.  “It’s such an honor to meet you, Miss Adamant--uh, Miss Peace, really, it is, I had no idea you were Warren’s mom.  Is that why he can just walk stuff off?  I mean, I assumed it was a healing factor, you know, those come with weird powers sometimes, but real invulnerability is so rare!”

“He’s like this,” Warren says when his mother looks to him.  “Popsicle, pipe down.”

“I like him,” Meilin says, and smiles at Ethan.  It strikes him silent like he’s just seen an angel.  Warren goes back to the stove and tries not to look too smug.  Once upon a time, Adamant wasn’t just known for her heroics and her intelligence--she was a famous beauty, back in the day.  Still is, as far as Warren is concerned.  He always wished he looked like her, as a kid.  Even more after he got older and started growing into his father’s face.

There’s a sound of confusion from the couch, and Warren pauses to take a breath.  Layla makes a noise--like maybe she tried to get across the room and didn’t quite make it in time.

“Hang on,” Stronghold says, because apparently his good sense lasts exactly eight minutes.  “My parents said Adamant’s civilian name was Meilin Guerra.”

Warren closes his eyes.

“You’ll be Mister Stronghold,” Meilin says, perfectly civil.  “Very nice to meet you.”

“Changed it, after everything,” Warren says shortly, opening his eyes to shoot a glare over his shoulder.  “Obviously.”

“Right,” Stronghold says, cowed.  “Obviously.  Um.  Sorry.  It’s, uh, really nice to meet you, Miss Peace.  Sorry about--”

“Dude,” Zack interrupts before the sentence can get worse. “Probably just.  Stop.”

Magenta makes a wry sound.  “A rare moment of insight from the living lightbulb.  Will, try and keep your foot out of your mouth for twenty minutes, you were doing so well.”

“As far as I can tell, it runs in the family,” Meilin says, not unkindly, and Ethan actually sputters a laugh.  Warren can practically taste Stronghold’s blush, but it’s not worth having this fight again.  Meilin moves on.  “Although, while we’re on the subject, do you mind if I ask why you kids are doing homework here?  I thought you were planning to be, quote, ‘out doing something stupid’, baby.”

“Did something stupid,” Warren confirms.  “Now we’re here.  Still got all my fingers and toes, though.  Glowstick, pass me that cumin--it’s the one that says cumin on it, Jesus Christ.”

Layla clears her throat delicately and says, “We were going to do homework at the Strongholds’ house, but um.  That didn’t happen.”

“Warren.”

“He didn’t do anything!” Zack protests.

“I know he didn’t do anything,” Meilin says, and Warren can feel the way she’s squinting at him, suddenly looking for hurts like she used to when he came home from middle school holding his ribs gingerly.  

“It was fine,” he says, splashing soy sauce vaguely in the direction of the wok and getting a fair amount on the burner, where it crackles in the flame.  “Don’t worry about it.”  Honestly?  Warren wasn’t really planning to tell her.  She works twenty-four hour shifts because they pay better, and she doesn’t need to worry about him.  He’s spent half of his life trying to make it so that his mom doesn’t need to worry about him--at first by being compliant, then by being the toughest thing around.  He’s not about to let the Strongholds wreck that.

“I’m--really sorry,” Stronghold says, almost--what, miserable?  Warren’s tired of trying to decode people.  “I had no idea--I just figured--I thought they were...better than that, I guess.”  

Warren turns around in time to see his mom’s eye soften a little.

“Yeah, well,” she sighs.  “Live and learn.  What’s your name, Stronghold?”

“God, you really are related,” Magenta says, fascinated.

“It’s Will,” Stronghold says over the rush of slightly shaky laughter that trickles through the room.  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Peace.  Sorry about kicking Warren through that wall that time.  I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“Well, he had that one coming,” Meilin says, and Warren makes an offended sound, because she’s expecting him to, but this is...better.  Calmer.  His hands are steady when he starts putting fried rice on plates.  “And if you five are going to be a regular presence, you’d better call me Meilin.”

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Anasui x Reader: “I Think”

You were quite open about the fact that you didn't belong there at the Green Dolphin Street Jail, but didn't treat any of the others differently because of it. That was how you got to know Jolyne. You both were in a struggle to clear your name, to warm your freedom. You both could be a bit naïve at times, but you vowed that you would help each other through.  

You had heard tell of Narciso Anasui long before you had ever met him. Jolyne constantly complained about him. She didn't seem to hate Anasui, but was exhausted of his constant attempts to talk to her, to touch her, to hug her. But he was, apparently helping her case, so she let it slide.

You almost pitied him, however.  You knew what it was like to be desperately in love with someone who didn't love you back; you had your fair share of heartbreak over the years. But it was only till recently that you actually had the opportunity to meet him. It was lunch time, when Foo Fighters (an interesting name, you had to admit) began to complain.

“Dammit, I’m SOOO thirsty!”

“Well I’m sorry, I already drank all my water!” retorted Jolyne. You shrugged, apologetically, also having nothing to offer her.

“She has some water…” Foo Fighters slyly gestured to a woman behind you. Jolyne muttered something you couldn't quite hear just under her breath. Foo rolled her eyes, and Jolyne begrudgingly mumbled a quiet affirmation.

Suddenly, a string snaked from Jolyne’s, almost as if her finger was unwinding. A scream slipped out of your lips, but Jolyne’s reflexes were quick enough to cover your mouth before too much of the cafeteria noticed.

And that was how you learned about stands: that you could see them, that you had one of your own, and that there were more like you. And that was when the three of them, Jolyne, Foo Fighters and Hermès, finally decided to show you their hideout.

As soon as you walked into the room, you saw him. There were two men, both lounging by the piano. One of them was obviously the man you had heard described countless times. His long pink hair, his fishnet top. But one thing Jolyne hadn't mentioned: he was insanely attractive. Maybe it was because for the past several months you hadn't been around many men, but his eyelashes were long and beautiful, his lips were full and soft. If only you had such a man pining after you. He spoke, and you noticed his gentle but sultry voice. Wait what had he actually said?

“Huh?” You piped up.

“I said, who’s the new girl?” His cheeks were slightly red, most likely from Jolyne’s entrance into the room.

“I’m (y/n), and you must be Anasui.” You smiled, offering to shake his hand. However, he stood frozen. His face burning even brighter, he looked back and forth between you and Jolyne, a confused expression crossing his face. He didn't say much for the rest of your time there. You got to know the other man, Weather Report, and the boy, Emporio. They filled you in on Anasui’s background, however Anasui himself was surprisingly quiet. You left that day, excited to come back if time permitted.

“But, Jolyne,” You paused to think, “is he normally like that? When you described him… he just seemed so much more aggressive.”

“I'm not sure,” Jolyne mused, “Something may have happened today. But next time,” she scoffed “You’ll see what I mean.”

Weeks passed, and he remained relatively mute. You were wondering if something really did happen to change him, and then, you came to the room by yourself one day.

