#and whenever they find a new trashcan they’re just like

[strawberrywithlegs]

Recently I’ve been thinking about how in hsr, Clara pretty clearly views the trailblazer as an older sibling figure, and that concept is adorable and also hilarious if you think about it too much.

Like, I know Clara is a very smart kid, but imagine Clara seeing the trailblazer digging through trash and just generally being a menace to society and Clara is like, "Wow! Maybe I should do those things!"

And now Natasha may have to hold an intervention because she walked outside her clinic and saw tiny little ol’ Clara inside a knocked over trash scavenging around. I also imagine Svarog is concerned but Clara just seems so happy he’s not sure if he can stop her. Robot dad is confused.

[themsource]

Homeless in New York - HT!Sans/Reader

Another idea ramble! Well, basically plot spiel. This one is very long though. I really liked the part in Beyond Two Souls where Elle goes through the homeless experience with Stan and everyone, for how eye opening it was and...other reasons! ^^

Said in the new year I'd share more so I'm blowing dust off my idea folder and just putting them out there lol

...I have a lot ._.

Rating: M

You and Sans start out as rivals.

He’s mean, cruel, says the most awful stuff with even worse morbid puns that set your hairs raising whenever you encounter each other but you’re just as vicious right back. There’s an energy to your exchanges that always leaves one of you smiling in the end, a witty verbal game of cat and mouse where the roles are constantly flipped. 

For some reason out of all the fellow homeless you’ve met Sans gets to you the most. Mainly because you both always end up competing when it comes to resources. It’s a constant battle but one that you end up finding security in with how often it happens in the bland monotony that is job hunting and scrounging.

He smirks as he gets the last bed for the night at the shelter, fine, you have your favorite vent in the far off ally behind the donut shop anyway but you beat him to the food kitchen and steal the last bowl of potato soup much to his annoyance. Sometimes it’s in reverse, sometimes you both end up winning and missing out, but those are rare and far between.

You’ve been homeless for a long time and know the streets and the people on them. Sans is someone who only popped up a year ago wearing his four coats and his bizarre choice of three layers of mixing shorts and pants, one of only three monsters in the big city as far as you know since the race came top side six years prior. You don’t know where he came from but this whole rivalry started because you’d had to step out of your place in line to help someone outside the food bank and Sans had stolen it.

When you came back and pointed it out he had only shrugged and said ‘sounds like a personal problem kid.’

Never had you encountered a fellow struggler who wasn’t kind and supportive. New York may have been renowned for its cold shoulders and careless attitudes but that didn’t apply in the homeless community, there was always sharing if it could be managed rather that was a spare bit of food or a warm trashcan fire. You’d even tried telling him that wasn’t how it works and tried to nicely explain but he’d rolled his single red eye and told you to ‘buzzoff’ instead of listening.

You vowed to never let him know peace after that.

This continues for months and during that time you find moments. Moments where there’s some sort of silent understanding. Catching him with a bummed cigarette and several crossed off job posts on the paper he’s holding, exchanging a frown for his shrug. Him watching as you are attempting to duct tape the sole back on your shoe and titling his skull with you gesturing accusingly at a careless nail abandoned on the curb that had caught you. Never speaking except for those bantering moments where you’re trying to one up and beat the other out.

There’s no kindness, no verbal sympathies.

Until one day when a new shelter opens up and there’s plenty of space, it’s the biggest most well equipped one yet with the softest beds that you’ve found in years, only to see them chasing Sans off, or trying to. He stands there unimpressed as the man who owns the place, a blading big hefty man in his 60s yells up at him both hateful and derogatory things.

‘Your kind is a nuisance! Nothing but nightmares! Just look at these innocent people, don’t they suffer enough without having to see your ugly mug!?’

No one is trying to step in, more likely afraid they’ll be kicked out for back talking. You can tell they’re uncomfortable though because they all exchange awkward glances. Obviously they feel the same as you. Sans deserves the help as well. In fact you recognize a guy in the crowd you’d seen hanging out with Sans once sharing a smoke and the look on his face practically shouts offended and angered.

‘Hey!’ 

The man sputters as you approach and Sans’ eye lazily pans over before widening, and his frown shrinks as you take a step between him and the old man. ‘He has a right to be here just like the rest of us!’

Sans glowers as he reaches for your shoulder, ‘i can handle this–’

But you shake him off and spin on him.

‘I know you can! You’re such an asshole I bet you could rip this guy's skull from his shoulders and not give a damn!’ His glower drops as he looks over at the guy (who visibly sweats at the look) and back to you before shrugging and you continue. ‘But he needs to learn we’re a community!’

You spin right back around and point at the guy, jabbing him in the chest. 

‘We suffer day in and day out! We struggle to get by and sometimes the only kindness we get is from each other. People like you? Who think they’re doing us a favor by making us play damn lottery just to get a bed or some food, you’re the ugly ones! Because look at you! There’s still plenty of beds but you’re turning one of us down just because he’s a different race, knowing he’s struggling too! Talk about showing your damn colors. Not to mention this is obvious discrimination!’

The embarrassment and fear in the man’s face vanishes as he latches onto your last sentence, ignoring the rest of your rant and valid points like a complete jerk, turns smug and stern.

‘Discrimination laws don’t apply to monsters miss. And you’re right, we have the right to ‘play lottery’ as you call it because sometimes things get tight, and sometimes so we can provide for the people that deserve it! Kindness gives is what kindness gets and if you want to abuse a fellow human being over trash then you can get the hell out!’

There are a few that know you that look ready to intervene but you shout about how you ‘don’t need handouts from a jerk’ and that you ‘have a perfectly working vent in the park’, keeping those that would help from suffering another painful night needlessly. You spin around back to Sans who’s been silent watching this whole thing and he meets your eye with a half lidded look that you can’t help snapping at.

‘Shut up and come on! Benches are more comfy than those rock slabs he calls mattresses anyways!’ You stomp away and Sans follows you. The cold night air helps to tame your temper as you walk but not by much and it’s some time before Sans finally says anything.

‘you’re a dumbass.’

You're shivering and tuck your hands under your armpits. You’d forgotten it was supposed to be negative three tonight. Your response is a grumble. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘...here.’ He sheds one of his four jackets and dumps it unceremoniously over your head. 

You gratefully latch onto it and roll yourself in the larger material like a walking burrito and when you get to the vent that night not only does Sans help setup right beside it with his own foil blanket to share with the mat you’ve provided but also silently tucks you into his chest.

It’s awkward at first but you’ve cuddled with complete strangers before in the New York climate and so willingly fall asleep in his arms.

From there you spend time getting to know each other for a few months. Working to make sure you both manage to grab food and a bed even if you have to share sometimes, which honestly you’re okay with because turns out Sans is surprisingly warm for a skeleton. You still mouth off to each other but now there’s questions, words not hostile in nature.

‘you good?’

‘The manager didn’t know what he was talking about, I bet the next interview will be the one!’

There’s a time where he spots you meticulously washing your fingerless gloves, making sure to pay extra attention to the rose embroidery so the color don’t wind up too faded.

‘those are pretty.’ It’s said off-handedly but you feel an appreciation for the comment nonetheless. They’re all you have left of the one who loved and raised you before they died and your life went to hell in a handbasket. You don’t tell him any of that but Sans can tell they’re important anyways.

The gratitude shows in your voice as you smile down at them. ‘Thanks.’

Then suddenly you feel awkward and remember the quarter you have in your pocket. You pull it out and toss it at him, marveling how easily he catches it without looking up from one of the free burgers he snatched from a care worker doing patrols.

‘what’s this for?’

‘A penny for your thoughts, a Quarter for your manners.’ You reply smugly.

He snorts, ‘that’s not a thing’, but pockets it anyways.

Sans actually manages to get a job for a bit, you both celebrate and rent out a double bedded hotel room for a night with a breakfast buffet, but quickly the dream is crushed when Sans gets let go for some high school student.

Then you manage to earn a good chunk of change from a side job an old friend offered you and you use the money to buy you and Sans better winter clothes (which he tries to argue with you over but you ignore him as usual and win the argument by stating it’s a necessity for survival).

All is good, for once being homeless seems not so bad, still sucks but not awful.

Reality reminds you good things don’t last as news hits that the city is passing new mandates to help curb the homeless problem by eliminating shelters and closing down food banks. Supposedly it’ll get people to ‘get off their asses’ or go ‘loiter elsewhere’ all in all people believe this will solve things.

Things get tense as fellow homeless start turning on each other over scraps and places to sleep, even you and Sans get weary with each other but start deciding to find abandoned houses and buildings to squat in for a few nights at a time. Somehow without even noticing you both have started doing practically everything together and have started sticking to the other like glue.

But never once did you ever have to sacrifice. You were both very sufficient at finding your own things and if there was extra offering it to the other. That’s why it feels as if the world shattered the night you finally feel the fallout of having not eaten in a while.

You’re both in a basement of an old school, sitting around a meek fire made of newspaper and woodchips but you can’t feel the meager warmth at all. In fact your lips have gone blue and your vision keeps doubling in and out. 

Sans looks at you from across the flame with a frown as he’s rummaging in his pockets.

‘when did you eat last?’

It’s a struggle to think. ‘When I found us that half bag of sunflower seeds by Charlies.’

‘that was four days ago.’

‘Oh…’ A part of you cringes at the revelation and yells at yourself over your stupidity. ‘Lost track I guess.’

‘and here you’re supposed to be the more experienced out of us.’

You chuckle lamely before breaking into a coughing fit. Sans looks down at the fire and then at the potato he found in his hand. It’s raw and has roots growing out of it, not to mention a suspicious green mold on one side, by all accounts it will probably make you sick.

But it’s something.

He holds it out in offer. ‘here.’

You stubbornly shake your head and pull the foil blanket closer. ‘N-no, you’re hungry aren’t you? Last time you ate was day before yesterday.’

Sans rolls his eye at the fact you’ve kept track of him but not yourself and he glances away. If worse comes to worse he can manage on finding a small animal or something. He’s been better since reaching the surface in managing his symptoms but he still has a limit. You on the other hand being human you won’t last nearly as long as he will before going insane.  

‘i’m fine. i’m not that bad, yet. i can last a little longer.’

Yet?

‘Didn’t you starve underground?’ You ask, uncertain and guilty.

Sans ignores you and gets up to slap the potato in the palm of your hand. ‘shut up and eat.’

Prepared to argue you snap your mouth shut instead over the loud rumbling your stomach makes. You shakily bite into it, wincing at how foul it is but choke it down. You finish sick and nauseous but the hunger is gone and you survive another night curled up with Sans by the dying fire. One of the first things Sans ever said to you was that he hated humans, ‘you most of all’ during one of your spats. 

But it looks like that’s slowly started to change.

The mandates are just the beginning, you both find a newspaper while garbage scrounging one day that declares a new law being enacted to start locking up anyone that’s homeless as it’s now seen as a crime tied into loitering. Sans shrugs it off and scoffs as he once again, really frequently, mutters low under his breath ‘stupid humans’. 

But you’re shocked, because of course they would decide that wasting precious tax dollars to lock someone up like a criminal would be a smarter decision than putting the funding towards helping to  find better jobs or bills to help create some, maybe even help to lower the cost in the housing market. No money can only be spent to try and earn more money. Good luck to that though because all those fines on a homeless person? 

What a fucking joke. 

As if closing down the shelters and food kitchens wasn’t enough.

Land of the free? More like land of the dollar.

Horrifyingly the homeless population gets cut down by half within a month. At first you think they’re at least getting in from out of the cold, and you admit a bit shamefully that it's kind of tempting (Sans even huffs an agreement 'makes me a bit jail-lous, not gonna lie' as he rubs warmth into his hands) but when you learn they’re being sent to places that are essentially labor prison camps you and Sans both do your best to avoid being seen too often.

At this point you’re no better than a murderer or thief in the eyes of the law. You don’t even want to think about what could happen to Sans as a monster. Job interviews are never done more than twice every few days to avoid suspicion of your desperation, and you and Sans both start washing your clothes in the cleanest ponds and fountains you can find as often as you can.

It’s rough.

…You’re not prepared the first time Sans goes hungry.

You don’t know what’s happening, Sans is shaking, trembling as he stays huddled in on himself, hands fisted over his face and phalanges curled in the brim of his beanie, pulling it down in what looks to be painfully tight.

Is this really what he looks like hungry?

You wrap your arms around him, trying to comfort him but it feels as if the skating only gets worse and there’s rough growling under his breath that concerns you. You’re lost, you don’t know what to do and there’s nowhere you can go so late at night to–

A rat, about the size of a shoe, runs across the floor.

You don’t want to think it but…

It’s…

It’s something.

You leave Sans to his corner, reassuringly rubbing his arm though he doesn’t seem to notice and take a deep breath of icy air as you slowly make your way over to where the rat is nibbling on something. Your joints are stiff and your whole body aches from the cold but still you steel yourself and lunge.

Never before have you been so grateful to have decent reflexes.

It’s over in a blink with one good smack against the ground. You take a moment to calm down. Killing has always twisted your stomach, never in your most hungry moments did you ever kill an animal to get by. But this was for Sans.

You slowly walk back over and lightly shake his shoulder to try getting his attention, ‘Sans, Sans look!’

It’s agonizing how long it takes for his quaking hands to pull apart just the slightest inch, revealing his eye which is blown wide in a manic frenzy and the horrifying blackened drool running from his teeth like a tainted waterfall. 

Your heart skips and you shake as you feel like prey before a predator. 

Refusing to be cowed you cautiously hold up the rat and his eye immediately snaps to it. He snatches it from you with such ferocity you yelp as you quickly back away. Sans tears into it with a viciousness, devouring it whole in three gruesome messy bites that makes you slightly sick to witness. And then he’s staring at the wall unseeing, breathing heavy as he wipes his jaw with a hand as the shaking slowly dies down. Gradually he’s still again, in that ever calm pose that you’re used to seeing and his eye shrinks back down to normal size, only then does he look over at you.

It’s as if Sans just now realizes what happened and quickly grabs you, starts turning you around as he looks for anything amiss despite your worried protests. When he’s satisfied he’s holding a hand over his face and chuckling with relief. ‘aw geez, sorry kid i—’

Your sudden embrace cuts off his words. Sans doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He slowly returns the embrace with another mumbled sorry but you only hold him tighter. You don’t know what that was but you never want to see it again. You never want Sans to ever get that bad, not if you can help it. Which leads to you constantly splitting the food you find from then on, even if it’s no better than a mouthful and he tries to fight you on it before conceding every time you threaten to leave the food where you found it. 

Sans’ refusal to waste is…oddly endearing.

When he calls you ‘Rosebud’ for the first time instead of kid it shocks you, but you don’t protest. In fact you try not to blush over it but he sees it anyways and gives you shit over it with a smug grin on his face.

Then you actually witness the police beating a man with a baton for trash digging before dragging him away. Only Sans’ hand on your shoulder stops you from trying to help before guiding you and him both to safety. You both stop traveling together as much in daylight, meetup at certain times and certain places to check in and then find a place together for the night. One of you goes trash hopping and scrounging during this time while the other keeps watch over the base, and it works well.

But when morning hits one day and Sans doesn’t come back you panic. 

You leave a note on the cement floor with a rock ‘looking 4 u’ and then go hunting. You search half the city, risk your safety by approaching people who know you’re homeless to ask after Sans or if they’ve seen a skeleton monster. With each negative and sad head shake you grow more and more anxious. Tears are in your eyes and you're freezing when night hits but you don’t stop, you keep going and even dare to sneak around the back of the local police station to see if Sans is in a holding cell.

When he’s not you try heading back to the base for one more night.

The sound of sirens stops you.

They get closer.

Frantically you look every way you can for a path off the trail but find none in your panic. You’re going to get caught and you still haven’t found Sans and he won’t know what happened–

A hand grabs your arm, and you're running blindly where it leads you.

The shadows of an alleyway fall over you and you’re pinned to the wall just as flashing red and blue lights pass. Mind slowly catching up you glance at who’s sheltering you and meet the red glow of Sans’ eye as he peers down at you. He’s covered in sweat, panting from having ran, but he’s here and fine–

You aren’t thinking when you pull him into a kiss and neither is he when he returns it with just as much passion. He hoists your legs up over his hips, growling ‘rosebud’ with a fierceness that shakes you, and drags you further into the alleyway, safe from prying eyes.

Being in a relationship with someone while being homeless has always been complicated. Always hurt feelings or worries that can’t be helped, an uneven power dynamic where food or drink is being forced on you for good conscious that even the affection you can get begins to feel questionable in its genuineness.

There’s none of that with Sans, nothing really changes.

There’s maybe more kind words, but there’s kisses now and sometimes more.

You both still have spats and go back and forth just as you did when you first met but you both end up smiling at the end of it, together. It strikes you how you really still don’t know that much about Sans, and he doesn’t know much about you either. You’ve both just been living in the moment and you decide to keep doing so. You’ve been happy so far despite being on the run like fugitives, why change that?

You regret that decision when Sans suddenly gets sick. He was fine that morning, but as the day wore on and you kept meeting up with him he started looking off colored from his usual white, grayer and grayer. When you ask he says it’s just a cold which you choose to believe.

Then as night hits and you go to cuddle with him…

You notice he’s already passed out.

Sans is sweating and…

You freeze.

You don’t know the first thing on how to help a sick monster. You doubt anyone in any of the hospitals do either and you start worrying. He continues to sleep, unresponsive to you no matter what you say, panting, and you make the executive decision to search him and see if he has any medicine or anything at all.

That’s when you find a bundle of string tied letters tucked away in one of the many pockets of one of his multiple coats. You quickly look through them, noticing they’re all from someone named ‘Papyrus’. Birthday wishes, holiday greetings and random life updates…the word ‘Brother’ and many, many, names of various people Sans obviously knows by how they’re talked about.

You have to stop and take a second to register what you just discovered.

Unlike you he has a loving family. 

So why was he homeless? 

…You didn’t understand.

A sharp gasp has you jolting and slipping a hand to his forehead. He’s burning up, as hot as a kettle. You start skimming the letters again until you find a phone number. There’s only a split second where you hesitate knowing how Sans feels about his privacy and how this might really upset him but you ignore the worry and go digging until you find a single spare quarter in one of his pockets, the one you’d affectionately given him.

Thankfully the payphones still work in the area you’re both currency camping at and you manage to sneak from building to building without notice. Your heart is racing when the call goes through and the number starts ringing.

‘HELLO?’

‘Is this Papyrus?’

“WHY YES! THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS! MAY I ASK WHO YOU ARE AND HOW YOU GOT MY NUMBER?’ You consider, it’s not too late to hang up and stop from crossing this personal boundary more than you have already because you still don’t know why Sans isn’t with them, you can hang up and hope that Sans was right and this was just a cold and he’d be recovered by morning.

But then you remember the potato and the alleyway after you’d feared he’d been caught…

‘He’s got a cold.’ You whisper.

A sigh.

Papyrus’ tone is suddenly subdued and no longer jovial, serious as a heart attack. ‘Where is he?’

[dreamwritesimagines]

Caught In The Fire 1 - The Funeral [Mobster! Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback to the preview my loves! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses! 

Summary: Funeral of a mob boss is not the best place to reconnect.

Word Count: 2601

Warnings: Violence, death, funerals, crime, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care. 

 Ever since you were a child, you had always found it strange that one’s family could determine their fates. Granted there were people who could break that cycle and choose what they wanted to do with their lives, but nearly no one around you had been that lucky, including you.

When your father had moved here decades ago, he had used up to his last penny to buy a pub and turned it into a bakery, and only after buying it he had realized that it wasn’t some kind of luck that it had been so cheap. The problem was the location and as he had been informed by two men who dropped by the next day after the opening, the bakery was built on the neutral ground, right in the middle of these gang territories. Each family ruled a different part of the city, and the neutral ground was off limits, so whenever the gangs needed to make sure that they wouldn’t get shot or ambushed, they would meet up there.

Pub served a better purpose, but even they had to admit, a bakery looked much less suspicious.

At first you didn’t even know. You were just a child after all, and your father had made sure to usher you back to the kitchen or to the backyard whenever certain people showed up, and you had never protested because as far as you were concerned when you were six years old, all grown-ups did was talk about boring things and glare at each other. But one of those days when you were sitting on the stairs at the back of the bakery, trailing the spoon in the bowl full of cake batter you had stolen from the kitchen, a boy with bright blue eyes and dark hair walked to the backyard.

“What are you eating?”

You looked up from the bowl, making him stifle a laugh at the sight of the cake batter all over your face and you looked behind you to check your father was nowhere to be seen, then held up the bowl,

“Do you want some?”

“What’s that?”

“Peach cake batter,” you said, “Daddy says it makes you sick if you eat too much but it’s delicious.”

He frowned, “Cake doesn’t make you sick.”

“It does if it’s unbaked. It gives you—“ you thought for a moment, trying to remember what it was called. “It gives you salmons you see.”

“Salmon is a fish.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Exactly. It – it makes fish in your stomach, so they make you sick.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but didn’t say anything as he took the spoon you offered him and dug it into the batter before taking it into his mouth.

“Daddy says customers aren’t supposed to be here.” You said and he shrugged his shoulders.

“My dad is making a deal in there, and I got bored waiting in the car with his men,” he mumbled before he gave you the spoon back “Will you tell them I’m here?”

You smiled at him brightly and shook your head,

“No.” you said, and offered him your hand because you were sure that was what you were supposed to do when you met someone new, “I’m Y/N.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he shook your hand and you scrunched up your face.

“That’s a lot.”

He grinned at you, “You can call me Bucky,” he said, “Everyone else does.”

“Miss?” you were pulled out of your thoughts when the woman waiting at the door motioned at you, “Arms up please.”

Right. Of course.

Everyone had to be checked for weapons when they walked into the Barnes household, especially in times like these. You held up the tray so that she could pat you down and once she was sure you weren’t carrying any weapons, she took a look under the foil to see what was in it and let you pass. You tried not to get distracted by the huge house, that familiar pang shooting into your heart at how different it was from your small apartment, but you shook your head and walked into the living room to put the tray next to other food before pulling the aluminum foil off to ball it in your hands. The house was packed with so many people, all there to pay their respects for the deceased mob boss or get on his son Bucky’s good side, since he was about to take over the family business.  

Or to make sure their alliances continued. 

But the one thing you knew about everyone in this room? They were not to be crossed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Steve Rogers sitting beside Rebecca Barnes, Bucky’s sister who was uncharacteristically silent as she stared into space. She muttered something to Steve and he nodded, heaving a sigh and squeezing her hand as if to assure her everything was going to be alright. Tony Stark was by the corner of the room with James Rhodes, speaking in hushed whispers and Natasha Romanoff looked to be in a serious discussion with Sam Wilson as they walked past you.

“I get what you’re saying but it doesn’t change anything in terms of business, Bucky knows that.”

“Doesn’t it? I’ve never had to be checked for weapons at the door until now.”

“It’s a funeral, Nat.” Sam said, “You know it as much as I do that not everyone is here to give their condolences. You’ve seen Winnifred.”

“She just lost her husband, and she’s not the person I’ll do business with, her son is.” Natasha said, “Did you talk to Bucky after the meeting?”

“You know what he’s like.”

You could feel your heart skipping a beat but you scolded yourself in your head, it definitely wasn’t the time for this. You looked around for a trashcan, but of course there was none so you turned around in hopes of finding one outside the huge living room, but crashed into a hard body. He grabbed at your shoulders to help you regain your balance and your eyes snapped up to see who it was, ready to apologize but the words got caught in your throat.

He looked as handsome as you had last seen him. You could feel your heart beating in your ears and his blue eyes searched your face, slowly withdrawing his hand.

“Bucky.” You swallowed thickly, “Hi.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, then shook his head as if trying to snap out of his thoughts and motioned at the table.

“Are those black cupcakes?”

Right.

Yeah, that wasn’t the best idea.

“I just,” you cleared your throat, “I figured I couldn’t bring his favorite cake, because cake is for…happier times so I figured, cupcakes—but it’s a funeral so that’s why they’re black.” You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment, “I’m being nonsense. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He shifted his weight as if he didn’t want to think about it which was expected because this was probably the hundredth time he was hearing this. You strained your mind to come up with something to say, but before you could find anything he reached out to grab one of the cupcakes to take a bite and nodded at the door.

“Follow me.”

Okay, what was happening?

You didn’t get to ask him as he walked upstairs with you following him closely and he entered one of the rooms in the huge hall. You looked around as you stepped in after him, it looked like some sort of an office with a big mahogany desk, a library and a comfortable couch. The room alone was probably half the size of your whole apartment but you tried to pull yourself together.

“It’s so loud in the living room, impossible to get anything done.” he leaned back to the table, “How’s your dad?”

“He has some health issues.” You said, making him raise his brows “Nothing serious, it’s just…he can’t really stand for so long, and he’s getting older, you know? I took over the bakery a while ago so that he could rest and all.”

He gawked at you, “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did no one tell me?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, “It’s no big deal, really. He sends his condolences by the way.”

He nodded slowly and you bit inside your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of the new yet intimidating mob boss holding a cupcake.

