#and my fucking horrible mother feels personally slighted that i want to get rid of a bed that is broken

[hxhhasmysoul]

wouldn't it be nice if the author of the fics finished them. the author is me.

[makaylajadewrites]

The Performance

Summary: “I have a show tonight. I was just going to… you know, throw it out there. In case you wanted to go. You don’t have to, of course, I figured I would just offer since we’re dating now and—“ He was cut off by Morgan's lips silencing his own, and he kissed back briefly before Derek pulled back.

“Of course I’ll go,” he said with a warm smile, and Spencer smiled a bit shyly, looking down at his crossed legs and just nodding his head. 

“Alright…”

Potential tws: Smut

-

After their four day long case in Modesto, the team came home late Friday night tired, rightfully so, and ready to go home. As usual, Spencer and Derek carpooled together, but since it was so late, Derek told Spencer that he could stay with him tonight. Tomorrow was Saturday anyway, so neither had to wake up early. And besides, what more could Spencer want than to spend time with his insanely hot boyfriend? Well, picking up Tolstoy sounded like a nice outlet too, but if Morgan insisted then he supposed he would spend the night.

Both were too tired to do anything other than share a few kisses in bed. Morgan had given him a tee shirt to wear, which swallowed up Spencer’s slight frame, but they had gotten comfortable enough with each other that he didn’t even bother with pants. They curled up together in Derek’s California king, an intimate yet relaxed mess of limbs and lips. It was really nice to be like this with Derek, because they were able to forget about their horrible case and just be. They shared a particularly good kiss, both passionate yet sleepy at the same time, slow and emotional, and Reid pulled away from Derek, a string of saliva connecting their bottom lips. Derek’s eyes widened a bit at his lover’s boldness when his tongue flicked out to rid it away, but he just smiled tiredly at him.

“That was rough,” Spencer said in a hushed voice, alluding to their most recent case. It had ended well, thankfully, since they managed to hunt down their unsub before he had sought out his next pair of victims. He had killed four total, a relatively low body count compared to what they were used to, but the things he did to them… They were lucky he had only killed four.

“It was,” Derek mumbled in agreement, his thumb tracing over Spencer’s high cheekbone as their eyes met in the darkness of the room. But, knowing Reid’s adamant yet shy fear of the dark, he had accommodated Spencer’s needs into his own living space by wrapping fairy lights over and around the headboard of his bed, and they created a warm glow to dispel any thoughts of monsters hiding in the abhorrent absence of light.

“As long as we’ve done this job… I’ll just never understand. I know that part of profiling is to understand why an unsub does what they do, but no amount of training in the world will ever explain it to me,” Spencer murmured thoughtfully, dropping the ‘all-knowing genius’ facade for just a moment to simply feel.

“You know it doesn’t matter if it makes sense to us, Angel,” Derek said, “Only that it makes sense to the unsub. You know that.”

“I know that I know that,” Spencer quickly defended, shaking his head which caused quite the uproar of his messy waves, “I just wish it did.”

Derek simply sighed heavily, leaning forehead and pressing his lips to Spencer’s forehead before he just met his eyes with a smile, “I know. But we never will, and I think that’s for the best. Let’s get some sleep, hm?”

Spencer nodded and hummed an affirmative before snuggling closer to his partner’s chest and settling in for the night. Derek found it strange that, even with a bed as large as his own, they still preferred to be wrapped up in one another. They fell asleep with one another blissfully, putting to rest their conflicts with the world for the sake of rest.

The next morning came sooner than Spencer would have liked. He grumbled at the sun, her rays burning his corneas to crisp beneath his eyelids because Jesus Christ why was it so fucking bright. To say Spencer was not a morning person was an absolute disgrace. He was anti-mornings, full out hate towards waking up early, and it seemed that Derek just had to do that to him this morning. So much for not getting out of bed until the afternoon… Morgan was slipping out of bed, their limbs untangling unfortunately and Spencer grumbled curses that would probably make his mother cry if she ever heard. It was honestly amazing how much he despised mornings. His love for coffee would usually say otherwise, but his love for coffee was honestly the only motivation he used to get out of bed in the mornings.

“Fucking… Damnit… Jesus fucking…” Spencer cursed while kicking his tangled legs in frustration, sending a glare as sharp as daggers towards Derek who looked innocent and confused. He had only spent nights with Spencer during the week, where they were forced to get up and go to work. But he was starting to realize that maybe getting up for his six o’clock run was not a good idea.

“What the fuck, Derek? Fuck you,” he hissed, and for a second Derek thought he saw a forked tongue slither past his lover’s pretty, venom coated lips. So much for leaving quietly.

“Just go back to sleep, baby,” he said rather calmly, but with Spencer now sitting upright in bed, his hair an absolute disaster and his fists clenched angrily into the bedspread, he knew he wasn’t getting out of this one.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, you jackass. Unbelievable,” he groaned, falling back in bed and pulling the blankets over his head. Derek resisted the urge to laugh out of his shock and humor. He knew that Reid often complained about getting up early, but he didn’t know that this was the result of waking him inadvertently on a Saturday morning.

“Sleep well,” he offered, just to add fuel to the fire, and a boisterous laugh bubbled past his lips as he ran out of the room, a pillow hitting the door as he closed it behind him.

Spencer grumbled in frustration, laying in bed for nearly ten minutes, long after Derek had left him in an angry, half asleep state. But, alas, he was wide awake and so with nothing better to do, he threw the covers away and dragged himself out of bed to wreak havoc on the world. Fuck Derek Morgan.

He trudged downstairs and into Derek’s kitchen, turning on the coffee maker and disappearing into the bathroom to get himself situated for the day. Now that he thought about it… He had a show tonight, which Morgan didn’t know about. He wanted to invite him, but he was a bit hesitant since tonight was performance night. All of the queens would partake in some sort of talent or skill and show it off to their audience, and it just so happened that the only viable talent Spencer had was dancing, believe it or not.

He had spent hours locked in his room with a pair of heels on, either learning a choreography or making one of his own. They were usually not incredibly difficult or complex, but the one he had picked for tonight and practiced for nearly a month was somewhat hard, and he feared with Derek there, he would mess up or make a fool of himself. But they were together now, so he at least had to give Derek the option.

He shaved away his stubble while the shower water was heating up, brushing his hand down his soft cheek and smiling slightly. Luckily he never had much body hair to begin with, but for shows, he always liked to make sure he was smooth and soft — Derek had once made a comment about how soft his legs were one night when they were naked in bed together after a lovemaking session, and Spencer embarrassedly confessed that he shaved them regularly. But Derek didn’t seem perturbed or turned off. Instead, he pulled Spencer’s long leg to hook over his hip and felt up and down his thigh for the rest of the night.

After a slightly longer-than-usual shower due to shaving, Reid slipped out and dressed in some of Derek’s clothes for the sake of simplicity and wandered back into the kitchen where he poured himself a cup of coffee which he proceeded to taint with an ungodly amount of sugar. It was then that the front door opened, and Spencer peered in through the doorway to spot his lover, panting and sweaty — just how he liked him.

“I thought you were going back to sleep,” Derek deadpanned with a slightly confused expression on his face.

“A simple ‘good morning’ would have sufficed,” Spencer said sarcastically in response, and he nearly gasped as arms twined around his torso and hot lips pressed against his neck.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Morgan lectured playfully, and Spencer glanced back over his shoulder at the other man with a small smirk on his full lips.

“But that’s all that I’m good at,” he said innocently with a shrug of his shoulders to which Derek just sighed against his skin, pressing his hips against Spencer’s backside. Spencer stumbled forward against the counter, nearly losing his mug of coffee and feeling his cheeks heat up.

“I love seeing you in my clothes,” Derek murmured behind him, and Spencer just shivered at the feeling of his hand sliding up his stomach, underneath of the fabric of his shirt. He was, after all, wearing one of Derek’s old Northwestern shirts and a simple pair of his boxer shorts. He was a wet dream if Derek did say so himself.

“Well, it seems like you prefer me without them,” Spencer mumbled cutely, and Derek’s chest rumbled with a chuckle. Spencer set his mug down and spun around to face him before hopping up on the countertop, resting his hands over Derek’s shoulders and letting them slide down over his chest slowly. Derek just gazed upon him like he were a work of art, a masterpiece.

“I can’t argue with that,” he said with another chuckle, and Spencer smiled fondly, leaning in and letting their lips connect in a pleasant, warm kiss. Spencer brushed his hand over the back of his partner’s head and around his neck, his slender fingers curling under his jaw as they both broke apart. Derek tucked Reid’s still-damp locks behind his ear, admiring his gorgeous face since he had never seen someone more beautiful.

“Hey, Der?” he murmured softly, reaching over blindly for his coffee mug before finding it and raising it to his lips, taking a sip.

“Hm?” Derek hummed in response, seemingly entranced by Spencer’s movements.

“I have a show tonight. I was just going to… you know, throw it out there. In case you wanted to go. You don’t have to, of course, I figured I would just offer since we’re dating now and—“ He was cut off by Morgan's lips silencing his own, and he kissed back briefly before Derek pulled back.

“Of course I’ll go,” he said with a warm smile, and Spencer smiled a bit shyly, looking down at his crossed legs and just nodding his head.

“Alright…” he murmured, clearly more nervous than he originally showed. He wasn’t normally this nervous before shows, but to know that his lover was going to see a real performance night instead of just a catwalk was somewhat crippling and he felt a little nauseous now that he realized that Derek was going to see him dance. He refused to dance whenever they went out for drinks as colleagues, and he was damned sure not going to dance like a drunken fool in clubs. Derek would definitely be surprised by what he had to offer.

“I can’t wait,” Derek said, leaning forward to kiss him once more before stepping away and announcing he was going to take a shower. Spencer sat motionless on the counter, a goofy smile on his lips. He was doomed.

Spencer had never been more unsure of himself in all his life. He spent the majority of the day with Derek, but when the evening neared, he was driven back to his apartment and told Derek that his performance started at eight, which he promised to attend. It was now seven forty-five, he was touching up his makeup in the backroom and fixing a wig cap over his messy hair. He slid on a wavy dark wig, running his fingers through the synthetic hair and just taking a deep breath before getting dressed in something akin to a contemporary dance unitard. It was all black, and the top portion was low-cut and heart-shaped. The spandex material turned into a loose, sheer fabric across his upper thighs which silhouetted his long slender legs, extending down to his ankles where he wore a pair of black salsa heels. He was ready, but he was nervous, and he only hoped he wouldn’t mess up.

“You’re going to do great, honey,” Said Ciara, one of the older drag queens who was pretty much equivalent to his drag mother.

“I sure hope so,” he hummed softly in response, and Ciara just stroked his hair before grinning at him in the mirror.

“He’s here tonight, isn’t he?” She asked, and he just sighed before nodding nervously, an awkward smile breaking out across his makeup-covered face.

“All the more reason for you to dance your heart out,” she said, patting his shoulder for him to stand which he did. She grasped his hands, holding them tightly and looking over his pretty face fondly. “Just show him who Bria Monique is, baby.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He smiled, nodded, and let himself fade away so that Bria could finally come to light. She stepped on stage when her name was announced, and without looking too hard, she saw Derek in the front row near center stage. With something akin to a seductive smirk, she positioned herself and waited patiently for the song to start. And when it did, it was unlike anything Derek had ever seen.