You had just needed some time to relax, and laid on the comfy sofa, only to feel movement beside you. You flinched out of fear, but noticed it was only Anasui. Catching your breath, you chuckled.

“Sorry, I didn't see you there.”

“(Y/n), I finally figured it out.” He grasped his hands tightly around yours, causing you to gasp at his strength. You looked at him alarmedly.

“I’m in love with you.” He smiled, almost excitedly, but you stared at him with confusion.

“What?!” You stuttered.

“I thought it was Jolyne. I was such an idiot. I idolised her, i worshipped her,” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “But as soon as I saw you. Your beauty and strength as you walked into this room, your charm, your innocence,” You almost chuckled at that last remark. “I don't want her, I want you.” You gasped at the thought of that last statement. You had no idea what to say. Anasui was certainly attractive and intriguing in his own fashion, but… you didn't know him.

“Anasui,” you started. He smiled and closed his eyes, hearing his name on your lips. You felt sorry for him, you had to admit. “Please understand what I'm about to say. I,” You paused, trying to formulate the words. “I would certainly be open to… something like that, but, I've only ever seen you sitting in the corner sulking. I don't know who you are, what you’re like.”

To your surprise, he nodded his head understandingly, but didn't let go of your hands. He continued to gaze into your eyes dreamily. You giggled, somewhat charmed but this idiot of a man.

“Oh,” he realised, releasing your hands after he had gripped them for such a long and awkward moment. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, but you two continued to talk for the next hour or so, and actually grew to like his assertive nature.

However you were worried something would happen to ruin it. You had no idea how you could even compare to Jolyne in terms of beauty or brains or brawn. He continued to shower you with compliments, gifts and whatever else he could sneak past the guards. Whenever you had any opportunity to interact with the male prisoners, he was there. It was adorable how he would protect you from any single threat, no matter how small (once he freaked out when Hermès stepped on your toe), but he knew how to back off when you told him it was too much. Maybe you really could learn to love him…

Jolyne was ecstatic, of course, to have him off her back. She made almost every effort possible to let you spend time together. Hermès paid no attention, but Foo Fighters thought the act of courtship was extremely interesting.

Once he actually invited you to eat dinner with him. You weren’t quite sure how it would work out, slipping out on cafeteria dinner, sneaking food into Emporio’s room. But he said he would take care of it all.  

You wanted to look good for him, so you wore your best (and only dress), as well a as a bit of makeup. You couldn't tell why you were so nervous, he had always thought that you were beautiful before. But this time you really needed to impress.

Quietly, you slipped into the room. You were several minutes early, and didn't think it would make a difference, however, you found Anasui scrambling to set the table. It was the cutest thing you'd ever seen!

You silently watched as he laid out an elegant cloth and placed two ornate plates on its surface. He grabbed the forks and knifes, struggling for a moment to figure out which utensils went on which side. Goodness, had he brought those two chairs into the room himself?

You noticed that the rest of the chamber had been decorated as well. Candles everywhere lit the room with a dim glow. Vases of roses were scattered, and a large bouquet sat on the couch. You couldn't help but smile: you had know that he was infatuated with you, but hadn't imagined him going to such lengths.

Suddenly, he noticed you, and panicked.

“(Y/n),” He jumped up to reach for the bouquet, presenting it to you with a flourish.

“Thank you so much, Anasui.” He always smiled when you said his name, and you had grown to love that smile.

“You look…” he paused, taking in a deep breath, a blush rising to his cheeks. You looked down abashedly. “You are absolutely stunning,” Your heart had always leapt when he said that, even when you hadn't know him as well.

“Please have a seat,” he seemed rushed, but sincere, as he ran over to pull out a chair for you. You giggled at this display of courtesy. He made his way to one of the shelves, on which rested your dinner. It was beautiful! You had absolutely no idea what it was, but it was almost rainbow in color and artistically set on the plate, almost like food you had seen in fancy restaurants but never tasted before. He even offered you a glass of expensive wine, of which you only sipped a little.

The meal was such a wonderful relief after months of terrible cafeteria food. You two chatted and laughed, taking your time with the dinner. Finally, you asked:

“Where did you get all of this? How did you have the money–” he cut you off.

“I didn't steal, if that's what you're asking. I made sure to acquire everything without using violence.” You smiled that he had done such a thing for you, “Though, okay, one of them deserved it.” unexpected to him, you giggled. You were flattered that he would avoid unnecessary aggression for your sake, but you still wanted him to be himself, and, honestly the thought of him beating up convicted criminals on your behalf was somewhat amusing.

You both finished dinner, and he whisked away the plates, inviting you to sit on the couch. He let you over, sitting down with you, and asking permission to drape his arm over your shoulder.

“If i had my way,” he mused, “I would sit with you out on the balcony, gazing at the stars…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances.”

“What do you mean, Anasui?” He sighed.

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done. And I can't forgive what they’ve done to you,” his fist clenched. “You don't deserve to be here, (y/n).” You reached to stroke the hand that rested on your shoulder.

“I've accepted what happened to me. I won't give up trying to escape my fate, but I understand that people make mistakes. That’s why you're in here. You made a mistake.” You paused, turning your face to his. He seemed to be gazing off into the distance, and murmured something you couldn't quite hear. You leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“Thank you.” You fingers stopped stroking his as you registered these words.

“For what?” He turned to look at you.

“Even if I can never have your love, at least I have your friendship. Thank you for accepting my feelings and not treating me any differently because of it,” You heart began to quicken, and your cheeks grew hot.

“I never said,” You faltered, searching for the right words. “Anasui,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure if you know how feelings work.” He seemed a bit taken aback.

“(Y/n), I know I love you.”

“I’m not saying that you don't. I'm just saying,” you paused, “Most people don't fall in love at first sight. If you believe that you did, and you still love me, then...” you look down, “Well, then that's wonderful.” You couldn't believe the sappy crap that was spewing out of your mouth, but you continued. “Because most people take time to get to know someone… To fall in love…” Finally, you just looked down and shook your head. “I'm sorry, I sound so stupid.”

“No,” he tilted your chin to look into his eyes, while your breath caught I your throat. “Do you,” he began to ask hesitantly, “Do you love me?” You sat silent.

Did you love him? How do you know if you love someone? You did know this: You enjoyed being around Anasui, you wanted to keep warm in his embrace, you wanted… You wanted so much more from him.

Slowly, you shifted, your lips nearing his.

“I think,” you whispered, your stomach twisting in knots of anticipation. “I think I do,” He didn't move a muscle, though you could see a hint of surprise and satisfaction in his eyes. It seemed that he was scared to do anything that would cause you to change your mind.

Gently, you leaned towards him. The second your lips met his, you felt your heart leap. He was letting you take the lead, as you softly tangled your fingers through his long hair, and your hand rested on his thigh. His moan was barely noticeable, but it urged you on, pulling his lips closer. You felt one hand on your hip, the other resting on your cheek. To your dismay, however, he gradually broke the kiss.

“A-Are you sure?” His voice was hesitant. You chuckled, shaking your head at what you were about to say.