“I wanted to tell you,” he cleared his throat, “Even if my father is dead, the deal still stands between him and your dad. Nobody touches the bakery, it’s the neutral ground so you don’t need to worry—“

“Bucky, I’m not here for that.” You interrupted him and he looked almost taken aback.

“What?”

“I’m not here to ask for something or talk about deals, I’m here to pay my respects. Your father was always nice to me and I will miss him, that’s the least I could do.”

He blinked a couple of times in confusion and something told you this was the first time he was hearing something like that without a request following it.

“Oh.” He turned his head to grab the glass of whiskey on the desk which made you think he had been closing deals left and right since the morning at the same office and it probably wasn’t his first glass of the day.

“Would you want some?”

“No thank you.” You said as you watched him down it in one gulp and you shifted your weight, nibbling on your lip.

“Let me guess,” you said softly, “Business doesn’t wait for funerals to end, huh?”

He lowered his gaze, his rings tapping against the glass as he heaved a shaky sigh.

“It really doesn’t.” he murmured but something in his voice was so barely held together that your body moved before you could realize what you were doing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and it was only when his body froze against yours that you realized what you had just done. You were just about to pull back and apologize when you felt his arms sneaking around your body, holding you tight and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he had pressed his nose into your hair to inhale deeply.

“Do you need anything?” you asked when you pulled back and a small smile graced his lips for the first time.

“No,” he murmured, “Thanks peaches.”

Ah.

That nickname again.

You had almost forgotten about it.

“How’s your uh…” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “How’s your fiancé?”

Your smile faded slightly as it dawned on you, “My-? Oh right, you don’t know. We broke up a couple of months ago.”

His head shot up, “What?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged your shoulders, “He sort of- well, not sort of, he cheated on me, so….”

He frowned. “You should’ve told me.”

“Why?”

“I would’ve sent someone around.”

A small laughter escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“Bucky, you can’t get a guy beaten up because he cheated on me.”

“Sounds like he deserved it though.”

“No way.” you said, “It’s fine. How about you? Do you…?” you trailed off, and it wasn’t fair that your heart skipped a beat while waiting for an answer, not at all.

“Do I have a fiancée?” Bucky finished the question for you and chuckled, “No.”

“It doesn’t have to be a fiancée.” You said, “You know… a significant other.”

He tilted his head, that amused smile playing on his lips and you scrunched up your face.

“You know what, I’m prying. Just ignore me okay? It’s not a good thing to talk about at a funeral—“

“Peaches, I’ve been listening to people talk about money, deals, or their memories about my father the whole day. Trust me, this…slice of normalcy feels better than you could ever imagine.”

You looked up at into his bloodshot eyes, something in your stomach twisting painfully before you licked at your lips.

“Alright,” you said, “Normalcy then?”

“Yes please.”

“I came up with a new cupcake the other day,” you said, “I mean I’m sure I didn’t come up with it, but I tried it by myself and it’s pretty good, you know?”

“Will it give me salmons?” he asked and you shot him a look, trying to hide your surprise that he still remembered that.

“No.” you said, “It’s a bourbon cupcake, all those moms on Pinterest will worship me.”

He blinked a couple of times and held up the half-eaten cupcake,

“There’s a cupcake out there that can make me drunk and I’m eating a non-alcoholic one on my father’s funeral?” he deadpanned “When did you become so cruel?”

Your jaw dropped and you bit down a smile.

“You should be careful,” you said, “I know a guy who can send people around if someone is mean to me.”

He grinned and held up his hands, mocking surrender.

“I know a threat when I hear one,” he said and someone cleared their throat by the door, making you look over your shoulder to see Steve leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “Sam needs to talk to you Buck.”

“Right now?” Bucky stole a look at you and you waved a hand in the air,

“It’s okay, I gotta get Em from school anyway, I should go.”

Bucky pulled his brows together,

“Your sister goes to school now?” he asked, “Wasn’t she a toddler like yesterday?”

“She’s in first grade now Bucky.”

“Jesus Christ I’m getting old.” He muttered to himself, making Steve chuckle.

“You’ve just realized that?” he asked and you smiled at Bucky.

“Take care, okay?”

“You too. Thanks for…being here.” His eyes searched yours, “Send your dad my regards.”

“Will do.” You said and nodded at Steve before walking out of the room, your cheeks still burning.

All the way to Emma’s school, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, and you bit at your lip, trying to focus on something else, anything else. You took a deep breath, and turned your head when the door to passenger seat opened and Emma got in the car.

“Hi!” she smiled at you brightly and put her seatbelt on, “I have no homework today!”

You let out a small laugh, “Is that right?” you asked and she nodded.

“Can we go and see the aquarium? Please? Please please please? They say there’s a whale there, a huge one!”

“Okay, okay…” you raised your brows, “Breathe, and yes we can go see the aquarium.”

“Then after aquarium can we have a tea party?”

“You might have to wait for that, kiddo.” You winked at her, “I need to drop by the bakery.”

“Wait, then I can come to the bakery too,” she said, “I can help, you said you would let me help if I got a star.”

“Did you get a star?”

“I will!” she insisted, making you smile at her fondly and you hmmed.

“You can help me yes, but you can’t eat what we’re making, okay? Not this time, I’ll give you a cookie instead.”

She pursed her lips, frowning. “Why not?”

You started the car, your stomach making a pleasant flip before you turned the steering wheel.

“Because Em,” you muttered, “We’re making grown up cupcakes for a friend.”

Chapter 2

Taglist: @rhabakoli  @theskytraveler @alwaysadreamingoptimist @danyka-fendyr  @a-seeker-of-imagination @readingsubtitles @threeeyesslitthroat @alytavzla @sfyri @silverkitten547 @finnickfoxes @lostinmydream-world  @sadlittlefairygirl @celestialhayi @superwolfchild-fan @endaglivet  @onebatch--twobatch @justnerdystuffs​ @demigoddesofchimichangagod  @iblogabout-stuff @addictedtofictionalcharacters  @syrenak @emmalbg @bookloverfilmoholic @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @raspberrydreamclouds @wellfucksorrymum @meganlpie​ @dogshemp​ @actuallyazriel​ @captain-spandex​ @chibi-liz05​ @thebadasssass​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ @buckys-other-punk​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @valhallaas​ @anatomyofaclumsymum​ @efferuse​ @you-are-my-sunshine-90 @usernamesarebitches​ @readsalot73​ @bellamys​ @crazyandanonymous4u @elliee1497​ @bluebird214​ @we-are-all-wild-things​ @yennewolf @whovianayesha​ @calumisdaddyaf​ @awkwardspontaneity​ @mrsenos08​ @some-person-somewhere @thyunnamed​ @an-awkward-human-1​ @supercarricat​ @rhaelrence @aworldwideapart​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @jooordanharrrop​ @jbarnesss​ @starfish-angel @paramorefold​ @thedaisydeer​ @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​ @mariaenchanted @merelrose​ @pinkisokay​ @lady-of-lies​ @mahleeyuh​ @dezzylou24​

[basicallywhiterice]

on top of the world (dong sicheng/winwin)

pairing: sicheng/winwin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, flangst. friends to lovers, highschool!au, dancer!sicheng, spring break trip

summary: The fall to the ground doesn’t seem so daunting when you’re living on top of the world.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: cussing

a/n: if enough people get mad at me i’ll write a part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

this can be read as a standalone, but it is part 1 in the on top of the world series. crossposted on ao3 here!

Chinatown, Washington, D.C., 7:01 p.m.

“Honest Abe? More like, honest babe,” Lucas hollers to Kun and no one in particular, drawing a few disgruntled looks from the pedestrians waiting for the walk signal to flash again. He winks at a man in a navy suit, who rolls his eyes and looks away. Yangyang reaches over for a high-five.

“Dude was 6′ 4″, of course he’s a babe,” Sicheng whistles, leaning behind Yangyang and craning his neck to steal glances at Kun’s phone.

To your right, Ningning flits around, snapping pictures of the street displays and assorted neon lights on the storefronts. You watch her alongside Giselle, who pops her bubblegum, periodically glancing at the traffic light at the bustling intersection. Standing shoulder to shoulder with you to your left, Kun rattles off a hodge-podge of facts about Abraham Lincoln and Ford’s Theatre, which you just passed by, from his phone screen to a faux-enthused Yangyang, who shakes Sicheng by the shoulders every time Kun reads a new fact. He occasionally gets pushed into Lucas’s side, rolling his eyes while doing little to hide the growing grin on his face.

“... and apparently they planned his assassination in the building the Wok n’ Roll restaurant we passed used to be,” Kun remarks.

“OH MY GOD SICHENG ISN’T THAT SO CRAZY?” Yangyang all but screams. “IT WAS IN THE WOK N’ ROLL!”

As you glance over fondly, your eyes linger on the orange hues and kaleidoscopic shadows the nearby “do not walk” signal spills over Sicheng’s face. After a moment, he looks away from Yangyang’s exaggerated bouncing. His gaze flits upwards, meeting your stolen glance with his own.

The world grinds to a halt beneath your feet when a strong gust of wind blows through your hair, propelling you into free fall into the depths of his eyes until Giselle tugs on your arm, pulling you back into the present.

She gestures toward the “walk” signal on the traffic light, and you fall in line with her quick footsteps as you stride across the crosswalk.

“We should go there later,” she suggests. “Try summoning Lincoln’s ghost or something.”

“The Wok n’ Roll?”

“Yeah. Do you think his ghost would have his top hat?”

“I thought ghosts were just spirits and didn’t take material possessions with them?”

“Yeah, but then every ghost would be naked, which would be hella inappropriate.”

Ningning overhears, skipping up to you and looping her arm through yours. “You have to prove the existence of ghosts and take them out to dinner before you get them naked, you pig.”

“I made yo momma sound like a ghost last night,” Lucas quips. “I skipped the ‘getting dinner’ part, though.”

“Goddamn,” Giselle exclaims as you burst into laughter, throwing jokes and jabs at each other for the rest of the trek to the ramen restaurant where you eat dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn, Washington, D.C., 9:13 p.m.

After helping Giselle and Ningning unpack, you knock on the communicating door between your hotel room and the boys’ in order to bother Kun.

Sicheng answers, moving aside so you can step across. Their room is surprisingly clean, although you chalk it up to the limited amount of time they had to unpack earlier today. Lucas sits at the desk in the corner near the window, hunched over his laptop while Yangyang peeks over his shoulder. You glimpse a few pictures of the Washington Monument on his screen before he scrolls down to other marble structures.

“Are you looking up other places to visit?” you ask him.

He glances up, cracking his neck before responding. “Yeah. I can’t find anything special that we don’t know about, though.”

“It’s boutta be lit,” Yanyang chimes in.

“Ayeee,” Lucas responds. They start aggressively patting each other on the back and arms, and you take that as your cue to leave before they wrestle you into whatever weird ritual they’re performing.

Turning, you see Sicheng flop down onto the bed closest to the windows where Kun lays, sprawled out. “Hey,” Kun greets, lifting his head from his pillows.

“Hey,” you reply, remembering the reason why you came to the room in the first place. “Oh yeah! I found a stop sign a few blocks from here on a decently busy street. It’ll take ten minutes to go there and back, tops.”

He groans. “I would love to go, but I just got a stomachache. Tell you what. Sicheng,” he says, propping himself up at a snail’s pace and clasping Sicheng’s shoulder, “you can accompany her there, right?”

“To a stop sign?” Sicheng asks, looking up from his phone.

“A hand-picked, top tier, magnificent stop sign,” you proclaim. “Whenever me and Kun travel, we always get a random passerby to take our picture in front of a stop sign like it’s a tourist attraction. Are you down for potential social awkwardness?”

The corner of Sicheng’s lips tugs up into a grin. “You know it. I’m not ruining your tradition with Kun, am I?” he asks, glancing sideways at Kun for confirmation.

Kun flops back down on the bed. “Nah. If I went right now, I’d probably ruin the tradition by shitting my pants there or something.”

Sicheng chuckles. “Promise? We could print out those pictures and mail them back to your parents like a postcard.”

“I like the way you think,” you say with a scheming smile, nodding at Sicheng before turning back to Kun. “Anyways, drink some warm water to help with your stomachache, maybe? What do you think caused it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that trashcan pizza slice in the subway.” Sicheng reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Ow! I’m kidding! Why would you torment a sick man like this? Go away and take your pictures already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask as Sicheng asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I’ll take a Pepto-Bismol in fifteen minutes. Go and have fun.” He waves you off, grabbing a spare pillow and lightly smacking Sicheng with it.

“Fine, mom.” Sicheng stands, pocketing his phone. “You ready? I just need to put on my shoes.”

“Yeah.” As he walks over to the closet, you sneak a peek at your reflection through your phone screen. Fighting back a sudden bundle of nerves, you discreetly smooth your t-shirt down, running a hand through your hair. Kun wiggles his eyebrows when he notices, and you flip him off, silently warning him to stay quiet.

He doesn’t. “Have fun on your date with loverboy,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

“After you leave, should I check out the pool?” he murmurs. “Lucas and Yangyang said they don’t feel like swimming tonight.”

“What, isn’t your stomach—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time? Off you go!” He shoos you away, almost standing up to push you away and laying back down before Sicheng can turn around. You’re almost impressed by how well he set you up.

Still, though. If Kun weren’t your best friend, you’d shove him into the hotel’s fountain.

H Street Northwest, Washington D.C., 9:40 p.m.

Half an hour later, you give up on the facade of collecting anti-tourist pictures after the third stop sign, stopping by the Chinatown Express to grab a bowl of noodles with roast duck to go. You walk for a few blocks before finding a bench to sit and split it at, slurping them up in an appreciative silence.

“Oh my god,” Sicheng intones around a mouthful of noodles. When you look over, his cheeks are puffed, an empty spoon descending to rest inside the soup container.

“You look like one of those baby birds eating scraps,” you giggle.

“I’m certainly skilled with chicks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, then scoot closer to pick up a piece of roast duck. Your knees touch, but neither of you move away. “Do you think there’s a more advanced form of life than humans, like aliens, and they view us how we view animals?” you ask, resuming the conversation you had about the meaning of life before you sat down. “Like we don’t think birds could become self-aware, no matter how intelligent they are, so then we can’t achieve the alien version of self-awareness no matter how philosophical we get.”

“Good question. Uh, alien self-awareness would probably relate to the meaning of life or something, right? Or the secrets of the universe and breaking the laws of physics. And because they’re so big brained, they could control things with their minds and be enlightened with telekinesis. So hypothetically, if I were a wise, sagely alien,” he says, gently picking up your hand and laying it flat against his palm, “I could make my hand pass through yours if I had enough brainpower.”

His hand is warm, and you hope furiously that your palms aren’t sweating. “Was this another excuse to hold my hand?”

“Well, did it work?”

You raise your eyebrows and fail at biting back your smile. “You already know, you just want to hear me say it.”

He grins. “Then say it!”

“Yes, Sicheng, it worked.”

“Awesome.” He moves his right hand to pick up his spoon, briefly tugging your hand with him until he realizes. “Fuck. Sorry, I have to let go of your hand while I eat. Unless you wanna see me struggle with my left hand.”

“As much as I’d love to watch you do that, I feel like that’d be an insult to the rest of the noodles.”

When you finally remember to stand up and throw away the long-forgotten remnants of your food, he holds your hand carefully but firmly as you walk past the White House, and you imagine his hold on your heart must feel the same.

Lafayette Square, Washington, D.C., 11:16 p.m.

“Dance with me,” Sicheng pleads, pulling you under a streetlight. You nod, but your feet stay cemented on the brick-paved sidewalk.

“I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine.” You place your hand in his outstretched one, and he lifts your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “No one’s around to judge, so just do whatever.”

“Wise words,” you deadpan, but you let his hand on your waist guide your swaying.

He’s right, though. After the initial awkwardness fades, you find that waltzing around isn’t so bad after all—especially when he twirls you around the pocket of light underneath the lamppost so gently it feels like you’re dancing on air.

And when he dips you as you throw your head back, laughing, you think you finally understand why his eyes light up every time he finishes a dance performance.

“Is this what you love about dancing?” you ask once you’ve come back up.

He nods, eyes closing briefly. “Partly. The grand choreographies are the showstoppers, but the simpler moments keep me sane.” His eyes flutter open. “I haven’t let anyone see me dance with such bad technique in a while. I’m usually not this bad, I promise.”

“I know,” you grin. “I saw you at the winter showcase. You were amazing.” Then you take a deep breath, and brace for the worst. “The lyrical piece you closed with was the one you used for your audition, right?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

Abruptly, he releases your hands and steps back. You allow yourself to feel a twinge of guilt for mentioning the elephant in the room before you steel yourself for the impending conversation.

“We should probably talk about that,” he says.

“We should. Do you want to walk around the National Mall? You said you liked it earlier today.”

“Sure.”

The walk is quiet enough for you to overthink. Sicheng got accepted by a dance studio in Korea, after months of submitting auditions and traveling back and forth between countries. He’s leaving soon, even if he says he’s still waiting to hear back from Juilliard and keeping his options open. You see it in the goodbyes he keeps subconsciously saying and the memories he drinks in like it’s his last chance to, and you’re terrified of what your life will look like without him.

You glance over at him periodically, and he seems to be lost in thought too, staring straight ahead down the well-lit path. His eyebrows furrow as you pass under a streetlight, and you wonder if you brought it up the wrong way.

You’re disappointed in the crude way you shoved the future into a perfectly happy moment, then mad that you’re disappointed. It was inevitable that you’d have to talk about what would come after graduation, and it was inevitable that he’d have to remove himself from your side to chase after his dreams. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pulled away already.

Stupid, you chide yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, loving so hard that your chest implodes from all the weight it carries, already drifting through the pangs of hurt and the wisps of melancholy bringing about a premature nostalgia.

“I’m really going to miss you next year,” Sicheng confesses out of the blue.

You glance up. His hands are shoved into his pants pockets, his eyes roaming over your face like he’s trying to remember all the secrets it hides.

You think you might always run back to him. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:33 p.m.

“So.”

“So,” you echo. “Have you looked at decisions yet?” It’s a pointless question. You know he’s not going to Juilliard.

“Yeah, I looked at them this afternoon in the theater.” He clears his throat. “I got waitlisted.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to accept a spot on the waitlist.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I had made my decision anyway.” Then he sighs, his nonchalant facade dropping for good. “You can probably guess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m accepting the studio’s offer,” he whispers, as if the air is glass and the moment could shatter at any moment. The words float there, above your head, and you imagine grabbing them and hugging them close to your chest before they slip away.

You don’t. “I figured.”

“Yeah. You knew.”

You stare ahead and will the tears not to fall.

“I’m leaving as soon as school ends,” he says, with the sideways glance that marks the start of his rambling distraction process, “and flying there on—”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurt. He pauses mid-sentence. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Can we talk about this, for real? You can tell me all the details later, I just—please,” and your voice cracks, “don’t dismiss this.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

A blink, and the first teardrop traces its way down your face.

You waste away the hours of your stolen youth with a boy who wipes your tears away and comforts you over the future that you’ll no longer be a part of.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:57 p.m.

“Before I leave,” Sicheng says, scuffing the heels of his shoes on the gravel pathway, “I know I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. I mean, I’m going to leave anyways, so why not, you know? I have to say something before I’m gone. Um, so, you know this by now, but I… I—” and you already know what’s coming.

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Give me a minute to think.”

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, his eyes wide and shining. “Yeah. Alright. Take all the time you need, please.”

In half a year, Sicheng will be gone and you will be left to pick up the pieces of your life that don’t involve him, piecing them together the best you can and carrying on like there isn’t a hole in your heart.

“I’m in love with you.” One thud of your heartbeat. Then another. “Sicheng.”

In half a year, this chance will be long gone, and if you let it slip through your fingers without grabbing on, you’ll never forgive yourself for letting Sicheng become your biggest what-if.

“I’m in love with you too.” He raises his hand to cradle your face in his palm. “Y/n.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a while now.”

“Me too. It’s not just because I’m leaving, you know.” You nod, his palm momentarily pressing against your cheek. “You knew.”

“Yeah.”

You stare up at him, the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and holds entire galaxies in his eyes.

“What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about dating?”

You freeze like a deer in headlights. “Dating?”

“Yeah, would you? Like to date me?”

And then Sicheng turns into a what-if again. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I don’t know if I could handle the split.”

“We don’t have to break up when I leave. We could do long distance,” he suggests, but it sounds flimsy even to your ears.

“I don’t know, Sicheng. I don’t want to end up losing you.”

“I know. We don’t have to, especially if you don’t want to.”

You nod once in acknowledgment, and then you’re stepping into his arms again. He holds you securely, stroking your hair and waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper into his shoulder an eternity later. “Could we have been doing this earlier?”

“It would’ve been too fast,” he reasons, and you’re inclined to agree. “We didn’t really… not until this year…”

“Yeah.” You’ve known Sicheng for years and have been close with him for months, but you only fell in love with each other when it was too late. “I wish we started hanging out sooner.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

“Maybe.”

You pull back enough to glance up at him, gaze dropping to his lips at the close proximity before immediately bringing it back up. His eyes follow the movement, a smile creeping up his face.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asks, and he says it so earnestly that it’s hard to believe he’d be wrong.

“It wouldn’t,” you agree. His nose bumps with yours and you blink up at him once, twice, and then you’re leaning in until the faraway sounds of the city fade away. He’s purposeful and patient and when all you can think of is the brush of his lips against yours, it’s just you and him against the world.

One kiss might not hurt, but one turns to two and two turns to too many and when you finally pull away and stare into his eyes, dazed, your lips tingle from the ghost of his mouth on yours.

At that moment, the way his mouth slowly stretches into a grin does something to your heart, and you think you’d let it break a million times just to be the cause of his smile.

“Yes, Sicheng. Let’s date.”

He kisses you again, beaming so wide that his teeth knock against your lips and pulling you closer, almost picking you up in the process.

You wonder if you made the wrong decision.

[fanmoose12]

terrifyingly complicated

Levi and Hange come to a Halloween party, wearing a two-person costume. Everyone wonders what that can mean.

Working at a law firm was exhausting. It was also very stressing. And since he couldn’t get drunk in the middle of workday, Erwin had no choice, but to resort to another vice – smoking. Whenever the tension inside of him grew too intense to ignore (which happened rather frequently), Erwin took a pack of cigarettes and went outside. Feeling the smoke enter his lungs and then releasing it into the air, watching the white whiff dissolve into nothing calmed Erwin down better than anything.

During his smoke breaks, he was often accompanied by his co-workers. Mike joined him frequently. Moblit came a lot, too, especially when the stress of dealing with his troublesome superior Hange made him feel like tearing out his hair. As far as Erwin knew, Hange didn’t smoke. And even if she did, she never took breaks, too passionate about her work to let anything distract her. That is until Moblit, or sometimes Levi, didn’t make her rest. Moblit pleaded and bargained with her. Levi simple dragged her away from her desk.

Speaking of Levi, he was the one, who accompanied Erwin the most. He didn’t smoke that much, so Erwin suspected that Levi used the excuse of smoke breaks simply to get out of their noisy, bustling office.

This time, of course, he joined Erwin, as well.

"So, Levi," Erwin glanced at his friend. He lighted up a cigarette and passed the lighter to Levi. "Are you going to the office party this Friday?"

Erwin didn't actually expect an affirmative answer from Levi. If he could help it, Levi always stayed at home, preferring to keep his human interaction to a minimum. Recently, though, he started appearing at social gatherings more often. Erwin strongly suspected that a certain bespectacled co-worker of theirs was the reason for this sudden change.

Still, Halloween wasn't just another party, where everyone gets slightly drunk and bitches about their higher-ups. You have to wear a costume. And in all those years that Levi worked in their firm, he had never attended the Halloween party.

So what a surprise Erwin got, when Levi took a drag of his cigarette and then slowly nodded.

The cigarette almost slipped from between Erwin's fingers.

"You're coming?" he couldn't help, but ask again.

"Yes.”

"And... do you have a costume?"

"Frankenstein's monster," Levi replied nonchalantly.

Erwin openly stared at him. Was their conversation real? Or was it some kind of fever dream?

"F-frankenstein's monster?" he repeated, getting more and more worried about his sanity.

"Erwin, check your hearing," Levi grumbled. "Yes, I'll be a Frankenstein's monster, like from the novel, you know?"

Levi looked so calm, as though him not only attending a party, but also wearing a costume was a regular occurrence and not once in a lifetime event.

Erwin put a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. Just one cigarette wasn't enough to get him through this bizarre conversation.

"So... if you're Frankenstein's monster...” Erwin said slowly, carefully. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Levi will be at the party. “Will there be a Frankenstein?"

"Of course, there will be Frankenstein. It’s obviously four-eyes," Levi huffed. "Who else could it be?"

Who else indeed. Erwin felt like an idiot. Truly, there was only one person in this world, who could force Levi to do something like this.

But the question was... Did it mean something?

"Oi," Mike appeared outside, joining them, before Erwin could ask that question. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Levi answered immediately .

Erwin shared a look with Mike. "Hange and Levi are going together to the Halloween party."