To say that the song choice was unexpected was an understatement. God is a woman seemed to be one of the last possible songs on Derek’s mind, but the performance he received in return was incredible. He never knew Spencer could move like that, with the way he gyrated his hips and fucking hell, Spencer, who said you could move like that. He seemed so natural, with the way he carried himself across the stage and moved his arms so beautifully. It was all about women empowerment, and Spencer was expressing that better than any woman Derek had ever seen. His lover was a natural. The way he moved was so organic that Derek was in awe. It was sexy, raw, and increasingly beautiful, and day by day, Derek was realizing that there was so much more he had to learn about his lover.

Fucking hell, the splits?… Derek’s jaw dropped as Spencer slid down effortlessly into the splits, arms extended, his back arching and dipping backwards beautifully with the conclusion of the song. His head fell back and eyes gazed up into the stage lights as he panted heavily, a smile growing on his face as he realized he had done it without any faults. In response to his performance, he received quite the applause, and it soon turned into a standing ovation as he slid his legs together again and blew kisses to the crowd, thanking them despite the fact that his voice was blurred out by the audience. He stood up and disappeared behind stage where his fellow queens hugged him and cheered him on, Ciara meeting him with a warm embrace and kissing his cheeks with great exclamations of pride.

The night continued on as normal and by ten thirty, the show concluded. Spencer expressed his desire to spend time with Derek since he hadn’t seen him all night, and he pranced across the club barefoot until he and Derek found each other, and he was ultimately scooped up into his lover’s arms and spun around effortlessly, loud bubbles of laughter passing his pretty pink lips. He was finally set down and Morgan looked more proud than he ever had before, cupping his face in his large hands and looking over him with such shock and amazement. He had seen Spencer like this numerous times in the past, but something about that performance shook him to his very core and spread goosebumps across his skin.

“Baby, you were incredible!” He cooed, his arms looped around Spencer’s waist. The two seemed to ignore all that was going on around them, and Reid continued to grin brightly in the dark club, the stage lights having dimmed long ago.

“Thank you,” he said, nearly crying on the spot since he had been so nervous to perform in front of Derek. But instead of messing up horribly like he feared, he had instead performed his heart out and made his lover and himself proud. He hugged Derek tightly around the neck and their lips met in a brief kiss that promised so much more for when they made it home. But Spencer wanted to stay around a little longer, just to have some fun with his friends and introduce them to Derek, and Derek would be a fool to deny him that.

“Hey girls, I’d like you all to meet my man, Derek!” Bria called into the backroom as she led Derek along with her, the man looking both flustered and out of place as he was quickly surrounded by drag queens who cooed at him and even threatened him if he hurt their baby. They spent the majority of the time at a large table in the club, ordering some light bar food and buying drinks for one another until Spencer decided to call it a night, leaving the club with Derek.

As soon as they made it to his house, Derek attacked Spencer with fervent praises and kisses, holding him close and hoisting him up by his haunches, hands gripping and squeezing Reid’s ass still dressed in the form-fitting unitard. He had forgotten how good Spencer’s body looked, and he was almost disappointed in himself for letting that important fact slip his mind.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Derek purred against Spencer’s neck as he sucked and bit hickeys into his pale skin. Spencer’s head fell back as he moaned, his wig still in place, and if Derek had his way, it wouldn’t be coming off at all that night. He had never fucked Spencer in drag before, and the closer they got the bedroom, the more it was seeming like an intoxicatingly sexy idea.

“Bedroom, Derek,” Spencer begged desperately, grasping onto the back of Derek’s shirt when he kicked the door open with his foot and brought them both inside. He dropped Spencer on the bed, quickly working on undressing himself before Spencer began to do the same, and Morgan laughed quietly with the way he squirmed and wriggled out of the tight fitting unitard, and when he was naked, he was somewhat surprised to see a tan, adhesive material where his lover’s genitals usually were. Spencer looked down sheepishly, pulling up the edge of the T-Tape.

“For tucking,” he explained, and Derek instantly cringed at the idea before Spencer just laughed and carefully pulled off the tape, adjusting himself so that he was untucked and back to his normal state. Derek waited patiently for his lover to prepare, and when Spencer looked at him expectantly with those pretty eyes, he continued where they left off.

He kissed Spencer lovingly and his hands slimmed down his waist and over his hips, sliding inwards to his genitals where he took his lover into his palm and began to stroke. Spencer moaned into Derek’s mouth, and soon enough, he was rock hard and leaking, and when Derek let go of him, his cock lay tall and pulsing against his stomach. Derek leaned over his lover to fetch the bottle of lube in his drawer, popping open the cap and squirting a bit over his hand before his index finger dove right in. He was careful with his lover though, sliding it in and out until Spencer impatiently urged him to hurry up. So one finger became two, and after scissoring open his tight passage, a third slid in along the other two. He fingered Spencer for a few minutes, but Reid eventually grew unsatisfied with that too.

“Just fuck me, Derek,” he begged desperately, his eyes watery and his full, kiss-swollen lips parted and wet. He already looked fucked out, but Derek couldn’t wait to smear that makeup over his pretty face and run his fingers through his false hair.

“As you wish, baby,” Derek complied, pushing Reid’s legs up to his flat chest and positioning himself, his head resting against his puckered entrance. His hands splayed over the backs of Spencer’s thighs, his ankles locking together behind Derek’s neck, and soon enough, he was plunging into that holy channel which drew curses from his lips. Reid lay beneath him, arms above his head clenching into the pillow case while his long hair splayed about across the cream colored sheets.

“Oh, Jesus…” Spencer breathed, biting his glossy bottom lip and moaning in his throat at the sensation of being filled to the brim by his partner. His eyes fluttered close for a minute, and without words, Derek let him adjust until the slight man’s hips jerked a bit beneath him, urging him to go on. Which he did, without hesitation. His hips pulled back and dropped back down, slow at first, but after they set a nice rhythm, Derek sped up. He knew how his baby liked it, and tonight Spencer seemed more frisky than usual. Derek would fuck him into the mattress until he went numb if that’s what he wanted.

“Please, harder…” Spencer whined beneath, quite the chatty bottom, but it was enough to make Derek growl, and Spencer felt a shiver ghost up his spine. Morgan plowed into him until he was speaking in tongues, Spencer’s words no longer making sense and instead only coming out as desperate, high pitched sounds.

“I’m so close, Spencer,” he groaned, his hips never stopping. Derek brought Spencer to release without even laying a hand on him, and soon enough, his lover followed, his warm essence painting his inner walls white. Derek panted, sitting up on his knees and turning his head to kiss over Spencer’s ankle, nuzzling his cheek against his skin.

He scooped up some of Spencer’s release onto his thumb and Spencer eagerly took it into his mouth, sucking and swallowing his own salty release despite the intellectual part of his brain shouting at him for being so unsanitary. But this was a special occasion. Derek pulled his thumb out of Spencer’s mouth and brushed it over his bottom lip, smearing the lipstick intentionally and smirking down at him.

“We should do it like this more often. You’re just so pretty, Angel,” Derek said honestly. Spencer smiled, letting his legs fall to rest on the bed as Derek moved to lay beside him, pulling him into his arms.

“I think I’d like that,” Spencer confessed, and they shared a sweet kiss. Derek’s ran up and down his back and Spencer reached a hand up to slip the wig off, cap soon following until his messy hair was unveiled. Thick, dark fingers instantly began to stroke the wavy locks, running through and unkinking any tangles. Derek soon got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a wet rag to clean up his baby.

“I’m really happy you invited me to your show tonight,” Derek murmured, throwing the towel into the hamper and joining his lover in bed again, their bodies instantly drawing together like magnets beneath the covers.

“Me too,” Spencer admitted, snuggling into Derek’s chest, closing his eyes and feeling more content than he ever had before.

“I love you, baby,” Derek murmured into his hair. Spencer smiled, a leg draping over Morgan’s hip as their naked bodies tangled together.

“I love you too, Derek.”

<-Part 5: Union | Part 7: Origin->

[eggs-in-a-cloud]

Yo, it’s my birthday! 🥳 So here's another mini fic snippet that takes place on Deku’s birthday to celebrate! This one is for the Bakudeku summer beach fic I was working on :D

There is a trigger warning for drowning, so please be careful if you are sensitive to that. Thanks y'all.

TW: Drowning

Enjoy and I’ll try to post the whole thing on ao3 later today too <3

•••

Each breath he attempts to take, is filled with water that burns his nose and lungs. He is sputtering and coughing and that just sends more water down the hatch. His limps are spasming and he’s flailing and grasping for nothingness as his arms clutch at more and more and more water. God.

Izuku is drowning.

He’s actually really drowning.

On his 20th birthday.

If he wasn’t going to die from drowning, he’d die from mortification.

His poor mother will be so distraught. And his group members will be so angry on Monday because he was supposed to send them the report after he finished editing. And his friends. God, his friends who came here with him. Iida, Urakaka and Todoroki. What about them? He hopes they won’t blame themselves.

In the distance, there’s the sound of splashing water and a faint ‘Outta the way, fuckers!’

It’s the last thing Izuku hears before everything goes quiet and it all fades to black.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Izuku is dreaming.

Someone, on top of him, someone…. Kissing him? Um, what?

The person kissing him pulls away and Izuku sees a halo of blond fluffy hair and captivating red eyes. At this point he’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven. And although the thought that he’d actually died is sort of a depressing thought, the knowledge that the afterlife is full of hot guy angels is very comforting, to say the least. Izuku barely resists the urge to wrap his arms around the blond angel's neck and pull him back down for another kiss.

That is, until Izuku tries to close his eyes and keep the dream going. Because who’d want a dream like that to end? But… As soon as he let’s his eyes flutter back shut, the angel roughly pats (slaps) Izuku on his face.

“Oi, stay with me, bastard!” Punctuates the action, and Izuku’s eyes shoot open again. He tries to breath and ends up coughing up water.

The angel (maybe not angel, because angels don’t traditionally hit or curse at people… right?) brings his face to his again and put his lips against his. He breathes into him and pushes on his chest and … wait a second.

One pump. Two pumps, three pumps.

And Izuku realizes what’s going on as they both turn away again, the angel to take a breath again and Izuku to cough up even more water that has risen into his mouth.

“Midoriya!” …Iida…?

Izuku wants to look around, but it’s sort of really bright and his senses are all over the place. Also, he realizes he’s lying down. The sand is like a furnace on his probably sunburned back and the sky is so blue and the blond boy’s hair looks even more like a crown against the sky backdrop.

Izuku tries to get a grip on his surroundings by rolling his head from side to side, and catches a glimpse of a couple things, finally. He makes our Uraraka's brown hair and Todoroki’s blue swim trunks and Iida's looming figure which is much closer than his other friends. Iida is the one Izuku focuses is on because he is shouting.

What happened…?

Izuku vaguely remembers swimming, and then… what else? A drowning, presumably?

