#and yeah i tried to be more vulnerable to be extra social extra friendly even a bit superficial

[lush3-1]

on this year i tried my best to change my ways and to keep working on myself but as the time goes i cannot stop to notice the fact that i may be repeating another cycle in which i must learn to embrace my solitude at the expense of not showing my authentic self to the world and at the same time i also experience a deep feeling of not belonging anywhere

and if i hear one more time "oh i thought you were intimidating/mean" or "i was scared to approach you/you look unaproachable" i'm going to scream from the top of my lungs :i'm trying so hard!!! no matter how warm i make myself to be it doesn't come off as much as i would like to so i get labeled as cold and bitchy and is literally not the case most of the time oh my god

[my-writings-and-musings]

Here's a commission from an absolutely wonderful person, with Drift and a human reader going from the start of their friendship to becoming Amica Endura, and being ridiculously cute and sweet all the way. 

You'd been confused by the term at first, like you had with all Cybertronian phrases upon initially hearing them, but this one had been different in a way that didn't feel right.

Mostly because it sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Though the group of bots hadn't appeared to be especially troublesome, you had still seen Drift flinch when they'd referred to him as a Carnicon. That reaction alone had stirred immediate concern on your part, but their less than friendly tone and the sense of trouble they carried had made you act on the spot. Though the offending crewmembers had been gone by the time you managed to climb down the ladder attached to your designated lunch table, you'd still made it a point to hurry across the floor towards the lonely ninja bot, hoping that perhaps you'd just misunderstood what had transpired. Maybe the word was a nickname he hadn't heard in a while?  Distracted as you were just trying to avoid getting stepped on by the other bots moving about the room, such optimism was still obviously hopeless even to you. Drift had looked wounded by the comment.

"Hey, Drift! Down here, hello!"

Waving your arms for added effect, you called up to the bot as soon as you reached the floor beside his chair. Though somewhat out of breath, you had practiced getting the attention of much taller beings enough times to make elevating your voice quite easy, and you were noticed quickly. Raising his helm in a flash, Drift looked down to the floor with surprise that turned to a soft smile when he recognized you. A hand was offered to lift you as had become customary amongst the crew. 

"Hey, Y/N! Finish your lunch so soon?" He asked casually, all traces of his unpleasant encounter already wiped from his face. Hopping off his palm and onto the table, you had to sadly note the half eaten meal of his own sitting on a tray, untouched since he'd been called that word. The neatly organised arrangement of  energon cuts and various metals prepared as tasty little morsels was his usual lunch, something you knew because its sushi like appearance had stuck in your mind, especially do to how quickly he always finished it and the delighted mood with which he did so. Something must have indeed been wrong for it to be pushed aside and ignored.

"Yeah! I just wanted to come over, and..." Words failed you at the realization you hadn't actually planned upon what to say, or even how to go about saying it, despite your desire to help. All you'd wanted was to check up on him as swiftly as possible, and due to the distance involved there hadn't been time to think of a tactful way to accomplish that. Perhaps you should just be honest and not beat around the bush? Drift was a bot who could appreciate good intentions, if nothing else. Finding your courage, you ignored your somewhat rapid heartbeat to look up at him, smiling softly and adjusting your stance in a way you prayed came across as reassurance. "Well, honestly, I saw that group of bots go by and... I don't like to assume, but I wanted to make sure they didn't give you a hard time."

"Oh, those guys?"

His tone was casual, but even he couldn't hide the hurt that flashed in his optics. Clearly, and unfortunately, your instincts had been right on target. 

"Nah, they're just... Some mechs are a bit abrasive is all, it's how they socialize." He said, politely dismissing your concerns with fake sincerity that might have worked if you didn't know him as well as you did. Though not especially close, you'd spent enough time with him to learn he tried to play peacemaker on the ship, something made quite difficult by the past many crewmembers refused to let him forget. Somehow the particular variety of pain he earned from such a predicament was very easy to recognize. You could hear it in every halting word, and because of that you had to fight to keep your expression neutral as he worked his way through an explanation probably improvised on the spot. "I've been developing a more open energy flow in casual environments. It allows me to connect with others on a deeper level, but can make me a tad more... vulnerable, to such unexpected encounters."

Hearing the pain hidden just below the surface of his voice, you can't help but feel a protective stir in your heart, regardless of the fact Drift towers over you and is an experienced combat veteran. Size and strength clearly aren't keeping him safe from bullies, and you can't bear to think of him suffering that pain in silence. Perhaps it isn't your place, but leaving him to endure even another minute just isn't an option. Sitting down on the table, you keep your worry to yourself and speak plainly, one equal to another.  "It wasn't so much them, as what they said that seemed to bother you." 