“This is the only thing I am sure about.” You crawled over onto his lap, pressing your palms to his chest and leaning him forward. His hands fell back to support him as you kissed his flawless lips.

You were entirely overwhelmed by this feeling of desire, this feeling of belonging. There was someone who loved you in this world, someone who wanted you. He was kind and caring and handsome. And you actually accepted his love.

Your fluttering in your stomach intensified, and your entire body grew heated as you pecked at his lips. He slowly eased himself to lie down on the couch, and you rested on top of him, easing your fingers across his chest. He moaned softly at your touch, reaching his hands to grasp at your hair. His fingers massaged your scalp, and you shivered with pleasure. Slowly, the kisses grew more passionate. Your lips parted as you fiddled with his strange mesh top, desperate to get to the skin beneath. His tongue slipped out of your mouth to lick your lips hungrily, hands running down your back.

But he paused, allowing you to catch your breath. Just as you prepared to attack his lips for a third time, he held you back, and you let out a slight whimper.

“I told you,” you whispered, “I’m sure.” He caressed your cheek, lovingly inspecting your eyes, your lips, your hair.

“I don’t want to rush, (y/n). You know how much I want this, but we’re not ready,”

His chivalry made your stomach flutter. You had never expected to find such a man in a place such as this. You wanted so badly to run your hands over his bare chest, to kiss his lips, his neck; but he wanted to keep the love, to keep the romance.

He gently tugged you to the couch, implying that he wanted you lay down next to him. You rested your head on his chest, comforted by the steady rise and fall. His lips softly pressed to your head as you snuggled into his warmth. His fingers continued to fiddle with your hair as you gradually drifted off to sleep

[train-heartnet-xiii]

okay, so apparently what happened was that night we went down to almost -10 the ground froze all the way to the pipes and between that and the still below freezing temps the water in the line froze and expanded to the point the pipe literally exploded, with sand, chunks of frozen earth, and bits of pipe landing all over the yard of the house on the west side of the house on the other side of the road. some of the frozen earth chunks were almost as large as my torso too.

looking back the low water pressure when I was having a soak yesterday could have been a sign it was starting to break. at the time I just assumed that it was another case of dad deciding to hand wash some dishes while I was soaking again since he does that even if I tell him I'm going to have a bath or shower.

they say we will get the water back tonight, possibly late tonight, and they're going to keep working until it's fixed even if it takes all night since we're not the only ones affected by this that are on record as using hot water heating instead of central air and it's been getting damnably cold at night.

there's about 6 inches of slush at the end of the driveway right now because a water line burst in the yard of our neighbor across the street (or one over to the west of his, or between the two). part of the street perpendicular to ours (which runs between those two houses) is shut down while they have the digging equipment including something to get thru the blacktop if needed.

I got temporarily stuck trying to get out of the driveway because of the slushy mess, then once I got moving again I had to stop again because a car was coming and I had to get unstuck again.

thankfully we still have water here since the shutoff point affects only houses west of ours on this side of the road. given it's still pretty cold here and our heating system is a hot water baseboard heating system no water would mean a cold house.

[legendofkd12]

Becoming A 12 Year Old Adult

Our memories of early childhood are usually quite blurry; it’s hard to remember specific details, but sometimes a memory sticks out. Most children remember exciting life events like birthdays or a baby shower. While I have plenty of happy childhood memories, it seems that most of the tragic memories have taken over.

The summer before sixth grade we moved to a little cabin in Bethel. The cabin on Byam Road seemed like a saving grace for my parents because the rent was so cheap. They both worked full time jobs, but raising 3 young children isn’t easy when you have bills to pay, so we moved quite often. The cabin had 2 bedrooms so my sister and I shared a room while Tyler who was only 5, shared a room with my parents. Upon first glance, the cabin wasn’t much to look at. A very basic kitchen with a tiny stove, two small sinks, and a fridge. There were only a few cupboards, and zero counter space, so there wasn’t much room for storage. The interior of the cabin was dirty to me. The wood wasn’t smooth and shiny like hardwood floors typically are, the wooden walls were warped, gusts of wind would blow right through the cracks in the wood, but it was a place for us to live so I tried not to whine.

My parents both worked full time, my siblings and I spent most of our mornings at a daycare of some kind, dinner was always on the table even if money was tight, everything seemed normal to me as a child. Sometimes my parents would argue, but it never seemed to be a big fight. One time my dad moved out and slept in his van for a few days during a fight, but they always apologized to each other and continued to take care of us. April 21st: I don’t remember much about school that day, only that the secretary’s office told my siblings and I to ride the bus to my aunts house instead of going home. This was pretty normal for us because we spent most of our afternoons with her, and given that today was the last day of school before spring vacation officially started, it was possible that we would be having a late bon-fire or something. I remember walking up the road and seeing quite a few cars in the driveway, it looked to me like there might have been a party going on so we all got excited hoping there would be a barbeque. Getting closer to the house I noticed that it was quiet and no one seemed to be laughing, must’ve been a hard day at work I figured.

My Aunt Rita told her son Kyle to take us up the road to the neighbors farm because he needed help feeding the sheep and pigs. Being kids, we were pretty excited and bolted up the steep driveway not even noticing that my mom had been crying, and not stopping to ask myself why dad was ‘missing’ from the crowd of people. I’m not sure how long we spent feeding the animals, it could’ve been a few hours, we wanted to stay all night, but I knew it was probably dinner time soon so we had to leave. We were sitting at the counter, my mom was crying so hard she couldn’t form words. Everytime she looked up at us she would cry harder, I knew something was wrong. Suddenly I had a moment where I realized dad wasn’t here, and why were the other guys home from work so early anyway? I knew dad was definitely hurt but even as a child I knew that my mom wouldn’t be here if he was hurt, she would be at the hospital with him, it must’ve been worse. She couldn’t get the words out, she choked when she told us he had a heart attack at work and died this morning. My initial reaction was to make sure the whole family knew. I wanted to call his sisters and his dad...I wanted to make sure everyone knew. I didn’t cry like everyone else was, and it made me feel uncomfortable so I wanted to be alone. I went down the driveway to the pond and sat at the picnic table and out of nowhere my mom comes down to sit with me. I don’t remember what we talked about but I was a little irritated that she made me go back up to the house where all the people were. The rest of the day is a blur. We more-than-likely spent the night at my aunt's house, possibly longer. I don’t really remember the funeral either.

When spring vacation was over, it was time to go back to school. My Aunt Rita came with us so she could help my mom talk to our teachers and the office staff about what had happened in our family incase my siblings or I acted strangely in school. I remember my teacher announcing it to the class and it made me very uncomfortable to have the spotlight on me with something so personal. Our class trip to Hulbert, and outdoor center in southern Vermont was a good distraction for me, it was nice to be away from everything going on at home and having a few friends I could hang out with. I didn’t talk about my dad to any of my friends or family growing up; my mom always pressured me, but I never knew what to say.