Iida is positively losing him mind just behind the blond guy, and those gathered on the beach who didn’t actually witness his embarrassing drowning and following rescue, is now hearing the horrible details. Which is awful but also helpful because Izuku's waterlogged brain can’t remember much currently. And so, Izuku tries to focus on his friend's hysterical ramblings.

“Oh Lord, I knew this was a bad idea. A terrible idea. I shouldn’t have let Todoroki and Uraraka plan this. I have absolutely failed as not only a citizen of this city, but also as a friend. Did you know it’s his birthday today? And this is how it ends? HE ALMOST DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY!”

The blond stops abruptly and snaps his head around to Izuku’s blue haired friend.

“Oi, four eyes. I’m a life guard. He’s not dead yet. Calm your tits. And could you advertise this shitshow any louder?” The life guard snaps.

Iida looks scandalized for a moment before he collects himself, and the next time he speaks it’s about three octaves lower. Thank God.

“Apologies. It’s just, a lot, Midoriya drowning.” Iida says with a loud sniff.

“Almost. He’s fine. Hey jackass, how many fingers?” Even though it’s a question, from the blond it sounds like a barked command. It’s a little blurry, but Izuku blinks a couple times until everything comes into focus and he can make out the hand in front of him.

“Three.” He groans. The life guard grunts in approval.

“Good. Can you stand?”

“Yes.” Izuku starts to sit up, and warm, sun kissed hands meet his back and chest to slowly rise him into a sitting position. It is only sitting up that he finally looks around and sees the mini crowd that has formed around him. Their watching and whispering in hushed voices that makes the green haired boy flush. Oh God, hopefully he doesn’t go viral on YouTube. Or even worse, Tik Tok.

“Alright, let’s get you to my office. There’s a cot in there that you can rest on for a bit. And get rid of the fucking gawkers.” The blond says loudly. The crowd startles, and disperses thankfully.

The blond life guard slings one of Izuku’s arms over his shoulder and slowly the both of them rise.

“You good?” He asks.

The green-haired boy tries not to focus on how warm the arm around him is, or how their thighs are pressed together or how he can hear the faint thump thump thump of the other boy's heart.

“Mhm!” Izuku hopes that the slight voice crack he feels and hears is only a figment of his imagination.

The blond doesn’t say anything further and just starts leading them away from the ocean.

Izuku guesses there’s some small mercies, because the only thing that would have been more embarrassing than drowning in knee length water is being carried bridal style to the lifeguards’ booth.

[marvelfansince08love]

The pleasure is all mine

Word count:  2067

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader, Background Platonic friendship Debbie Ocean x Lou Miller

Setting: Set just after the main part of the heist has finished and just before Lou gets changed into that emerald green jumpsuit to meet Deb and our other lovely ladies.

P.S: I apologise for any gramma/spelling mistakes, this was written at 1am after a long ass shift. Please leave your thoughts/comments on whether I should turn this into a short story.

P.S II: I hope you are all keeping safe and washing your hands.

Stay inside kids x

@ravenforce thank you for inspiring me🖤

I do not own the gif below!🖤

"User busy, please try again" the robotic voice from my iPhone says. I groan in frustration as I look at my phone showing a harsh red line inside my battery symbol, screaming at me to charge it.

I rummage through my clutch bag looking for my power bank as I stumble slightly on the sidewalk. I squint slightly under the light of the lamppost, hoping to give me some helpful light through the dark hole of which is my bag.

SNAP!

I hiss out in pain as I stumble on the uneven path. I looked down to see my favourite Louis Vuitton heel snapped in half.

As if this night couldn't get any worse!

I look up to the heavens and take a deep breath; given up all hope on finding my charger for my now dead phone. I proceed to limp aimlessly down the quite road of New York in hopes of finding a friendly face and if I'm lucky a cab.

Maybe drinking wasn't such a great idea after all.

As I turn the corner I spot a horribly looking white food truck across the street with a light on, with a bit of hope restored I slowly limp my way towards the truck.

I see a person inside dressed with a little white hat, sat perfect on a tilt on top of their head and a chef's tunic with their back facing towards me. I tap lightly on the window as to not startle the person.

The person turns around quickly with an irritated expression on their face before they look up and lock eyes onto mine.

Holy shit!

Crystal blue eyes stare back into mine curiously, she moves closer to the window to open it and leans lazily against the makeshift counter.

"Sorry we're closed" the husky voice says. Is that a slight Australian accent.

She sounds just as a beautiful as she looks. I open my mouth to speak and take a step forward but whimper as I remember my poor ankle and broken heel. The woman's face grows concerned as she quickly moves to the side of the truck and over towards me.

"Hey, are you okay?" She crotches down so she's eye level with me as her warm hand wraps gently around my ankle. She whistles sympathetically as she gets a good look at it.

"That's pretty swollen, how long have you been walking around with it like that" she says concerned. She stands back up and wraps an arm around my waist and grabs my other hand to wrap around her shoulder for support.

"Only for about 2 blocks, I was out with some friends and decided to walk home as it was a nice night. I guess this is just karma biting me on the ass" I say grunted slightly at the pain and discomfort as she leads us into the back of the truck. I tense slightly, realising that I'm letting a complete stranger carry me into the back of a food truck.

Even if they are a hot Australian blonde. I can already hear my mother’s disapproving tone in my head:

Never talk to strangers and most certainly never get into a truck with someone you don't know.

The blonde woman senses my discomfort and side eyes me with those beautiful blue eyes and smirks slightly.

"Don’t worry I'm just going to sit you down and elevate your ankle. I promise I don’t make it a habit of picking up random damsels in the night" she teases as she slowly lowers me onto a seat in the back of the tiny makeshift kitchen. She removes her arm from around me and moves to a nearby freezer and grabs a cold soda. She crouches down with one knee slightly bent and gently takes hold of my bruised ankle and places it on her thigh, she places the cold soda on top of my swollen ankle.

I flinch slightly at the cold before sighing in relief. This seems to make her grin slightly.

Fuck that smirk could make gods kneel.

"I'm Y/N by the way" I say softly while looking at my knight in shining armour.

"Y/N... nice name. So Y/N what is a pretty girl like you limping around the streets of New York at the dead of night...alone?" She asks teasingly with a lot of emphasis on the "alone" part. I can see slight concern in her eyes but still keeps her signature smirk.

"Well, I recently just moved from Y/H/T and got a job offer at the hospital as a Pediatric Nurse. I've just finished my first week and decided to celebrate with a few work friends. I haven't had much time to explore the city so the slightly drunk part of me decided tonight was the night to do that" I say slightly embarrassed by my naivety as my sober subconscious slowly makes an appearance.

"And I thought graduates were supposed to be smart" she teases back before removing the now humid soda from my ankle.

"Says the woman who's let said graduate into her truck without knowing her. I could be a serial killer ya know" I tease with a small mischievous grin. She chuckles and shakes her head slightly before taking my ankle off her thigh and gently placing it onto the floor. She stands and goes in search for a first aid box.

"Well if being murdered by a hot nurse is the way I'm going; I'm certainly not complaining" she flirts with that deep Australian accent. She proceeds to wrap the bandage around my ankle with perfect precision.

"I see you've done this before"

"Oh yeah! I'm constantly wrapping up sprained ankles for all the women of New York" I laugh heartily at this constant back and forth flirtation. She smirks and locks her eyes with mine, I lick my suddenly dry lips and open my mouth to make another witty remark but is interrupted by her phone lighting up and vibrating angrily on the counter. That seems to break the spell as she shakes her head slightly; as if shaking off the effect of our little bubble, before reaching for her phone. She takes one quick glance over her shoulder towards me and mouths "sorry" before stepping outside the truck.

I wait five more minutes before wondering whether I should head back home. As I start to stand my saviour comes back inside the truck with such confidence I would be envious if I wasn't so attracted to her.

"So I forgot that I was supposed to be meeting some friends for some after-party drinks and I'm running a bit late. I can drop you off if you like. Do you live far?" She asks with slight disappointment and looking a bit flustered. My heart flutters at the thought of her being disappointed about our meeting potential drawing an end.

"Umm no actually I live about 3 blocks away from here so I can walk it. I don't want to make you any later than you already are" I say awkwardly looking at my bandaged ankle, it’s going to hurt like a bitch walking home.

She raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows in disbelief as she also eyes my ankle; seeming to think the same thing.

"Yeah no not happening, I'll drive you to your apartment and make sure you get in safe. I would hate myself if something were to happen to you" she confesses with confliction in her eyes.

I smile softly; touched by her concern

"Okay"

Her mouth twitches slightly upwards as if holding back a smile.

"Okay"

We both move from the back of the truck to the front seats with some assistance. We drive in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The blue-eyed beauty turns to look at me with her signature grin.

"So Y/N how old are you? Don’t take this the wrong way, you just seem young to have graduated already. How long have you been working as a nurse?" She asks with interest.

I chuckle slightly before replying:

"It's okay no offense taken, I'm 25 actually if you must know. I've been qualified for about 3 years. How old are you?" I ask with the same curiosity. I scan over her beautiful face taking in the deep cheekbones, the sharp jaw line and those luscious pale lips. The corner of her mouth twitches slightly and she quickly glances towards me before moving her eyes to the road.

"28"

I stare at her in slight disbelief, she's gorgeous and looks younger than her real age but she is not twenty-eight. She glances over and gauges my reaction before chuckling quietly and rolling her eyes.

"Okay so I'm not 28... I'm 32" she says trying to keep her serious mask in place but I can sense some discomfort in her answer.

Okay so she really doesn't want to tell me how old she is.

"Okay fine keep your secrets" I tease trying to hide my disappointment.

She shakes her head as if to get rid of the negative thought that is swarming inside her head. She turns onto my lowly light road.

"I'm just on the left there by that lamppost" I indicate to her, feeling slightly awkward. The conversation seems to reach a halt and she seems to be lost in thought before pulling over and turning towards me. She stares at me for a moment her eyes moving across my face before returning back to my eyes with a slight smile.

"Let me get the door for you and help you up those stairs" she says softly before climbing out of the truck and coming to my side of the vehicle. She reaches out her hand indicating for me to take hold, I felt warm from the touch and a slight shiver runs through my body as I lock my eyes with hers I see they've gone slightly darker.

She feels it too.

We walk up to my apartment building and after a small search for my key we step inside. She places her arm around my waist tightly as she helps me up the flight of stairs. We reach the number of my apartment door where the blonde-haired goddess reluctantly removes her arm from around my waist. We stand awkwardly for a moment before I speak.

"Thank you by the way… for helping me. Not many people would do that"

"It’s not a problem, thank you for not being a serial killer and murdering me in my own food truck" she teases with a mischievous smile and just like that the awkward tension is lifted.

Back to safe territory again.

I laugh quietly as to not disturb my neighbour's. Before placing my key into its rightful place and opening the front door. I turn back towards my saviour and smile shyly. She leans lazily with a spark of confidence against my door frame and smiles back.

"Thank you again, I really do appreciate it" before placing my hand around the top of her bicep and squeezing lightly in gratitude. She turns slightly to look at my hand and back towards my face before smiling wide at me. She takes my placed hand and slowly brings it to her lips before placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles and gently letting go of my hand.