Seeing him deflate a bit makes further conversation almost impossible, but you push forward with your question. "That word, Carnicon, was it an insult?"

"No." He replies, curtly but not aggressive as he looks down at the hands he's folded atop the table. Worried you might have crossed some cultural boundary, despite all but whispering the word in question to lessen its blow, you're relieved when he seems to decide against further deflection. Stroking his thumb over the back of his palm, he is open but not quite unguarded in his tone as he starts to explain. "Well, not in most situations. Carnicon is an older term for Cybertronians built to hunt or engage in combat with purely biological weapons; like claws or venom."

Now at least marginally caught up, though still uncertain how such a word could ever be used against someone, you gently encouraged him to continue when he paused. "But... in other situations?"

"Some look down on bots bearing features that are ascribed to Carnicons. Thus, the name is often levied at those with "beastly" attributes, such as tails, horns, or..." Momentarily worried he'd paused because the topic had indeed proved too much, you were too caught up in the sad implications of the explanation to notice it hardly applied to him in the slightest. It was only when he brought a hand to his chin that the pieces started to click. Tilting his helm, he opened his mouth just enough for you to catch sight of four incredibly pointed tips, all in the same spots as your own canines. Everything made a terribly sad kind of sense by the time he closed his mouth and returned his sad gaze to you with a single word. 

"Fangs."

Heartache barreled past your defenses to show on your face in the form of an unrestrained frown, one that almost weighed you down under a dense kind of sadness you'd never experienced. Bots kept surprising you with the downright absurd forms of bigotry found on Cybertron, but this... You didn't even know how to begin processing it. This poor bot may have made some bad choices in the past, but he's worked tirelessly to be better, and the whole time you've known him he's been nothing but kind. More than kind, in fact. Drift is practically smiling every time he sees you. To think he has to endure exclusion for his past, on top of harassment for a physical trait that's impossibly harmless, you find yourself wishing wistfully you were large enough to embrace him. A reassuring smile on his face makes you ache more.

"Although I'm not a Carnicon, the fact that a number of my dentae are unusually sharp in a manner some might compare to those commonly found in Carnicons has occasionally resulted in... heckling." At the last word he cracks, and for the first time his fake unaffected front is completely ineffective, allowing you to see the pain that's almost overflowing just below the surface. Such a sight makes you certain you'll never be able to unsee his suffering again. Suddenly you understand him on a deeper level, as if this little incident has made something click into perfect place. You've never felt more determined to comfort someone than you do as he tries to continue. "But I'm quite accustomed to all of the reactions I provoke, Y/N! It does not bother me. Thank you for your concern though, I hope this feature does not perturb you."

A wonderful burst of clarity nearly makes you laugh, if only because being so caught up actually made you forget something about yourself, but you channel that energy into a bolstering smile as you scoot closer on the table.

"Why would it do that? I've got them too."

Optics going blank, it looked as if his processor had crashed like an old PC before he utters two quiet words.

"Come again?"

Tilting your own head, you gently pull your mouth open and push your lip back to reveal your own canines, all of which extend far enough that all he has to do is squint before his expression brightens in realization. Tapping the pointy tip, you let go to enable yourself to talk once again. Seeing him watch your face a little more intently as you speak is oddly endearing. "See? All humans have these teeth, they're called "canines", but mine are extra big and sharp. It's called Macrodontia." 

"I... I never noticed..." He replied after a pause, speaking softly as his processor works over what you've just shared with him. There's hesitation holding back an obvious buzz of excitement, as if he doesn't want to take a risk and believe he's finally found someone who understands, or is worried you might be offput by the true level of his excitement. Equally concerned about not overwhelming him or overstepping, you reply using a casual tone to mask your eagerness to connect with him.

"As small as I am, no one here has." You say matter of factly, briefly wondering if any unpleasant sentiment would have been directed your way if your size didn't hide the feature. Flashbacks of taunts on Earth are overwritten by self admonishment, as you know for a fact nothing you've endured could ever compare to what he faces on a daily basis in terms of sheer isolation. No doubt the teeth also play into bot's assumptions on his "aggressive" nature too. Not wanting to make the moment about yourself, but also determined to let him know you would never do to him what others have done to you, you're left fumbling between what feels like two conflicting ideals. "Sometimes people made fun of me for it on Earth, so I... I know it's not the same as what you face, so I don't want to say I "understand" how you feel or anything, but-"

"Y/N... I think you do. A lot more than most." He says, not so much interrupting as reassuring you that the backpedaling isn't necessary. Letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, the warm satisfaction of being able to help someone in a trying moment settled over your heart with a kind of fuzzy giddiness. There's a renewed brightness in his optics as he looks to you without shame and speaks openly. "Thank you for sharing this with me, and I assure you I won't tell a soul. But if anyone ever does find out, and gives you trouble..."