"Oh," Mike raised his eyebrows. "You finally decided to let people know?"

Levi stared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about? What do we need to let people know? That Hange has an annoying ability to pester people until they agree to do what she wants them to? It is hardly news for anyone."

Ah. That was it. Erwin shook his head, he shouldn't have expected anything else. Levi and Hange were the most oblivious people in existence. Everyone in the office knew about their feelings for each other. Everyone, except Levi and Hange. Erwin often wondered how two people can be so smart and so stupid at the same time. These two were obviously made for each other.

"So you two..." Mike trailed off, trying to find the best words. With Levi and Hange, one had to be as concrete as possible. "...Er, you did not confess to each other?"

"Confessed about what?" Levi scowled. "You both are so weird today," he turned around, throwing the cigarette butt into the nearest trashcan. "Whatever, I'm going inside. You shouldn't stay long as well. Your brains have obviously started to freeze."

Raising the collar of his coat higher, Levi hurriedly made his way back inside.

Mike and Erwin watched him go, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"I can't believe them," Mike muttered. "They're really doing a two-person costume, but they don't realize what people will think? Nanaba and I have never worn a couple costume, and we've been dating for four years!"

"It's an extremely difficult case," Erwin agreed with a sigh.

“You’re their boss, can’t you do something about it? Like order them to get their shit together and stop living in denial?” Mike asked almost desperately. “The stench of their pheromones is making me insane.”

Erwin looked up, lighting up another cigarette. “I don’t think anything can be done about it. We just have to wait and hope that they will realize it by themselves. Pushing them in that direction will only delay any possible development.”

“Jesus,” Mike shuddered. “These two are terrifyingly difficult.”

***

“Hey boss,” Nifa sat down at the edge of Hange’s desk with a cautious smile. Hange hated when someone interrupted her work. Unless that someone was Levi. Strangely, she didn’t seem to mind whenever he came up to her desk to engage in another round of meaningless bickering. Furthermore, Hange herself often took a break from her oh so precious work to go and find Levi, just so she could share some joke or pun with him. However, Nifa obviously was no Levi, so she had to resort to placating her superior with a cup of coffee.

If there was something Hange liked more than her work, it was coffee.

It seemed like Nifa’s plan was working out. Hange accepted the coffee, looking up at Nifa with a kind smile.

“Do you want something?” she murmured, taking a large gulp from the cup.

“Halloween is this Friday,” Nifa explained, tilting her head slightly. “What costume are you going to wear this year?”

Most of the people at their firm didn’t really bother with costumes. The majority just put on vampire teeth or painted their faces with fake blood and called it a day. Although this year, they had new interns, so maybe they would be able to spice things up a little. Personally, Nifa couldn’t wait to show off her Freddy Kruger costume.

And she was also dying to know what Hange was going to wear this year. She always went out of her way to come up with the most gorgeous and creative costumes. Last year she dressed up as a space pirate. And year before that she was a grim reaper. She even had a scythe! Nifa’s favorite, however, was that Halloween, when Hange wore a zombie costume. It was both disturbing and awesome – the look was completed by a part of brain, sticking out of Hange’s hair! She claimed that it was real, and Nifa, knowing her superior, wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

“It’s nothing special this time,” Hange revealed. “A little boring even.”

“Oi, quit teasing,” Nifa chided. “Your costumes are never boring. So, what is it?”

“If you want to know so much,” Hange sighed, feigning indifference. However, a little twinkle in her eyes told Nifa that, despite her claims, Hange was excited about the costume. “I’m going as Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein?” Nifa drew her eyebrows together. “Monster or a scientist?”

“Scientist.”

“Oh,” maybe, Hange was right after all. It did sound a little boring. “Why not a monster?”

“Levi is going to be my monster,” Hange confessed with a wide grin.

My monster?

Did that mean what Nifa thought it meant? She could ask Hange about it, of course, and she would probably answer, but still, asking her superior that kind of personal question felt a little too intrusive even for the great gossiper Nifa.

However, she could always take a less direct approach.

"I don't remember Levi ever attending the Halloween party," Nifa looked at Hange beneath her eyelashes. "It must have been hard to make him come this year."

"You bet it was," Hange agreed, pushing the glasses up on her head. "He had two conditions."

Nifa leaned closer. "What conditions?"

"Firstly, I have to learn how to brew tea the way he likes it."

That was.... so Levi, Nifa thought with an internal smile. Everyone in the office knew he was obsessed with tea. However, why did he need Hange to learn how to brew it? As far as Nifa knew, Levi didn't let anyone come near his precious tea stash. Was Hange an exception? If so, then why? Could it mean that they were much closer than just friends?

Still, it wasn't conclusive evidence. Nifa needed something more substantial.

"And secondly," Hange showed the exact number with her fingers. "Levi wants to wash my hair. He says it's dirty and sticky, and he hates the stench of my shampoo," Hange shrugged, while Nifa was too busy gaping at her. Levi wanted to wash her hair? Seemed a little too intimate even for the best friends.

"It isn't the worth deal," Hange continued, seemingly not seeing Nifa's bewilderment. "I mean Levi could have demanded to let him clean my apartment. He always complains that my sheets are too dirty."

How in the world Levi knew about the state of Hange’s sheets? There was only one possible explanation for this…

“So you and Levi are seeing each other?” Nifa finally asked. Screw the less direct approach. It clearly wasn’t working.

“Um, yes?” Hange frowned. “I do see Levi a lot. I mean we live in the same apartment complex and we often hang out after work, so…”

Nifa barely kept herself from groaning out loud. These two were impossible! She thought she was an expert in human interactions but these were terrifyingly complicated for her to figure out. They were either actually dating or they were the most oblivious people in existence. And Nifa suspected that the latter was, unfortunately, true.

"I... I have a lot of work," Nifa smiled apologetically and hopped off the table. The intricacies of relationship between Levi and Hange were causing her a headache.

“What did she mean by ‘seeing each other’?” Hange muttered to herself. “I know that Levi is short, but he’s not that small. Was that a hint that I should check my vision?” she wondered, putting her glasses back on her face and returning to her work.

*** 

"Why are you dressed like a snobby douche?" Connie asked Jean, as the latter approached him and Sasha. It was the evening of a Halloween party, and everyone gathered in the dimly lit and sparsely decorated with cobwebs and pumpkins main room, chatting among themselves.

"I'm Dracula, you idiot," Jean scoffed. "Besides, what are you even supposed to be?" he looked at Connie's face and body, covered in toilet paper. He plucked his lips in disgust. "Toilet monster?"

"Hey!" Connie cried out, while Sasha snickered in her palm. "I'm a mummy!"

Jean decided not to dignify it with a response.

"And you?” he turned to Sasha. “You are red riding hood, right?"

"Yes!" Sasha beamed. "Look! I even have a basket! Trick or treat, Jean!"

Sasha proudly showed him the aforementioned basket. It was full of sandwiches.

Jean sighed.

"Did you choose this costume just so you could sneak more food in here?"

"Maybe," Sasha shrugged, taking out one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. "Want some?"

"Um, no, thanks. Even if I wanted to," which he did not. Trying to separate Sasha and food was a dangerous affair. Jean had learned it firsthand. "I can't really eat with these things," he opened his mouth, showing them his fake fangs.

"Wow," Connie grinned. "There is even blood on them! Can I touch it?"

"No way!" Jean took a step back, putting his hands forward.

“Hey, look, look," Sasha tugged at Jean and Connie's arms. "Eren, Mikasa and Armin came."

"What the fuck." Jean stared at Eren, his hands clutching into fists. "That asshole, what the fuck is he wearing?"

"Oh, Jean, I think," Connie patted his shoulder. "Eren is Van Helsing."

"He is!" Sasha agreed, pointing at the wooden stake in Eren's hand.

"Motherfucker," Jean growled. "He knew I was going to dress as a vampire!"

"Calm down," Connie rolled his eyes. "And don't start another fight. At least wait until we're out of office."

"You can always beat him up in the parking lot!" Sasha giggled.

“Or, more probably, Mikasa will beat both of you up in the parking lot,” Connie mocked with a shit-eating grin. Sasha cheerfully high-fived him.

“Shut up, you idiots,” Jean gave them both a smack upside their heads. “I fucking hate that jerk," he muttered, glaring at Eren.

"His costume is nice, though," Connie noted.

"His mother probably helped to prepare it," Sasha nodded. "Armin looks adorable!" she added. "That Peter Pan costume suits him so much!"

"Looks like Mikasa isn't a fun of Halloween, though," Connie continued. "I mean what is she even supposed to be?"

"Maybe, a ghost?" Sasha offered, looking at Mikasa's white shirt and long skirt.

"If she wasn't constantly glued to Eren's side," Jean began bitterly. "I would have asked her to be my Morticia Addams."

"She would rock that look," Sasha said with a dreamy smile. "Although, you're nearly not as handsome as Gomez."

"Hey!" Jean protested. "I would have been great as Gomez. And you," he smirked. "You could have been Wednesday and Pugsley."

"Eugh," Sasha and Connie exclaimed in unison.

"Now I'm kinda glad that Mikasa rejected you," Sasha told him truthfully.

"Shut up,” Jean mumbled.

"By the way," Sasha opened another sandwich and started eating it. "Did any of you see Historia? I'm curious what is she wearing. Her costumes are always so cute!"

"She's dressed as Princess Leia," Connie replied. "She even has her own Han Solo."

"Let me guess," Jean said. "It's Ymir?"

"Of course, it's Ymir. Although, calling her Han Solo may be a stretch, she's just wearing her usual work clothes, but now she also put a vest on."

"Ah, I want to come and say hi!" Sasha announced with her mouth still full of sandwich. "Where have you seen them, Connie?"

Connie made a face. "Last time I saw them, Ymir was dragging Historia to a supply closet, so..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I don't think they'll come out soon."

"Oi, look," Jean pointed at the entrance door. "That's Miss Hange."

"What is she supposed to be?" Connie scratched his neck, frowning in confusion. "Some kind of scientist?"

"No, she's Frankenstein," Jean replied.

"Now how did you guess that?" Connie asked, glaring up at Jean.

Jean didn't say anything, just showed Connie who was accompanying Hange.

"Oh." Connie breathed out.

"Oh!" Sasha exclaimed. "Who is that?”

Jean sighed.

“Sasha, pay attention please. Look at that guy’s height.”

“No way!” Sasha’s eyes widened. “It’s Mr. Ackerman?”

“I didn’t take him for a guy, who dresses up for a Halloween,” Connie mused.

“Neither did I,” Jean agreed.

“Hey, if they came together, does that mean they’re dating?” Sasha cocked her head to the side, observing the strange couple.

“Don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “I thought it was just some kind of a running joke.”

“Let’s go to them!” Sasha wrapped her arms around Jean and Connie’s shoulders, pushing them in the direction of Levi and Hange.

“Are you insane?” Jean hissed. “What are you even going to say to them?”

If Miss Hange was by herself, Jean wouldn’t have minded approaching her. She was nice, and really funny. Mr. Ackerman, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Whenever their eyes met, Jean felt an acute desire to hide under the table. Levi’s cold gaze terrified him.

“We won’t be talking to them,” Sasha assured him, leading them through the crowd of people. “I just want to take a better look. Mr. Ackerman’s make-up is amazing!”

Well, it was hard to argue with that. Levi wore a torn shirt and large jacket. His face was painted green with a few black stitches added on the side of his forehead. Jean had to admit, his costume was actually impressive. And Miss Hange, who was dressed in a white lab coat, which was purposefully dirtied with red and pink specks that were probably meant to represent the blood and parts of brain, with her big round glasses, crazy hair and even crazier grin, was a perfect Frankenstein. 

“Just be quiet,” Jean warned his friends, as they stopped a little distance away from Hange and Levi. “I don’t want to get in trouble with Mr. Ackerman.”

Connie and Sasha nodded and then the three of them turned their gazes at Frankenstein and her monster.

Hange and Levi stood in a corner, holding plastic cups in their hands. Hange was talking about something, energetically gesticulating. Her hands moved so wildly it looked like soon she’d spill the contents of her cup on the floor. Levi sighed and took the cup out of her hands. Hange smiled gratefully.

“Wait,” she stopped her rant and turned to face Levi. “Your make-up is smudged,” she reached out and moved her thumb across his cheekbone, gently wiping the paint.

“Of course, it’s smudged,” Levi grumbled with annoyed face. “It’s hot as fuck in here. Why there are so many people?”

“Because our firm is big?” Hange offered with a tiny grin.

Levi tsked. “Smartass. By the way, when was the last time you cleaned your glasses? I can see nothing but your fingerprints, four-eyes,” he plucked them off her face, scowling in disgust. Tugging at Hange’s coat, Levi used it to clean her glasses. Hange didn’t even try to protest, just watched Levi’s ministrations with an affectionate smile.

Jean, Connie and Sasha stared at them with wide eyes.

“They act so…” Connie began and then faltered.

“Domestic,” Jean finished for him. “Geez, they really are together.”

“I’ve never thought I’d say this about Mr. Ackerman,” Sasha admitted. “But they look adorable.”

“They do,” Connie agreed.

“C’mon,” Jean took Sasha and Connie by their sleeves. “Let’s leave them alone. I still need to settle a score with Eren.”

 ***

"Ymir, stop it," Historia hissed, trying to shake her girlfriend's hands off her waist. "People are watching."

"Let them watch," Ymir smirked, putting her chin on top of Historia's head. "They're just envious."

"You're insufferable," Historia huffed. She raised her head to press a kiss on Ymir's jaw. "Why do I even put up with you?"

"Because I'm hot? Because I'm hilarious? Because I'm excellent in bed?"

"Ymir!" A pretty blush appeared on Historia's cheeks. Ymir mentally patted herself on a head.

"Babe," she drew out, leaning to kiss behind Historia's earlobe. Ymir's hot breath made shivers run down her neck. "Let's ditch this party and go back to that closet. I'm so bored here."

"But look around!" Historia exclaimed, trying to ignore the growing desire inside her. "Everyone is dressed so nicely!"

"I don't really care, you know."

"You should," Historia muttered with a small pout. "Our friends came up with really original costumes!"

Ymir scoffed. "Kirschtein is dressed as Dracula. And Mikasa is the worst ghost I've ever seen. She could have put at least some effort."

"You're the one to talk," Historia rolled her eyes. "Putting on a black vest doesn't make you Han Solo."

"The costume itself doesn't matter, when I have the most important thing," Ymir lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. "My pretty Princess Leia."

"And our superiors picked cool outfits as well," Historia continued, ignoring Ymir. She wouldn't let her break her resolve so easily. They came to enjoy the party, not make out in supply closets. Even if the latter option started to look more and more appealing to Historia.

"Mr. Smith came as Indiana Jones!" she pointed at the tall blonde. "Doesn't he look handsome?"

"Yeah," Ymir replied unenthusiastically.

"And Mr. Zacharias! He's dressed as Thor!"

Ymir tilted her head, staring at Mike critically. He wore a cheap looking blonde wig and something that looked like more like red blanket than actual cape. "He's a mighty god of thunder, indeed," she deadpanned.

Historia ignored her once again.

"Miss Nanaba looks so pretty," she mused instead.

This time Ymir couldn't disagree. Nanaba was probably supposed to be Jack Skellington. And while the white make-up on her face was ridiculous, the suit fitted her perfectly, accentuating every curve of her thin but muscled body.

"What," Historia teased. "No sarcastic comment?"

Ymir shrugged. "You know how much I love women in suit."

"Asshole," Historia muttered, rolling her eyes.

“That's why you love me, babe."

Sometimes Ymir was so annoying, Historia thought as she stared at her cocky grin. It made her want to kiss her, just so she could wipe that smug expression off her face.

"I don't see Miss Hange by the way," Historia looked around in confusion. "I wanted to see her costume so much..."

Again, Ymir agreed with her girlfriend on that one. Hange was a lunatic, there was no denying that, and her excited energy was truly draining, but she was funny. Most of all, Ymir enjoyed watching Hange bicker with Levi, that permanently scowling midget. It was nice to see that shorty grit his teeth in annoyance, as Hange continuously teased him.

"Nifa told me that her costumes are always amazing," Historia hanged her head. "And Mr. Ackerman is absent as well..."

Well, that wasn't surprising in a slightest. Levi was definitely not the type to come to office parties.

"Forget about them. It's Halloween," Ymir kissed Historia’s cheek, trying to cheer her up. "I need my treat."

"You are really needy, are you aware of that?" Historia asked with a stern expression.

Ymir shrugged. Sure, she loved receiving attention from her super-hot girlfriend. If that made her needy, then so be it.

"That's a yes to a second round of make out session in the closet?"

Historia frowned, biting her lip. "What if this time someone catches us?"

"Who could catch us? I doubt that other interns will need that closet, unless Kirschtein and Yeager suddenly decide to let out their frustration with each other in a more productive manner than just screaming and waving their fists around. And everyone else here is clearly too boring and old to indulge in such activities."

"Fine," Historia finally surrendered. "But we won't stay there for long. I want to chat with some of our friends afterwards."

Ymir certainly didn't share the same sentiment, but, well, love is built on compromises, right?

She grabbed Historia by the hand, leading her to a closet with a wide grin on her face. Turning her around and holding her face between her palms, Ymir kissed her on the lips. With her back against the door, she pushed it open with her leg.

Historia froze.

"Babe?" worry reflected in Ymir's eyes, as she stared at her. Did she do something wrong?

Historia said nothing, just frantically pulled Ymir closer and then quietly closed the door. She didn't stop, and with her hands wrapped still around Ymir, Historia dragged her as far from the closet as possible.

"Hey, hey, what's up?" Ymir was barely able to keep up with Historia's hurried steps.

"There was someone in the closet," Historia whispered with a terrified expression.

"Someone?" Ymir frowned. "Who?"

"I don't know, I didn't get a good look, and the costumes really made it hard to recognize the faces," she pushed a stray lock behind her hair, her gaze darting around nervously.

"What were the costumes?" Ymir asked impatiently. Oh, she wanted to know who was making out in the closer so much! If she finds out, she'd tease that couple so hard!

"I... I think it was Frankenstein and his monster? I definitely saw a white coat and a green make-up.”

"Frankenstein and his monster?" Ymir snickered. "If I knew that the book portrayed that side of their relationship, I would have read it in high school."

"Ymir!" Historia scolded, smacking her forearm.

"Wait..." Ymir drew her eyebrows together, thinking. She scanned the crowd of her co-workers, checking her theory. "There are only two people who are absent from the party..."

"No way..." Historia breathed out, coming to the same conclusion. "Are you trying to say that it was Miss Hange and Mr. Ackerman?"

"Well, it looks that midget is getting his treat this Halloween. Good for him," Ymir said cheekily. "Let's go and tell these nerds about it."

"You want to tell everyone?" Historia looked at her worriedly. She looked so cute with her pursed lips and that little frown, Ymir's heart skipped a beat.

"Sure," she replied nonchalantly, trying to hide from Historia the fact that just a moment ago she was staring adoringly at her. "It's not like it'd be a secret to anyone. The way they constantly looked at each other, it was only a matter of time before they got their shit together."

"Alright, but let's not tell them how we found them in a supply closet."

"You're too kind," Ymir sighed, throwing a hand over Historia's shoulder. "But if you don't want to make them jealous, so be it."

Historia rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist the desire to press a swift kiss in the corner of Ymir's smirk. "Let's go already."

***

When almost half an hour later, Levi and Hange came back to the party, all eyes were on them. Hange's hair was in bigger state of disarray than usual and Levi's lips were red and swollen.

"I helped Levi fix the make-up," Hange explained, when they joined Erwin, Mike and Nanaba.

"Isn't a closet a little dark for that?" Erwin asked with a smirk. Beside him Nanaba and Mike could barely held in their laughter.

Levi's blush was visible even under the green paint. Hange nervously chuckled. None of them tried to deny it though. 

Erwin, Mike and Nanaba counted it as a success. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the prompt fill, number 3 for Indruck seems pretty fitting!

Here you go! Prompt 3 was “sweet” , Indrid’s design is based on a barracuda and I went with SFW on this one.

“Duck, can you do me a favor when you lock up?” Leo dumps orange taffy into a glass jar. 

“Sure, what d’you need?”

“Got some locks for the garbage cans; put ‘em on after you set the alarm out back. Somethin’s been getting into our trash every damn night for the last week. It makes a god-awful mess and I’m worried we’re gonna get a fine for littering.”

Duck nods, turns his attention back to the flock of tourists approaching the window. The afternoon is swallowed up in a pit of sugar-sticky air and blasts of welcome cold from the freezer. There are worse places for a summer job than Tarkesian’s Sweets--he’s right by the water, can watch the wildlife on his lunch break, and Leo is low-maintenance boss--but after eight hours on his feet getting splashed with soda or burned on the popcorn machine, he’s ready to head home. The trash locks have other ideas.

It takes ten minutes of cursing and fumbling to get the first bin secured. He doesn’t even know how the damn things are getting overturned; they seem too heavy for a raccoon or seagull to knock to the ground. 

A tiny splash behind him, probably a fish jumping. 

Then a crooked, shiny pole slowly enters his periphery. In dim yellow of the streetlight, he can tell the end of it is curved. It pokes inelegantly at the wall, then the locked can, then the wall once again, and then Duck’s leg.

The hook pulls back, pauses, then pokes him again.

“The fuck?” He grabs it when it goes for another jab, pulls up only for his arms to be wrenched towards the water. Not to be outdone, he tugs harder. His opponent retaliates with enough force that he almost tumbles off the pier. He growls, braces his foot on the railing, and hauls the hook and its owner up onto worn wood with him. 

It’s a guy about his age, angular face framed by a mess of silver hair and pierced ears. Figures it’s some sort of artsy punk swimming around poking people in the leg. That explains why he’s shirtless too. 

It does not, however, explain why he has a tail. 

“Rude.” The guy sits up on his hands, silver and black tail flicking droplets of saltwater everywhere, “I don’t go around stopping you from eating.”

“Look man, I just wanted you to stop jabbin me and knockin the trash over.” Maybe if he doesn’t mention the tail it will go away. 

“How else am I supposed to get at those odd, pulpy tubs full of ‘cookies and cream’ or ‘bubblegum’?”

“The fuck--wait, you were tryin’ to get the ice cream containers out of the trash?”

“Yes? I also want more of the caramel apples” he pronounces the last word “applees” causing Duck to giggle in spite of himself. 

“Look, I have to piece words together from the signs on your store. And you obviously know what I meant or you would not be laughing, so do you have any in the cans or not?”

“Nope” Duck gets his laughter under control, “sold out of caramel apples today.” 

“Drat” the visitor starts scooting across the pier towards the unlocked trashcan, “I’ll see what else I can find.”

“Wait don’t fuckin knock that over, Leo’ll be pissed at me if he comes back to a mess, and I don’t feel like pickin up trash because you want a snack!”

“But I’m starving!” The merman, because at this point there’s no way he can deny that’s what’s been rooting through the garbage, whacks at Duck with his tail.

“I know for a damn fact there’s food down there.” He points at the bay. 

“Only if you can catch it, and only if it is not in another mer’s territory. Which much of this area is; I am new here, young, and thus have no claim to any patch of sea.”

“You ain’t got any family?” Something pings in his chest. It’s the part of his heart that made him pick out the runt of litter when his mom let him get a cat on his thirteenth birthday, that means he always splits his lunch with Juno because she’s running track and needs it more than he does, that makes him tear up when he thinks about everything a sapling has to survive to become a tree.

“Merfolk leave home at sixteen.” The merman shrugs.

Duck sighs, grabbing his keys, “If I bring you somethin to eat, will you leave the trash alone?”

“Yes.” 

He shuts off the alarm, grabs a cone and fills it with bright blue ice cream. The merman is back in the water when he returns, arms resting on the pier.

“Oooh, my favorite!” He takes the ice cream, biting huge chunks out of it as Duck re-arms the door. 

Crunch

“...The container is edible!!”

He sits next to the merman’s arms, “Guess you wouldn’t have had an ice cream cone before, huh.”

“No, but it is lovely. I wish humans threw these away more often.” He polishes off the treat, licks his fingers clean with moans Duck hears in his dreams later, and smiles, “thank you for the meal. Goodnight.” 

There’s a final flash of silvery tail, and then Duck’s alone in the breezy night air.

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

“That’s a sandwich, correct?”

“AHfuck” Duck knocks over his water bottle in surprise. He’s eating behind the candy store like usual and not expecting an aquatic dining companion. 

“Apologies. I have seen you eating here before and thought you may like some company.” He sets a sea urchin on the ground and proceeds to bang on it with a rock. 

“Found some lunch?”

“I followed some otters; I was mainly trying to draw them, but they led me to a kelp bed no one else was in.”

“...Wait how do you draw underwater?”

“Let me finish cracking this open and I will show you.”

Duck spends the rest of his lunch break on his belly, the merman showing him a sketchbook and enchanted pen that conjures whatever colors the illustrator envisions. The mer is genuinely excited to talk to him. He assumes the nuzzling is due to him smelling like cotton candy; he doesn’t mind, the mer’s skin is cool and he makes cute little noises whenever he touches Duck. 