"The pleasure was all my mine Y/N from Y/H/T. Make sure you rest that ankle, you got precious lives to save so we can't have you out of action" she whispers with some teasing undertone to her voice. I grin slightly before nodding my head and reassuring her that I will rest up and take it easy. She seems satisfied with my answer and pushes away from the door frame and takes a step back before sending me that signature smirk.

"See you around" before turning and walking confidently towards the stairs.

I smile dazed before quickly shaking my head as realisation dawn's on me. I quickly limp out of my apartment and head towards the staircase, leaning over the staircase I look at this beauty and ask:

"What's your name?"

She turns slightly towards me and looks up through hooded eyes and grins.

"Lou"

She turns back around and heads for the front door and with one last glance in my direction she disappears into the cold night.

"Lou" I whisper quietly into the air with a smile.

[bookworm555]

*Reuploaded FOR THE THIRD TIME because I realized that this never showed up in any of this fandom’s tags the first two times I posted it :/ Now I am trying this as a text post with images instead of a typical art post because nothing is freaking working and I am so frustrated.

Because read-mores apparently make my post glitchy, I apologize in advance for the length of this post, and hopefully, it doesn’t clog your dashes/the tags too badly.*

Another CatCF/WWatCF sketchdump~

The top drawing is the characters from the 1971 adaptation ten years later (which was an excuse to draw 80′s fashion, haha).

Ten years later doodles (from left to right) Top row: Violet and Veruca Second row: Mike, Charlie, and Augustus

(I think Violet turned out to be the best of these doodles!)

Some headcanons for the ten years later drawings (this would have been the section under the read-more, if it worked :/ ):

I always headcanoned the characters in the ‘71 version to be thirteen, minus Mike, who I saw as eleven. So basically everyone in the drawing is twenty-three except for Mike, who is twenty-one.

Violet: For years after the nightmare that was the factory tour, Violet struggled with major body image issues, especially about her blue skin. (And is homeschooled because of this.) However, eventually, her mindset basically became ‘Wonka thought this was a punishment? Fuck that; I’m going to embrace it’, so she became more confident.

Once this confidence hits during her late teens, she uses her unusual appearance to her advantage (especially when it comes to attracting visitors/potential buyers to her dad’s car dealership).

She doesn’t go to college; instead, she works at her dad’s place, and basically learns how to be a mechanic.

She hasn’t chewed gum since the factory tour.

When Charlie contacts her and the others, she is hesitant to respond back, but ultimately does (to sass him, at the very least). During the group’s future meetups, she’s basically the glue that keeps them together.

Veruca: Unlike Violet, Veruca carries a lot of guilt about what happened during the factory tour, since her father was punished along with her. He fell wrong, and as a result, was paralyzed from the waist down, and is now in a wheelchair. Veruca was lucky; aside from a broken ankle, she did not suffer any worse injuries.

Because of this, Veruca becomes mute (her mouthing off and constantly asking for things is what led to her–pun not intended–downfall, so she decides that it would be for the best if she stops talking altogether.)

Despite the Salts being wealthy, Wonka paid all of their medical bills. Even though it would have made sense for them to take him to trial, they decided not to (Henry did not want anyone to see him in his new state, and Veruca’s anxiety spiked even thinking about the factory).

When Charlie contacts the four ‘rejects’ ten years after the tour, Violet starts to bring Veruca out of her shell. Though it is ultimately Augustus who helps her feel comfortable speaking again, due to his soft-spoken personality.)

Mike: Like the others, Mike was very traumatized by what happened to him during the tour. (Especially since he was younger than the rest of them.)

While Violet embraced her altered state, and Veruca withdrew from the world, Mike became bitter. Very bitter. Because, while sure, Wonka and co. were able to get him back to about normal size [after stretching him waaaay too tall and thin the first time; his mother fainted, then had plenty of choice words for everyone involved when she came to], the process was incredibly painful, and involved basically rubber-fying his bones and muscles temporarily (yeah, he still had no idea why Wonka would even create a candy that did that).

Because of that, he has scars all over his body–the most on his arms, legs, and torso–so he always wears long-sleeved shirts or jackets, and long pants.

He is pissed that his life was ruined at age eleven; sure, he was obnoxious, but he was a KID. Now he’s stuck with chronic pain, not to mention the occasional breakdown because he has no idea if he’s actually HIM, or just a copy that was beamed through Wonka’s television room that managed to keep his soul. (Yeah, he doesn’t like to dwell on that; he prefers to think that that would be impossible.) [A/N: That part comes from the fact that Wonka stated that the chocolate that appeared in the TV screen was a copy of the much larger chocolate bar that was beamed through the air, and not the original bar itself]

When Charlie contacts him, he almost sends a nasty letter back, but something in him pauses, and he ends up sending a civilized response. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault all this happened to him; Charlie was the nice one, and, though he would never admit it to anyone, on the tour, he thought Charlie was cool. Goody-two-shoes, but in the ‘Lovable TV Protagonist’ sort of way.

As the five of them start meeting/corresponding through letters, he lets Charlie past all the walls he put up, and is definitely the closest to him in the group.

Charlie: Happily becomes Wonka’s protege after the tour. He is ecstatic that he not only gets to live and learn to work in this magical place, but he and his family are finally out of poverty!

He goes to school during the day, then learns the tricks of the candy trade in the afternoons and evenings.

However, about ten years after winning the tour, Wonka just…vanishes. And that’s when Charlie finds the videos showcasing what happened to the other four Golden Ticket winners after their mishaps.

Charlie is appalled; looking back, they were all so young. Of course, they were bratty; that’s how kids ARE. (Sure, some of them were worse than others, but they didn’t deserve their fates! Essentially, the four ‘losers’, plus Mr. Salt, were toyed with and tortured, and their parents could not help them.) Mike’s was especially horrible, to him; it was the only tape he couldn’t finish.

This makes Charlie feel a little guilty; he got off easy, even though he also disobeyed the rules.

He is also torn; on the one hand, Wonka was a great mentor, and he was fond of the man–he made a good father-figure, for him. But on the other hand, this was a man who thought the way to get rid of a kid’s bad habits was to torture them.

Before he could think otherwise, Charlie writes letters to the other Golden Ticket winners. He doesn’t expect anything nice back, but is surprised to find that they are all willing to talk to him.

He is relieved; he wants to right the wrongs done to them.

Augustus: The poor guy falls into a deep depression after the tour. Sure, he was thinner, but he had no problem with how he looked before. Not to mention, even the smell of chocolate and other sugary sweets makes him very nauseous. Oh, and there’s the not-so-small fear of drowning that he picked up, as well as severe claustrophobia.

He felt like a part of him was lost, since he could no longer enjoy his favorite foods. Or food in general. He ate to not starve, but that was it.

He was already quiet, but after the tour, he withdrew into himself even more, preferring to spend time with the neighborhood cats rather than people. (Yes, he is definitely a cat person.)

But he still has his kind heart, so when Charlie Bucket sends him a letter, he responds right away (and is the first one to do so).

When they start writing more letters to each other, and eventually meeting, he helps the others through their trauma, while ignoring his own. He thinks he’ll always be stuck this way.

Veruca disagrees.

And in terms of schooling, only Augustus went to college. As for high school, Violet and Mike were homeschooled, Veruca went to an exclusive, posh academy, Charlie stuck with public school, and Augustus went to a private school.

-

Now, if anyone was interested, these are the outfits that inspired the ones I drew (though, obviously, I took artistic liberties with some of them). I wanted to give them each a different style: Violet’s is the outlandish fashion the 80s are famous for, Veruca’s is demure and preppy, Mike’s is pretty unassuming, but with a slight edge, Charlie’s is comfortable/casual, and Augustus’s is comfortable/slightly formal.

Left to right: Violet, Veruca, Mike, Charlie, Augustus

(And I imagine the back of Mike’s jacket looking like this, aka with a vent, which is why the back of the jacket isn’t visible in the gap of his legs):

WOW, that got so long (oops…), but those were just my ideas for how these characters would interact and act ten years later. Hopefully someone enjoys this, XD

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH13

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,604

- Author Note:Late update again hmm i was a little busy these days with work ;(  i appreciate your feedback and comment, just drop in my ASK BOX :)

Previous | Next

Chapter 13

“Who stole the cookies on the table?” Jin yelled in disbelief as he noticed the disappearance of the supposed to be Seul’s present. The culprit was among them and the only person who was capable of such thing as Kim Taehyung. At the end of the day, it would always be Taehyung.

Hope glanced over his shoulder “What cookies? I thought we have eaten it all” he reasoned with his eyes fixated on the screen.

“The cookies in the small pink box” Jin scowled.

“Ah, I saw it this morning but didn’t open it. Ask Kookie, he was the last one in the kitchen not long ago” Jungkook flinched in his seat with a disapproval look.

He retorted sarcastically “I might be the last one but I am not the culprit.�� Hoseok snickered with a small shrug teasing the younger guy.

“Who was it for again?” Hoseok inquired.

“No one”

“Lies. It is for the caretaker agashi, Seul” Namjoon shows up with a messy bed hair, while yawning loudly in process. To hear Seul’s name, Yoongi’s ears perked up showing his interest. He tried not to be too obvious, it was even more confusing for him.

Jimin mumbled under his breath in his usual cutesy tone “Why are you giving the cookies to Seul?” he looked over only to witness Jin’s red face. This was something new to see, Jin getting flustered over a simple question, what exactly happened? Does he have any feelings for Seul?

“It is not for Seul! Don’t listen to Joon!” he sent a death glare at Namjoon’s way, but the latter only rolled his eyes in response. He knew what he saw on the table, Namjoon peeked at the notes too so no matter how hard Jin tried to deny the truth, he wouldn’t trust him.

“But, you packed it so nicely? Is it for Moonbyul-ssi?” he raised his eyebrows.

Jin frowned not liking where this will lead him, one after another now he was dragging his fellow 92-liner friend in the conversation “Moonbyul is just a friend. My best friend. Stop speculating” he pressed.

“Mamamoo’s Moonbyul is single though. She is cool. I approve her” Namjoon joked earning another dangerous glare from the older guy. His laughter died down as he raised both of his arm “I am joking. Chill” he snickered.

“Then is it for Seul?” Jimin continued to get the answer from Jin, he showed no sign of retreat. With heavy heart, Jin nodded slowly while biting his lower lips “Why?” he heard the younger guy mumbled with a hint of confusion and annoyance.

“Because she kind of helped me that night, so as a token of appreciation, I baked her cookies. Gosh, why are you asking me this?”

“Just because….”

“What?”

“………”

“Jimin… do you like her?” asked Hoseok. He tore his eyes from the screen and stared at Jimin’s way with a baffled look. Jimin’s eyes shot open, “W-hat no.. I am just curious?” he defended himself. It was not a time to appear weak and suspicious. Not  that he likes her that way, but what he was trying to indicate here was, he might like her that way. That was so messed up.

“But you sound defensive” Namjoon chewed the green apple in his hand with a playful smirk. Mister always grumpy Min Yoongi now was on his feet, getting ready to leave the living room, he did not know why he felt so affected by this.

“Why are we talking about her? She is just a fucking stalker” he marched to his room leaving everyone in dazed.