Shortly after my father's’ death, my mom went back to work. It had been several weeks and we were getting tight on money but it turns out she wasn’t quite ready. A coworker approached my mom and asked her how the kids were doing. Apparently for my mom this was a snapping moment because she yelled at the person, “How do you think they’re doing?” and then she instantly quit her job. I think that was the first day I was really mad at her. How could she quit her job? What were we going to do for money?

So many things began to happen after my mom quit her job. She was only 27 when her husband died. Now that I am the same age, I can understand how she could become so depressed and fed up with life, but at the time I was just so angry with her for quitting her job when we needed it the most that I didn’t bother trying to understand what she was going through.

Friends and family ended up staying with us all the time. Every night

we had someone sleeping on the couch just to hang out and keep company with us and my mom. At one point my cousin moved in with his girlfriend and their three kids, but I can’t quite remember the order of events. Mom started spending her child support money on drugs and got caught up with the younger adults doing drugs and dealing cocaine out of our kitchen. My mom and dad had always smoked pot, so one day when I saw her and a few guys smoking something different I questioned her and she tried to hide it. That’s how I always knew when she was lying to me.

With drugs came different men, and that usually meant more drama along with it. Since my mom had me when she was 16, she never finished high school and grew up in my opinion, so her depression took her into a downward, immature spiral. The house on Byam Road is where I lost my father, but it’s where I lost my mother as well.

I remember coming home from school and mom would be gone, sometimes she would leave a note on the table for us and sometimes she wouldn’t. I got used to it and started to understand a pattern. If there wasn’t a note she was probably up at my aunt's house or just in town shopping and would be home later; but when there was a note it usually had phone numbers and a list of chores she wanted us to do while she was gone. Sometimes she would be gone overnight and wouldn’t stock the cupboards before she left so we didn’t have much food to eat. After awhile she stopped paying the utility bills because she didn’t have a steady source of income. Eventually we didn’t have electricity or heat so in winter, the water pipes were frozen solid and eventually burst. I was using a stupid little cell phone as an alarm clock because it ran on a battery, and I had to charge it at school in the office just so we could wake up for school every morning.

My mom would usually get home in the middle of the night and then be sleeping all day long until dinner time. Because we didn’t have a car most of the time, we had to take the bus home from school and couldn’t participate in sports or after school programs. Going home wasn’t always fun when we lived in that cabin. It was always a gamble if mom would be home or not. If she was home she could be sleeping or have friends over being loud and obnoxious in her room. Either way the three of us were technically left alone and had to fend for ourselves. I always made sure my siblings did their homework, I even turned it into a game for Tyler since he never wanted to do it. I would make simple foods for dinner like grilled cheese, mac & cheese, or frozen pizzas. In the beginning of the month we would get food stamps, so we always looked forward to going shopping. My mom never even wanted to go shopping, she sometimes would send me in the store with her EBT card and just sit in the car. I became a great shopper though; learned how to get the best deals on my own.

When we had utilities but no food to eat, I could call my grandmother or aunt and someone would pick us up if we were left home alone. They always came to our rescue. They always sent us home with containers of food so we could eat later too. We always begged to stay at grandma’s house, I don’t think she ever realized how bad our home life was. I know she suspected something because of my mother's’ behavior, but she never asked us questions. When the utilities were shut off for good, I’m not even sure how long we lived there afterwards. With no propane, it was very cold in the house. I remember sleeping with several blankets and getting dressed under the covers in the morning. I even slept in my bed with my pile of clothes to keep them warm. My cat, Tommy, would sleep under the covers with me too. He was my best friend. Anyway, Tyler usually shared a bed with my sister that way they kept warm together. So many crazy stories, I’m not sure where to start.

[streetsolo]

A Flare in the Dark (chapter 6)

Click here to read on ao3 or

               “What does that mean?” you ask when you are sure that Kylo Ren has left the room. You’re talking, not signing, and you quickly move your hands to repeat the question. “Force-sensitive? What does that mean? That I’m in danger? Tell me.”

               Taro shakes his head.

               “You need to tell me,” you yell at him. You can’t sign right now; your hands are trembling. Instead, Sadie signs for you, her face parallel to the floor, letting your facial gestures display all the emotions he needs. “You’re the one that outed me. You need to tell me if I’m in danger.” Sadie is so nervous, she uses the physical sign for out like outside but Taro seems to understand what you’re trying to say nonetheless. Either that, or he can see you yelling. It’s not hard to figure out. Words don’t really matter right now, especially when you’re sure your emotions are pulsing out of you like a heat wave.

               He emits a high-pitched whine unlike anything you had ever heard before in your entire life. It turns your blood cold, and it’s such a soft, sad sound that you aren’t sure how to react to it. Sadie glances at you uncertainly, fear shining in her eyes, but there’s nothing much she can do either.

               Taro picks up his hands, and you watch him silently. Don’t tell anyone about this. Not even B. I will do the best I can to keep you safe.

               He gets up and walks over to you, putting his hand on your head in the same manner that he had done when you had first met him. Sadie looks taken aback, and you still aren’t quite sure how to react to it. He doesn’t linger, and he doesn’t say anything more as he turns and leaves the room without another word.

               “I’m Force-sensitive?” you ask, turning to Sadie. “That can’t be right. I can’t be, can I?”

               “I wouldn’t know,” Sadie replies softly.

               “I mean, what do I do now?” you breathe out. “Do you think they’re going to kill me?”

               “I don’t think so,” Sadie shakes her head. “B would never let that happen, although…” She hesitates, and you urge her on. “Have you been paying attention? To what the meetings have been about?”

               “Not really,” you confess. “I kind of just zone out most of the time. I figured it was for the best, anyway.”

               “They ask a lot of really weird questions,” she says. “Asking them how much training they had, if they’re a good shot, asking them to name times when they’ve had incredible strokes of luck-“

               “So what?” you ask. “They’re just making small talk. What does being lucky have to do with anything?”

               Sadie bites her lip. “I’ve been talking to Shayne-“ You groan aloud. “Apparently people who are Force-sensitive have been known to be luckier than others, and naturally good with a Blaster. They’re also good at reading people, and have other psychic gifts.”

               “Psychic gifts?” you echo. “I’m good with languages, but that doesn’t mean I’m good at reading people. I mean, I’m decent at reading body language, but-“

               “Well, if you’re Force-sensitive, it means that you can be trained in the Force,” she explains. “Like, everyone has the Force, is how it was explained to me, but some people are better at harnessing it than others. If you’re sensitive to it, then it means that you can harness it, with training.”

               You shake your head. “I don’t want to be trained.”

               “I don’t think they would train you,” Sadie admits quietly. “You know what he said the other night. They may get scared that you’re going to use the Force against them and…put you down.”

               You shake your head. You can’t even think about it, the notion is too absurd. “They wouldn’t kill me,” you tell her. “I mean, I can’t do anything. I don’t know how to do anything.”

               “Maybe you’re doing something without realizing it?” Sadie asks. “I mean, you did say Kylo Ren walked straight over to you as soon as you met him. Maybe you were, like, projecting your thoughts without even realizing it.”