Before the stands, Duck asks, “You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“Duck.” 

Indrid’s eyes flick to the nearby estuary.

“Yeah, like the bird. It’s a nickname.”

“I like it.” Indrid smiles, dives, and flaps his tail once in farewell.

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

“Cutting school again?” Indrid’s voice bubbles up by his feet. 

“Yep.” Duck watches the spring clouds roll by from his favorite spot on the beach. It’s secluded and far from town, meaning no one will give him shit for skipping class and nobody will see Indrid.

He worked at Leo’s until this past summer, only quitting at the start of his senior year of high school when Indrid pointed out that much of Kepler was surrounded by water and that, if Duck wanted to see him, he did not have to keep working at the candy store in order to do so. 

“Not that I mind the free food.” Indrid winks. 

“Just gonna bring you bulk ice cream from Safeway; no way am I missin out on that chirpin you do when you eat it.”

Duck slides the grocery bag towards the surf, “not like KCC is gonna rescind my offer. Ain’t a fuckin Ivy League or some shit.”

“And you will be happy there?”

“Yeah. They got a decent work-study program with the park, so I can still get a job as a ranger if I want to.”

“Oh. Good.” 

Indrid sounds sad, and Duck sits up on his elbows. His friend’s torso is fully on land, his tail fidgeting in the foam. 

“What’s up?

“I...Barclay told me his human is going to a school further inland, and I know there are many places you could got to learn. You...you did not choose to stay in Kepler because you feel the need to look after me, did you?”

“Course not.” Duck is sitting up now, aching to stroke Indrid’s hair, “I mean, I’m glad we’re still gonna be able to see each other, and I really hopin I can get a room near the beach so it’s easy to come talk. But this is the right choice for me; if I really want to, I can transfer to a different school in a few years, and I can learn a lot here without takin on a shit-ton of debt. Besides, ain’t like I think you’re helpless; I love bringin you stuff and rubbin your fin when it’s sore, but that’s because you’re my friend. Don’t think you’re helpless. I never have.”

“Not even when I was stealing trash?”

“Thought you were a fuckin nuisance, not helpless.” He playfully nudges his shoulder with his toes. 

Indrid turns his head and nips his calf, “How’s that for a nuisance?”

“Not much, felt kinda nice. Uh, I mean, uh, fuck, so, where’d that worry about my stayin come from?”

The mer crawls and wiggles until they’re shoulder to shoulder, “I think my future sight is finally developing; my fathers arrived around the time he turned eighteen, so it makes sense mine would arrive at a similar point. The trouble is, I am having a hard time telling the futures from my own imaginings and worries.”

“That fuckin sucks.”

“I’ll manage. All seers struggle at the beginning. I just wish I was quicker at learning whether certain timelines are really more likely or if they are just ones that I want to be likely.”

“Like what?”

Indrid glances at him, opens his mouth, then shuts it and faces the sea.

Duck smirks, “‘Drid, there somethin you wanna ask me?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I, I just don’t want to pressure youOOOHhhh that’s not fair” he flops on his back with a groan as Duck scritches his upper tail, “you know I’ll do anything when you touch me like this.”

“Damn right I do. And what I want is for you to tell me the truth.”

Indrid whines, covers his face with his hands.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

“Rude” Indrid lowers his hands enough that his red eyes peer over the top, “is that any way to treat a mer who wants to kiss you?”

Duck gives his answer by pouncing on his friend, pinning narrow shoulders into the sand as he devours his mouth in kisses. 

“You like that treatment better?”

“Goodness, yes.” Indrid pulls him back down, slipping his tongue between his lips and nibbling his neck when he finally stops to breathe. Then his hand flails sideways, grabbing the plastic bag and chucking it further up the beach.

“The, the tide is coming in and I, ah, foresee us working up quite the appetite.” He tugs Duck’s collar down with his teeth, nuzzling and licking across his skin with little hums of pleasure, “so I want to save those for afterwards. Who knows” he grins, “maybe we’ll need energy for round two as well.”

Duck cups his cheek, inhales the scent of the sea and the sight of his future, “I like the way you think, sweet thing.”

[unholyobsessions]

Those who get sick together, stay together

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Luke and Julie are best friends and it takes a delirious love confession for them to finally get together

Requested: Yes

A/N: It may seem kind of rushed? not my best work but at the same time i really like it

Warnings: Sickness, throwing up

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

Here’s the thing, when you’ve known someone all your life you get used to doing everything together. Whether it be going to the arcade, the movies, shopping sprees, or vacations, where one goes, the other follows. That is the case with Julie Molina and Luke Patterson.

Growing up as neighbors in a suburban neighborhood of mostly retired couples made them the only kids within a five mile radius (and the winners of every chocolate selling competition the school hosted.) It was impossible to see the two of them apart and they liked it that way. They took the same classes and same extracurriculars, going as far as getting in trouble on purpose if the other had already gotten detention (when they were given a different schedule their freshmen year of high school, they gave a powerpoint presentation to the principle on the reasons they needed to be together… it worked.)

Considering the fact that they were never apart, it really came as no surprise when they both came down with the stomach flu the same weekend. Whenever they’re sick, they normally FaceTime the entire time, neither strong enough to visit and staying away if the other had miraculously not caught the sickness. This time however, Luke’s parents have to go on a business trip that has been scheduled for over a month that they really could not afford to cancel. Rose, ever the angel, immediately offered to have Luke stay over, saying that she is already going to take care of Julie, might as well nurse Luke back to health as well.

So that is why they both find themselves tucked into Julie’s bed with wet rags on their foreheads and grimaces on their faces. They each have their respective trash cans next to them in case they don’t have the time to run to the bathroom before throwing up.

Rose walks into the room with a bowl of ice in her hand but instead of going straight to the bed, she goes to Julie’s windows and pulls open the the purple blinds with butterfly stickers stuck to them. As a result, Luke and Julie let out loud groans and pull the covers over their heads. Rose rolls her eyes and walks over.

“The two of you are so dramatic I swear.” She pulls down the cover and takes both the rags to put them in the bowl.

“Mom,” they say, dragging out the word. A smile pulls at Rose’s lips, as it always does whenever Luke calls her mom. It’s been happening for years really, just as he calls Ray, Dad and Julie calls Mr. and Mrs. Patterson Ma and Pops respectively.

“Don’t mom me. You should be thankful I’m even here taking care of you.” They all know she’s lying. She would move a mountain for them, for anyone really, that’s just how Rose is.

She grabs the packet of pills from her pocket and gets two giving one to each of them. “Put these under your tongue and let them dissolve.” They both obediently do it but shoot up from the bed a few seconds later. Julie makes a run for the bathroom and Luke opts for the trashcan. Rose rushes after Julie, holding her hair back as she retches into the toilet. She faintly hears the sounds of Luke gagging and she lets out a sigh. So much for the pills.

Julie brushes her teeth and goes back to the bed, Luke getting up to rinse his mouth as well. Rose turn on the TV, hoping a couple of Friends reruns will brighten up their mood, and is about to walk out of the room when she hears a crash from the bathroom. She runs in to see Luke standing over a broken glass. He looks up with tears in his eyes.

“I-it fell. I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry.” Rose has to resist the urge to laugh as she grabs his hand and leads him back to the bed. She gets the now cold rags and places them over their foreheads again before turning off the light and going back to the bathroom to clean the mess.

Julie scoots closer to Luke and lays her head on his shoulder. Luke has the urge to push her away because the room feels much too hot for cuddling but when he opens his mouth to tell her to move she looks up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he has ever seen. He sighs and ignores the sweat forming under his clothes, pulling Julie closer against him, both drifting off to sleep after a few episodes.

. . .

The next morning they’re no longer running a fever but they do find out the hard way that they still cannot keep any food down. When Rose tries to give them some plain toast, hoping that they will at least get some food in them, they both got up from the bed, this time Luke going to the bathroom and Julie using the trashcan.

With a heavy sigh, Rose phones the doctor, questioning him on what is the best option for two picky teenagers.

He suggests using syrup medicine instead of pills and tells her a pharmacy where she could pick it up in a couple of minutes. She thanks him profusely before hanging up. When she goes back upstairs she sees Julie and Luke both making their way back to the bed after brushing their teeth.

“Hey guys I’m going to pick up some medicine, I’ll be about forty-five minutes. You going to be okay by yourselves?” She calls from the doorway. Julie groans and tucks herself further into the bed. Luke laughs and looks up at Rose.

“We’ll be okay mom. I’m pretty sure Julie is going back to sleep,” he answers with a smile. He still felt terrible but he wasn’t nauseous anymore and he called that a win. She smiled and said goodbye before leaving.

. . .

A few hours later, Rose goes into the room with the medicine in hand. She hadn’t given it to them when she first arrived because they had both fallen asleep. They had been awake for a few hours but the medicine is supposed to make them drowsy so she preferred to give it to them at night.

Julie’s sitting on the bed, brushing through her wet hair and Luke is changing in the bathroom. Rose sits behind Julie and gently takes the hairbrush from her. She finishes untangling her hair and gives it a final dry through with a towel. Luke comes out of the bathroom and smiles sheepishly.

“I threw up again.”

Rose simply holds out her hand and Luke speed walks to the bed. He lays down and cuddles at her side, with Julie leaning back against her chest. She places kisses on both their heads before telling them to sit up so they can take the medicine.

They each take a tablespoon and take a sip of water. Rose tucks them into bed and turns off the lights, wishing them a goodnight and waiting a beat for them to say it back.

A few minutes later, they’re laying side by side, the darkness of the room providing a sense of comfort. The medicine hits Luke harder than it should, and Julie teases him about being a lightweight as he says nothing but nonsense.

“Jules?” Luke’s voice is groggy, as if it’s fading away.

“Yeah Luke?” Julie however is fully awake, the medicine not hitting her yet.

“I love you.”

She blushes, a foolish smile pulling at her lips. “I love you too.”

“No but like, love you love you.” He’s not quite sure what he’s saying. He feels sort of like that time he got his wisdom teeth out.

Her breath hitches. “You’re delirious,” she whispers, wishing for him to take the words back before she can read too much into them.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m in love with you Jules, have been for a while.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but his eyes are drooping and she’s sure he won’t remember this tomorrow.

“Go to sleep Lu.” her heart clenches and she blinks the tears away, blaming the pain in her stomach and not her feelings.

“Okay. Goodnight.” And just like that he’s out like a light. A few tears slip down her cheeks and after a while, the medicine hits her and her eyes flutter shut.

The next morning she waits for him to say something, anything, and when he doesn’t she decides she won’t either. She pretends it never happened and tries her best to act normal but Luke’s not an idiot. He notices quickly that something’s wrong. She stays as far away from him in the bed as possible, flinching if even his arm brushed against hers which is a large contrast to her cuddly behavior the days prior. She would jump whenever he said her name, more specifically when he said, “Jules.”

When Rose greets them, Julie is thankful for the distraction. She keeps looking at her mom, avoiding turning her head when she gives them another dose of medicine. They’re both feeling much better and are able to hold down the toast. Rose thinks they’ll feel good as new by the next day and personally, Julie doesn’t think it can come quick enough. She stays quiet most of the day, only giving Luke short replies and nods of her head whenever he tries to start conversation. Eventually he gives up, not knowing what he did wrong but deciding to give her some time, hoping that she will approach him when she’s ready.

The next day, Luke’s parents arrive to pick him up. Julie hears them speaking to her parents; they ask for her and how she’s doing but Julie pretends to be asleep in order to avoid any conversation. She hears Luke shuffling around the room as he gets his stuff together. She pretends she doesn’t feel Luke’s lingering touch on her shoulder when he says goodbye and she ignores the tears that fall down her face when she hears the door close downstairs.

. . .

Julie and Luke did not fight. They argued but they made up within the span of a few hours, so to say Luke is worried when Julie does not reply to his texts is an understatement. It has been about two hours since he had gone home and he has sent Julie a text every ten minutes.

Julie knows Luke is not stupid and that her not answering him is suspicious but she can’t help it. She ignores every single message and turns off her phone. She keeps it off the rest of the day and tries to not think about him, because even a single thought of him breaks her heart.

The next day she leaves her phone in her room all day and stays in the living room watching Netflix with her mom. She resists the urge to go upstairs to at least read his texts because that would just make the situation worst. Late in the evening when Rose goes to make dinner Julie makes her way to the studio, itching to play the piano after four days of not doing so. She isn’t expecting to see Luke sitting on the couch with his guitar resting on his leg.

He stands up quickly once he hears her come in. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

“What are you doing here?” Julie asks.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came in here. Julie we need to talk.” He puts his guitar down and Julie shakes her head.

“We don’t need to talk? Why would we? I’m okay. We’re okay.” Julie averts her gaze, the words falling out of her lips in rapid succession.

“We’re not okay Julie. What did I do?” He asks desperately.

“Nothing. We’re fine,” Julie assures, trying her best to sound convincing.

“Jules,” Julie flinches and Luke’s face falls. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“My phone’s been off,” she states in a matter of fact but Luke shakes his head. He’s growing frustrated and her lack of explanation is pissing him off.

“Why are you ignoring me?” His voice is loud and hurt causing Julie to break.

“Because you told me you loved me!” The silence that comes after is deafening.

“What- Jules of course I love you. I’ve said it hundreds of times.” He really hopes his nerves aren’t as evident as he thinks they are.

“Yeah, but you said you were in love with me,” Julie whispers. She looks everywhere but at him and continues to speak. “And I know you didn’t mean it and it hurts so much because I do mean it. I’m in love with you Luke. And hearing you say it while you were barely conscious broke me.”

Luke stares at her, mouth hanging open as he struggles to find the right words to say. He walks closer to her, stopping when the tips of his shoes brushed against hers. “Jules look at me please.” She begrudgingly lifts her gaze to him and his heart clenches at the sight of tears forming in her eyes. He reaches a hand up to cup her cheek, gently wiping away the first stray tear with his thumb. “I am so incredibly in love with you.”

“What?” He wishes she didn’t sound as surprised as she does.

“I’m in love with you Julie Molina. I love every single thing about you. The gap between your teeth when you smile. The way your hair never stays the way you want it to but it still looks beautiful. I love your voice, and hearing you play piano. I love how you draw on the edge of your shoes and will stop whatever you are doing to write down a melody, even if we’re in the middle of a test. I love your little jokes and how you laugh so unapologetically loud no matter where you are. I love you so much and god do I hate myself for telling you while I was high off of flu medicine.” Julie was full on crying now and Luke’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears.

Going off instinct, Julie goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips against Luke’s, cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. Luke is taken by surprise at first but once his brain starts working again, he reciprocates the kiss. When they pull away they both have similar grins plastered on their faces.

“Are we good?” Luke asks.

Julie nods her head. “More than good.”

Rose smiles when they both come back into the house at dinner time and exchanges a look with her husband when they make their way up the stairs with Luke placing a hand on Julie’s lower back.

. . .

No one is surprised when they walk into school at the end of summer break holding hands, and if they spot a few teacher exchanging twenty dollar bills, they don’t mention it.

[cockasinthebird]

Something old, as in July 1st old, that I’ve technically never finished, so rather than letting 7 pages rot, I’m posting 4 of them here, and if I ever finish it, I’ll post the rest as a part 2!

Also since this is so old, there’s probably gonna be more errors than usual because as creators we constantly improve!

But I am still very very happy with this, like... yes... good... 

Anyways, enjoy a bit of Poolboy Billy and Rich Brat Steve

-

The sun sits atop of the sky in another unbearably boiling hot summer day in Hawkins, Indiana, and, unfortunately for one rich kid Steve Harrington, not even the AC unit can cool down his house enough for it to be livable.

Ice cream and cold beers by the poolside seem to be his only refuge, hiding underneath a large parasol from the unforgiving gaze of the sun above, Ray-bans pushed far up to shield him from the bright light of day, whilst also disguising how longingly he truly stares at the new pool boy.

Sun-kissed skin, curls of gold, muscles carved by a lustful sculptor, sweat shining like diamonds that glide down over his bare chest, his taut abs, all the way to where his shorts definitely sit too low on strong hips.

It's hard to know if it's really the sun or the view that makes it feel like Steve's body is about to burst into flames; if it's the dry summer air or the way Billy grins that makes him so thirsty.

They don't really talk past the usual niceties whenever Billy comes by to clear the pool of leafs, ensuring that the chemical levels are as they should be, and that the surrounding area is clean and nice to look at. Even in school it's barely more than bumping shoulders and talking trash on the court, although Billy always do seem to make it a daily task to get in the way somehow.

Yet when they're alone like this, a week or so into summer vacation, all that delicious fire and animosity just sorta runs dry. Could be that Billy keeps cool as to not lose his job at one of the only pools around, or maybe all the bravado was just a show of macho to assert himself as some kind of alpha male at school.

He had knocked Steve off of his throne as Keg King, which hadn't been that hard to do, because thanks to Nancy Wheeler's influence and Tommy's betrayal, Steve had gotten far too soft to even fight for that title, but maybe he didn't mind giving it all to Billy. There was some peace in letting go, and excitement in having it taken.

And as he lounges here, daydreaming about having everything taken by Billy, he doesn't notice that that same guy approaches him with a sly grin going up one side.

“You know, you're not gonna catch a tan lying in the shade like that,” he says, skipping by any form of hi or hello.

Even though Billy's wearing sunglasses, Steve knows he's looking up and down his half naked body stretched out here, long legs that goes under all too short swimming trunks, the trail of hair leading up from the waistband, undoubtedly counting every single mole in view. He can practically feel the eyes burn through him like he's a centerfold girl of a dear magazine.

“I'd turn lobster red in minutes,” Steve responds with and rests his head against the pool chair, maybe he flexes a bit, but mentioning that would be to admit Billy was watching.

Then he goes to grab Steve's beer, who doesn't object to it as he follows the motion.

“Maybe you should try wearing sunscreen like normal people.” Billy flashes teeth in an oddly teasing grin, and brings the can up to take a big gulp of it.

Once he's satiated, let's out a refreshed “ahh”, licks his lips slowly – along the curve of his upper lip, then slams down the can again.

Steve looks at his empty beverage, up at Billy who's got this wide shit-eating grin, then back at the can. To where he extends his arm in a lackadaisical fashion, and pushes it off the table with the flick of his index finger. It sings out hollow as it clatters to the tiles.

“Pick that up.” He smiles.

Billy cocks a brow, grinning still as if he's not about to do as demanded by the son of his employer.

“As you wish, princess,” his tone barely dipping into something venomous and challenging, as he bends forward to pick up the empty beer.

When he stands again he runs his hand through sweaty curls to push them away, and wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

“Anything else?” he asks with clear feigned obedience. The can crumbles inside his fist as he closes his hand like it's no big deal at all, as if it isn't telling of his thoughts.

“Yeah why don't you go get me a new one?” Steve asks all nonchalant, yet shifts a bit in his seat at that unnecessary show of aggression. He half expects Billy to throw the can right at him.

It crinkles further between his strong fingers.

“Go get it yourself,” stern and now with more of a snarl.

Steve sighs and looks away to contemplate on just how far he'd dare to push Billy, but the guy is all too easy to agitate it seems, and Steve doesn't feel like throwing a party with a bruised up face. So he stands up, notices the little jerk of Billy's lips as if he's won something, and walks up to stand next to him.

“Think you can clean up all of this shit before tonight?” he asks and gestures with his hand dangerously close to the other's face; close enough to feel the hitch of his breath. “I'm throwing a pool party tonight and want it to look nice. Maybe I'll see you there?”

Billy turns his head to stare at Steve's far more expensive sunglasses. He doesn't answer.

When it's clear that he's never going to, Steve keeps walking. “I'm gonna go take a shower... your money is on the kitchen table.”

And although Billy fights it- struggles against the urge that's begging for him to turn around, he gives in to watch Steve walk away. His plump ass looks so fucking good in anything, especially those too small trunks, and it is infuriating to him the way it carves itself into his memory; joining countless of other times he has looked where he shouldn't, gaze fallen too far down.

A sight that he remembers far more vividly than any bouncing set of tits, and the beer can he's still strangling whines again from within his frustration.

A sight that still sits there as he pours all the sloppy leafs into a black bag and carries it to the trashcan.

A sight that he can't stop thinking about as he rolls up the hose, gathers his net and goes to the storage closet of the pool house.

A sight that he has seen several times in the boys locker room. Naked. Wet. Soaped up.

“I'm gonna go take a shower,” Steve had said all casually, as if he isn't aware of how it goes hand in hand with all those fucking images that Billy sees every time he blinks or dreams. It keeps him up at night. Keeps him hard.

Gently he closes the door to the cramped storage room, filled with cleaning supplies and inflatable pool toys. He breathes with forced calmness, hand still on the handle as he struggles some more against those images. When eyes open to look down, his angered gaze is met with tented shorts. And he takes a deep breath. Fingers unfurl from the door handle. Unties the string of his red shorts, which then falls to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans out as his half chub hangs free. “Fucking Harrington.”

Billy places his hand against the door and leans on it with all his weight, just in case Steve found a reason to come here, which he doubts that shitty rich kid ever would, but the door doesn't have a lock, so better safe than sorry. He presses his head against it as well, eyes peering down, his right hand moving to where it is so painfully needed.

A harsh exhale escapes as he grabs his cock; runs his thumb along the line of a bulging vein, and he closes his eyes. He barely has to even try before Steve's there with those long legs, round ass, pink lips, doe eyes.

And he finds himself thinking of just minutes ago, his mind recollecting where each and every mole is that he has spent almost a year mapping out. On his cheeks, down his throat, over his arms, across his chest, high up his thighs.

Steve then turns to look at him, pushes up those expensive Ray-bans into his dark hair so that Billy can see how intently those almond eyes stare directly at him.

Billy licks his lips before they fall open to allow out a grunt as he feels himself grow in his hand.

Squeezes his eyes tighter, and in his mind he walks closer to where Steve now sits on the edge of that yellow sun lounger. Billy brings a hand up to the side of Steve's face; runs his thumb across that pretty little mouth, pulls down at his lower lip till he opens up.

Jerks faster around his throbbing erection and feels pre cum trickle down over his fingers.

He can almost imagine the slight sigh that would escape Steve as Billy then presses his thumb into his warm mouth, hard onto his slippery tongue, only to have those lips close around his digit and suck.

“Shit- ah-” Billy moans as heat forms a whirlpool between his thighs.

Watches as Steve pops off of his thumb, lips now shiny with spit, and he keeps them open and inviting, eyes staring up and blinking slowly with heavy lids. Billy doesn't have to move or say a thing before Steve leans forward to sink all the way down Billy's impressive, girthy cock.

Billy spits into his hand before continuing fisting at himself with furor, hoping to reach some semblance of how he imagines Steve's wet mouth taking all of him would feel like.

How he'd gag and groan at the base, lips pulled tightly around teeth, drool running down his chin, and Billy grabs him by the hair; keeps Steve's head still. Pulls out slowly just to slam right back inside and hears how he complains, sees tears run down his cheeks, and does it all again. Starts fucking himself into Steve's face with a pace matching his hand, quick and sloppy, hears all the moans that echoes from within the throat he shoves his prick into, the grotesque and obscene squelching of spit and choking around his head.

“Oh fuck, Steve...” he gasps; his ragged breathing and the slick sounds of his hand moving over hardened flesh the only thing to be truly heard here.

As the first jolt of pleasure daring him closer to climax shoots through his spine, he bends further till the top of his head is pressed against the door, his hand there curling together to a fist against the wood.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

The way his swimming trunks clings to him when he climbs out of the pool. The way he groans and pants on the court during training. The way he looks at Billy, sometimes glaring, sometimes not. The way Hargrove sounds in his voice. The way his punches feel on Billy's cheek.

It's all so heavily ingrained in his memory, suffocating, everything else so dull and muted in comparison. And it brings him over the edge, the thought of cumming down hot into Steve's throat as he chokes on Billy's climax, heat rolling through him as he moans far too loud, hips stuttering into his closed hand that pulls up his length with a harsh stroke to milk out every single drop he can.

Feels it run down his hand. Watches Steve swallow and lick his lips.

Then Billy opens his eyes.

He's still standing alone in the closet, his cum sliding down the wooden door, dripping slightly from his fingers to the floor, pooling between his feet. And he's the one to clean it all up now.

[buckleysjareau]

when i’m walking in my sleep

anonymous asked:

Hii, i love your writing, just finished your new buddie fic. Loved it! If you have inspiration for a storyline like the following i would be so happy to read: Eddie taking care of Buck after the screw removing surgery.

I deleted the original post due to it not showing up in the tags, so sorry if you didn’t see it, anon! But here it is again :) 

trigger warnings for this: use of painkillers even though taken as prescribed, mention of an unspecified nightmare, and to be safe emetophobia as it’s mentioned

Eddie has always had the innate need to care for the ones he loves and the ones who need it. When he was five, he tried his hardest alongside his sisters to save an injured squirrel that ended up at their doorstep. He’d take care of his parents when either one of them was sick as he grew up. The need to help everyone never simmered, only grew when he joined the Army, boiled over when Christopher was born. Firefighting was the perfect job for Eddie, he got to feed his desire to help those in need and find the camaraderie within his team that he’d been missing since his Army days. 