Jin rubbed his temple with a heavy sigh “Did Min Yoongi just curse? I swear I will fucking kill him one day” he exclaimed.

“Hyung, you just cursed too” said the maknae.

“Gosh, this is annoying. Okay, who is responsible of the missing cookies again?!” he stopped rambling when he saw the only missing member in the earlier conversation walked towards his direction with wide grin. Jin swore to god, he saw a tiny piece of cookies at the corner of Taehyung’s mouth as an evidence of his bad deed. So, he was the culprit all along as he expected.

Taehyung became wary of the stares that he received from the floor at the moment. He ducked his head to avoid Namjoon’s small jab and went straight to Jin “Why is it so tense?” tilting his head innocently, Taehyung pursed his lips.

“Someone stole the cookies on the table” he said flatly.

“Oh that cookie! It was not stolen, I ate them!”

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

Taehyung was jittering at Jin’s sudden hollered which almost cost hearing lost “What the hell hyung! Why are you screaming in my ears?” he rubbed his ear with a slight pout.

Jin gaped at his action while calming down his aching nerves, if he were to smack someone tonight it would be either him or Park Jimin. These 95-liner best friend are real troublemakers, what a pain to his head.

There goes his effort in preparing small gift for Seul. He had to find another way to say thank you then, thanks to Kim Taehyung.

 --------------------------

Following their winning from Melon Music Awards two weeks ago, the boys swept another daesang award in Mnet Music Awards later the following month. It was an emotional night for all of them even for Min Yoongi whom seemed to play it cool, he broke down on stage without he realized. It became a talk of whole country due to Yoongi’s legendary cries. Everyone has suffered a lot during their debut days, to win something grand was no exception in giving them this roller coaster feelings.

Seul watched the award show together with her mother and Hoon just because the two are the biggest Bangtan’s fans in the century. In contrary, her mother’s affection towards the boys are more like a mother and son feeling. For once, Seul did not blame her mother to bawl her eyes together with Bangtan as soon as their name was announced as the winner of Artist of the Year award.

Mrs Hwang watched how the boys grow from boys to men, she fed them, cleaned their place and sometimes she would give a good motherly advice. The boys and Mrs Hwang usually exchanged notes whenever they needed an opinion from a mother figure like Mrs Hwang. Under certain circumstances, there were time the boys requested to meet her personally, but she did not want to disobey the company’s rules, so they have never met.

Seul watched the television screen diligently how the group was taken aback by the announcement and how Jimin immediately slouched on the seat while palming his face, he looked adorable in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she saw how they exchanged a genuine smile as everyone gathered for a big group hug.

The leader of the group was seen to be holding back himself, not trying to break down as the members were looking as dazed as him. He was the leader, so he had to stand on his feet with pride. A small smile appeared across Seul’s face upon seeing how Yoongi and Jimin were the last member to walk after others. He had to drag surprise Jimin together with him, throwing his arm around the younger guy so they could receive the award.

She wondered it must be one hell of ride for everyone.

“Aigoo.. aigoo.. look at jiminie and yoongi fooling around on stage even before they received the awards” she heard her mother chuckled softly.

Hoon grinned “Jimin hyung still can’t believe they won the award! Look at his face!” he clasped his hand together and to Seul’s annoyance, she really hated it when Hoon tried to sound super friendly addressing the boys with hyung.

Seul’s eyes moved to Taehyung as he was the one who lead the group along with Namjoon walking casually beside him. Her heart softens to see Taehyung’s expression which was in between of breaking down into ugly sobs or smiled away like he always did. It was amusing how Taehyung looked so lost in between his walk to the award presenter, as if his heart chanted something ‘We did it. We did it. Is it us’ like a mantra? His face really gave away that feeling.

Finally, everyone had reached to the centre of the stage as Namjoon took a moment to compose himself. As usual, the pressure would be on the leader’s shoulder. He needed a moment to say something whilst others scanned the area with a satisfied smile.

Namjoon leaned forward with a heavy sigh, his heart was pounding madly as if it would come out by anytime soon. Seul shifted in her seat fixing her gaze on the nervous guy in the screen. She had never seen any of awards show with Bangtan in it, since this is her first time, Seul was intrigued to know Namjoon.

While Namjoon tried to gather his thought together, Yoongi’s small action caught Seul attention. He was clapping hard following the audiences most probably he wanted to get rid of the nervousness that slowly eating him up. Yoongi was about to cry, she knew it. She could see the glistening of tears in his eyes even the sunshine ball Hoseok who stood calmly beside him, was chewing his lower lips to not let himself dwell in the emotion.

Namjoon blinked his tears and he finally said a word “Army…” Seul glanced over her mother whom had started crying her heart out. How touching wasn’t it?

“Thank you so much. Seriously… we went through a lot since we debuted and there were people who said we would not make it” he continued with a shaky voice. Her heart clenched in pain, she blinked in sheer surprised. Who were those horrible people that belittled their talents and efforts? Shame on those people.

When the screen changed to reveal other members expression whilst Namjoon continued his speech, Jungkook was seen to already shed tears while Jimin as usual keep his stare fix at that one man, Kim Namjoon with so much adoration and love.

“Thank you so much for believing in us until the end”

Stood beautifully in between Jimin and Taehyung looking all sombre and distressed was Jin, the same guy that she found at the corner of a dark room few weeks ago when they received their first daesang. Seul’s bit her nails occasionally studying Jin’s calm expression. She could tell he was not as calm as he appeared, Jin was in a deep thought. Would it be a good thing?

Just please don’t belittle of yourself again Kim Seokjin. Seul prayed earnestly, concerned with his insecurity.

“This is something we only dreamt about so thank you for making our dream a reality. I would like to thank Bang Shi Hyuk Pd, the executives of Big Hit Entertainment who led us on. And people who make good music with us, Pdogg, Rabbit hyungs and Supreme Boi. And our Teacher Sung Deuk and the staff”

BAM! A rush of sadness gushed inside Seul, he was crying. Kim Seokjin was shedding his tears again and it somewhat pained her. Why was she acting this way? It was only a onetime thing when she witnessed Jin’s most fragile state. Yet to be affected this much was so wrong.

Jin slowly nodded to every Namjoon’s words and letting his tears cascaded down beautifully “Thank you to all the staff who have been with us. Thank you so much for making our dreams a reality. And .. Armys all over the world, lets fly with our beautiful wings in 2017 as well” Namjoon breathed deeply as he was struggling between the overwhelming emotion that he felt right now and to give a good ending speech.

“Poor baby kook, I want to give him a hug” Mrs Hwang heaved a heavy sigh. “That kid was the purest of all, he cried a lot during their earlier debut days. My heart breaks to see him crying like this” she sniffed.

“BTS loves Armys always. Thank you very much”

“Mother look over there, Yoongi hyung is crying so hard at that side!” Hoon gasped dramatically. Was it rare to see Yoongi cried? Yes.

“When Yoongi cried meaning this thing meant the world to him. He is man with of few words, a great guy to all he met”

“Thank you. I love You. I hope our music and our performance can be your dreams as well. I hope that our stage and our performances and our music can be the hopes and dreams of the world. Thank you very much. We’ll do our best! Thank you”

Namjoon’s voice started to fade away in Seul’s mind, and her attention was now fully on the small guy who sobbed hard beside Namjoon. The playful and flirty side of Yoongi just disappeared instantly, he looked so vulnerable and fragile. Something that she couldn’t usually see anywhere. She clutched the armrest steadying her heavy breathing ‘Min Yoongi, just what are you?’ Seul found herself getting shaky over him.

Will he be alright? Seul could not stop but to think about the rest of the members especially Yoongi. Was she being too hard on him before and jumped into conclusion without knowing his true side? However, they are not in that kind of relationship which required her to super nice towards him.

This was too much for her again.

 ------------------

Meanwhile in Hong Kong, the boys were all gathered in one room, sitting on the couch with a hard face. None of them uttered any words ever since they arrived in their hotel room. They were no longer in their fancy award outfits but only plain white shirt underneath it.

Their eyes were puffy after a long and hard crying at the backstage as soon as they were away from prying eyes. In between these four concrete walls, everyone was silenced only heavy breathing could be heard. Their managers had left earlier to give space for the boys to recuperate the situation.

“Wow, this is one hell of a night” calm Hoseok broke the silence garnering everyone’s attention back to the floor.

Jimin lips twisted upwards as he spoke “Yoongi hyung, I have never seen you cried that hard. Was it real?” he pondered.

His sudden questions turned Yoongi into ripe tomatoes, he stammered between his words “Yah, forget about that.. I was caught off guard.. and I just cried” Yoongi ran his hand at the back of his neck, massaging it softly.

“It is alright to cry sometimes” Namjoon gave his hyung a light pat with a wide smile.

The room fell into dead silence again for umpteenth time. There were so many things ran into their mind right now and it was hard to bring it out one by one. Frustrated, everyone heaved a sync groan under their breath which turned into a light chuckle afterwards.

“I guess this is it” the leader whispered lowly enough for everyone to hear.

“We did it..” he scanned each of the members face with a stupidly proud grin that never left his face ever since the award show ended.

Jin leaned on his seat, crossing his legs “We did it..again” he smiled genuinely easing the tense atmosphere in the room moments ago. Within a second, the room became lively with loud chattered from every corner reminiscing their good old times together. The boys talked a lot of things from how they started this whole journey until where they achieved so far.

The night was spent with their mini celebration in the small room, exchanging stories and even ideas on how they should improve themselves in the next comeback. It has been a great pleasure for all of them to serve as one of Bangtan’s members and they will never be tired become one.

This will be the start of their new year resolution, just like Namjoon stressed in his speech earlier, “Let’s fly with our beautiful Wings as well in 2017”. They are living to this word, there is no turning back now.

Bangtan Sonyeondan will spread their wings wide to spread love and hope all over the world.

 ----------------

3 AM. She was awoken up by the vibration of her phone. Groggily, Seul picked up the call without even looking at the screen. Her mind and body were too tired to even force out words coming from her mouth.

She pressed the phone on her ears as she continued to snuggle under her warm blanket. Who on earth called her at 3 in the morning?

“ Hey.. Is this Ji Seul”

“Speaking” she mumbled under her breath with a hint of annoyance.

“Are you sleeping?” the person at the end of the line held back his chuckle trying not to show his amusement over Seul’s cuteness.

Seul scoffed sleepily “What kind of question is that? Obviously, since it is 3 AM”

“Oh, sorry for bothering you.” he mumbled with a pout. Seul was too drowsy to decipher the owner of the voice so she wanted to inquire more and ended this phone call, but she heard his soft voice hummed incoherently.

She squeezed her eyes trying to stay awake at least, “This is Jin…” upon listening to that one name, Seul’s eyes widened. Was she dreaming? Was this a prank pulled by stupid people?

“How did you get my number?” she bewildered.

“I have my ways and it involves urm.. your mother”

“Crazy…” Seul rubbed her eyes with a soft yawn. “Okay what do you want Jin-ssi” she grumbled.

Jin sighed softly “Nothing, just wanted to hear your voice” he confessed sweetly causing her to shudder under his manly yet soft voice. It took Seul a moment to gather her sense back afraid that she might blurt out some nonsense.