There's a gentle fade to silence as you lay a tiny hand on his.

"It doesn't have to be secret. I'm not ashamed of the way I am, especially considering who I share the look with." You say, and the effect is so profound his smile actually appears to brighten before the rest of his expression.

"I'll still be here for you, just as you've been here for me."

"Consider the feeling mutual."

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

"Then there's this particular blade; do you see how it doesn't have any sharpened edge?"

Due to your size, you could probably see the finer details of the weapon even more clearly than your friend did, and thus the total lack of serrated sides was quite apparent. Thankfully the missing edge also made it easier to observe the features Drift was describing while he held the blade out for you to see, as you could get quite close without having to worry about excessive caution. It didn't hurt that you also wanted to observe as much detail as possible. Following along with him had taught you amazing things, and he actually seemed to grow more enthusiastic when you were attentive.

"Yeah! It's all just tapered to a point, like a stake." You said, sitting casually on the floor amongst the neatly arranged armory of swords and daggers of incredible variety. From the way Drift is gleefully chatting from his own spot in front of you, one might have thought he was discussing something more akin to collectibles than weapons of war, but this behavior had become so normal to you that the oddness didn't even register. As far as you were concerned, he was simply a friend sharing something he was passionate about. Seeing him smile so brightly made it even better.

"Precisely! This style is very unique; it's meant for close combat, either as a last resort in a sword fight or a single strike for assassination." He said, holding up the blade and flipping it elegantly over his palm. Optics almost shining with delight, he spoke so enthusiastically you could see his sharpened dentae peeking through every smile, which he only allowed to happen when he felt truly comfortable. Before you knew it your own cheeks were pushing up in an absolutely beaming grin, one enthusiastic enough to show your own little fangs as well. Seeing Drift this... free just stirred a kind of warm happiness in your heart you didn't know was possible. It seemed to only happen in select moments, but it was definitely becoming more frequent the longer you two were friends, and it was hard to miss how his happiest days seemed to occur only in your presence...

"Oh, and then there's this one!"

You startled as he pulled out a similiar but far more elegant blade seemingly from nowhere, moving so swiftly the fine edge made a whistle as it cut through the very air, but as he began to gush about the particular nature of this weapon you settled back in to listen eagerly. Truthfully you could sit here and let him talk through every weapon he'd ever owned. Being his friend was a reward in itself that you enjoyed each day.

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

For the sake of the bot working so diligently, you tried to avoid moving in any significant way, going so far as to take shallow breaths whenever possible. It was resulting in rather minimal oxygen intake, but you saw it as worth it due to how little you disturbed his concentration. Unfortunately your metabolism really didn't approve of the sacrifice.

Thankfully, Drift had become familiar enough with human biology and you in general to notice just as you were starting to get dizzy.

"Y/N?" He prompted, getting you to crack your eyes open just a notch to look at him. Still unwilling to risk his work, you willed up the tiniest hint of air through your throat to respond without moving your mouth.

"Mm?"

A blurry smile came through your narrowly parted eyelids, his sense of reasurance shining bright despite the limited view you had as he spoke softly. "You can relax, I can do this fine with you moving a little."

Opening your eyes all the way, the words admittedly acted as a switch for your lungs, which sucked in a deep breath through your nose to catch up with your deficit. Relieved and feeling a little silly, you took a few more quick inhales as he paused his painting of your face. Apparently you'd been much closer to passing out than you'd realized... When dizziness finally faded away, you looked back to him with a sheepish smile and a permissive look for him to continue. Drift smiled right back and lifted the tiny brush again with another little reminder. 

"But even if I were having a problem, you staying conscious is more important than not smudging paint."

"Sorry, just don't want to mess up your hard work." You replied, now content to breathe normally but still doing your best to stay motionless atop his desk. The sentiment seemed to touch him, as there was a hint of a delay in his next brushstroke, but a little merry flash in his optics. Being appreciated in anything was still quite new for him, after all. Even with you his list of true friends remained sadly short. 