Helping people helps him, so he really can’t stop himself from jumping at the opportunity to take Buck home after he gets his screws out when everyone else’s schedules are too busy. He cares about Buck a lot -- maybe too much and not in the way someone cares about their best friend -- so making sure he’s okay and comfortable after a surgery he knows Buck was scared shitless for, it’s not a big deal for Eddie. 

He finds that maybe he’s a little in over his head when Buck greets him with a loopy smile. He’s just a tiny bit in love with Evan Buckley, and having dealt with post-surgery Buck before, Eddie is sure his heart might burst with every zany grin and stage-whispered expression of appreciation.

Buck’s surgeon, who Eddie has met more times than one should have, strolls into the dimly lit recovery room with an amused smile. “Good to see you awake.”

Buck snickers. “You say that every time, Doc. Soon you’re going to have to stop acting surprised that I’m invincible.”

Eddie can’t tell if what Buck just said makes sense, a twenty-four hour shift with very little sleep does things to your common sense, but his doctor seems like he’s heard it before.

His doctor shakes his head, albeit fondly, as if it’s something he expects but can’t believe he’s hearing. “How many times am I going to have to warn you that you’re not invincible before you stop ending up in my OR?” Eddie suspects every time. “Hopefully, there won’t be a next surgery for you Mr. Buckley. The screws are out, everything should be smooth sailing after that, unless you decide to test that invincibility theory.” 

Eddie can’t hold back the laugh as Buck’s face displays his disbelief. “I may be stupid, doc, but I’m no idiot.”

His doctor turns to face Eddie as he facepalms. “I wish you all the luck and patience in the world taking care of this one.” He jests.

“You know I’m always gonna need it, Doc.” Eddie grins. “There anything I should watch out for or steer clear of with him?”

“You know, the usual; don’t let him walk without his crutches, make sure he eats before he takes his next dose of pain medicine we’re sending home with him, and keep him off the leg as much as possible. Elevate it, ice it if the pain gets too much, spare some time for your own sanity.”

Buck grumbles. “I’m not that bad, right? Tell him, Eds.”

“My mom taught me to always tell the truth.” Eddie teases but relents when the pout Buck gives goes straight to his heart. “Fine. You’re a joy to be around, Evan Buckley.”

“You heard him, Doc! I’m a joy to be around!” 

“Never said you weren’t, Buck, just saying your joy is here more than either of us would like.” He smirks. “Alright, alright, I’m sure Eddie wants to get out of here as much as you do so you’re free to go. Everything looks fine post-surgery and as long as you take correct care, it’ll stay fine. You know to call me if there’s an infection or it takes longer to heal than it should, you know the drill. I will see you in six weeks, Buck. Please not a second sooner?”

Buck sends him a sloppy thumbs up and thanks him, says he can’t promise anything but he’ll try his best and Eddie doesn’t want to think about waiting through another one of his surgeries. He’s fine with the aftercare, but waiting to see if Buck came out of each surgery alive is something similar to hell, he’s sure.

When the doctor leaves, Buck looks Eddie’s way. “Eddddieeeeee, my man, a little help?”

Eddie shakes his head and grabs the bag of Buck’s clothes before going to help Buck sit up on the side of the stretcher he was on.

Buck giggles. “My hospital gown is open in the back so don’t look. My ass isn’t really my best feature.”

Well that’s a straight up lie.

“Aw, Eds, thank you. Your butt’s pretty great too.” Buck grins like the compliment means the world to him. The implied compliment that Eddie definitely did not mean to say aloud.

The only thing that keeps him from hiding himself in embarrassment is that Buck is as high as a kite on his painkillers and most likely won’t remember even leaving the hospital. 

He prays the blush doesn’t show on his face as he helps Buck into his basketball shorts. He couldn’t tell you why he gets flustered every time he had to help Buck this way. They were adults, it wasn’t anything domestic, really, just… intimate. He’d help whenever and whatever way Buck needed, because if Eddie Diaz was anything, he wasn’t shy. He was never uncomfortable. Just flustered beyond belief. 

Buck falls back onto the stretcher dramatically after he’s got his shorts on, taking Eddie down with him. He’s laughing hysterically as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s body in a side hug.

“Hey, Eddie?” He looks up at him. “You’re strong. Can you carry me to your truck?”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh. “I don’t think so, buddy. I can ask for a wheelchair?”

Buck snorts. “Being wheeled out is just embarrassing, man,”

“And being carried out isn’t?”

He responds with a whine. “You don’t have to be smart all the time, you know? My bones feel like they’ve been replaced by jelly, you won’t even try?”

Eddie fondly rolls his eyes. “You can lean on me, okay? I don’t have to carry you to not let you fall, Buck, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you. Now, up you go.” 

By the time Buck is settled in Eddie’s living room, foot elevated under a pillow on the coffee table and more blankets than Buck could ever need by his side, they’re both exhausted. Eddie plops down next to Buck on the couch and doesn’t question it when he leans his head on Eddie’s chest. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow when Buck moans. “You alright?”

“I don’t wanna throw up.” He whines. “Make it go away.”

“You’re nauseous?” Eddie asks, already standing to get the trashcan from his bathroom for him but is stopped by Buck. “I’ll be right back, just gonna get you the trashcan just in case.”

Eddie has always hated pain medicine. He hates not having any sense of control of what he’s saying if he’s going to remember it the next day, he hates the nausea that comes with, and he hates that every time, without fail, it makes Buck cry.

His lip is quivering as he looks up at Eddie, and it’s just then that Eddie realizes how actually gone he was for Evan Buckley. 

“Don’t leave me.” Eddie probably would have teased him if Buck had been whining but he wasn’t. There was real fear in his voice, like Eddie would leave out the bathroom window or something. 

“So you’re not nauseous anymore?” He goes with instead, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. He remembers Buck calling it the dad stance, but if it gets Buck to let go of his shirt so he can grab something to stop him from vomiting on his floor, he’ll use it.

Buck shakes his head, stopping abruptly as he pales.

Eddie snorts. “Don’t lie to me ever again.” He reaches for Buck’s face, cupping his jaw in his hand and rubbing his thumb across his cheek. “Let me at least get you a bowl. You’ll be able to see me better in the kitchen.”

Buck finally lets go of the grip on Eddie’s shirt and turns to watch Eddie walk away. Eddie hates himself for the way he subconsciously walks to maybe impress Buck. Thanks to the painkillers, he knows that Buck thinks his ass is nice, he can feel Buck’s eyes watching the back of him, and Eddie prays that Buck is at least the slightest bit interested in him. 

What is he thinking? There’s no way Buck could be interested. They’re best friends, that’s all they are, it doesn’t matter how stupidly and pathetically in love Eddie is. 

Buck is half asleep by the time Eddie is back with a bowl that shouldn’t be missed. 

The second Eddie sits down next to him and hands Buck the bowl, he holds it to his chest and goddamnit why is this so adorable? 

“I doubt you’ll make it through the first minutes of it, let alone an episode, but you down to watch Avatar?”

Buck smiles tiredly, eyes refusing to open. “As long as you’re talking about The Last Airbender and not the creepy movie.”

Eddie chuckles. “You think Avatar is creepy?”

“You don’t?” Buck raises an eyebrow, still not opening his eyes, and gives Eddie a look that says he’s shocked no one else feels the same. “I read somewhere there’s a new one coming out in 2021, like, why?”

Eddie snickers. “I can kind of understand your fear of Child’s Play because it’s supposed to be horror, but c’mon, Avatar? I cried, if I remember correctly.”

Buck gasps. “Child’s Play is horror, thank you very much, and terrifying. End of discussion. Put on The Last Airbender so I can stop thinking about that thing.” 

“That thing has a name, Buck. Chucky. He’s your friend ‘til the end.” Eddie teases but opens Netflix on his TV, quickly selecting from his Keep Watching list. 

Buck doesn’t say anything after that and Eddie assumes he’s asleep, until Buck mumbles something. 

“What was that?”

“Would you stop being my friend if you knew I was in love with you?” Eddie hears him loud and clear this time but he’s stunned at what comes from his best friend, disbelief that he even heard him correctly. 

“Come again?” 

When Eddie doesn’t get a response, he turns and finds that Buck fell asleep right after he gives him a heart attack. 

Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. Though he thinks he heard Buck loud and clear, it can’t be right. He dreamed of Buck reciprocating his feelings many times before, but that’s all Eddie could ever believe it was. Dreams. He hadn’t even known Buck was interested in men, let alone interested in him. 

Eddie doesn’t know how long he’s in his head for, but when he notices the sweat glistening on Buck’s forehead, none of it matters. He places the back of his hand on Buck’s forehead, fearing a fever due to an infection or flu, but he doesn’t have a fever.

Then Buck jolts and suddenly Eddie knows what’s going on. It’s not the first time he’s seen Buck in the middle of a nightmare, it’s not his first time dealing with nightmares, either, so he knows what to do.

He distances himself from Buck as far as he can and still is able to shake him. He knows from personal experience to never stay close when waking someone from a nightmare, the black eye he’d accidentally given Buck one night being proof. 

“Hey, Buck, you gotta wake up, buddy.” He shakes his shoulder lightly. “It’s just a nightmare, you’re not there.”

When Buck doesn’t wake up after a third try, Eddie tries a different tactic and scoots a little closer, grabbing Buck’s shoulder and shaking heavier than before. “Evan, Evan, wake up!”

Buck jolts awake, Bobby’s name on the tip of his tongue, swallowed by a scream. He can’t catch his breath, Eddie can tell he hasn’t fully grasped that wherever he just was in his nightmare was long gone and that he’s safe so he does everything he can to clear that fog. 

He takes Buck’s shaking hand in his own and squeezes. “Hey, Evan, you’re at my place, on my couch, nowhere near any danger. You’re safe, okay?”

He can practically see the fog clear from his mind, taking in his surroundings and squeezes Eddie’s hand in his. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, man, I’m here. Feeling calmer?”

Before Buck can respond, he winces and muffles a scream of pain by biting on his lip. Eddie jumps into action as Buck grabs onto the bottom of his cast tightly, as to squeeze out the agony he was feeling. 

Eddie checks the time. “You’re due for your next dose of your painkiller at least.”

But Buck isn’t listening to him. He’s too focused on the pain that Eddie can only now vaguely remember after getting the bullet removed from his shoulder. Before long, Eddie realizes Buck is mumbling something in between choked sobs and muffled screams of agony.

“Evan,” He tries to use his name again in hopes it’ll get him to focus on Eddie and not the pain. 

Buck’s face is twisted in pain when he finally looks at Eddie and not for the time, he wishes he could take Buck’s pain away. 

“I hate Freddie Costas. I hate him so much.” He sobs freely, still holding his bad leg like it’s a matter of life or death. “Fuck, it hurts.”

Eddie stands. “I’m gonna get your pain pills and an ice pack.”

Buck gulps the pill down with no water and Eddie has to stop himself from finding that oddly one of the most attractive things he’s seen Buck do. He also holds back a cringe, never one for taking pills in any way. 

As Eddie unwraps the beginnings of Buck’s cast, Buck starts to calm, his tears slow, his body relaxes against Eddie’s side. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers. 

“Don’t be. Trust me when I say I get it.” He looks Buck directly in the eyes. “Never feel sorry about feeling things.” 

He doesn’t ask if he wants to talk about it. He knows Buck will talk about it if or when he wanted so it ends up being a useless question. 

It’s quiet again after that. The only sounds that could be heard around Eddie’s was their breathing and the air conditioner running. Avatar is paused on the TV and Eddie doesn’t make any move to unpause it. 

Then Eddie is in his head again.

If he heard right, why would Buck be into him? He wants more than anything for it to be true, but he couldn’t see how it would be true. But he knows he heard what Buck asked, knows he should be thrilled Buck loves him back, but the doubts eat him up. What if he was just asking in general, not personally? What if he thought he was talking to someone else? Maybe he’s exaggerating his gratefulness for taking care of him and he means it platonically?

It’s killing him not knowing.

Eddie clears his throat. “Hey, uh- earlier you asked- before you fell asleep, do you-”

He’s a stuttering mess, hasn’t stumbled over his words this much since he asked Shannon out in their senior year. 

Buck cuts in, putting him out of his misery. “If you’re asking if I remember asking you if you’d still stay my friend if you found out I was in love with you, then yes, I do remember and I’m so sorry.”

Sorry for what? I’m sorry I was just loopy, it was just a question, I’m not actually in love with you? 

Buck swallows hard. “Do you hate me?”

Eddie’s eyes widened completely at the question. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I’m in love with you and continued to be your friend without telling you as such?” 

His heart is racing a mile a minute because Evan Buckley loved him back and he’d had no idea the entire time. He shakes his head with a smile and unshed tears burning his eyes. “I would be the biggest hypocrite if I hated you for that.”

It looks as though Buck hadn’t heard right as he shook his head, but he hopes he understands. 

“Come again?” Eddie can’t help but snort at how similar Buck and him are sometimes. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry!”

“I’m crying because I love you and I just found out it’s reciprocated, okay? Give me a second here.” He lets out a mix between a laugh and a cry. “Holy shit, you love me!”

Eddie’s mind is reeling. The more the shock wears off, the more joy and excitement he starts to feel. 

“You love me!” Buck grins and leans forward, stopping to look Eddie in the eye and ask for permission -- which he eagerly grants -- and soon, what Eddie dreamed of since the Grenade Incident is happening. Their lips touch and Eddie Diaz tries not to be a cliche, but it’s a whole show of fireworks, kissing Buck. More than he could have ever imagined. 

It’s an hour later, and they’re laying in Eddie’s bed, bodies pressed up against the other. Eddie hasn’t felt so secure in years, can’t even remember a time when things felt right until then. Lying next to Buck, things feel light for the first time since he doesn’t know how long, and the feeling of security is what lulls Eddie to sleep. 

Until Buck starts to sniffle and then Eddie is wide awake again.   

“You okay, Buck?”

Buck shakes his head rapidly with a pout. “No, I have to pee.” 

He tries to keep in his laughter, he really does, but the shock and amusement outweighs his ability not to laugh at things that aren’t funny to other people. 

Buck sniffles once more. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re adorable and I love you.” Eddie’s lips quirk into a soft smile. “Now, c’mon, up you go.” 

Buck grumbles. “Love you too.”

When he’s done, Eddie turns back to get his crutches and gets the surprise of a lifetime when Buck reaches out to slap his ass.

“Hey!” 

“What? I did tell you you had a nice ass.”

“Oh my God.”

[ktheist]

an empire of lies | kth

muses. ability type!taehyung x heir!reader

synopsis. taehyung usually comes knocking on your window - yes, window - at something a.m. every once in awhile. it’s the closest you get to being that girl whose crush throws pebbles on her bedroom window and serenades her with a song played on his guitar.

except taehyung comes around to rummage your fridge and free load for a couple days before disappearing like the thin air that always seem to blow when he’s around.

oh, and your apartment is on the 19th floor.

words. 2k

note. this is a spinoff drabble from my partially written draft. can be read as a standalone!

x

“why are you covered in blood?” you ask, curiosity no longer being a distant concept after knowing the man for almost a decade now. the gust of wind that always seem to be around the corner whenever he pops up in front of you, now greets you in a burst. forcing your eyes to flutter shut from its force.

the saint laurent article that you would usually see on him, is missing. instead he tears the tubes prodded deep inside his veins, the once pristine white hospital gown now marred with crimson blood, joining them on your recently mopped floor a second later.

“it’s not mine.” he says simply. if you were younger and didn’t know any better, you would have freaked out. scenarios would have filled your brain and made you consider calling the police on this inhumanly attractive man that’s walking around in your kitchen, half-naked with his pants hung low around his hips.

a sigh escapes you as you pick up his discarded items, tossing them in the trashcan next to the counter before bumping him with your hip as you tell him to move away from inspecting the content of the fridge, “this is the last time i’m cooking for your free loading ass.”

you don’t miss the way taehyung nods and walks away instead of shooting you one of his boyish grins and showering you with empty compliments for being such a good host.

“it’s more like feeding a stray dog that comes around every once in awhile.” you would remark whenever praised you for your kindness. just to set a line and ground yourself to the fact that this tall and handsome as hell man is only here because your late grandmothers happened to be best friends.

“you got any beer?” he asks some time after a passing of silence and the first sizzle of the pan.

to say you’re surprised is an understatement - you spend a good one minute staring at taehyung’s tanned back, marred with scars he’d never talk about, as he pries your cupboard open one after another.

if there’s anything kim taehyung is, it’s wine, high designer fashion and everything along the refined way of living. and the beverage he’s asking for couldn’t have been so far shoved on the other end of the spectrum.

but you know not to mention that - not right now when he looks like he just came from a hunt. who and what, you’re fine not knowing.

“i can make a quick trip to the grocery store and see if they have some.” you offer, but quickly add, “i’m running low on strawberry milk anyway.”

just so you wouldn’t come off as going the extra mile for him. which is something you never usually do. but taehyung’s lack of smile is neither an unusual sight.

the aforementioned man lets out a noise, something like a chuckle that gets blocked by a tired sigh, “you and your strawberry milk - you do know they didn’t add real strawberries, right?”

you shoot him an accusatory look, “do you also go around telling kids that santa doesn’t exist?”

his shoulder line shakes as he chuckles - a real, actual one this time. hands held up in surrender, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

“well, the messenger better sit the fuck down or i’m turning off the stove and you’re left with half boiled pasta and half cooked salsa.” you huff, going back to adding a half cup of cilantro.

his “yes, ma’am” is a tad dull, obscured by the dark clouds hovering over his eyes yet not so much in need of a cut.

with that, you see him shuffle out of your periphery. seconds later, the squeaky sound of the chair hits the air, sticking out like a sore thumb against the fine sizzle of the salsa.

“you really need to get this chair fixed,” he comments, but you bet your memories of your grandmother that if you’d turned around, you’d see him sitting on the same chair he criticized while there are possible two more good ones on either side, “better yet, buy a new one.”

“if i buy a new one, i’ll have to buy the whole set otherwise it’ll look awkward as hell and ruins the aesthetic.” you shrug, as in to say, oh well, it’s a squeaky chair but it’s my squeaky chair. and apparently, taehyung likes that chair too.

silence lapsed between you while you cook - you don’t know what taehyung is doing to fill in those fifteen minutes until you finally plated a pasta for a serving of two, when you turn around, however, you don’t expect the sight before you.

the man has his arms folded over the counter, head propped over. his eyelashes flutter just the slightest bit from the movements of his eyes behind their lids. probably dreaming.

you set the plate a few inches away from him just so he wouldn’t end up dipping his hand into it out of surprise when you go around the counter to tap his shoulder, “taehyung?”

but your palm never touched his skin. instead, you find yourself staring at a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes. never mind the much larger hand wrapped around your wrist midair - you can barely feel it as you fall down down the rabbit hole and into his never seemingly ending gaze.

it’s in that moment that your phone rings, bringing you back to the reality of it all - that though taehyung makes himself approachable and puts on a friendly facade, at the end of the day, he comes and goes like the winds blowing through cities.

“so you weren’t sleeping.” you find yourself asserting, pulling your hand back as though his touch is molten lava, “eat up. i’ll get you some fresh clothes - well, they’re yours from the occasions you actually remember to bring a spare.”

but just before you get to take any step forward after turning your back on him, a pair of muscled arms wrap around you, holding you tight yet tenderly. like a glass case around a plucked rose.

his breath is hot against your neck, his head leaning on your shoulder. even when he’s sitting, he still manages to make you feel like a child. short. tiny. defenseless.

he’s everything your mother, a strong woman who raised you until the age of ten before her untimely death - your grandmother never said it, but you knew your mother didn’t die in her sleep, had told you to run away at first sight.

“never, never meddle with classes, ___ - promise me you’ll live a normal life, like a human.” at the time, you thought she meant the people adorned with golds and diamonds with a whole lot of money to spend and a lack of cause to spend it on. you thought those people had lost their humanity along the line as they chased for fame and wealth.

it isn’t until you met taehyung - the boy whose eyes were always drawn to the clouds and on one fine day, got lifted off the air, up to the tree to save your cat and bring it down to you with a silly grin - that you realized she meant those people. the ability types.

taehyung doesn’t say it, but you suspect he’s at least a second class.

“i really missed you.”

you couldn’t believe your ears. not after the still silence that follows suit. as though he didn’t say anything. as though your mind was playing tricks on you.

“what happened out there?” the question finally hits the air, not sharp enough to cut poke or even hurt the elephant in the room, but loud enough to be heard, “what happened to you?”

you tumble a step back as taehyung pulls you closer until his thighs encase your hips and arms wrap around you too perfectly, “i can’t tell you - i promised granny cheong i won’t rope you into this - not when you have a real chance to live a normal life.”

your shoulder line stiffens at the mention of your grandmother - the image of a fifteen year old taehyung by her deathbed and the subtle sound of her telling him something, floods your mind. it was then, you were so sure - she made him promise to leave you alone just like she knew she was about to that night.

on nights you stayed back at the office, you still wonder why she’d deliberately made sure the only other closest person you had to a family, left you too.

now, you don’t know what you and taehyung are.

your hand covers his arm that’s banded around your tummy, noticing the slight tremble in his bones. heart racing, mind making up a million scenarios for what you’re about to say.

he could recoil - he could leave you like he did right after you graduated high school. and this time you might not see him again but something inside you writhes with a desire that you’ve pushed to the very pit of your stomach all these years but if you don’t say it now, if you let taehyung leave this place and disappear for another six month-

“what if i don’t want a normal life? what if i want to be with you? classes or not.”

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t pull away like you’re a made of fire either. yet your heart seem to palpitate faster than before.

“should we run away? just the two of us?” his voice is oddly calming - that’s how you know he’s only entertaining you for the sake of not offending you.

“stop that.” you force out despite the lump in your throat.

“stop what?” and he still chooses to pretend like everything’s fine.

“don’t tell me you’ll run away with me and let me wake up to an empty bed in the morning-” your breath falls short, “-that’s too cruel, taehyung.”

he doesn’t say anything for the longest moment. and within that moment, your thoughts run rampant. and you actually thought, for one sweet second, that he would tell you he means it. that he’ll leave everything - whatever shit he’s in - and hop on the plane with you to wherever land.

“i have to settle something first.”

the first scoff hits the air like vapor against heat, “there’s always something - just... just let me go, taehyung.”

you push his hands off you, not caring if he wanted to take refuge here or if he’ll leave. all you know if your car keys are in the bowl next to the door and you own a whole building in case push comes to shove and you end up without a home. well, your home will still be here but taehyung won’t by the time you return.

or so you’d planned.

but nothing ever seem to go your way. not since your mother brought you to tokyo and raised you there only to leave you and have an elderly woman show up at the orphanage that you spent a week at and claimed that she was your grandmother.

not since that grandmother raised you with the boy who had the brightest smile and left you with a scar so deep, you’re never really the same again.

as soon as taehyung’s warm arms releases you, the sudden chill of the something a.m. breeze engulfs you. but it is short lived as you find yourself staring at the man who spun you around with one hand and a another on your back, pulling you flush against his body.

you hate yourself for melting into him like an ice cream on a bright summer day.

all of a sudden, you’re both 11 and trekking down your grandmother’s backyard that makes up a whole private forest reserve.

“it’s always been you.” his voice trembles. as though he’s a push away from falling into pieces, “everything i did - it was to make sure they won’t touch you.”

“t-the organization?” it’s purely reflex - you know who they are. the causes of the deaths in your lives. timely or not. “why would they want to have anything to do with me? don’t they hate me? because i’m ordinary?”

the chin resting on your head shifts as he shakes his head, arms encompassing you so tightly, it’s almost hard to inhale and yet breathing isn’t a priority at the moment, “it’s in your blood - you may be ordinary but you were born from a long line of first classes. they can’t rule out the possibility of your kids being ability types - maybe even zero’s.”

“taehyung,” your hand clenches into a fist over the area of his chest where his heart palpitates underneath. his gaze pierces into your soul when you crane your neck to look at him - he always felt like a fresh air and open meadows.

until now.

now, it feels like you’re trapped in the heart of the hurricane. whirling and writhing in a vortex of emotions you’ve never allowed yourself to be acquainted to before.

“what exactly did you promise grandma?”

it’s the way his eyes shake and brows twitch even though his face remains neutral - unmarred by the creases of tension that no doubt graces your own features.

the only indication that he’s reluctant to respond is the pressing of his lips together before he breathes out the softest sigh. as though bracing himself. but his voice has never been so sure.

“i promise i’d kill you myself if they ever approached you.”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I can help protect you; Scott Lang x child reader

*Author’s note*

Hey all wow it’s been awhile since I posted a fic that wasn’t BoRhap/Queen related but now here I am with a request that has literally been sitting in my phone for almost a year now. For @randomfandoms-k8​ I wanna say thank you for being soooooooooo patient with me. But finally I came down to write your Scott Lang request. I hope you like it and enjoy it :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@platawnic​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@randomfandoms-k8​

__________________________________________________________

Day 143. Sunday afternoon, well technically it’s 11:55am but time seems to go by slowly when you’re under house arrest, in fact time is an irrelevant mesh isn’t it? Wow didn’t know I could go that deep into philosophy.  But anyways it’s been 143 days since I was sentenced to my 2yr house arrest after I sided with Cap back in Germany against Stark.