“So…congratulations” she softly hummed.

“You watched it?” Jin’s pitch hiked up to one octave but he immediately lowered his voice since others were already asleep. Another soft hum coming from Seul was enough to answer to his excitement.

“I thought you are not a fan” he smug.

Seul rolled her eyes “But I am a good citizen supporting our local’s music” he chuckled softly at her randomness. “So, are you alright?” she said worriedly. It touched his heart to receive even a simple attention from someone like Seul. To this extent, he didn’t realize how much he craved for a normal life by simply having a companion with him that can share every nook and cranny of his worries with the person.

“Are you asking onstage Jin, or the Kim Seokjin?”

“Both..you cried pretty hard last night and it is ugly” she sassed.

“Hey, everyone said my tears could literally create world peace! It is not ugly Ji Seul-ssi” he sulks. Seul giggled at his absurdity, speaking of high level of confidence, Jin had his own level. Seul was not surprised at all.

Jin loved her small laughter to the core, it washed away the worries engulfed in him. That was the reason why he begged for the caretaker ahjumma’s phone number from their managers. Thankfully, they didn’t question him further, so they gave it away without an exchange of anything. Once he obtained the way to contact the caretaker lady, he immediately secured Seul’s contact without much hassle.

Guess, it was his lucky day.

“I love your laughter”

Seul fell into silence and she shifted shyly under her cover as if Jin was there in front of her. Giving her no chance to respond, Jin whispered “And.. to answer your question. On stage Jin and the Kim Seokjin are doing fine. I think your words of advice still linger in my head” he murmured.

“I am glad you are not crying at the corner again”

“Were you worried that I might urm.. be having that moment again?”

“Kind of”

Jin softened “Thank you Seul-ah” he dropped the formality between them which taken her off guard.

“What happen to Ji Seul-ssi?” she bit her lower lips nervously.

“I think it only makes sense if you call me oppa. How old are you?” he reasoned.

“I am 22.. We are not that close to address each other so informally. I don’t think I can call you oppa” she blushed furiously. Seul too did not think she could survive a day with this thought of calling Jin an oppa out of sudden. Wouldn’t that be too intimate?

“Ah...Jims and Tae age. Why can’t you? Let’s be closed from now on, so you can address me oppa”

“You are as annoying as Yoongi. Persistence as hell” she let out an exhaust sigh. Jin took the cue to end the call, he could sense Seul’s voice started to fade away “Let’s talk about this again when we meet again later” he suggested.

“Who says I am meeting you again. That time will be the first and the last one” she yawned without shame. Screw it, not that she had to impress Jin with anything. She didn’t care of her own image.

Jin let out a soft chuckle “We will see about that. Go sleep, and I will see you soon. Good night Seul” he hung up before the girl could say anything because he knew it won’t be beautiful. Seul’s mouth is just as nasty as Yoongi and hell it stung one’s hear like bee sting. That did not rhyme at all.

Throwing his exhausted body on the bed, he smiled to himself “I will see you again for sure, Seul” he shut his eyes preparing himself to sleep.

This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved.

[wow-she-writes]

Beneath the Surface

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: depression, self-harm, please don’t read this if you’re triggered easily, swearing

Summary: reader suffers from depression. One night, in particular, gets pretty bad.

A/N: To be honest I wasn’t even sure if I was going to post this. I’m was just having a bad night and need to write some stuff down. If anyone needs someone to talk to, I’m always prepared to stay up all night to talk. If you have any requests feel free to submit them here.

Word Count: 2,021

Dean has always said suicide was a coward’s way out, and you’d always agreed. Too many good people in this line of work die in horrible ways. We can’t afford to lose one to themselves. That’s why you try to keep your depression a secret. You can’t have Sam and Dean look at you with pity in their eyes every time they meet your gaze. Coward. You’d be lying to yourself if you’d said it’s never crossed your mind at least once.

You’d just gotten back from a hunt. One vamp turned into two which turned into a full pack. The three of you had returned to the bunker bloody, limping, and physically and emotionally exhausted. Although you and Dean had been dating for a while, it was sometimes hard for him to get out of the hunter mindset and into the one he always reserved for you.

 After failing to protect Sam from a vamp, he got too close to turning into one himself. That was the worst thing that you could have done and Dean would never forget it. Dean has never said the words ‘I love you’ but even on his bad days you could tell he cared about you, but you always knew he would always love Sam more. And you were okay with that.

I can’t do this anymore.

This pit in the center of your stomach gave you a feeling of nausea blended with nervous butterflies and mashed together will a pound of rocks.

You couldn’t handle being around the Winchester brothers any longer. You knew they were just dying to talk about you as soon as you left. Completely begging for an opportunity to get rid of you so they could bond over their mutual hate for you. In the back of your mind, a little voice screamed that it wasn’t true, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It was like word vomit. Everything just kept bubbling up worse and worse each time.

Dropping your bag on the table, you tried your best to keep your pace below a jog, so they wouldn’t be able to tell that something was wrong, but you couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. You needed to get away, to be alone and cry and sit in a pile of self-hate because that's the type of pathetic person you were. You couldn’t even keep your own thoughts under control.

They’d be better off without you.

You were begging to feel something real. Something you could touch. You looked around in your dresser drawers, pushing your jumbled flannels out of the way in search for your trusty blade. Screaming with teeth clenched together you slammed the drawers closed in frustration. Your search was becoming more and more frantic as the need to feel the sharp pain on your hips and wrists grew more and more. You needed it. I was like a drug that you couldn't’ quit no matter how hard you tried. Sure some days were worse than others, but that’s not what you were thinking about.

I had almost killed Sam. How can they even stand to be in the same building as me?

Why, why, why can’t I do anything?

Tears started to stream out of your eyes as you continued to look for the exacto knife. You had found it stashed away in one of your old jeans pockets, but finding the blade didn’t relieve any of the pain yet. It just made the tears come even more. You weren’t crying. No, you were full-out bawling. Hand clasped over your mouth careful to not let a sound carry through the walls of the bunker. Knees weak and shaking like leaves on a windy day.

You needed to scream. There was a burning in the back of your throat that demanded to be felt. You needed to feel pain. You deserved to feel pain.

Digging the flesh of your fingers into the tip of the exacto knife, you stumbled to the corner of your room opposite the door and dropped down to the floor. Why am I like this? What’s going on with me?

Not being able to wait much longer, you pulled your wrist up to the blade. You clamped your teeth together and prepared for the pain and before you could think twice you pulled the knife through the first layer of your skin. You cried at the thought of what you were doing to your body and how disappointed Dean would be.

‘You can’t even deal with your own thoughts’ he would say anger laced with disgust in his voice. ‘How long have you been hunting? Three years, maybe four? I've been hunting for as long as I can remember. I've been forced to raise my brother by myself because my father was too busy trying to find the damn thing that killed my mother. I've been to Hell and Purgatory, yet you can’t even handle the selfish little world in your head?’

I'm sorry, Dean. I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up and I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.

You repositioned to the blade to a new spot on your skin. The previous cut already spilling more blood than usual. You had gone too deep. Isn’t it ironic that you can’t even do the one thing that nobody could possibly mess up?

Tears raked through your body to the point where you were struggling for breath. You bit your lip and tried to muffle the sound of you crying, but you had failed. Miserably. Digging deeper into your skin, you sawed back and forth scrunching up your nose to focus on your task. Don’t quit until there’s blood. Then move onto the next one.

You weren't’ sure how much longer you could keep this up, so you became more frantic. Moving the blade back and forth faster and pushing harder determined not to stop until you drew blood so that you could move on to the next one. Ignoring the snapping of your skin, you continued until you were a bloody mess watered down with tears. You didn’t stop until the salt water dripping from your eyes stung your wrists too much to continue, but you couldn’t bring yourself the pull the knife away and that was the problem. You needed more.

Grinding your teeth, you dragged yourself through it but flinched when you heard pounding on your door. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With your hands shaking, you tried to cover up the blade and your wrists and the blood and your tears, but there was nowhere you could go.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Dean.

“Yeah,” you whimpered through the door trying to make it sound casual, but you knew the slight hesitation and the shaking in your voice had given you away before the word had even left your mouth.

You tried to stand, but everything that was going on was too much. You couldn’t breathe, You couldn't think. You couldn't even move your head without feeling like you were going to throw up.

“Y/N, let me in.”

You couldn’t do anything you were so scared that they were finally going to learn your secret, your tears racked through your body and choked you on the way up. You screamed out in frustration and slammed the stupid, goddamn blade down and curled up in a ball against the wall and just cried.

“Y/N! Let me in.”

You cried because you were never going to be good enough. You cried because you were never going to be okay. You cried because you were never going to be normal. You cried because slowly everyone you loved was pushing you out of their lives and they couldn’t ever seem to be doing it fast enough for them. You cried because you were all alone in this big, big world and you were falling and hell, you were falling fast. You cried because there was nobody who was going to catch you.

There was a loud crash from the other side of the room, but you didn’t bother looking up. You knew you wouldn’t be able to anyway. You just coward further into the corner and tried to hide you bleeding wrist.

“Son of a bitch.”

You started rocking back and forth. “Go away. Just go away. Please, go away,” you begged.

Dean ran up to you and tried to pull you into his arms, but you wouldn’t-couldn’t let him. You couldn't let him see.

“Y/N,” he said frantically. “What’s going on. Whose blood is this? Are you hurt?”

He tried again to pull you away from your position, but you held yourself together.

“Sam! Get in here!”

“No! Go away. Please go away. Leave me alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Y/N? Please tell me whats going on.”

But then he saw the blade tucked beneath his shoe. And that was the end of it.

“Son of a bitch.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

He tried to pull you into his arms and this time you complied. There was no more energy left inside you to fight anymore You couldn’t. You were done. Dean knew. And soon so would Sam.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.”

You buried your head into his chest and continued avoiding his eyes.  You couldn’t look. You couldn’t even think about it.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please, don't’ say that. It’s not your fault.”

But it was. Everything was.

He sat down on your bed with you still curled up in his arms and held you. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he didn’t know what to do. You could tell he was thinking of new ways to get rid of you. He knew and there was no going back. No more trying to hide it.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his flannel, damp with your tears. It was so soft he could only feel the vibrations in his chest, but he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

At some point, Sam had came into the room with a damp towel and started to clean your bloody wrist.

“It hurts.”

“I know, Sweetheart. I know,” whispered Dean in your ear while drawing soft circles into you back.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.”

He paused for a second before responding.

“For what?’

“Everything.” You still hadn’t looked up from Dean’s shirt. You were studying the steady criss-cross of the stripes and the gentle stitching that holds the button to the cloth.

“Y/N will you please look at me?”

You swallowed hard, “...No.”

Silent tears pooled at the top of your cheekbones before overflowing down to your chin. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into Dean’s chest once again. He bent down to kiss the top of your head and he mumbled something into your hair, but it was too soft to hear.

“Please?”

You tried. You really did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were so terrified of what you might see.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not mad.”

You stayed silent.

Dean spoke up from beneath you.

“How about you get some rest?”