"Painting these symbols is just as much about the process as the result. Taking the time to get it right, even fixing little details, is all part of it." He murmured as the tiniest touch of a miniscule brush flicked under your right eye, his voice expressing his focus until he pulled back and relaxed with a quip. "Plus, you're actually doing better than I'm used to. Rodimus is always so twitchy when we try this."

A tiny snort of laughter escaped you at the image of a frustrated Lost Light captain getting antsy in a chair. "I can believe it."

There was an unusually long pause as Drift seemed to survey his work, mouth pressing into a thin line before he held up a bot sized mirror and looked at you with an expression just barely restraining hope for approval.

"Here, want to see so far?"

There was no need to exaggerate; you loved it. A part of you wished the intricate red could be permanent due to how beautiful it looked on your features, especially with how perfect the symbols were at accentuating what you liked most about your appearance. Tilting your head from side to side, you admired the expert craftsmanship with a smile impossible to hide, and were emphatic in expressing your thoughts.

"Drift, it looks amazing!"

"I'm glad..." He said on a sigh of relief, backtracking under the guise of a fake cough moments later. "I'm glad you like it! These patterns and colors are a very pure expression of friendship, so getting them right is... Yeah."

Seeing him so vulnerable pulled out the same desire to comfort him that had started your relationship, though unlike then you were totally certain now as you laid a proportionally tiny hand on his. "Marks or no marks, you're still my best friend."

Despite how casual the words left your lips, he looked just as touched as he'd been at your initial interaction in the canteen, and seemed quite affected as he lowered the mirror and replied. "You mean it?"

"Always." Came your automatic response.

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

The Lost Light, being as massive as it was, had a wealth of rooms including viewing decks up for grabs at any given time. With one wall consisting almost entirely of windows to view the beauty of the cosmos, and plenty of space to set up furniture or whatever else one might need, they were a naturally popular choice for social gatherings. While some in ideal positions had become more sought after than others, they were plentiful enough that any given bot had no need to worry about being unable to find a space for any occasion. Thus they were perfect for gatherings of any size at any time for all who called the ship home.

Despite the ease of procuring such a space on demand, however, Drift had been quite insistent on the specific one he'd rushed you towards without warning. Accustomed to his often sporadic ideas, you'd happily let him carry your tiny form in his broad arms when he promised explanations would be coming. Admittedly the fact that he'd appeared nervous had given you some pause though...

Until you'd actually seen the viewing deck and what he'd arranged within.

Framed almost as if by hand, a brilliant red cloud of space dust sparkled in the infinite blackness beyond, giving the room a soft glow akin to a warm fire or a fantastic sunset. Spectralism heralded such a color as one of friendship and eternal bonds, and as you took in the recently arranged decorations around the room that made a brilliant kind of sense. From the gem studded light strings wound about the ceiling, to the crystalline flowers flanking the door, and the little table in the center draped in fabric to look somewhat like an altar, it's clear the whole room has become a Spectralist symbol of true companionship. With everything you two have been through together, you have a good feeling as to why. It's so touching you actually have to fight the urge to cry.

"I spent so long getting everything ready, the nebula kind of snuck up on me..." He said bashfully, still holding you in his hands as he walked forward with a little sigh. The story painted a clear image in your head of a studiously decorating bot looking up to be surprised by a giant anomaly in space, as if it was a guest arriving earlier than it was supposed to, and you had to chuckle at his adorable nature. "But I don't want to miss it, so I hope you'll forgive me if things aren't perfect. The backdrop is just too important."

Certain as you were about the purpose of all this, you still decided to open with a question, letting your friend take the lead with you as support. "What is it the backdrop for?"

"I think you know, but..." He said, smiling through significant nerves despite how clear it was you were fully on board. For all of his progress, the poor bot was still easily overwhelmed by doubt. The fact that he'd made this attempt all on his own, even with obvious anxiety every step of the way, made you proud as much as you were touched by his gesture. Approaching the little table, he set you down on it with a deep ventilation. Something quite positive but weighty needed to come off his chest.

"You've only been in my life a little while, yet every day our friendship has gotten stronger, Y/N. You're one of the few people who can look past my mistakes, and you remind me why I want to be better in the first place. I want to let you know how truly I value your companionship."

Though he spoke quickly, enough that he clearly had memorized the words and worried about saying every one, you were absolutely touched near to the point of tears. He'd spoken about Amica Endura in the past, particularly as of late when he'd dropped not so subtle tests to gauge your feelings on the topic, but nothing could have prepared you for him actually requesting such a thing of you. It was the deepest expression of platonic love known to his kind, meant for friendships that endured through their seemingly endless lifetimes. To be considered worthy of such a thing simply made your heart feel like bursting with gratitude.