               You blink at her. Could you have been? Could that also have explained why Kylo Ren was the one who did your interview earlier today? Could he have sensed that you were Force-sensitive? Were Force-sensitive people sensitive to others who were Force-sensitive? Try saying that five times fast.

               “If I am in so much danger, why did Taro out me so quickly?” you ask her. “If he knew it would kill me?”

               “Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” Sadie says. “I mean, you saw them. They were both, like, straining or something. Maybe they were having some sort of epic mind battle and Kylo got the better of him. Maybe he just let it slip.”

               You shake your head. You wanted to talk to Taro about this more, but would he talk to you? Or would he just tell you that the less you knew the better? Right now it seemed that your ignorance was what got you into this mess in the first place. If you had known you were Force-sensitive back at school, you never would have come here, B’s urging be damned. “What do I do?” you ask after a solid minute has passed.

               “Nothing,” she replies firmly. “You heard him. We shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not even B.”

               “Well,” you sigh. “If I suddenly go missing, please do go ahead and tell B what happened to me. I’ll probably be dead by then, but at least then he’ll know to dispose of my things.”

               She nods, but doesn’t refute what you say. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but fortunately it also doesn’t make you feel any worse at the moment. “We should get back.” She stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and follow her out into the hallway as you walk in silence back to your apartment.

               At dinner that night, at B’s prompting, Sadie is all smiles and giggles as she tells them about how “charming” General Hux was, kissing her hand and acting like a “proper gentleman.” She looks at Ladson while she says this, and although you’re pretty sure she’s trying to make him jealous, you know it’s an act to take the attention off you. Hell, maybe it’s both for all you know. Either way, the effect on B is immediate: he’s sighing and shaking his head, rubbing his forehead with one hand in an exasperated manner, probably wishing he had never brought Sadie on board in the first place. Unlike most of the things that seemed to be happening around here, that one actually was your fault. She had been your best friend, and her father had connections, so when you told her that B was looking for more recruits to join the assignment, and she had responded with enthusiasm, there was no real way of denying her a spot on the team. Besides, she may have been a bit too peppy for B’s tastes, but she was a skilled interpreter, there was no denying that.

               “And everything went well earlier today?” B asks, glancing over at you.

               You just nod, pretending to be bored by the whole affair. “Yeah, they didn’t ask too much.” You keep your tone casual, and B looks away. He doesn’t bring it up again.

               You tuck yourself into bed early that night. You thought a piping hot shower would do you some good, but it did the opposite. You felt languid, numb, as if all you had spent the entire day swimming laps in a frozen pool, and all of your muscles were now heavy and sore. So you were Force-sensitive, what did that mean? And how did Taro know? Was it part of his whole telepathy thing? Could he see into your mind?

               It’s late when you hear a quiet knock on your door, so quiet that you can barely be sure you heard it. You pause, sitting up in bed, when you hear it again. At first you think it’s coming from the living room, but it’s not. It’s coming from the outside door. Who could possibly-?

               You slip out of bed, dressed only in drawstring boy shorts and a tank top, as you open the door, blinking in the unrelenting synthetic hallway lights that reminded you of a hospital corridor. It didn’t take more than a split second for your eyes to sweep over the black shape in your doorway and register that it was Kylo Ren standing in front of you. Your whole body freezes, and it suddenly feels like your feet had turned to blocks of cement. You can’t move.

               “Can I come in?” he asks through his mask, and you obediently shuffle a few feet backwards without turning your back to him. You can’t quite get your face under control. Your eyes must be huge, especially in the dim light, and your mouth is slightly ajar. Your teeth snap together with a click and you swallow the lump in your throat as he comes in and shuts the door behind him. The lights overhead suddenly flicker on even though no one touched them, but you look and see that the switch is now upright in the on position somehow.

               You rub at your left eye, blinking at him as your eyes adjust to the light, trying not to show weakness. But here he was, standing in your room, while you were practically naked in front of him, half-asleep. The only way you could be more vulnerable is if you were completely naked, and, okay, those were not thoughts that you needed to be having when Kylo Ren was probably standing there reading your mind.

               Except he wasn’t, because Kylo Ren was standing there, almost shuffling from foot to foot, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Why are you here?” you ask quietly. “Have you come to kill me?”

               He chuckles through the mask, an awkward, distorted sound. It honestly sounds more threatening than anything. “I came to talk.”

               “If you came to talk, will you please take off that mask?” you ask quickly. It doesn’t matter if he has tentacles or a dozen eyes for all you care, you can’t stand that dreadful tinny distortion any more. You’re almost surprised when he silently complies with your request, taking off his helmet and letting it drop to the floor with a reverberating thud. He moves a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and you make a noise in the back of your throat that almost sounded like you were choking on the air you were breathing. He raises an eyebrow, and you have nothing to say in your defense.

               He was attractive. Oh no, he was very attractive. His face was framed by waves of dark raven hair. He had dark eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips that he pulled back into a smirk as you studied his face. Oh no, don’t do that.

               You realize you have to say something. He’s clearly enjoying your awkwardness, but the moment had stretched on for far too long and you have nothing to say. “You don’t have tentacles.”

               Well, at least that was something.

               His lips part and he shows teeth when he smiles. He looks a lot younger than you would have imagined, almost boyish, in this light. You think back to how threatening he had seemed when you first encountered him. Idly, you wonder how many people had seen him without his mask on. Probably not many, considering it ruined the entire illusion. There would be no way you could take him seriously with his mask on anymore…probably.

               “Do you see many people with tentacles where you’re from?” he asks, not altogether unkindly.

               “You never know,” you reply softly. “So why are you here, Kylo Ren?”

               “Kylo Ren,” he repeats his name, using your inflection, and you can’t help but think that he’s taunting you.

               “I don’t know the proper way to address you,” you say, trying to keep your cool. “Kylo Ren. I don’t know if it’s a name or a title. What do most people call you?”

               “Ren.”

               “Then I shall call you Kylo,” you say with finality. He raises an eyebrow again.

               “May I ask why?”

               “Because other people here call you Ren,” you tell him firmly. “And you look down on them. You control them. But you don’t control me.”

               He smiles at you as if you offered him a challenge, and you don’t like it one bit. The smirk before, now that was sexy. This smile was intimidating, and you can feel icy fingers tickling your spine as he speaks. “I control everything here.”

               “Not me,” you say, although your voice is barely above a whisper.

               “It seems not,” he says, and his gaze suddenly hardens. “You don’t know what you are, do you? What you’re doing?”

               “If this has to do with the Force, I think you’re mistaken,” you tell him. “Taro made a mistake. I am not Force-anything.”

               “Really?” he asks. “Then why can’t I get into your mind?”

               You blink at him. So he had tried to get in…? But when? “When did you figure this out?”

               He smirks triumphantly, and to be honest, he looks a bit cocky. “When I saw you on your first day here. I saw the way you were watching me. You could sense it too.”