You were shocked to hear his voice crack and waver slightly.

You nodded and tensed up slightly as Dean lay you down on your bed after pulling away the covers. Immediately you rolled over, so your back was facing the Winchesters. Sam and Dean stepped outside your room to talk. You could hear the low rumble of their voices on the other side of the door. Moments later, someone came back in and softly closed the door behind them. He-probably Dean-sat down on the other side of the bed before adjusting himself next to you. He wrapped one arm around your torso and kissed the back of your neck.

You had tried to move away from his touch, but his grip was firm and determined.

“I’m not going to lose you too,” he whispered. “We’ll help you get better. I promise.”

He planted one last kiss on your tear-stained cheek before drifting off to sleep.

*Masterlist*

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

I Can't Take It!

            “I can’t bloody take it anymore!” Were the words screamed in Draco’s face as he opened the door. He blinked rapidly at the fuming redhead in front of him. Weasley. That was someone he hadn’t seen in years, not since the final battle.

            “Excuse you?” Draco reprimanded with an arched brow. He honestly had no idea what was happening here. He must have mixed up his ingredients when making his potion this morning, causing a severe hallucination. Because that was the only explanation his mind could come up with at the moment.

            “At first, I thought I was just delusional, seeing things where there was nothing but I know I’m not.”

            Draco blinked rapidly as he too concluded the man was delusional. Something he had always known to be true.

            “You keep writing books about Harry!”

            Every rational thought left the blonde as dread filled his stomach. There was no way that Weasley had figured it out. His mother was blissfully unaware of who his muse was, his friends were just as clueless, all wondering who could possibly be the one he was desperately pining after. The whole world was blind but yet Weasley had discovered his secret?

            “Don’t give me that look!” Weasley spat hotly. “It’s just so obvious. I don’t understand why no one but me thinks so! I see your stupid books everywhere. Witches giggle in their offices at work, completely engrossed in your horribly sappy novels.” A pause as a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

            “I can’t go into Diagon Alley without seeing your ugly face plastered from every window, advertising this travesty.”

            Ugly? Draco huffed angrily as he listened somewhat impatiently to the hogwash spewing out of Weasley’s mouth.

            “My own wife reads them and badgers me incessantly about reading them too!”

            That had Draco wincing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger reading his works. It was a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest.

            “I can’t even go to my parents without seeing your entire collection stacked against the wall. My mother reads them!” A pitiful moan escaped. “My own mum!”

            A trickle of amusement was making its way inside of Draco. Oh, he was still annoyed and ticked off but seeing Weasley in so much distress because of him, was lifting his spirits.

            “I have put up with this for years and I can’t take it anymore!” Weasley took a step forward, which Draco was loath to admit made him want to take a step back. The man was clearly mental.

            “You have to tell Harry how you feel.” Begged the disturbed wanker. “I can’t take another novel. I can’t take the pining! I can’t take the whining! I can’t take another fucking thing! If I have to listen to one more person tell me how ‘wonderfully heartbreaking’ your stories are, I will either murder you, Harry or myself.” A pause. “And I can’t honestly tell you which one of us is at the forefront of that. Perhaps I will kill us all and be done with it.”  

            Threats weren’t something new to Draco but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of one done so vehemently.

            “I’m an Auror.” Weasley unnecessarily reminded him, as if he hadn’t been aware of this. “I know how to murder someone and make it appear as an accident. They’ll never find your body.” The sheer conviction in the promise was almost staggering.

            Draco rolled his eyes as he looked to the sky, debating about hexing the crazy redhead.

            “Are you finished?” He drawled with an exaggerated yawn, hoping to get rid of Weasley.

            Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what is the worst part of all of this?”

            The question was obviously rhetorical but Draco shook his head anyways, hoping this would be the last thing said on the topic.

            “Harry loves your books.”

            Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed heavily and looked away from Weasley for the first time.

            “He talks about them constantly, mentions his favorite parts, grins goofily as he reads your novels in public. Every single book is handled with care and patience. He adores them and you by extension.”

            Words had long ago left Draco, he didn’t know what to say at all. Couldn’t think of anything. For someone who made a living off of words and formulating beautiful lines, this was almost embarrassing.

            “I don’t like you.” Weasley continued on. “Never have and might not ever will.”

            Again, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling was entirely mutual.

            “But.” The man whispered softly. “It’s painfully obvious that you love Harry.” Blue eyes searched his and Draco felt as if his blackened soul was being judged.  

            “The things you write deserve to be said not just written. Harry deserves this, deserves this kind of attention and deserves the love you put into those stupid pages.” There was a slight reddening of Weasley’s cheeks. It was obvious he despised complimenting Draco on his books.

            “Just do something. Please. While I can’t take another one of your books, I really can’t take Harry’s self-deprecating responses as to why it just isn’t possible that he is the target of your obsession.”

            He would have liked to rudely point out that it wasn’t an obsession but he was distracted with the rest of the statement.

            Weasley took a deep sigh. “Just think about it.” As violently as the conversation began, it ended with a soft whisper and pleading eyes.

            Draco watched Weasley walk slowly away from his front door, so slowly that it was obvious he was hoping to be called back.

            This was life changing. He could slam the door and pretend that this whole disaster had been a hallucination and never think about it again… or he could take a Gryffindor plunge into bravery and do what the characters in his books do, which was get their man.

            “Weasley!” Draco called out, making his decision. “Get your horrid arse back here.”

            The way red brows arched, silently asking for more, had Draco huffing. Who knew the man was a sadist too?

           “Help me ensnare a Gryffindor."

           A frighteningly wicked grin appeared on the redhead’s face, causing Draco to question if he had just sold away his soul to a starving Dementor. Merlin, help him. 

If you are interested in the rest of the story, part two and three are finished. Or if you would like to just skip ahead to the completed story, here you go. 

Part Two , Part Three   ,  A03 Author Page 

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

The Delilah Affair

Note: I promised I would post something and I did...late as fuck. I apologize for that. I literally wrote half last night and then half on the plane today as I was flying from London to the United States. This is probably chalk full of erros and for that I apologize, but I’m jetlagged as hell. I was originally going to write a nightmare fic with Wes, but for some reason this muse stuck with me. It’s kinda the original behind Wes’s long ass hair. Anyway, I’m planning on posting A LOT of stuff this week. It’s going to be crazy. In case you were wondering, the title is based upon the story of Sampson and Delilah. Anyway, happy anniversary to my bestie @welllpthisishappening, who is instrumental behind the creation of this series and without her influence, I wouldn’t even posted this nonsense. Summary: She and Killian weren’t in a bad way when it came to their finances, but they try to save their pennies when they can. So naturally when it came to haircuts, they preferred to do the cutting themselves rather than spend an extra twenty dollars on a professional job in a salon or a barber shop. However, during a routine trim, Emma makes a grave error. Rating: T Word Count: 3,300+

Most people tend to believe that the hardest part about being a parent was the near constant juggling of obligations or the lack of real social life, but for Emma Swan, the hardest part was screwing up. It didn’t happen too often but when it did, she couldn’t help but feel like a failure. She realized how illogical it was to assume everything would go perfectly but still whenever it happened, whether it be a missed football game or forgetting to make dinner, Emma would feel like the worst person in all of the realms.

Which is why when she accidentally sheared Wes’s hair off like sheep wool, she nearly had a mental breakdown.

She and Killian weren’t in a bad way when it came to their finances, if anything, they were in pretty solid shape despite the rather large size of their brood. (She wasn’t entirely terrified by the concept of potentially paying for five college educations as most in her position would be.) Nevertheless, they were frugal in their spending; past experience on both ends dictating that they squeeze each and every penny of its full worth. If a piece of clothing was torn, they were more likely to mend it than purchase a new one. Leftovers from dinner were frozen for later consumption rather than tossed away thoughtlessly. Emma saved every single takeout container they accumulated rather than buying more Tupperware. Their children prepared their own lunches at home under her careful supervision rather than spending money on hot lunches. They weren’t deliberately trying to be austere, it was just an ingrained habit to be cost effective.

So naturally when it came to haircuts, they preferred to do the cutting themselves rather than spend an extra twenty dollars on a professional job in a salon or a barber shop. Both of them had been cutting and maintaining their own hair for years (centuries in Killian’s case), so it wasn’t necessarily a hardship.

And yet, Emma made the most rookie of all rookie mistakes: not checking the setting on the razor before she began her work. (However, in her defense, the razor wasn’t normally set on the lowest setting. Neddy’s preschool class recently had an outbreak of head lice and in a preemptive measure they had shaved his head. Obviously, they had forgotten to change the setting.)

Her error became very apparent when Emma brought the razor against the curve of his head and more hair loped off than anticipated, leaving a large and very noticeable bald spot.

“Oh shit.”

She immediately turned off the device and stared at it in horror. She had been planning on giving Wes a small trim since it had become quite unruly, but instead she had buzzed it down almost entirely to his skull; pale skin peeking through the barely there short blond bristles.

“Mom…what’s going on? Is the razor not working?” Wes asked, completely unaware of his mother’s folly.

Emma didn’t reply; not knowing what to say or do. She just stared at her mistake, internally screaming. She tried to will his hair to grow back with every fiber of her being but no matter how hard she tried, the bald spot remained. (A part of her wished she knew a spell to regrow hair but then again her magic had always been a tad unpredictable and there was no telling what other affects it would have on her son if she tried.)

“Mom…what’s wrong?”

“Mom made a little mistake, kid,” she replied, feeling like the worst parent in the universe.

“What did you do?”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his panicked expression vividly in her mind; blue eyes the size of dinner plates and lip trembling.

“Ummm…”

“Mom…what did you do?”

She couldn’t bring herself to voice what had happened. When she didn’t speak, Wes immediately reach behind with an inquisitive hand, probing his hair. His fingers stilled when he discovered the patch where Emma had shaved his hair off. She cringed, guilty filling her.

“Mom…” His voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, dropping the razor and squeezing his shoulders.

“I’m bald.”

“Only in that one spot.”

“I can’t go to school with a bald spot!” he squawked.

“I know! I know! I know!” She pulled her hands away from his shoulders and rubbed at her face, trying to scrub away her mortification. She screwed up majorly. She was the worst.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We could call Regina…” Emma replied, biting her lip.

“She won’t help on this,” Wes replied, shaking his head. There was a slight whine to his voice.

“You don’t know that,” she said sympathetically, rubbing his back.

“No, I know she won’t. Bobbi tried asking her for a spell to get rid of acme and Regina said magic wasn’t a toy and shouldn’t be used for trivial things. And Bobbi legit looked like a pizza face! If she didn’t help Bobbi when she was looking like that, and she loves Bobs, then she’s definitely not gonna help me!”

“I’m sure if I asked her –” “No!” he interrupted her. “That would be so, so, so much worse!”

“Okay, okay, okay! No Regina! I heard you loud and clear,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do you want me to do, kid?”

“I don’t know…”

“I think I’m gonna have to shave off the rest of it.”

“Seriously?” he groaned.

“I don’t see any other way out of this, kiddo.”

Wes didn’t reply immediately. He just stared at the wall in front of them, shoulders stiff. Emma didn’t necessarily blame him. She had just suggested to shave the rest of his head and there was no telling how that would go.