Lowering his voice a tad, as if to separate his next sentence from everything else, he offered you a hand and smiled softly but warmly in the delicate light.

"If... If you're okay with it... I'd like to become Amica Endura. I know you mentioned the idea sounded good, and that I'm you're best friend, but I just want to check." He said, speaking so tenderly you might have forgotten he was multiple times your own height. Happier than you could convey in words, you nodded and had to sniffle back some tears. To think of the suffering this bot had endured, the exclusion and bullying he went through every day, yet still he found the strength to be so kind... What were the odds a little human would end up meaning so much to him? At your dotting of tears, he tenderly tilted your chin upwards. "Y/N?"

"Sorry, just... You know I can be a sap." You said through a laughing sob, brushing away the wetness from your eyes to see him clearly when you spoke next. Holding one of his digits, you put your heart and soul into every word. It felt somewhat akin to baring a spark of your own. "But I do want to be Amica, for real. You're my best friend and I want that to be forever."

There was an immediate dampness in his optics, but he pushed it back with a few quick cycles of his shutters. Putting on the most wobbly of smiles, he lifted both hands and had you lay your own atop his digits, the closest the two of you could get to clasping them together. "Okay, I... I just hold your hands, say some words, and then you say "today, tomorrow, and always" after I do. Got it?" 

Nodding, you watched in awe as he leaned back and opened his spark casing, revealing the brilliant glow of his essence to blend with the soft light already present, making it look like a miniature star was flaring in his chest. Cycling another vent, he looked into your eyes as he began.

"I bid you stand in the glow of my spark, so that you may feel the heat of my words and know them to be true."

The fact that the words were meant to be purely allegorical didn't make them any less powerful. You really could feel warmth from him, but almost on a different level than you'd ever experienced before, as if your happiness and his were filling the air between you. Perhaps the Spectralist beliefs about color connecting to emotion was true in ways you hadn't expected. Light from the cosmic cloud outside almost seemed to give his words the backdrop they needed to truly connect as he wanted, allowing every one to go straight to your heart and fill it with all the warmth and love he felt for you every day. 

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever." 

You squeezed his hands softly as he hiccuped just a little, encouraging him to continue, and his voice broke a tad as he did.

"Y/N, for your empathy... As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

A bit of coaxing was needed when it was your turn, not because you were hesitant but rather due to how difficult speech was while emotions overflowed your heart. Shamelessly sniffling and letting happy tears fall down a beaming smile, you took a deep breath at his soft look of reasurance. He trusted you to take your time in this. 

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You said to seal the bond, meaning it with every fiber of your tiny being to stand by this bot to the end of your days. The two of you had met by chance, had started to bond over the littlest of moments, and now you were here. It was more perfect than things often went for anyone. Yet there was no need to question the how or why, especially when it led to a friendship as pure as this one. As he closed his spark chamber, you felt residual warmth in the air like the lingering of an embrace.

Which became a very real one when he scooped you up for a hug that was wordlessly agreed upon. Unable to wrap your arms around him at all, you settled for holding them wide and letting him press you close, feeling the smoothness of his heated armor as it hummed with life. Despite being as tiny as you were, it seemed quite apparent the hug was as powerful for him as it was for you. Tiny, happy sobs occasionally bounced his shoulders like little hiccups. It was a moment you could have lived in forever.

When he parted to give you a grin so genuine it confidently displayed his sharpened dentae, you did the same, unable to believe such little things could have the most wonderful of outcomes.

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[isolctions]

Wedding ring emoji for ur current active muses (headcanon meme)

headcanon prompts

💍 — does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?

ASPEN: she truly does not have a type??? i feel like aspen is honestly just shocked yet excited that anyone is showing her enough interest to consistently want to spend time with her, let alone date her! and while i do feel like she would like to have people that are compatible with her, either as an opposites attract sort of situation to help get her out of her comfort zone or someone that shares similar interests with her, i do feel like aspen having a sort of hopeless romanticism about her would lead her to put herself in a toxic situation simply because she tries to see the best in people — and again, she's so focused on the fact that someone showed positive interest in her in general that she wouldn't want to see their faults out of fear of losing that. but...she also has ilyssa who is murderously protective over her well-being / offspring that she's verse-dependently carrying, so the situation should hopefully not get that far.