               “I was just trying to figure out what was under the mask,” you tell him. “That’s all. I wasn’t watching you.”

               “I couldn’t get in your mind when I was with you earlier,” he says. “And I can’t get into your mind right now.”

               “Don’t,” you say immediately. You’re not quite sure what you’re telling him to not do, but it will hopefully shut down whatever he’s thinking. “I’ll scream.”

               “And I’ll crush your windpipe as soon as you open your mouth,” he says. His voice is low, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it.

               You stare him down, trying not to seem as scared as you feel. “So what are you going to do with me, then? If I am Force-sensitive?”

               He stands up a little straighter, and the cocky Kylo Ren is back. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’ll keep this a secret, just between us.”

               “A secret?” You pause, considering this. “Are you expecting gratitude or favors?” He makes a soft hum of appreciation in the back of his throat, as if he is considering this. “I have nothing to offer you,” you say, spreading your arms. “I have nothing you want. You can have my gratitude, but I doubt you want it, if this is as big of a secret as everyone’s making it out to be.”

               “You’re only here for six months,” he says quietly. “And it might please you to know that I don’t think that you are consciously doing it. Untrained, you are not a danger to anyone, let alone the First Order. When you are done here, go back to school. Don’t leave the planet. You should be safe there.”

               You feel like he is warning you, protecting you, but you can’t understand why. “Why are you being nice to me?” you ask cautiously. You had heard rumors about his violent temper, that he was a monster, but this was not in line with what you expected at all. He was being civil. Hell, aside from that little threat of his earlier, he was being downright pleasant.

               “Is that what this is?” he muses, as if he’s not sure himself. He pulls at his bottom lip idly with his thumb, and it’s extremely distracting. He catches you looking.  He lowers his arm slowly as a smile spreads across his face. It reaches his eyes.

               “So am I really blocking you from reading my thoughts?” you ask nervously.

               “Consciously or not,” he replies. “I can’t get in.”

               You shake your head. “You’re not going to find anything in there you’d want to see, anyway. I’ve spent the last few years at school sitting in classrooms and pouring over languages only used in not even a tenth of a fraction of the galaxy. It would bore you.”

               “Perhaps,” he says. “But I want you to let me see anyway.”

               You blink at him, confused. “I thought you said you couldn’t get in.”

               “I want you to let me in,” he says.

               “Okay, how can I do that when I don’t even know how I’m keeping you out?” you ask.

               He shakes his head. “This is what I want. In exchange for keeping your secret, I want you to let me in.”

               You frown at him. “Again, I must ask, how?”

               He takes a few steps towards you until his boots are almost touching your bare toes. He reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinch, at first, but quickly get yourself under control. His face is only a few inches from yours, and you can tell by the way that he’s biting his bottom lip that he almost looks nervous, as if you might swat him away at any second. He strokes your cheek gently with the backs of his fingers as he pulls away, and idly you wonder if he’s trying to get into your mind right then.

               You desperately hope not.

               “Will it hurt?” you ask quietly, desperate to say something, anything, to break the silence.

               “It may,” he replies in a low, husky voice. Fuck, the way he had said it sounded downright sexy, as if he was implying something else entirely.

               “Then go for it,” you breathe. You shut your eyes and let out the breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in. When you hear him chuckle and step away from you, you open your eyes, confused.

               “Not tonight,” he says as he picks up his helmet.

               “Not tonight?” you repeat uncertainly. “Then when?”

               “I’ll be in touch,” he says as he slides his helmet over his head. You stare at him through the narrow slit, trying to make out his expression, but you can’t. The mask is concealing everything. He turns around and walks out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, shaken and dumbfounded. The tender skin on your cheek still tingles where he touched you.

               So…

               You just stand there, trying to collect your thoughts. So, first, Kylo Ren was here, in your room, without his mask. Second, he was attractive. More than attractive, he was hot, and that was extremely distracting from the gravity of your present situation. Third, Kylo was bartering your safety in exchange for getting into your head, although what he would find in there, or hoped to find in there, you didn’t know. Was it simply the lure of a challenge, or was it something else entirely?

               Did all of that really just happen? It didn’t seem real. Cautiously, you reach up and touch your cheek. Yeah, he had been here all right. But what really puzzled you was how he had acted towards you. B had painted him as this hostile monster, like a hound straining on his leash, snapping at everyone and everything in sight, but just now he had seemed – you touch your cheek again – gentle.

               You shake your head. This is ridiculous. You walk over to the light switch and turn it off quickly before hurrying back into bed and pulling the covers over you. Kylo Ren wanted something that you had, and he was going to take it by brute force. It was going to be painful, and horrifying, and you would probably have scars that you could show your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren, if you lived to tell the tale. You cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness.

               The soft, tender way he had said, “It may” comes back to you, and suddenly it seems laced with insinuations and hidden promises. You blush at your own wayward thoughts and roll over onto your stomach, pulling the pillow over your head as if to drown out the noise of your own thoughts.

               Nope. Torture. He was going to torture you and it was going to be painful and brutal. He would probably do something terrible and twisted, like slamming your fingers in a drawer or throwing you out an airlock. You focus on this and the dozens of other ways he could torment you. For some reason, it’s oddly comforting, and these are the thoughts that chase you away from the reality of your situation and into your dreams.

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[consumatesurvivor]

Learning How To Get A Drink

The other day I got up and filled my glass with water from the bathroom sink.  I came back to the bedroom and sat in my office chair at the corner of the bed where my laptop was setting on a laptop board.  This has been my home for three years.  Straddling the corner of this bed in this chair or one like it and at my laptop.  I’m still doing it and he’s not here making me.

I realized after I got my drink that I could have used the kitchen.  I could be sitting in the living room with my feet up reclining.  But I wasn’t.  It took me days before I could make something to eat in the kitchen.  In fact I had nothing to eat for days.  I had a small bag of chips on Friday that the nice policeman gave me.  I couldn’t finish them.  It took me until Tuesday before I could eat.  Even now, I cook in bigger portions, split it between my bowl and two containers and put the containers in the fridge for other meals.

Being trapped in the bedroom started three years ago.  We went to a convention together.  It was for him.  It was my idea.  He has decided he wants to be a writer and he loves SciFi.  So we went to the big SciFi convention that was being held near us.

We both started writing after I moved in.  I actually started years before but failed time and time again.  Then just before I moved out here I had another idea for something and got pretty far in it.  He had an idea for something as well and had always done little pieces here and there but never had the desire to do something with it until I encouraged him.  So that’s what we did.  We wrote together.

At first it was okay to be in the same room.  Then, it wasn’t.  He’d spend a few hours in the bedroom working in private or I would so he could have privacy.  It wasn’t that bad because it was just a few hours and it was give and take.  But then the convention happened.  He met an editor who asked to read his book.

On the train ride home we discussed it.  He said it would take a few months to edit before he could send it in.  So I agreed during this editing process that I would confine myself into the bedroom all day to give him time to concentrate.  We didn’t want to squander this chance.  I was supportive, because he was editing and trying. 