Honestly, this beats having to deal with prison again, this time it would’ve been in an ocean of solitary confinement.  I would’ve gone mad had I screwed up my chances of seeing Cassie again. She’s helped make this house arrest more bearable and honestly a lot more fun.  But currently her and her mom along with Paxton went North to visit Maggie’s parents who hadn’t seen Cassie in a while.

Which left me here. Alone. With no one to really entertain.  I mean sure Luis and the guys come over every once in awhile but they’re business forming up their own business.  Apparently they’re next bright idea was selling security equipment. Not that I’m complaining at all, they’re good guys to have around every now and then but—they can be a bit much at times.

I know not really making much sense am I? Well that kinda happens whenever you’re stuck in your house all day and night.

Right now it was trash day so I gathered up all the trash and proceeded to head outside to put my trashcan out (as best I could without triggering my ankle bracelet). Now I’m thinking this is gonna be just a simple in and out type situation, as it always is, but as I went out towards the trashcans that I kept in the backyard there was a sudden bang.

At first I thought it was a gunshot but it sounded way to close.  Plus as I looked towards my trashcans, I thought I saw something move behind them.

“Hello?” I called out.  There was another loud bang from behind the trashcans and I continued saying, “Look I’m unarmed. If you want money you won’t find much. But if you just want food, I can give it to you.” yeah I know that was probably stupid of me to say but most of the time you will see some homeless person going through the trash in this part of the city.

Soon coming out from behind the trashcan wasn’t an adult, but a small child.  She appeared to be a couple years younger than Cassie, her (h/c) hair was long and madded like a rat’s nest, and she looked pretty dirty like she hadn’t bathed in weeks, maybe months.  But what shocked me the most was how skinny she looked.  She wore clothes that were twice her size, it was like she was just drowning in them.

“Hey, hey sweetheart.” She backed away fearfully and tried to hide behind the trashcans once more. “No, no, no hey. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” he sat down on the ground so that he wouldn’t intimidate her.  Then using one of his new hobbies that he had to learn while in house arrest, he made a fake bouquet of flowers come out from his back.

It peeked her interest as she slowly came out from behind the trashcan.  A soft smile spread across her face.

“Here you know, I think I got something better than what you’ll find in there.” I quickly raced inside and got out the leftover pizza box I had from last night. I took out a single slice of the pepperoni and quickly placed it in the microwave for about 15 seconds before coming back outside.

I sat back down and said to the small girl.

“You like pizza?” she looked at me before nodding softly. “Then have a bite of this. At least here it smells fresh and not mixed in with some other stuff and god knows what else.” The little girl slowly walked towards me, staring at the pizza. She would every now and then look up between me and the pizza. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s not poisoned or anything.”

I broke off the tip of it and ate it to show her that it wasn’t poisoned or tampered with in anyway.

“See? Just a little hot but it’s all good.” Finally she raised her hands and took the pizza from the plate.  She sniffed it before taking a small bite.  Slowly her eyes widened with pure joy as she continued to devour the pizza. “Whoa hey slow down there kiddo, you’re gonna choke if you just inhale it like that.” I warned her.

She quickly looked up at me before looking down shamefully down, a slight glint of tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. I just didn’t want you to choke on it. You can keep eating.” She looked down at her pizza and went back to eating it.

Once she finished it, I took the plate back from her and asked her.

“Was that good?” she nodded. “You know if you’d like, I’ve got some juice or something for you in case you’re thirsty.” She looked up at me with those big (e/c) eyes of hers as she tilted her head to the side.  Oh wow that sounds a little creepy doesn’t it? “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve got a daughter just a little over your age and I don’t know maybe you both might like the same stuff. Cause I—can’t really leave the house.”

I showed her my ankle bracelet and she looked down at it before looking back up at me. I held out my hand to her and she looked down at it.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you trust me?” she was silent but I soon saw her reach out her hand and she placed her tiny hand into mine.  I gently closed my hand over hers as I then led her on inside.

Once we were inside, I poured her a glass of apple juice (Cassie loves apple juice) so hopefully this kid loves it too.  As she began to drink the juice, so many questions kept running through my mind. Where did she come from? Who was she? How did she get like this? Where were her parents? Things like that.

Should I call someone? Child services maybe? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll sleep on that for tonight.  Maybe I can get some answers out of her.

“Hey sweetie,” she turned to face me. “Do you have a name? I mean I can’t just keep calling you sweetie, sweetheart or munchkin can I?” at that point she looked down sadly.  Her hands fiddling with the oversized shirt, oh no. Is—is she an orphan? Or, and I pray to God this isn’t the case, did her parents abandon her. “Can you speak sweetheart?”

She shook her head no.  Okay so she wasn’t deaf cause she’s actually responding to me. So was she mute? Or was she choosing not to speak.

“Well, think I should tell you me name first so that way we’re not strangers anymore. I’m Scott. Scott Lang.” I came up to her and held out my hand for a handshake now.  She softly smiled and shook my hand.  

Okay good progress we’re getting there.

“Hey, since uhh—since you can’t talk. How bout I give you a name? Is that okay with you?” she nodded and that’s when I grabbed my phone and went through some websites for the top 100 baby names for girls.  “Okay let’s see, how about…….Belle?” she shook her head no. “Ariel?” again she shook her head. “Don’t make me choose Cinderella.” She then gave me a stank face as her tongue stuck out and I softly laughed. “I’m just playing yah kiddo. Here let’s see what this list has.”

I scrolled through the website trying to find the perfect name for her.  Soon a name that felt like it belonged to her came on the list and I said to her.

“Okay, how do you feel about (Y/n)?” her eyes widened and a smile came across her face as she nodded happily. “Alright, (Y/n) it is then.”

After we settled on her name, I took her up to the bathroom to get her cleaned up (couldn’t let her remain dirty forever right?).  By some miracle I managed to get her once madded rat’s nest of hair under control, and now that she was all clean I got a better look at this little cutie.

She had a little button-like nose, her eyes now sparkled with new life now that she no longer looked like she had a raccoon mask of dirt on her eyelids.

Her chubby cheeks that showed two little dimples whenever she smiled.  She looked like a brand new girl.  Once she was all dried up, I put her into some of Cassie’s old clothes (thank god I managed to convince Maggie to let me do the Good will run. That I may have forgotten to do before I was picked to join Cap’s team in Germany).

By late afternoon, we were now currently watching some cartoons together when I decided that maybe I could make her laugh at something.  Of course she smiled every now and then but there was something in her eyes that really showed me that she was still sad about something.

Being the dad that I am I know I hate it whenever my Peanut is upset, so I make it my life’s mission to always make Cassie laugh at least once a day (once I got out of prison that was).  I got up from the couch acting like I was gonna grab a drink of water but what I was really gonna grab was my magic cards, the eye-popping glasses, and clown wig.

I put the clown wig on as well as the glasses and suddenly jumped in front of her holding out the deck of cards.

“Pick a card, any card!” I proclaimed.  She looked at me oddly but looked down at the deck and picked a single card from the deck. “Memorize the card. Okay now put it back, face down don’t let me see it.” She did as she was told.

I then shuffled the deck behind my back trying to mix the cards up till I thought it was good enough.  I brought the deck back out in front of us and I said.

“Okay (n/n), now I’m gonna brush through the cards and you tap the cushion twice when you want me to stop, K?” she nodded and that’s when I began dealing through the cards.  I heard her pat the cushion and I stopped at the 14th card.  I took it out from the deck and held it in my hand. “Alright, now was this your card?” I turned it over to her.

She shook her head no.  I turned it towards me and saw that it was the Jack of clubs.

“Wait what? Now where did that…..oh man I must really be losing my eyes if I misplaced it.” I then pressed the button on the glasses and soon the eyes on the glasses popped out.

At that point I heard her starting to laugh.  Not giggle, but a real laugh.  Her laughter slowly grew in volume but what was surprising was that I began to see the lights starting to flicker on and off.  As she then let out this one shriek of laughter, the lights suddenly exploded and the entire house went dark.

When the power went off throughout the entire house, to say I was freaked out a bit would be a bit of an understatement.  Now whether I can confirm or deny that I may have shrieked like a girl, I’ll just say I got a little spooked by it.

I looked back down at (Y/n) who was now covering her mouth and trying to sink further into the couch.  Wow, so—she’s like a real life Boo (you know that little toddler from Monster’s Inc.)  (Y/n) has powers.  Oh my god I just took in a child that has powers. Wow never thought this is how my house arrest would turn out.

“That—that was you wasn’t it?” I wanted to confirm it with her.  Cause maybe this could be a hallucination or something. Maybe the power did go off on its owe—oh who am I kidding, it was (Y/n) that did this.  When I saw her nod sadly she got off the couch and solemnly walked towards the backdoor.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa hey. Where do you think you’re going?” I said as I stopped her and knelt down beside her.

Her sad, teary eyes stared right at me and that’s when I asked her.

“Did—did you think I would get mad and kick you out if I found out about this?” she nodded, her eyes refusing to meet mine.  “(Y/n), sweetie I’m not mad. So what if you have powers, it’s cool. That means now I get to nickname you Boo. You ever seen Monster’s Inc?” she shook her head no. “Okay we’ll fix that up. It was one of Cassie’s favorite movies growing up, I think you’ll like it.”

I stroked some of the hair out of her face.  I knew at this rate with her having powers, there was no way I can get Child services involved.  Now that the Accords (still don’t really know the entirety of them all I know is that they’re bad for super heroes) had been finalized, they could take her away to that Raft prison that’s out in the middle of the ocean and lock her up.  But she’s only a kid, she doesn’t deserve that fate.

“Kiddo I’m not mad. In fact can I tell you a secret?” she nodded.  I quickly looked around to make sure we were alone (which made her quietly giggle) I gestured with my finger for her to lean closer as I whispered to her, “I’m a super hero.” Her eyes widened in shock. “Yep. My alter ego, is Ant-Man.” At this point she looked at me confused, “What you’ve never heard of Ant-Man?” she shook her head no. “Alright, well we’ll fix that too.”

I guided her back towards the living room and sat her down on the couch and I sat down beside her.  I gently stroked down her hair and assured her again.

“You’ll be safe here (Y/n). Whatever it was that you had to deal with before, or being rejected or whatever, you won’t have it here. I can protect you. And maybe once my 2 years are up, maybe just maybe……I can introduce you to some people who could help you control those powers of yours.”

Her eyes lit up as her face almost screamed out ‘for real?’

“Yeah kiddo. I promise, no one is gonna hurt you ever again.” At that point she hugged me.  I smiled softly down at her and gently embraced her back.

Call me crazy I know but I can’t kick her back out into the streets. Besides I’ve been experienced to enough craziness already from when I first met Hank and Hope, to fighting alongside Team Cap against Stark, so why not? And like I said, I don’t know what the CS would do if they found out she had powers, either lock or up or just kill her (now that’s messed up but I’m told it happens).

But hey, on the bright side at least Cassie will get to be the older sister she always wished she could be.

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Finding Home

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a good short here on tumblr, and after @rainbowratsstuff posted some wonderful art of my OCs, Quasi and Jitterbug, and her OC, Quill, I was inspired to finally write a short about our little group of runaways joining the Jellicles!

basically this short is an excuse for me to write Protective!Big Brother Quasi with his adoptive sisters Quill and Jitterbug.

(also I now have the HC that Quill pretends like she just sticks with Quasi and Jitterbug just because, but in reality she actually really cares about them, and if anything were to happen to them she’d raise absolute hell to hurt whoever hurt them)

(and Quasi knows this so whenever Quill’s just like “I don’t like you, you’re a means to an end” he’s just like “yeah, okay, Jitterbug wants to cuddle” and Quill grumbles but will not refuse to cuddle Jitterbug)

(also tagging @queen-with-the-quill because the storyline of Munkustrap inviting Quasi to join the Jellicles, and Quasi and Jubilee fighting henchcats is from one of our RPs! And obviously because of Jubilee😅)

“Quasi, I don’t know about this.”

Quasi glanced back at the grey queen crouching on the trash can, and he gave her a small smile. “I know, Quill. But after what happened at the library, I don’t want you girls out in the open.”

Quill rolled her eyes, crossing her paws as she rested her head down. “I can take care of myself. We all can, you know that.”

“I do.” Quasi said, lifting himself up on his hind legs so that he was eye-level with the other queen. “But I wouldn’t forgive myself if you or Jitter got hurt because of me. Macavity’s out there, and so are his henchcats. They’re searching for me and other deserters. I don’t know why, but the Jellicles can offer some kind of safety to us.”

Jitterbug poked her head around the trashcan, her eyes darting around the alley nervously. “A-Are you s-sure it’s safe?”

“Jitterbug’s right. What if it’s some kind of trap?” Quill agreed. “You’ve never spoken to the Jellicles for real before, you don’t know them, Quasi.”

Quasi sighed, returning to the ground and sitting back, gesturing for Jitterbug to join him. She immediately darted over to him, huddling into him, and Quasi nuzzled her as he looked up at Quill. “It’s risky, Quill. I know that, believe me. And honestly, I’m not one hundred percent sure about this either. I don’t even know if that tabby was telling the truth that I’d be totally welcome in the Junkyard.” He looked down, pawing at the ground as the scar across his nose twinged. “And honestly, I wouldn’t blame them if I wasn’t welcome. But if there’s a chance that you and Jitter can be safe and off these streets while Macavity’s looking for me, then I’m going to take that chance.”

Quill scowled, but she left the trash can, brushing against Quasi briefly. “Fine. But if they try to hurt you, we’re out of there.”

“Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the one protecting you two!” the Bengal tom protested as he nudged Jitterbug along. 

Any bravado Quasi felt slowly began to ebb away as he, Quill, and Jitterbug grew closer to the Junkyard. All he could think about was his previous time at the Junkyard, and the disaster that had happened. 

He was known as Slip back then, before Esmeralda had found him and given him his First, and Favored, Name. 

“Look at them.” Macavity sneered as he loomed over a pile of junk. His yellow eyes were filled with hatred as he glared at the Jellicles gathered below them. “Acting so perfect, as if their lives are so much better.”

He stuck near the back of the henchcat group as the plan was laid out; Macavity would cut the power to the Junkyard, plunging the Jellicles into darkness, and the henchcats would attack.

Fang, one of Macavity’s seconds, glanced up as one of the kittens squealed with laughter. “We’ll get in position, sir.”

Macavity held up a paw as Slip began to move away. “You’re not going with them.” Slip looked up at him with wide eyes, and Macavity’s face grew a terrifying grin. “I’ve got a job for you, Slip.” He drew the smaller tom to his side, and pointed towards two large Jellicles, a silver and black tabby, and a black and gold maine coon. “My dearest brothers. They wouldn’t dare harm a cat smaller than them, or helpless.”

“You... you want me to fight your brothers, sir?” Slip stammered out, unable to believe what his leader was telling him.

“Munkustrap’s bleeding heart won’t allow him to hurt a defenseless little tom.” Macavity said, a gleam in his eyes. “And little Tugger’s a father now, he’s got priorities.” Slip’s mind was reeling, but the feeling of Macavity’s claws digging into his side brought his attention back to his leader. “Do you hear me, Slip? Will you obey?”

Slip took a breath, and nodded. “Yes sir. I won’t let you down.”

He didn’t let Macavity down. And Slip hated himself for it.

The second the lights had gone out, Slip had run into the Junkyard amidst the terrified cries and shouts, running past kittens and adult Jellicles as their magical cat brought the lights back up. Too soon, Slip found himself in front of the Jellicle Protector and his brother, and for a moment, he froze. But then he reminded himself that he was more terrified of Macavity than he was of the Mystery Cat’s brothers’, so he launched himself at them, startling the two large toms out of their shock, and causing Munkustrap’s paw to lash out across Quasi’s face, a deep cut forming across his nose. 

“Q-Quasi?” Jitterbug’s voice startled the Bengal from his memories, making his ears pin back against his head, and he looked at the other queen. “We’re he-here.”

The entrance to the Jellicles’ Junkyard loomed above the trio, and the two queens stepped closer to Quasi as he moved in front of them.

The one-eyed tom looked at Jitterbug and Quill firmly. “The first sign of danger, you both run for Esmeralda’s house, okay?” Both queens began to protest, but he held up a paw. “That isn’t a request. I don’t know how they’re going to react. So if something does happen, I’ll do my best to hold them off so you both can escape.”

Quill scoffed, but nodded, and Quasi gave her a brief nuzzle of thanks. He knew the other queen hated not sticking together, even though it was slightly amusing how different her thoughts were from when she had first met him and Jitterbug. When they had first met, she had been frightened and hostile, not even coming near Quasi or Jitterbug, and it had taken nearly a month of helping her find meals and shelter before she would even talk to either of them. Now they were inseparable, and Quasi wouldn’t let anything happen to either of the queens beside him, not on his watch.

“Who are you?” a voice called out, and all three tensed as a tom leapt down in front of them. It was a black and white tom who towered over them, and there was suspicion in his eyes. 

“We’re here to see Munkustrap.” Quasi said, wishing he had his tail so that he could sweep Jitterbug and Quill behind him protectively. He settled for placing his paw in front of the two queens, and planting himself between them and the tom, even though the tom was twice his size.

The guard looked down at him, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he studied Quasi. “I recognize you.” Quasi shifted his weight back at his words. “You’ve come to the Junkyard before.”

The trio was prepared to bolt, but another voice chimed in. “Alonzo, it’s alright.” The silver tabby that joined them bumped his shoulder with the tense guard’s in greeting, and gave the new arrivals a once-over. “Hello again, Quasi.”

Quasi’s large ears went back against his head, and he looked down at the ground. “Hello, Munkustrap.”

“May I ask who your companions are?” Munkustrap asked, glancing behind the Bengal at the two queens, giving them a friendly smile. Jitterbug ducked down, making herself as tiny as possible, and Quill simply hissed at him, as tense as the black and white guard standing at Munkustrap’s shoulder. She still did not trust the toms standing before them, and she most definitely did not like the way they were making Quasi behave. 

“My sisters, Jitterbug and Quill.” Quasi replied, his voice quiet, and nowhere near the confident tone that Quill and Jitterbug were used to hearing. “I know the invitation was just for me, but Jitterbug and Quill are the only family I’ve got, and they’re honestly in even more danger if I’m not around, because they could get attacked the minute I leave them, and I can’t just up and leave them behind.”

Munkustrap’s smile grew slightly. “It’s alright, Quasi. They’re welcome to join the tribe as well.” The black and white tom gave Munkustrap a look, but the tabby shook his head. “This is Alonzo, by the way, one of the other guards around here. I’ve told the guards, as well as my father and brother, about what happened at the library.” Quasi pawed at the ground, his nerves growing tense, but Jitterbug huddled into his side, and he took a breath. 

He looked back up at Alonzo and Munkustrap and steeled himself. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“Of course.” Munkustrap replied. “Now, follow us.” 

As Alonzo and Munkustrap let the trio of (frighteningly) small cats into the Junkyard, they took notice of the way the two queens stuck close to the tom, and the way Quasi’s ears remained pinned against his head, and how Quill’s ears flicked in every direction each time there was a new noise, and how Jitterbug’s tail was wrapped around Quasi’s very short one (that seemed to have been cut off by... something...)

They entered thee main stage area of the Junkyard, where many of the Jellicles were gathered, and Quasi was again hit by the memory of his one and only time in the Junkyard.

Before he could be caught up in the memory, there was a loud cry of “SLIP”, and Quasi was tackled to the ground by two calico blurs, and Quill jumped to Jitterbug’s side with an angry growl, her fangs bared, and Jitterbug’s fur raising up.

Quasi shook his head from the impact, trying to refocus, and when he was able to realize who had tackled him, his eye widened with shock and a tiny bit of happiness. “No way.”

“Everlasting, we never thought we’d be seeing you again!” Rumpleteazer exclaimed, cackling with excitement. 

Mungojerrie nodded in agreement, a bright grin on his face. “We thought you were a goner after hearing what Macavity did to you!”

“Gee, thanks.” Quasi said blandly, kicking the twins off of him. Mungojerrie simply grabbed the smaller tom in a headlock, snickering as he tried to escape. “Yup, I haven’t missed you two at all.”

As he attempted to get away from the male calico, Quasi could see Munkustrap speaking with some of the adult Jellicles, no doubt explaining who he was and his predicament, as well as who the two queens with him were, and his mood dampened slightly.

“Cheshire, let Quasi go.” an exasperated voice said. 

“Curls!” Mungojerrie said happily, instantly letting Quasi out of his grasp. Quasi stepped away, feeling Jitterbug and Quill at his sides, and he gave a thankful look to Jubilee, who gave him a welcoming smile. 

“Sorry about that. Ever since I told him you were coming, he and Teaz haven’t stopped talking about your time together.” she explained. 

A grey and red queen was with Jubilee, and she gave Quasi a curious look. “I can promise you’re safe here.” She nodded towards Quill, who had her paw wrapped around Quasi’s arm, and Jitterbug, who was looking around. “All three of you are safe here. I’m Hestia, by the way. Uncle Straps told us you’d be coming after you saved Jojo.”

“Did you really fight of Fang and his groupies?” Rumpleteazer asked, batting Mungojerrie away, and Quasi couldn’t help but grin. 

“With Jubilee’s help, yeah.” he replied, nodding. “His face was hilarious.” Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer laughed, and Jubilee’s smile grew. 

At the sound of laughter, Jitterbug jumped, and Quasi wrapped his arm around the small queen, pulling her close to comfort her, and she looked up at him hopefully. He looked at Quill, and gave her a reassuring look, and she simply shrugged. Quasi knew it would take time for all three of them to be able to fully feel relaxed and welcome among the Jellicles, and within the Junkyard, but for now, they were safe, and that was all that mattered to Quasi. 

Macavity couldn’t get to him, or the ones he loved, anymore.

[maylovexhs]

everytime - MOONLIGHT(Chp. 29)

Author’s Note: It’s a small chapter. Should have included it with the last one but this one needed it’s own post. Enjoy ;) (Alexa, play moonlight by Ariana Grande)

Catch up on everytime here

October 6, 2019. 1 AM. 

I finished the show a little more of an hour ago. We only left the arena thirty minutes ago. Surprisingly an ice cream shop was still open at this time at night. I got a small cup. Ashton didn’t feel like having some. As much as I tried to offer him some of mine, he refused.

Paris’ streets was practically empty. It was easy to find a sidewalk bench to sit on. A few people passed us now and then. Ashton was just telling me about his new job - working in a guitar shop.

“Do you like it?” I asked him. “Must be a dream to be surrounded by all of them”

“It kind of is” Ashton said. “I have to be secret whenever I choose to play one”

“Secret?” I asked him. “You know how loud a guitar can be, right?”

“Oh, I do” Ashton said. “I have my ways around it”

“Let me guess . . . you serenaded the manager into letting you?” I asked him. “Is that how you landed the job? Came in and picked a guitar and played for him?”

“Something like that” Ashton said, smirking at me.

I looked down. I ate a spoon of my ice cream. I was almost done with it.

“I’m happy to show you around if you want” Ashton said to me. “When you get back to New York”

“Oh, I would love that” I said. “I was thinking of getting a new guitar actually”

“You are?” Ashton asked.

I nodded.

“Well, if you need one . . . I can help” Ashton said, playfully flirting with me.

“Will I get a discount?” I asked him, batting my eyes at him.

Ashton bit his lip.

“I can’t authorize that” Ashton said.

We looked at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing. Suddenly, we both broke out in laughter.

“‘Authorize’” I said, making fun of him. “God, you really turned into a salesman”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Ashton asked me.

“It’s neither” I said. “Just didn’t expect you to say that. Got all business out of nowhere”

“Well, sorry about that” He said. “But seriously I can’t offer you a discount”

I smiled at him.

“Doesn’t matter” I said.

I took another spoonful of my ice cream. I should just throw out the rest. It’s all going to get melted in a minute or two.

I stood up from the bench.

“Need to throw this out” I said.

Ashton stood up.

“I’ll walk you” He said.

I smiled to myself. The trashcan was only a few feet away from me but I still accepted Ashton’s gesture.

“Aaron told me you are planning a Halloween party at the end of the tour” Ashton said as we walked.

“Mhmm” I nodded. “I’m planning to go as Princess Jasmine”

“Princess Jasmine?” Ashton asked me.

I threw my cup in the trash bin.

“Yeah” I said. “It was either that or a character from a superhero show”

“Which show?” Ashton asked me.

”It’s a kids show. You probably don’t know it but it’s miraculous ladybug” I said.

“Oh, Miraculous Ladybug?” Ashton asked me as if he heard of it before.

“Yeah” I said. “You know it?”

“No” Ashton said, a change to his voice.

I gently nudged him with my arm.

“Ass” I said.

“You kind of had it coming” Ashton told me.