“Do it,” he replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” she sighed, picking up the razor once more. “For what it’s worth, it’s hair and it will go grow back…in like two-three weeks. Hopefully.”

“Might as well be an eternity,” he moaned.

A muscle in Emma’s cheek twitched. A part of her wanted to hit him on the shoulder for his dramatics, but she had to remind herself that this was all her fault in the first place. She was the one who had fucked up.

“Hardly an eternity but for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. Like really sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna look like Leroy, Mom.”

“I don’t think you have the beard to fully pull that look off, kid.”

“But I will look just as ugly.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I will,” he insisted.

“You’re gonna look fine,” Emma said firmly. “I’ve seen you bald before when you were a baby. It took literally forever for your hair to come in. You had nearly no hair until you were two and you looked absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, but I was a baby and nobody cares about babies being bald. That’s, like, normal.”

“You know right now, I’m not sure if you’re a baby or not with all that whining you’re doing,” Emma replied, losing her patience. “No, stop whining and hold still while I shave the rest of it. I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

Wes let ought another heavy sigh but didn’t offer any further commentary. She took this as a signal that he was going to stop whining and finally let her do her job. She turned the razor back on and went to work, carefully and slowly shaving off the rest of his fair colored-mop. Wes flinched a few times as the razor got a little too close to the sensitive skin of his scalp but Emma, for the most, was patient and gentle with the instrument. She couldn’t help but grimace as she watched the golden strands fall to the floor. Wes was the only one of her children to inherit her fairer complexion and blond hair. While all of her sons all bore a rather strong resemblance to their fathers, Wes was the only one who noticeably had some of Emma’s features; inheriting her cheeks and chin alongside her colouring.

When she was finished, she ran her hand carefully against his scalp; silently mourning the temporary loss of his pale locks. Before her mishap, Wes’s hair was soft and fine, almost silk-like, but now it was barely there and rough against her palm.

“Turn around and let me have a look.”

Wes obeyed but when he faced her, his lips were twisted into a deep scowl and honestly, Emma couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t what she had imagined when she had decided to give him a trim.

“I look horrible, don’t I?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You look fine,” Emma reassured him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

He didn’t look fine. Maybe the shaved look would have worked for him if he had inherited his father’s darker features but unfortunately he had her fair coloring and without his hair, it also looked like he had no eyebrows. Her second youngest son looked like he belonged on a St. Jude’s charity advertisement.  All he needed was the hospital bed, a pale blue smock and an IV running through his arm.

“You’re lying,” he stated flatly.

“Am not.”

“You are. You always have that funny look on your face when you lie. For someone who is oh so good at detecting lies, you’re positively crap at telling them. Word of advice, Mom, don’t play poker.”

“You’re worrying about this too much,” Emma responded, dodging his statement. As borderline disrespectful as it was, she knew it was the truth. The kid had inherited her blunt and near non-existent social grace. Sometimes she found Wes to be disturbingly similar to her in a way her other children weren’t; sharp acid tongue, weaponized sarcasm, quick sticky fingers and a little angry with the world.

“And now you’re avoiding the subject. I must really look ugly.”

“You don’t look ugly, I promise. You look absolutely fine.”

As she spoke, Harrison and Beth walked into her bedroom, both sweaty and covered in dirt. Blood was trickling from Beth’s chin, which looked nastily scrapped. Despite this, she looked fine, chattering away while her thirteen-year old son nodded obligingly. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw Emma and Wes.

“What happened to you?” Wes asked, gesturing to Beth’s chin.

“Fell out of a tree.” Emma’s nine-year old daughter shrugged casually, as if she were discussing the weather rather than a painful looking facial wound. “Har said he was gonna catch me and totally let me drop. He owes me like a million Star Wars band aids.”

“You don’t need million band aids. That’s overkill and I didn’t do it on purpose!” Harrison replied defensively before regarding his younger brother with a frown. “And what happened to you? You look like a cancer patient.”

Wes’s face colored at the comment and Emma get her second oldest son a reproachful look. Harrison, ever the most observant of her children, also flushed when he noticed his mother’s silent reprimand; tugging on his earlobe and shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

“I was gonna say he looked like a skinhead,” Beth said bluntly.

Harrison punched her arm, frowning at her.

“That wasn’t nice. Do you even know what a skinhead is?”

“Of course, I do!” Beth snapped back, hitting him back. “It’s one of those creepy people that Mom and Dad arrested last week with the bald heads and the crap tattoos and the weird leather and that stuff they were trying to spray paint on the school.”

“It really looks that bad then,” Wes grimaced. He brushed hand against his shorn scalp self-consciously.

“It doesn’t,” Emma said firmly, raising her eyebrows at her other children; signaling to them that they were not to contradict her.

“Well, you don’t look like you…” Harrison replied. “So, it’s…interesting.”

Wes’s flush deepened at his words. He didn’t reply, just ran into the bathroom as he continued to run his hands against his freshly razored hair. He slammed the door behind him with enough force that it nearly caused Emma to jump. As the door shut, Emma turned to glare at her other two children.

“Was that necessary? Seriously, both of you!” she hissed.

“Sorry Mom!” Harrison replied, placing his hands up in surrender.

“He looks like a skinhead!” Beth replied defensively, not as willing as her older brother to admit her blunder.

“Even if he does, you don’t say things like that! That’s a horrible thing to say and I raised you better than that, Elizabeth!” Emma admonished.

Beth wilted a bit under her mother’s scolding, eyes darting down to look at her feet. Harrison took a step away from her, as if distancing himself from his sister would lessen his chances of being yelled at as well.

“Sorry,” her daughter mumbled.

“It’s not me you need to say you’re sorry to,” Emma replied, folding her arms across her chest. “And when he gets out of the bathroom, you’re going to tell him you’re sorry and that you love him and you aren’t going to say mean things anymore. Got it?”

“Got it,” she mumbled, eyes still trained on her feet.

Emma allowed herself to soften a bit, stepping forward and kneeling down so she could inspect her daughter’s face, particularly the bloody scrape on her chin. Now that she was close enough, Emma could see the beginning of a bruise starting to form around her right cheek.

“That must have been a nasty fall. Are you hurt?” she asked gently.

“No.” Beth shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. If there was one thing that Emma knew about her nine-year old, it was that she tried constantly to appear tougher than her brothers. Emma couldn’t decide if this was a product of her environment or something she had inherited from her father.

“Well, if don’t look deep enough to get stitches over. But it definitely needs to be cleaned,” she commented before her eyes flickered in the direction of her son. “There’s hydrogen oxide cleaner in the downstairs cabinet along with some band aids. Help your sister get cleaned and get her an ice pack while I’m tending to your brother who is justifiably traumatized. You are not to tease him. Do you understand me?”

Harrison nodded obediently, placing his hand on his younger sister’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t need an ice pack,” Beth pouted. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“You forget my superpower, kid,” Emma responded, tapping her on the nose. “I know when you’re lying and that definitely looks like it hurts. Just be good for Harrison.”

With that Emma clapped her hand on her daughter’s shoulder for a brief moment than turned to head towards the bathroom, where her son was more likely than not freaking out about his hair loss. She rapped her knuckles gently against the door.

“Westley? Kid? Can I come in?”

She sighed quietly when she received no response. She pushed the door open as gently as she could. Wes was standing in front of the mirror, hands slightly quivering as they ran over his shorn hair. He looked miserable.

“Oh kid,” Emma sighed, moving behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault…”

“I look like Caillou, Mom,” he replied miserably. “No one likes Caillou. He’s annoying and bald and even Neddy hates him and that kid would cuddle the Black Fairy.”

“You do not look like Caillou, Wes. It’s gonna grow back. I promise…” Emma replied helplessly. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault…”

“What am I going to do? People are gonna laugh at him. Bobbi is going to totally take tons of pictures of this so she can torture me with them. Even Gideon is going to laugh.”

“Gideon is not going to laugh and Bobbi is not going to take pictures of you, I promise. I’m not gonna let that happen to you.”

“You can’t stop them” he replied stubbornly.

“But I can.”

“How?”

“How is not important. It’s going to happen. It’s my job as the Savior, kid. If I can’t protect you, then I can’t protect anyone.”

Wes didn’t say anything. He just scowled at his reflection in the mirror, which made it quite to clear to her that he didn’t necessarily believe her. Emma sighed, placing her hand on his head, rubbing circles against the skin. Her thumb grazed the thin delicate shell of his ear and she couldn’t help but notice how pointed the tips of it was.

“You got your dad’s ears along with his eyes, kid,” she thought aloud.

“No, I look like bald elf.”

“You don’t. You look like your dad. Especially without the blonde.”

“Dad’s not bald.”

“I think you’re focusing a little too much on the baldness, kid,” she replied, tugging on his ear.

“Yeah because it makes me look like a freak!” he said bitterly. His posture then deflated, shoulders sagging and lip trembling. His eyes met hers in the mirror and the sad look in them was a direct stab in her heart. Wes, who was seemed so confident and so resilient, looked ready to cry. “I can’t go out in public looking like this, Mom…”

“I’m sorry.” She repeated the two words she had been saying all night. There was nothing else she could say except those words.

“I know,” he huffed, annoyed. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I am.” She rested her head on top of his as she ran her hands from down his arms in what she hoped was a smoothing manner. “I don’t know how but I’m going to figure this out and we’re gonna get through this…”

“How?”

Emma was silent for a moment as she tried to think of a solution. There was absolutely nothing they could do about his hair now, but it was very clear to her that her son would avoid going out in public in such state if he could help it. He needed something to cover it. Perhaps a hat.

She then smiled as an idea hit her. She placed a quick kiss on his head.

“Wait here. I have an idea.”

She immediately left the bathroom and made a beeline to her closet. She reached for the cardboard box, which held all of her winter things. She smiled as she pulled out one of her numerous beanies. It was black and made from one of the most softer materials she owned.

When she returned to the bathroom where Wes was still agonizing, she immediately placed the beanie on his head, folding the brim so it fit snug and covered the tips of his ears.

“There,” she smiled. “Now you can’t tell that you have no hair.”

“Where did you get the beanie?��

“It’s from the Emma Swan collection.”

Wes scrunched his nose in response.

“So it’s a girl beanie?”

“Kid, it’s black. Black doesn’t have a gender I’m pretty sure so who cares? The point is that no one can see the hack job that I did to your hair…Also, for once, you kinda look like me…with the beanie and the red hoodie…it’s about time I got a Mini Me,” she replied, placing another kiss on his head.

“Beth kinda looks like you.”

“Beth is almost disturbingly your father personality wise. You and I both know that,” Emma chuckled. “And then there’s  the conspiracy theory that Har is really a clone gone wrong. And don’t get me started on Neddy…”

Wes merely arched his eyebrows at her in response.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Either way, how are we feeling about the beanie?”

“I’m not sure my teachers will let me wear it in school, but yeah. It looks okay. I mean, it’s not bad for a girl beanie.”

“Beanies don’t have genders, but I can talk to your teachers about letting you wear it until your head comes back.”

“Okay. The beanie can stay, but Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not touching my hair ever again.”