I only left to use the bathroom.  He’d bring me meals and not allow me into the kitchen.  He’d do the shopping so he could take mental breaks.  I thought it would be temporary.  Time continued and he wasn’t finishing and I wasn’t being allowed out.

I would catch him playing games, doing other things, and working on other projects.  I started trying to get the arrangement to change.  He resisted.  Oh but the editor.  At the 6 month marker I knew I was screwed.  He wasn’t working on editing and was fully invested in some new idea he had.

The arguing started in earnest.  Sometimes I was allowed to use the living room.  But it was hard to get.  I changed my sleep schedule so I could move around while he was sleeping.  Then he started criticizing me for sleeping all day. 

He let me have the living room for NaNoWriMo over a year after banishing me from the rest of the apartment.  We fought constantly.  He was so mad that he had to do the cooking and cleaning.  I would offer to take over and he’d say no.  This went back and forth so many times until finally I didn’t care anymore and just started doing it.  Then that was an argument until it was on my shoulders.  I would cook for myself and clean up after him.  Oh here’s the catch, I could only clean up after him when he was not there.  If I wanted to do it another time that would be a huge fight.  Cleaning was Friday late morning only.

It was at this point when I was thinking of my plan to escape, my plan to end it all.  I knew I couldn’t live like this forever.  My ankles were always swollen, my back hurt, the weight gain was more than I could bear, and I was miserable.  He started trying to tempt me into writing more and faster and publish and support him by buying me chocolates, Lego, and Subway sandwiches because they have my favorite kind of pickles.  Then he found he was running out of money so we stopped that quickly.  I was okay with that.  I didn’t realize he was spending money on himself too and it was just too much.  But that brought on anger of needing money.

Now we’d have arguments about how he was the only one taking this writing thing seriously.  He’d call himself an author and he was fine tuning his craft.  I, who had completed triple the amount of projects than him, was just playing around.  He was working and I was apparently sitting around pounding on the keys endlessly for the fun of the clickety-clicks. 

He started comparing us all the time.  He knew the dire financial situation we were in.  If his disability got cut off that would be it.  Because I was not screaming and crying I couldn’t possibly understand it.  Oh I knew.  I just had my plan.  I also had a savings account that he didn’t have.  I had mini panic attacks, but I was alone in my room so how would he know.

Then he had ADD.  He was self-diagnosed.  I think that’s what started his full on hatred of me.  I said I didn’t think he had it and that everyone has the symptoms to some degree so it’s hard be sure.  The key things with him that he claimed were ADD could easily be attributed to other reasons with his upbringing.  In fact, some of the things he claims he can’t do, he can.  Because I didn’t agree I was the enemy.  Weeks of arguing ensued.  Finally I got it out of him, he wanted to use ADD as a reason to stay on disability and he’d need my signature in order to do it.  He was angry because he didn’t think I would do it.  Please note I’m saying ADD because that’s what he said.

My husband has a real disease and it’s nasty.  But he’s on medication that controls it.  The medication might fail and he’ll be immobile.  But right now he’s fine.  Since he’s had this for half his life they no longer test him for disability criteria, although with changes to the system they will and he was worrying big time and trying to find anything else to save him.  The thought of working a real job was way too much for him.

So now I was the full on enemy.  Most of the time he spoke to me it was in anger.  I didn’t even care why.  I’d grown used to him yelling at me to get back into the bedroom.  I’d eat when he showered or left for the store.  I’d try to go to the bathroom when I heard him up.  But now he was forcing me to close my door so he couldn’t hear me.  My typing was bothering him.  The washing machine and drying going wouldn’t.  The fridge and all it’s noises doesn’t.  But me, I was.  I can’t even hear the phone ringing in the living room while in the bedroom, but he can hear me typing while he’s in the living room.  Okay.

So now I’m shut into my room.  I rebel again and start sleeping all day to have the couch at night.  He moved into the living room entirely and started sleeping on the couch to prevent me from going there at all.  My meals were a frozen pizza or yogurt.  I might get lucky and have some fruit.  But I couldn’t spend longer than it takes to put in a pizza or he’ll lose it completely.

At Christmas last year I was looking for any escape I could.  I needed something other than the characters I was creating.  So I started watching you tube and bought a few games off Steam.  I was then yelled at constantly for watching you tube and playing games.  I’d watch maybe 30 minutes of videos a day and play games only when he had a friend over.  And he was still playing games.  But I was the bad guy.  I was the one slacking. 

This year I was editing and going over pieces I didn’t finish and finishing them.  He’d accuse me of never editing.  He had no idea what I did in a day.  And frankly, it wasn’t like anyone would buy anything of mine.  It’s a pipe dream.  I wrote to escape my day.  I’d write tragic characters to cry all day in part because of their sadness but also because of my life.

I was deeply depressed and everything seemed like it was too much work or effort.  I stopped doing anything.  It was too hard to fight over being able to take a shower, so I stopped.  I stopped brushing my hair because it was too much effort.  The only thing I could do was get up, move my laptop on the bed, sit, write, pretend I was someone else, then go back to bed.

As my depression got deeper he hated me more and start making fun of me more.  We had a big argument where he screamed that he was tired of having a wife that never left the flat.  He wouldn’t let me do the errands.  Ever.  What did he expect?  Where was I supposed to go?  I don’t know a single person here.  I used to do all the errands and shopping.  So I’d go out twice a week.  I never went out socially, ever.  We never did anything other than a picnic once or twice and then he stopped that because it was too much work. 

I started asking to go do the shopping and he wouldn’t let me.  He outright refused.  I’d go to the kitchen and half the time he would yell at me and tell me if it took more than 5 minutes I couldn’t do it.  He wouldn’t allow me to make certain meals for myself because they would take too long.  Sometimes, that would be just getting a drink.  I started getting water from the bathroom to try and lessen the verbal blows.

It got worse and worse and every now and then I’d fight back. Not long ago I refused to close my door.  I told him to close his door.  He did.  Thus starting a new phase of me being really closed out of the kitchen since it was off the living room.

We no longer had any nice conversations at all.  I tried being nice.  I tried doing funny things, they didn’t work.  He was just angry always.  He stopped letting me into the kitchen.  I went without food.  He then got mad at me for not getting something to eat.  When I explained I was just trying to not be yelled at he said I was just crying victim.  He had me all worked out.  I liked to play victim and this was all my doing. 

To solve the problem of the food he suggested getting me a mini fridge.  I told him I’d need a microwave or something to cook on.  I’m sure he would have gotten me both for Christmas if we lasted that long.  Maybe for my birthday it would have been a chamber pot and then I would be completely closed in with no way to leave.

He still claims i could leave at anytime.  But when I really did try, he stood in my way and wouldn’t let me while screaming about how he would lock the door and never let me back in. When I didn’t care, he still didn’t let me leave.