I looked in the distance, seeing some part of the Eiffel Tower. Buildings may have blocked the entire view of it but it’s lights were still visible.

“How far do you think it is from here?” I asked Ashton, still looking into the distance.

“Paris is small” Ashton said. “I’ll go with you as long my feet don’t give up on me”

I looked to Ashton. He had his hand out for me to take.

“Just in case we lose each other” Ashton said.

I took his hand, holding it in mine.  

Did I ever hold his hand before? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t remember his hand being so soft either.

“So, are you going visit to your cousins alone or with Billie tomorrow?” I asked him as we walked.

“Probably alone” Ashton said. “Think Billie had enough of them for the whole week”

“She didn’t seem to be today” I said. “She actually wants to bring them to tomorrow show”

“She does?” Ashton asked, surprised.

I nodded.

“Or she’s just trying to use your cousins to separate us” I said.

“I wouldn’t put that past her” Ashton said.

I chuckled. I remembered our conversation when he arrived earlier today. I asked him if he coincidentally came when I was in town. He never gave me an honest answer.

I looked to Ashton.

“I have to ask,” I began to say. “Why did you come to visit your cousins now? You could have visited Paris any other time but . . . You came when I was in town. Was that a coincidence?”

Ashton looked down, smirking to himself. He looked back up to me having that same gaze he had the second we saw each other.

“No” Ashton said. “Not that I wanted to see my family, it’s been years since I last saw them but no. . . They’re not the only reason I came to Paris”

Ashton stopped walking. I did too, turning to him.

“So, what the other reason you came?” I asked him. “Is there more than two?”

“No, there’s just one other one” Ashton said, looking into my eyes. “I wanted to see you”

“You did?” I asked, teasing him. “What happened to the ‘I’d miss you too much if we were together?’ You really sound like a hypocrite now”

“I know” Ashton said. “But I did missed you too much”

I looked down, not sure how to react to him.

I missed him too. A little more than I expected I would but . . . I didn’t think he would miss me that much either. I didn’t think he would fly across the world for me but he did.

“I like you” Ashton said. “A lot. More than I thought I would and maybe more than I should but . . . All summer I kept thinking of you. All I wanted was to call you and tell you I wanted to be with you. Of course, I didn’t because that would be selfish and . . .”

Ashton stopped talking. I looked up to him.

“And what?” I asked him.

“And I want to be with you” Ashton said. “Tour or no tour, I can’t handle another day not being with you.”

I smiled at him.

“So, what do you say?” Ashton asked me. “Do you-“

Without thinking, I reached up on my tippy toes and pressed my lips against his. I closed my eyes, cupping his cheeks as I kissed him. A few seconds later, I felt Ashton’s arms wrap around my body. My hands traveled up Ashton’s neck, tugging at the ends of his blue curls. Ashton placed his hand on my cheek. A few seconds later, I slowly pulled away from him. I opened my eyes, seeing Ashton’s cheeks  almost completely red.

“Is that a yes?” Ashton asked me.

“Uh, huh” I nodded.

Ashton took his hands off me but I still kept my hands around his neck.

“Do you want to go back to my hotel room?” I asked him.

“What about the tower?” Ashton asked me.

“I think I like the view of you better” I said.

“Well. . . Can’t say no to that” Ashton said.

I leaned into him, kissing him again. Ashton’s hands returned back to their place. I tilted my head to the side a little as Ashton pulled me closer to him.

A second chance. Finally a second chance with Ashton.

[little-ideas]

Happiness comes in a notebook

This started out as part of MANKAI Messenger pt. 4 but then I was 3 pages into expansion on the idea so please accept this offering of feels

EDIT: This doesn’t relate to MANKAI Messenger at all, sorry if I caused any confusion > <

Everyone in MANKAI has a notebook that includes positive statements from the other MANKAI members about why they're great

Izumi probably got the idea after brainstorming some "Autumn Troupe Friendship" plans

Had to have page limits for entries in to Izumi's *cough* Masumi *cough*

Sakyo threatened Banri and Juza with the handcuffs again if they didn't take it seriously and put nice things down in the other's notebook

The books are left on a shelf in the lounge so whenever people think of something for other members they can add it

Each person can decorate their own notebook and some probably also turn them in to scrapbooks

When it first gets mentioned, there's some skepticism but everyone takes it seriously

OK BUT THE PAIRS THAT TRADITIONALLY BICKER?!?

They complain a lot but they really do treasure each other so they include nice notes that are sincere and lack the usual snark

It took a lot of effort

You can find several dozen crumpled, failed draft attempts in Yuki's and Banri's trashcans for Tenma and Juza

When they read their notebooks their partner's notes are their favorites, not that anyone will admit it

When I say everyone I mean EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON!

Sakoda? Check

Matsukawa? Yep

Ensemble cast? Of course!

Yuzo and Tetsuro too

Heck, even Kamekichi has one!

Doesn't matter what your role in MANKAI is, once you join, you get a notebook

Sakuya, Muku, Tsumugi, Azuma, and Omi make sure that they update the notebooks regularly so every time someone goes to look at one there's always something new written

It becomes a regular event in Azuma's room

Taichi, Kazunari, Tsuzuru, Citron, and Homare don't often remember the notebooks, but they have the most spirited entries for everyone when they do

Not sure what this poem means, but thanks, Homare

Sakyo, Itaru, and Tasuku tend to write short entries with life advice

Sakyo is extremely diligent about writing entries and has been known to stay up late to make sure he gets a good piece written Theater Dad does care

Itaru also includes game quotes

Masumi, Kazunari, and Misumi are doodlers

Nobody's quite sure how or when, but Misumi draws unique triangle art on every page spread

Some are harder to spot, so it becomes a game to find them all

Masumi can have some surprisingly cute doodles that gap moe tho and might include a song recommendation if he thinks someone will particularly like it

Izumi gives everyone personalized, original curry recipes

Also includes sides and drinks that go well with the dish

Just a full-course curry meal

Izumi's had these curry recipes prepared from the first moment she got to know everyone

Some of the recipes contain more exotic ingredients that might be more difficult to get ingredients for or are a little more pricey, so she also includes a more accessible curry

Just makes this a thing so goes back to any notebooks that don't have a second recipe and adds one

Hisoka has really insightful posts about each member and some of their greatest moments and ???

Since when has he been conscious enough to make such observations???

The last person to write a post since he needs enough information about someone before he writes an entry, but there's not a single person who got halfway without crying

Tenma the tsundere points out the small strengths in everyone's acting that almost no one else realizes

Yuzo's entries make him Theater Grandpa™

People actually understand Tetsuro for once

TETSURO IS SO HAPPY WHEN HE GETS THE NOTEBOOK OMG HE'S SO FLATTERED IT MAKES HIS DECADE

Did Matsukawa or Kamekichi write their entries? No one knows

SAKODA CRIES WHEN HE GETS A NOTEBOOK

For once he realizes how appreciated he is and that the others love him as friend and family

One of Sakyo's only lengthy posts

Hugs everyone

Notebook becomes his family treasure

It takes him so long to get through all the messages because he has waterfalls within the first few minutes every time without fail

Sakoda and Azuma memorize the contents of their notebooks and recite entries to themselves if they're ever having a bad day or feeling down

Please make this a canon thing. There are so many members who struggle with self-esteem, self-worth, and confidence that having something they can go back to and read what's good about them and all the good things the other members think of them would be so sweet

[dirtydobrik]

for the first time - d.d.

plot: you and david are dating and you tell him you want your first time to be with him

requested: yes, by anon! can you make a smut where it’s your first time and you want to be with david

author’s note: hi!  this was requested anonymously so hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message! (i have been so behind on requests lately but i am trying to get caught up. i’m trying to post 1-2 times a day so people don’t have to wait ages for me to write their requests)

word count: 1145

warning: smut

masterlist

You were sitting in the McDonald's drive thru in the middle of the night when David brought it up for the first time. His camera was off and in the backseat so you knew he was being serious.

"Can I ask you something?" he questioned, turning to face you.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, your mind racing as you wondered what he wanted to say.

"Are you a virgin?" There wasn't judgement in his voice, just curiosity.

"I am," you admitted, shifting nervously in your seat. Your cheeks turning rosy as your face burned with embarrassment. Even though David was your boyfriend of almost two months, you two hadn’t talked about sex, and you felt uncomfortable talking about it now. "How did you know?"

"I just had a feeling," he shrugged before changing the subject again.

The next time you talked about it was a couple weeks later while cuddling and watching TV in David's bed.

"Is there a reason why?" he asked, turning to face you.

"No," you shook your head. "It just never felt like the right person or the right time, and I've just never felt ready," you shrugged, because that was exactly it. There was no rhyme or reason behind why you hadn’t lost it yet. It had just never felt right.

 The last time it was brought up was about a month later when you went to New York City with him for a few days. You were making out in the bed of the hotel room and when things started escalating, David suddenly stopped and pulled away from you.

"What?" you asked, feeling insecure and self-conscious as you sat up in bed and pulled his t-shirt over your head.

"I don't want to go too far. I don't know what you're comfortable with," he said quietly and you gave him a smile.

"Dave, you're the right person." You were confident in your reply and it made you excited.

"Really?" You nodded.  

 It was the night of David's birthday when it happened.

You two had just gotten back to his house after going out to dinner and he was looking extremely attractive in the black button down and skinny jeans he was wearing and you wanted to get him out of it. You grabbed his hand, practically dragging him through the house and into his bedroom. Shutting the door behind you, you immediately attached your lips to his.

"Did I tell you how hot you looked tonight?" you whispered into his ear.

"Did I tell you how hot you looked tonight?" he asked back, and you blushed. His lips trailed down your neck as you moved to the bed. You fell backwards, David falling on top of you as his lips moved back to yours. You reached your hands up to undo the buttons on his shirt and a smirk formed on his lips. He ran his hands across your chest, letting out a quiet moan when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra. His hands made their down to the hem of your dress, sliding your panties down before he slowly pushed the dress up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed. He straddled you, grabbing one of your breasts in each hand, his fingers flicking your nipple and making you whine in pleasure.  

"You're gorgeous," David whispered, and you blushed before attaching your lips to his. It's a slow, soft kiss. A nice change of pace from the passion earlier. Your fingers tangle in his hair and the kisses stay soft and sweet.

"So gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing down your neck. The kisses were more sensual this time, like David was eager for something. He brought his lips up to yours, this time they’re messy and filled with passion again. You could feel David's bulge on your bare skin and your hands were shaking as you reached down to undo the button on his pants, sliding them down his legs along with his boxers.

You felt David's hands grab your thighs, pushing your legs apart, and let out a gasp. He ran his thumb over your panties before pulling them down. Two of his fingers slipped inside you and you moaned in pleasure, your fingernails digging into his back. He got in a rhythm and you had to bite your lip from screaming his name when he pulled his fingers out and dipped his head between your legs.

Your fingers entangled themselves in his hair and you pulled him back up to you. You reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom, freezing for a moment as you held the small package in your hand.

"Relax, baby," David whispered, grabbing your hand to calm you down and kissing your forehead softly. "We don’t have to."

"No, I want to," you replied, taking a few deep breaths and nodding for David to continue. David tore open the condom and slid it on.  He was gentle as he lined himself up, pressing his hands into your hips to steady himself. He slowly pushed into you and you winced in pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice.

You nodded. "David, I'm fine," you giggled, happy that he was so understanding and worried about you.  

"We can stop whenever, just say the word," David rambled.

He slid back into you, his hands digging into your hips as your hands gripped the sheets. You let out a moan when David pushed himself all the way into you, and his lips find yours to silence them. He finally got into a good rhythm, easing himself in and out slowly at first to make sure you didn't feel any pain before picking up the speed.

"Fuck, David," you moaned, as he thrust into you harder than he had before. "Feels so good." Your fingernails were digging into his back now and you could hear moans and profanities escape his lips.

David slowed suddenly, his pace becoming uneven.

"I'm close," he groaned, and you pull at his hair, making him let out a loud moan. He moves one hand down to rub your clit while he continues to thrust into you. A wave of pleasure washed over you and you moan out his name. David bucked his hips, pushing deeply into you and staying buried in you for a moment.

He pulled out and peeled the condom off, tossing it into the trashcan next to his bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded, giving him a kiss.

Both of you are sweaty and sticky but neither of you want to move.

"Happy birthday, babe," you whispered.

"You didn’t want to do that just because it was my birthday, right? We could've waited longer. I wouldn’t have minded."

"Dave, that's not why I wanted it. Tonight just felt right." You smiled as he kissed your forehead.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (8/?)

AO3

Her first week home goes by far faster than Janis thought it would, and that might in part be due to the fact that she spent a lot of it asleep, or in their weird limbo state between awake and asleep. Maybe it was some out of character naivete, but she thought that her time at home would be almost normal, or at least less painful than in the hospital. She had made all these plans to take Cady out for ice cream during the week and catch up with other friends and maybe even swing into North Shore to see her old art teachers. Grab parts of her old life back and feel like herself again.

But her body didn’t agree with her. Rather than a rush of energy flowing into her body on the drive home and her waking up feeling refreshed and free, she felt weighted down from the minute she left the hospital. She had sat half-asleep in the back of her dad’s car, her head lolling against the seat and kept awake only by her parents’ voices and the radio buzz, along with her own will power. Apparently she couldn’t even make it through one lousy movie night, crashing out before the first one is even over and waking up at double digits to a concerned friend. The days after that weren’t much better, and all the plans she made melted down her bathroom drain. She feels as though she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, a whole week had passed without her knowledge. And now she’s walking through the hospital doors again with her bag slung over her shoulders, the goodbye hug she shared with her father lingering on her skin.

The place feels far less strange than it had the first week, and she guesses that can only be a good thing. It doesn’t feel ‘homey’, there are too many strangers roaming the halls and everything is too sterile and strict for that, but she feels more in place. Like she’s viewing it through a camera lens and the picture is coming into focus.

“Janis!”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of a small body ramming into her side, a beanie-clad head colliding with her chest and arms around her waist. Normally she’d object to being grabbed that way, but there’s something about this particular hug that warms her up, not just her heart but her body too and for a few minutes makes her forget about her angsting.

“Hi cutie!” she wraps one arm around Maddie, her other hand still occupied with her bag. “What have you been up to while I was away?”

Before she answer, someone calls her name. It’s sharp and sudden, a complete departure from Maddie’s own adorable, if rushed, babbling. A woman appears as if out of nowhere, with short hair and a frown one her face and glasses framing her eyes. Janis doesn’t have to be a genius to work out who she is though.

“Sorry mom,” Maddie says before taking Janis’ hand and yanking her forwards. True to fashion, Janis wobbles and almost trips over her own feet in the process. “Mom, this is Janis, the girl I was telling you about! The new girl!”

“Oh.” Maddie’s mom smoothes her hair down and gives her a smile, one that wouldn’t look out of place on a TV special. “Nice to meet you, Janis. Maddie’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, well now I’m scared,” she says, shoving her free hand in her pocket.

“Oh, I’ve only heard good things from her,” she says warmly. She has quite a similar face to Maddie, same chin and dimple in her cheeks and cheekbones. The eyes are different though, hers green where Maddie’s are brown. Her hair is dark blonde and curling at the bottom and Janis can’t help wondering if that’s what Maddie’s hair looked like before. She’d certainly look cute with blonde curls falling around that little face. Her eyes move from Janis to her daughter and in turn go from full of warmth to exasperation, a trick only moms know. “Maddie you can’t run off like that.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just saw Janis and wanted to say hi.” Then she turns around to Janis as if her mom isn’t even there. Janis wants to disapprove. “Hey, can you hang out now?”

“Nothing I’d love more, short stuff,” she says. “But I have to review with Mr Doctor first.” The words have barely left her lips before Maddie’s little face falls and Janis bends down to her level. “But once I’m done I’ll come find you and then you can tell me all the trouble you made this week. Deal?”

The way her face lights up does such a funny thing to Janis’ heart. It fills something she didn’t know was empty and makes it feel like it’ll burst.

“Deal.”

She gives her mom a wave before stepping back to her own mom. Maddie’s mom has her hand on her daughter’s back immediately, asking her hushed questions that Janis can’t hear, but she can guess. Something like ‘are you hungry’, ‘do you want a warmer sweater’ ‘maybe you should rest for a bit’. At least that’s what her mom would say to her. Cancer moms, she thinks.

Room 21 has been cleaned up since she was last in, sheets tucked in and obviously newly washed, the bathroom scrubbed and the shower things she brought neatly lined up on the shelves, the trashcan emptied.

Janis had thought about her little hospital room during the week. It’s a nice enough space, but she hadn’t quite realised how lonely it was until she was back in her own room. It’s cold and impersonal, not to mention identical to everyone else’s. So yesterday she took and their biggest shopping bag and started lifting some things from her room to give it a little more colour, make it feel like her space, not just a space made available for her.

She takes one of the pillows from her own bed and places it on this one. She bought it at a thrift store, made up of dozens of mismatching swatches from fabric. She then takes out two more cushions, one white with a black butterfly and one she tie dyed purple herself, and places them on the visitor’s chairs. Once they’re done she takes out a red fluffy blanket and drapes it over the bed, letting the edges drape over the sides. The place feels warmer in the literal and figurative sense now with all of them here.

Next she pulls out her lesbian flag form her bag, wondering why on Earth she didn’t bring it that first week. Her mom had wondered if this was a good idea, bringing a pride flag, not unsupportive but also not naïve to how the world is. Janis had insisted that it was important to her, and it’s technically a decoration. While her mom is the furthest thing from conservative, she still had a speech prepared in advance, telling her how this is a key part of her identity and how much it matters to her and how she’s never been scared to show it anyway, but it wasn’t needed. Her mom gave in as soon as she brought it up, telling her that if it would make her feel better, she wasn’t going to stop her.

So that’s how Doctor Wiley walks in on her standing on a chair and attempting to stick the flag on the wall.

“Doing a little bit of redecorating, are we?” he asks.

“Just a few knickknacks from home,” she says over her shoulder. “They really tie the room together, don’t you think?” She makes him wait until the other corner is stuck before jumping down and facing him, delighting in his slightly-confused (but nonetheless happy) expression.

“Right well, first week at home.”  He closes the door behind him, making sure it clicks shut. She winces at the noise and hopes he didn’t notice. Despite the colour she’s brought, the room feels suffocating again. “How did that go?”

“Pretty okay,” she says. She doesn’t lie to him, seeing no point in it. “I was tired. A lot.” She looks over at her mom, her arms wrapped around herself. “And um… I felt pretty lousy a lot of the time too. Like I had a really terrible hangover.”

“Well, that’s unfortunately to be expected,” the doctor says sadly. “That is a normal side effect of the chemo. Any other effects that you can remember? Any vomiting?”

“Nope.”

“Bleeding around your mouth?”

She shakes her head.

“Any trouble eating?”

“Are these all going to be related to my mouth?” she asks. He laughs at that and shakes his head.

“It does feel like that doesn’t it?” he asks. She huffs a laugh back and goes to say no again, but it catches in her throat. She doesn’t really remember eating that much over the week.

“I wasn’t really hungry,” she explains. She pulls her jacket tighter around her body. “I mean, I ate food. Not like I starved myself or anything. I just wasn’t hungry most days.”

“Well, again that’s to be expected,” he says as he scribbles on his little clipboard. She cranes her neck a little. It’s about her after all. She has a right to read it, she’d like to think. Unfortunately, the bastard slides it under his arm and out of her eyes. “Well, at least now you know what to expect. Your treatments seem to be working as they should, so we’ll keep it going there.” She nods, her lips pressed into a tight line. Surely no change is a good thing. “One more thing… have you thought any more about getting that port in?”

She takes a deep breath in. She has tried not to, but she has thought about it. She even Googled it and scribbled a pro and con list in what would have been a school notebook. And the more she read about it and thought about it… the more she was swayed by it.

“A bit,” she tells him. “I think… I think I might talk to some people about it before I decide anything.”

“That’s a great idea, Janis,” he beams. He’s probably just glad she thought about it. “I’ll let you two get settled in. See you later.”

She lets out a breath once he’s gone. Doctor Wiley isn’t a bad person, he’s sweet and kind and has the best kind of grandpa vibes; that’s why she feels so bad for being so uncomfortable whenever he’s around.

“You okay?” her mom asks.

“Aren’t I always?” she sighs. She kneels down and gets the last piece of décor out of her back; a string of little black and white star-shaped lights that used to hang above her bed. 2 dollars in her local store, plucked from a bin at the cash register. Cady had thought they were adorable.

‘They suit you,’ she had said, leaning her head on her shoulder. ‘Since you’re a space alien and all that.’

Smiling warmly at the memory, she wraps them around the frame at the foot of her bed. Tonight she can turn them on and let them light up the darkness. They’ll probably be less effective than the lamp sitting on the side, but they’re prettier. They’re hers.

“Hey, why don’t I get Maddie?” she says. Her mom nods, likely taking a moment to wonder who Maddie is before remembering. “I just think she’d like them.”

“Yeah, sure,” her mom says. “That’s really sweet.” Her mom’s words make her insides glow like the little lights soon will, and the glow gets brighter when Maddie gasps and tells her how much she loves everything, gushing over the flag and the stars. It’s not home, and she’s not completely comfortable here, but she’s doing what she does best, she supposes. She’s adapting to circumstance.

                                                                                              *****

She’s eating her dinner when her dad comes over on Tuesday. The hospital staff angelic helpful beings that they are, fix him up with a plate of fries and a hot dog when he casually remarks he hadn’t made eaten himself yet. And overly polite, gracious man that her father is, he thanked them two or three times and made sure to tell them how much he loved it. She had rolled her eyes along with her mom, even if they were both laughing at him. The best part is knowing that this isn’t even an act, he’s just like that.

Visiting hours had barely started when he came through her door tonight. That’s how he had been every day of her first two weeks and apparently, he had started as he meant to go on. Taking attendance as seriously as Cady does. But as punctual and meticulous as he is, he’s never forgotten to get dinner before. And while she does her absolute best not to show it, so many bad feelings cloud her mind and twist her stomach, adding to the simmering nausea she’s felt for a few hours now.

She moves her fork around the pasta as her dad talks work to them, although the words fall away before they reach Janis, her mind on the dinner in front of her. Vegetarian lasagne, something she’s always loved, but the sauce looks too much like slime for her liking, and the way the filling and pasta slithers around each other and schlops around on the plate turns her off it even more. She takes a quick sip of water to try to calm her body down, but to no avail. The mere idea of eating anything more exhausts her and she bites her cheek to keep from gagging.

“Janis, you okay?” her mom asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she says quietly. “Peachy keen.” She drops the fork, letting it clatter against the paper plate. “I think I’m done.”

“You sure?” her mom asks. “You barely touched it.”

“Not hungry,” she reasons. She shoves the tray table away from her before the sight of the food makes her retch. She pulls her pillow against her stomach, picking at a loose thread on it, avoiding her parent’s gaze. She doesn’t need to look at them to know that they’re worried about her.

“You want some of mine?” her dad asks.

“I’m okay,” she replies, shaking her head only to regret it. “Besides, you know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yeah, I do. You know, Jan, your mom and I were talking,” her dad begins. He looks over to her mom, not for permission, but something akin to it. Validation, that might be the right word to use. A sign that this is the right thing to say right now. “Maybe it might be smart for you to press pause on the vegetarian thing for now.”

“Well, unless you can ask the meat industry to put a pause on the animal cruelty thing,” she fires back. “I’m not doing that.”

“Okay,” he sighs. She lifts her eyes enough to look at him and rests her chin on her pillow. “Look, you just need all the strength you can get at the minute.”

“Are you mansplaining my own body to me?” she asks. She makes sure to add a smirk so he knows she’s not serious. It must not have worked, because he takes it seriously. And he never takes stuff like this seriously. Hell, he’d probably agree and say something half-serious right back.

“I’m not… no,” he says. “I’m just saying that it might be worth it to eat more. I know you care about the planet but-”

“If you tell me I have to care about myself too or something like that, I’m going to scream,” she says flatly. “And then Doctor Wiley will come in and we’ll all be having a very awkward conversation.” She pushes herself up from the bed and stands facing him just to prove her point. Sure, white spots flash in her vision for a few seconds, but she powers through it. Spite fuels her more than any food can. So raises her chin and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not dropping the vegetarian thing, Dad. That’s the end of it.”

The prickly silence that falls over the room is almost enough to make her regret what she said. Her dad’s mouth opens and closes noiselessly, his eyes moving from her to her mom. She’d bet that if she had pulled this under normal circumstances she’d have gotten a ‘don’t talk to your father like that’ and she finds herself craving one here. She doesn’t get it. It’s not unexpected but it’s frustrating. Instead he holds his hands up, surrendering to her.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down on the bed. “Fine.”

Regret and pride battle inside her at the sight of her at the sight of her dad’s dejected face. While she and her parents are no strangers to disagreements, this is new; the three of them unsure of what to say, her mom unsure whose side to take. Fights in their house resolve themselves in under a minute and are forgotten entirely. Fights here… maybe not so much. Different stakes, she supposes. That idea shakes her and makes her feel even more sick. Which is great.