So now he’s gone.  I can leave.  But I get my water out of the bathroom sink and I keep coming to this little place and trying to complete NaNoWriMo while packing and getting ready to move back to the States and move in with my Mom.  And a few hours ago I was crying and wishing I could have been more successful with the knife because I’m so scared of being in the world again.  But for now, I’m going to get up and get a glass of water from the kitchen sink.  Baby steps.

[impvarjack60]

09 Friends

"Anna and Michael, I have good news. The Habitat has been cleared. However, the edges and the shield wall are considered forbidden territory. Please do not approach these areas." "Fair enough, Olaf. Oh,... and another thing. I think it would be a good idea if we got to meet the other earthlings and,.. um,..." "Michael!" "I'm sorry Anna. But I just don't know what to call you." I felt bad, but the simple fact is she's not exactly human, and she's not from Earth. Olaf suggested; "What about 'Hybrids'?" "Hmm, That's close, Olaf, but a little dry. OK, what about Hy-brides?" At this suggestion, Anna's eye's were beaming. She may not be all human, but the girly-girl came roaring out at the prospect of a wedding.

"Really Michael?!!, you want me to be your bride?! Oh, I could have a long white dress,  and one hundred thousand flowers, and the entire population of the Habitat could be there,  but who would give me away? And food, and what about the cake?...."

I had my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. The runaway train was screaming down the tracks at full throttle. "Anna, please, one hundred things at a time. Still,... I like the name, and the truth is,  we will all want to get married at some point if things go well." Anna stood there bouncing, clapping her hands rapidly at close distance to her chest. I had to admit I liked her enthusiasm for this prospect, I will some day want to see that face walking up the aisle.

"I will confer with the other assistance's Michael, and we will set something up. There is a lodge hall near the lake on the far shore, you can meet there." "OK, Olaf, Anna and I are gonna' go find something to...... Hey, I've got an idea, why don't we go for a run?" I was up for some physical activity after being cooped up in here, and Ms. Ants in the Pants burning off some of that over abundance of energy seemed like a great idea. Besides,  I'm not letting this rock hard body of mine turn to shit again, ever. so we walked up to the replicator and stated we wanted running attire, when it asked us; "Please state type of material", we looked each other in the eye and said it in unison; "Spandex!"  We both looked good, and when we stepped out we were determined to show it off. In her body glove running suit, it showed her every curve, and I mean every curve. Now I've never been much for breasts, and she didn't really have much. In fact, she looked slightly lighter in the cups than in the movie. But her hips were a touch wider. I figured this was something the Masters had engineered in her. They wanted a baby factory, and her hips were designed for it, which made me wonder about her birth canal. I'll let that be a mystery for a little while longer, it's been ages for me, and I'm in no rush.

_________________________________________________________

So we stretched out for a few minutes before taking off. Which would bring another round of arousal for me as she was quite limber. Then it was out the door, freedom at last. At least a little, Olaf was following us, but staying out of sight. I was all for this. If we got into trouble he could rescue us, as we were in unfamiliar territory. "So, Anna, do you remember anything else about your horse?" "Only that I couldn't take him beyond the gate, and my mother..." She did that trail off thing that she always does when something sad gets into her mind. The truth is, these memories would be from a book, and very hazy due to my own visualization of those events.  Still it brought her a touch of sorrow, that is until she saw one again.

"Michael, do you think they would let me tame one?" The excitement in her voice said it all, and I was torn between getting her hopes up or being shot down. But there are a world of possibilities here, and her having a horse, with all that would be required for it's care would be a good energy sink for Ms. Bouncy Pants here. "We should discuss it with Olaf. But Anna, I strongly suggest that you don't get your hopes up.  They may not think it's a good idea, or they could have a thing against domestication.  They may also need some convincing, so don't get too discouraged if they say no. You kinda' have a way of making people do things they don't initially want to do. Have patience."

"Oh, it's gonna' be tough to wait, and you already have your hobby." "That's not fair, Anna. I spent a long time acquiring that gear. Keep in mind I'm still sixty years old, even with this body. Most two month olds don't own horses the last time I checked." Again, the age difference rears it's ugly head. We'll be two hundred years old before this stops being a problem.

The lake was beautiful this close up, and the trail was clean. Which is amazing considering the amount of critters that cross it. It went into a group of trees, and that's when we met them, they were speaking Dari, so I assumed they, or he, or for that fact she, were Muslim. I felt compelled to stop and talk to them, this was our first interactions with other humans, and I did say I wanted to make friends.

"Dry, banana hippy hat Michael." as I held out my hand. "Wait, I don't think that was right. Hello, my name is Michael, and this is Anna." This caused them to have a slight chuckle, I hadn't used this new language yet, and apparently needed some practice. They were both starring at Anna intensely studying her strange features. "I'm Abzari, and this is my soon to be bride, Minoo." "Without me being too forward, which one of you is the Earthling?" I said. They both looked human, there was no problem making that distinction on my side. "That would be me", Abzari said. "I was a doctor in Afghanistan."

"I was a welder in Nebraska."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." Said Abzari to Anna while giving her a slight bow. I snickered, while Minoo had a puzzled look on her face. Abzari said something in Dari and they both started laughing. Anna had a look of being embarrassed, her face brightly flushed. "My apologies,  Anna. I could not resist. You are quite famous." This is something that would repeat often when dealing with other members of the Habitat. There's nothing I could do, I didn't choose her. But if I was given the choice, I would have picked her anyway,  knowing how my brain worked. "Abzari, you and Minoo are welcome to our house any time. We are interested in making as many friends here as possible." Also he was a doctor, a very useful person to help solve some of these mysteries.

"Thank you, but how do we find you?" That was a good question. Our houses didn't have numbers. That would be something I would like to change. We are going to have to organize somehow, but I dreaded the idea of hierarchy. "Anna, would you like to do the honors?" She stepped over to the clearing; "It's that way." She pointed, our house was a dot. "Do you see it, Abzari?" "Yes, I think." I then piped up. "It's an all glass front, ski cottage type of affair." "Oh, yes, we are practically neighbors." "So, we'll see you around sometime?" "Most assuredly, neighbor." "Alright, Minoo, Abzari, talk to you later." "Good day, Mike and Anna."

_________________________________________________________

We finished up our run and flopped on the couch, Anna kicking her shoes across the room,  she certainly had an aversion to the things, must be a little bit of Rapunzle in there. "They seemed nice, but is everyone going to think I'm a princess?" "Yes, Frozen is worldwide famous. They translated it into dozens of languages." "I don't think I can live up to that title." As she put her stinky feet where I normally placed my food.

She was perpetually Anna.

"The trepidation surrounding you will die down once they get to know you." "What's that supposed to mean?!" "Oh, sorry. That wasn't meant to be derogatory. They will treat you like an ordinary person,.. I mean, in the best way." her lip was stuck out in her typical pout, blowing her  bangs out of her eyes. Went right over her head.

"Dibs on the shower!" She beat me to this every time.

I was glad our first encounter with people of the Habitat went somewhat smoothly, but Anna's freakish looks may prove to be too much for some, and we were just going to have to deal with it....