She holds if off for another minute before climbing across the bed to him and wrapping her arms around him and even resting her chin on his shoulder. A second passes and he doesn’t move, and Janis almost spirals, but then he takes her hand and rests his cheek against her head.

“I’m just worried about you, kid. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure,” she says. “Besides, the veggie options they have are way better than the meat ones.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “As long as you’re feeling okay.” She murmurs something that was meant to be a response, but to be honest, she’s not even sure what she was going for. Maybe assuring him that she’s fine, even if that would be a bare-faced lie. She lets him take whatever he needs from it instead of deciding herself. All she can really do is hope this never comes up again because thinking about it makes her skin crawl and the her stomach twist into knots.

                                                                                               *****

Unfortunately, she isn’t much better by the next day. Cramps clench her stomach and wreck through her body, a chill racing after it and leaving her shivering beneath her sweatshirt. She throws the covers off only to pull them back on a minute later, her body changing temperatures so rapidly it’s like two kids tossing a ball between them. She spends the achingly long morning in varying degrees of pain and discomfort and small bouts of sleep, shifting into a new position every few seconds in a desperate attempt to ease it in any way.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mom’s hand runs through her hair, gentle yet tinged with anxiety, out of a fear for Janis and a fear of this unknown, alien thing happening. Other mom’s like Maddie’s mom at least have the advantage of knowing this. She doesn’t and Janis bets that’s what scares her. But that doesn’t stop her trying. “Do you need anything. Some water, an extra blanket? Painkillers?”

“I need it stop,” she groans. She pulls herself into a tight ball as her stomach doubles over, Purrlock beneath her chin, stroking her face with his tiny paws. Between the waves of pain, she manages a small shake of her head. “I just need to ride it out.” She opens her eyes just enough to see her mom nod and keeps them open long enough to see Nurse Lucy come into the room, bulging plastic bags inside a tray, and a long, uninterrupted groan escapes her lips.

“Funnily enough that’s what my husband said to me this morning,” she says without skipping a beat.

“You need a new husband,” Janis replies from where her face is pressed into the pillow.

“Bad day?”

“Unfortunately,” her mom answers. Janis hears the door clicking shut and she’s immensely grateful for it. “She’s felt a little off last night and now-”

“Now we’re here,” she interrupts. “And everything hurts.” She pushes herself up, finding herself helplessly looking up at the person with the most knowledge. “Is this normal?”

“It is, sweetheart,” she says, calming a fear Janis hadn’t realised was there. “You just need to power through it.”

“That’s what she said to me,” her mom murmurs, although concern is still etched onto her face. “Is it safe for her to be on that right now?”

“It is,” she replies.

“Can’t we skip it just this once?” Janis complains. “You know how shit it makes me feel. Now it’ll make me feel double shit.”

“I know, Janis.” Lucy goes about setting up the IV, although there’s almost unending sympathy when she looks down at Janis.. “But we can’t mess with your treatments, kid. Not unless there’s a serious reason”

Janis bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t like other people being right instead of her and she really hates it now. As she pushes herself up and rolls up her sleeve it’s with gritted teeth and a scowl and a reminder to the universe that she’s not giving in willingly.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s our girl,” Lucy comments as she takes her arm. “Look on the bright side, at least it’s not doing this.”

“Yeah.” She winces as the needle breaks through her skin. The medicine slips through her veins and it’s because it affects her already half-asleep mind already that her next sentence comes out. “You know, I think he and my friend Damian would make a good couple.”

“I’ll pass that onto him,” she replies with a chuckle. “Okay, that should take another two hours. You try to stay hydrated during that time, okay? Or just take it easy.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” she mumbles. Her face is already pressed into the pillow, her body turned on its side and her knees dragged up to her chest. She feels sliver of self-consciousness run through her with her mom and Lucy’s eyes on her, both full of pity and worry, the latter more evident in her mom’s. Through her half-closed eyes, she sees Lucy take her mom’s arm and whisper something to her, something that makes her nod but does nothing to relieve the tension out of her body. If she were normal, she’d snap at them and remind them that she’s still in the room, but then if she were normal right now, they wouldn’t be doing that.

She doesn’t know how long it takes for her to fall asleep, all she knows is that when she wakes up it’s because there’s an IV being taken out of her arm and an apologetic nurse. Which means she’s lost at least two hours of her day from sitting in here.

She still feels bad, but at least now it’s in part due to her stiff muscles. She stretches out her arms and runs a hand through her hair, trying to re-ground herself in the land of the living. Surprisingly, her mom is nowhere to be found. Maybe she slipped down to the store and picked up a trashy magazine or hunted down some other cancer moms to become friends with. The idea makes her smile. Good for her, she thinks.

Still a little feeling groggy, she grabs stretches over to the table and grabs her sketchbook and pencil, her hand moving around in lazy lines to create half-shapes and thin concepts for later. Her mom comes in soon, as she suspected, holding a new magazine, and checks up on how she’s feeling before letting her get back to work. The drawing obviously can’t help fix her body, but it patches up her mind and makes her feel like more of a human.

It takes a while, but she finally starts to feel better; her stomach settles down, the idea of food doesn’t disgust her and she’s comfortable in her sweater. Even though she feels shaky from the mini hurricane that ran through her, it’s such a relief to feel normal again. Her drawings start to take on a more concrete shape; a little girl holding a balloon, a butterfly, a baby dragon breathing little sparks, a baby tiger to make friends with the baby dragon.

She’s pretty close to fine when there’s a gentle, cautious knock on her door. Her mom asks silently if she’s up for it, and Janis answers in the form of getting up and opening it herself. On the other side is a woman maybe her mom’s age with long dark hair wearing a red shirt tucked into white pants, holding a clipboard and of course, smiling. Everyone in here smiles.

“Janis?” she asks.

“That would be me.”

“Hi. I’m Cassie. I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People.” She gestures proudly to the plastic covered badge on her shirt, blue and white with a smiley cartoon sunflower. “Would it be okay if I could grab a quick word with you?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.”

Janis steps back and opens the door, letting her into the room. Once there, Cassie immediately notices her mom in the corner and powers right up to her, handshake at the ready.

“Oh you must be her mom,” she says.

“Um yeah. You’re with some cancer fund?”

“Yes.” Janis sits down on the bed, her legs folded beneath her, and closes her sketchbook. Cassie sits next to her, a little too close for Janis’ liking. Her mom hovers helplessly next to the bed, uncertainly evident in her stance and her eyes constantly moving to the door. She’s given Janis her fair share of privacy in here, but Janis is glad that this time she’s here. Something tells her that being alone with this woman would unsettle her with her demeanour that’s so polished and shiny it’s practically plastic. So with that in mind she slips her mom a smile and a nod.

“So, like I said I’m with the Cancer Fund for Young People. We’re in charge of taking care of all the mental well-being of the patients in here. We know what a traumatic experience this is for you, Janis, and we want to help you through it.” She gives her a smile that seems calculated and Janis has to wonder how much of this spiel is scripted. “We offer a wide range of support systems to help you through this, as well as some fun social events.”

“Ah yes, I was wondering when we were doing the Cancer Kid Silent Disco,” Janis remarks. Cassie is unflinching, instead letting out a light laugh and handing her over an orange plastic wallet.

“Just some background information on some of the things we’re running now.” She opens looks through the glossy leaflets, some with information familiar to her like helplines and support groups. Different place, different reason, but she’s researched and even run the same concepts. She puts them to one side, lifting a couple of others and pretending to look at them until a few words catch her eye.

“That photography project,” she says. “Maddie and Melissa told me about it a few weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” she replies. “A lot of young people are getting involved all over the state. It’s actually the first year we’re doing this. The idea is we’d give you a camera and let you have a little photoshoot in here with all the things that matter to you. Your friends, your hobbies, your favourite things.”

“Showing the person behind the cancer.”

“Exactly.” Excitement sparks in Cassie’s eyes. “So what do you think about it?”

“I think it sounds cool,” she answers. “I mean I’m into all that kind of stuff, so…”

“Oh, that’s great. We’d love to have as many people involved as possible, so you hold onto that. It’s got all the details about how to go about it.” She clears her throat and leans forwards a little bit, her eyebrows raising in a way that almost makes Janis uncomfortable. “And then we also work with the Make A Wish Foundation. I’m sure you’ve heard all about that even if no-one’s spoken to you about it.”

“No-one’s brought that up actually,” Janis says. “Guess there was no time with all of… well, this.” She waves around the room, gesturing to the IVs and the bandages on her hand. “Really, I kind of forgot it was a thing.”

“Well, it definitely is a thing,” Cassie assures her. “And you just about make the cut, being 17 now. There was a bit of fuss since you’ll be 18 in November, but we squashed that pretty quickly.” When she chuckles, Janis’ eyes meet her mom, both no doubt thinking the same thing; God this woman is excited. “Couldn’t have you missing out on your wish, could we? So you can have anything you want. Go to any place you want, meet a celebrity you love, get some designer gear.” She cocks her head to her side, looking at her expectantly. She only offers a nod. Each offer is tempting but doesn’t sit right with her. After all, if this is her one wish, she’d want to get it right.

“Sounds awesome,” she says. “I’ll do some thinking on it.”

“Of course. Of course there’s not rush at all. This is all just for you to look over. There’s schedules in there for the support groups and therapy sessions-”

“Sounds fun.” Her voice is blunt, the words sudden and borderline rude, and she sees Cassie’s face just begin to crack. Apparently, she found this woman’s limit. She feels a small slurry of pride at that. “I’ll definitely look over them.”

“Good. Well if you need anything else from me, my number is on the bottom of all of them.” She gets up and brushes herself down, telling the two of them it was ‘so, so nice to meet them’ and that she hopes to see Janis again soon. And she still doesn’t leave after that, standing in the doorway giving them the tiny details about the photography project (which Janis could read about just fine) and how there’s “so many fun things they have planned”. Janis keeps nodding and nodding to the point that when she finally leaves, there’s a crick in her neck.

“Well she’s very into her job,” her mom remarks, making her laugh.

“You can say that again,” she sighs, shifting through the sheets of paper. They all have the same colour scheme as Cassie’s badge, ocean blue and blindingly bright orange, along with the happy sunflower, and each one showing photos of kids with tubes and hats sitting in circles or giving the camera a thumbs-up as they munch on pizza or sit at the front row of a concert.

“Anything catch your eye?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe. I meant it about that photography thing. Everything else…”

“Not your scene?”

“I…” She peers closer, looking at the background of one picture. “Okay well they got to go to Comic Con.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Didn’t you go to one a year or two ago?”

“Yeah.” She was also planning to go this coming summer to sell some art she’d been busy making, and to introduce Cady to another foreign concept. Who knows whether or not that’ll happen now? For her at least, Cady can still go. Damian might want to take her, or maybe one of the Mathletes, they’re all diehard geeks.  A picture pops into her mind, one of Cady walking around her first convention with that excited expression that reminds Janis of a puppy and makes her heart melt. Dragging Kevin G around different stalls, marvelling at the merchandise and the cosplays and the celebrities. Cady with wide, shining eyes and a breathless, beautiful smile and someone else at her side instead of her.

“I need the bathroom,” she announces. She jumps off the bed, hiding her shaking hand in her sweatshirt pocket. Hopefully, her mom will think she’s panting because she’s tired, not because she just upset herself. Sure enough, the question is ready on her lips once she’s up. “I’m fine, Mom. Just need to pee.”

She sits on the toilet with the seat closed, her knees up against her chest and her hands wrapped around her legs. Her breaths are long and deep; she imagines herself expelling the bad thought every time she breathes out; a trick she learned the first time she was in therapy. She scoffs at herself for feeling this way over something that wasn’t even real. She has plenty of real things to be upset about and she’s wound herself up over something that might not even happen. What’s she even upset about? Definitely not about Cady running off with Kevin. There are a million reasons that won’t happen. Is she upset about Cady enjoying herself when she’s not around? Oh God please no, she thinks to herself. Tell me I’m not becoming that girlfriend.

She rests her chin on her knees and looks glumly at the bathroom wall. This is actually a great place to contemplate, what with the plain white walls and the quiet and the coolness beneath her bare feet. Her thoughts are more coherent in here then they have been for weeks. Which is how she manages to get her feelings in order, set them in front of her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. In doing that, she sees she’s not jealous of Cady’s friends, nor does she want her to stop living her life on her account. It’s nothing but missing her and the idea of only experiencing Cady’s upcoming joy through second hand accounts rather than in person, that makes her heart hurt this way.

                                                                                               *****

Like she has done so many times before, Janis shoves those feelings down. Way down to the point where she almost can’t feel them. And since she can’t feel them, her mom can’t see them, and that means she’s only worried about the one thing. Which is good for both of them.

The next day she looks through the papers that Cassie gave her. She also learned that morning that her discomfort around Cassie isn’t unique to her, in fact she, Melissa and a few other older kids have a good old fashioned bitch session about her, giggling under their hands as they discuss her irrepressible cheerfulness or her perpetual optimism. It’s comforting to know she’s not the only one to find it exhausting, even if no-one else is on her level of dry cynicism. There are a lot of things that unites the people in this ward and one of them is apparently a disdain for enforced hopefulness.

“Well, it’s not all bad,” Melissa had pointed out. “I mean, it does work. A lot of it. Like the positivity journal I started.”

“The what now?”

“This journal I started when my treatments did,” she had explained. “It’s probably in your pack somewhere. Like writing down something good that happened to you each day, writing down the things you’re grateful for, et cetra.” She offers a small shrug. “Helps you stay positive, I guess.”

“Hm, not sure that would click with me,” Janis had said. “I’m like an electron. I have a negative charge.” Her little group had laughed at that before going back to complaining about/mocking her.

But despite that assertion, she’s sitting here not two hours later reading the pack she had previously dismissed. Among other things, finds the idea for the positivity journal, encouraging her to document her feelings, with particular focus on documenting the good parts. ‘When it’s raining, make sure to record the rainbows!’ it tells her. She wants to laugh and scrunch it up and toss it over her shoulder, but she freezes. A year ago, hell less than a year ago, she’d have done that. Now she simply slips it safely back into the wallet and places the wallet on a shelf rather than underneath something or hiding it in a drawer.

“Janis!”

Her head shoots up at the sound of that voice, mostly out of disbelief. She knows that voice well, which is why she’s almost certain she’s imagining it. While it’s not impossible, she still finds the idea of a (former) Plastic coming around hard to swallow.

But there’s Karen Smith is standing in the doorway, patented sunny smile and all. Janis blinks a little just to make sure she’s real. Nope, not dreaming apparently. So Karen Smith came to visit her in hospital.

“Karen,” she greets. She’s not afraid, Karen’s harmless by herself, she’s just not completely sure how to act without a mediator here. “You’re here…”

“Uh huh. The guy at the front desk told me where to find you. Oh also I ran into your mom downstairs! She was really nice.”

“Oh cool.” Karen nods, her feet remaining rooted to the floor and her eyes shifting. “Oh, come on in.” Janis leans forward and clears some of her stuff off the end of the bed, unused to visitors, especially at this time. “Uh, here sit down.”

“Thanks!” Karen skips into the room and it’s then Janis notices the little basket in her hands, covered with a little gingham cloth and looking straight out of a picture book.

“Okay, what’s with that?” she asks. “Delivering some cookies to grandma?”

“Not cookies,” she says, dimples forming in her cheeks as her smile gets wider. It spreads to Janis; Karen’s easily-brought happiness is infectious. She pulls back the cloth, revealing a Tupperware box containing muffins that bulge out of their cases, little red and white spots bursting through the golden surface. “Muffins! I made them for you. I asked Cady and Damian what flavours you like and they told me raspberry and white chocolate.” Her eyes meet Janis’, worry swimming in the blue. “Is that okay?”

“It’s great. Karen, thank you so much!”

She wants to say she’s touched, but that’s almost an understatement. It’s unexpected, sure, but the best kind of unexpected; the fact that she made muffins, the fact that she asked her friends what she likes. The fact that he thought about her. It leaves her at a loss for words and all she can do is take Karen’s hand and squeeze it tight. Karen seems to get it anyway.

“Do you want one now?”

“Of course I do!” Karen lets out a small squeak as she pops the box open and hands her one. They look even better up close, with the raspberries poking out and slivers of white chocolate running through the delicate dough. She bites into it, giggling as she wipes crumbs off her face.

“Oh my gosh, Karen, these are great!” she says through a full mouth. And she’s sure they are, but there’s kind of a small problem. She can’t really taste it. She gets about 1% of the taste, maybe less, and it might be her imagination. The sad part is that she isn’t surprised; she was told on the first day the chemo might mess up with her taste buds. But it could have done her a favour and waited until after she was given muffins for God’s sake.

“Thanks!” Karen squeals, biting into her own. “There were meant to be twelve, but I wanted to taste one to see if they were okay. So I shared it with my mom to see what she said.”

“That’s okay, Kare,” she says. She props her elbow up on her knee and pulls off the case more. “I didn’t know you could cook. Or bake, I guess.”

“Oh, I only just started,” she explains. “I started watching that baking show-the British one. Have you watched it?”

“Oh, of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Well I watched it last year, and I thought it looked really fun,” Karen explains. “So I went and looked up some recipes and I gave it a try.” She beams triumphantly at her and Janis feels an unexpected surge of happiness for her. “I think I might do that when we graduate. Go to like cooking college. I want to bake stuff for people.” She gasps suddenly and grabs Janis’ arm. She can almost see the lightbulb going off over her head. “Maybe I could bake stuff for cancer patients!”

“That’d be awesome,” Janis agrees. Karen smiles, a glow in her cheeks and her legs kicking above the ground.

“So how are you doing?” she asks. She brings as much seriousness as she can, which isn’t a lot, especially not with that little face of hers.

“I’m okay,” she shrugs. “You know how it is. I’m getting what I need, which is good.” Karen nods severely, something ticking in her brain. Something that’s surprised Janis upon getting to know her is that Karen isn’t empty-headed like she once thought. There’s a lot going on up there, it just goes on in a way they can’t understand. She’s certainly smart enough to understand the gravity of her situation, and before long her shoulders droop as she takes in more of the room. “Hey,” she taps her shoulder. “So what’s going on with you? Besides the baking, obviously.”

“Well, on the baking, I might be making some stuff for the bake sale this year,” she says. “And on non-baking, I guess I’m good. School’s pretty hard this year. I mean not for Cady, because she’s smart. And some of it’s okay. I like doing English this year. We’re reading drama, and at least I like drama. It’s easier to read than books…”

Janis nods along, her attention held by the blonde in front of her until movement outside her open door catches her eye; Maddie passes in her pink sweatshirt and her slippers, probably on her way to the longue. The minute Janis catches her eye, she waves at her and Janis instinctively waves back. Karen picks up on it, looking behind her and finding Maddie outside.

“Oh, hey,” Maddie says awkwardly, having not picked up on the other girl’s presence.

“Oh, Maddie, this is Karen,” Janis introduces. “She’s one of my friends from school. Karen, this is Maddie.”

“Oh… hi.” Karen’s voice is a lot quieter, more careful than it was a second ago and Janis hopes Maddie doesn’t notice. There’s a clear difference between the two of them. For a moment, her heart clenches, and Karen’s ‘harmlessness’ flies out the window. But then Karen holds out the muffin box and her face is as sunny and warm as ever. “Do you want a muffin? I baked them for Janis, but you’re Janis’ friend.”

“Oh, thanks!” Maddie scurries in and takes one from the box. “Cool. I have to go, I told someone I’d hang out with them today, but I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, short stack.”

“Bye, Maddie,” Karen says.

“Bye Janis. Bye Muffin Girl.”

Janis chuckles as she leaves, but when she sees Karen’s face, she sees the smile fading a little and worry creeping into her eyes. She can’t say she doesn’t understand it, even if she doesn’t like it. When she first met Maddie, despite liking her, she saw the reality. Losing her hair, wearing pyjamas more than her actual clothes. Janis at least passes for healthy, but how long will that last?

“How old is she?” Karen asks.

“She’s thirteen.” The word catches in Janis’ throat.

“Oh,” is all Karen says, but everything else is implied. Oh the poor little girl with cancer. In a while, that might be how people see her. That might be how people already see her. Poor little Janis with cancer.

“So you were saying about the school?” Janis asks. She taps Karen’s shoulder to bring her back. “About English class? Damian said you guys are doing Shakespeare this year.”

“Yeah we are,” she agrees. It takes another second for her to tear her gaze away from the door, but at least she’s back on track. “It’s a little weird, but I like it. I like watching it even more, Mrs J put a DVD of it on for us and it was so good! I wish we could just write a paper on what it looks like instead of having to read it. That would be so much easier.”

“What play is it?”

“Um, I can’t remember the name, but these two girls go into the forest and one dresses like a boy,” Karen explains. “But it’s really good. Like, sunshine emoji and flower emoji good. You know?”

“Um… explain that to me,” Janis says. “Just so I understand.”

“Okay, so you know how I express myself with emojis? Well, there’s a system of emojis for how I rate stuff. So sunshine emoji is at the top, if it’s funny and it makes you think about stuff. Then flower emoji means-”

If there’s one thing no-one can deny about Karen, it’s how much she can talk. A lot of it is above most people, but Karen can fill in the gaps in a conversation like no-one else. And Janis has never appreciated that as much as she does right now when she doesn’t really feel like talking. She picks at the muffin in her lap, forcing her focus onto Karen and her emojis, not on the way her throat feels tight and stiff or how her gut is churning and it feels like something it pulling at her insides. She focuses on Karen, not the feeling of something slithering up her throat.

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, hoping Karen doesn’t notice. She forces herself to make little comments every now and then to keep up the pretence, even though talking, or any movement, is a greater task than it should be, and comes with a risk. Cold sweat trickles down her back as she wills her stomach to settle. For a moment there’s a flare of indignance because this is her body and it will cooperate with her, damn it. But she dampens it quickly as it only adds to the nausea rolling over her. She takes in a deep breath. She can keep it down. She can keep this down. She can-

She can’t.

“Sorry, Karen.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before she throws herself off the bed and bolts to the bathroom. She collapses to her knees just in time to grip the sides of the toilet and empty the contents of her stomach into the bowl. In those seconds, nothing else exists but her and the foul taste in her mouth and the tension in her shoulders as she heaves once again. She coughs and gags that the aftertaste in her mouth, simply relieved that it’s over. Her eyes burn and tears mix with sweat as the run down her face. She almost forgets where she is and what was happening before, until she spies Karen’s face in her peripheral vision and realises that the other girl has her hair held back from her face. She tries to thank her, but the words die on her lips and all Karen gets for her troubles is a weak, shaky half-smile.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a small voice. “I um… I-I went and got help.”

Oh, joy.

“Come here, love,” another voice says in her ear, kind and soft but not entirely familiar. Janis has probably met her before but the name escapes her. The unnamed nurse helps her stand and she has no choice but to let her lead her over to her bed, Karen just behind them. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she manages in between pants. “I’m fine, it was just…” She shrugs, or at least she tries to. “You know.”

“I think… I think it might have been my fault,” Karen pipes up. Her eyes glisten under the lights and her breath is short and quick and catches in her throat. “I think it was the muffins I brought.” That’s all that’s needed to set Karen off, mascara tinged tears running down her pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the nurse tells her. Janis should be glad for it, since she’s too exhausted to speak for herself, but instead she has to avert her eyes to stop the feeling of helplessness spiking. She spent too long finding her voice not to use it.

“It’s not your fault, Karen,” she forces herself to say, wincing against her raw throat. “It wasn’t the muffins. I just… it happens. Sometimes the meds just make me sick.”

“But I thought they were meant to stop you from being sick,” Karen says, wiping at her eyes. Janis pats the spot on the bed next to her and takes her shoulder.

“They are,” she says. “And this just means they’re doing their job. I don’t get sick all the time, just sometimes. It’s not that often anyway.” She crosses her fingers behind her back. “Trust me, once this is all over and we’re back to normal, you can bake me all the muffins you want. Okay?”

Karen nods and before Janis has a chance to think of anything else, throws her arms around her and crushes her in a tight hug. Janis hugs her back, meaning to comfort her but getting some in return. She’ll say this for the shiny plastic, she gives great hugs, and she’s great to give hugs to.

Over the other girl’s shoulder, Janis watches the nurse flush the toilet before leaving, most likely to tell her mom or Doctor Wiley about what happened. Or both.

Karen sticks around for a little while, but Janis’ tiredness and her discomfort means she texts her mom to come pick her up sooner than she would have liked. She lets Janis keep the muffins and gives her another hug before she leaves.

“I hope you’re okay soon,” she whispers. Janis almost replies, ‘me too’, but has the common sense to settle for ‘thank you’ instead.

She leans back on the pillow once she’s gone, cherishing the short time she has to herself before Doctor Wiley inevitably comes in to check on her. She runs her hand through her hair, her mind going back to what she promised Karen. That once she’s back to normal, she can bake all the muffins she wants, and the unspoken assurance that it’ll all be fine then. It’s easy to promise, especially to Karen, but it’s less only now dawning on her that normal may be different that it was before.