ILYSSA: ilyssa historically only ever wanted an equal that she could feel whole with. she does typically go for other supernatural creatures / entities / enhanced humans because she's a cocky bitch and also because she does seek out a partner that has power, but humans can be an exception depending on what kind of human they are. (basically, if she thinks you're too worthy to be eaten and mutilated, that's a pretty good indicator that she's fond of you.) things do kinda get toxic with her because she's an extremely bitter former angel and thrives off of negativity and violence, but i only really foresee that if she's with a person that's morally opposite of her, and she tries not to go for people with a conscience. just makes things messy.

ZEPHYR: i swear these questions are so hard to answer in a non-biased way because she has a whole marriage with two kids now...BUT ALL OF THAT ASIDE! zephyr's type of person is generally someone that shares similar traits as her. she isn't extremely big on trying new things and that includes dating people that are out of her normal comfort zone, but it isn't something that she's completely opposed to just because zephyr also likes to experience new points of view as well — nobody wants to be with someone that's so similar that the routine gets boring. and while she does not actively seek out toxic relationships (not unless she's drunk off her ass sending texts at 3 in the morning because arguing turns her on sometimes.), zephyr has been known to get herself into some situations and stay with a bad person just because she doesn't want things to change, or because they have good sex or whatever.

JAIRA: jaira has been with all kinds of people, so her "type" is largely diverse and not at all specific to just one kind of personality or behavior. she does want things to be exciting at times and she does enjoy spontaneity and romance and all that mushy gushy stuff, but she also likes people that she can take things slow with, just enjoying the time they have together in peace and quiet without any extra noise going on in the background. (and yes, different "kinds" of people include different species. she leans more towards shifters, immortals, and the occasional werewolf / cat / what may have you, but that just depends on the personality because she isn't fond of all of them. she's a sucker for humans, and largely avoids relationships with other vampires after decades with luciano.) while jaira is too damn old for new aged toxicity, she does love her a good enemies with benefits. why? idk. just to keep things spicy, i guess.

RUE: rue's actual dating history is pretty empty and bleak. she wasn't really allowed to date when she was a teenager because she had an abusive overbearing mother with psychic abilities and was extremely shy / socially stunted, and a good 80% of the relationships she's been in as an adult were label-made. one thing for certain is that she does not want someone similar to her in terms of a career — she's been there, has done that, isn't really impressed by it. (if she does date someone who shares fame, though, she wants someone that can actually like...understand her. which is rare when your personality is not even fully you and no one knows you're a psychic witch but your family.) she'd like to be with someone that is compatible, yes, but above all she wants someone with a lifestyle that's entirely different than hers is, simply because this woman has not known a minute of peace since birth and craves that in a person. is she prone to toxicity? yeah. sometimes she's the toxic one because her schedule makes her very inconsistent, she's a liar, she's currently a binge drinker, and she gets bored very easily. but she does not seek to attract that.

IZIDORA: izidora doesn't really actively seek out relationships, simply because she doesn't really know how to maintain a healthy one. she grew up in an unstable environment with absent parents and emotionally absent caregivers aside from her grandmother, and her aunt's boyfriend was abusive towards her aunt, herself, and her sister as well as being the cause of all of her [redacted] trauma. ideally, she seeks out people who are not only just as aggressive as she is but people that she knows can protect her and that she can be vulnerable with. she is extremely prone to falling into toxic situations because she takes relationships to extreme levels (either too distant, emotionally unavailable and closed off or too extreme, aggressive, sometimes can be hypersexual and may even be violent), and truthfully izidora isn't above defending herself physically by use of either weapons or magic. yet at the same time, izidora can actually be really shy with relationships? especially when they're new??? so whether it's someone she's compatible with personally wise or someone that's outside of her comfort zone, it honestly varies on what kind of behavior the person exhibits because she's largely a reactive person as a defense mechanism.

APPLE: listen, apple does not have a type at all. personally i think it would be funny to see her in a relationship with someone who's morally opposite of her and probably an absolutely atrocious being in general simply because i go a special kind of crazy for villainous characters that are mean to everyone but their sunshine s/o. but enough about me. i feel like apple is open to experiencing all kinds of different people with all kinds of scenarios, and does tend to lean towards supernatural entities, especially witches / other fae or elven folk, because hello, they're both different from society! they are the same! they can be useful to each other while also protecting each other! (also? i personally believe a fae / werewolf couple...makes...sense? it makes sense. don't ask me to explain i will not.) as for situations of toxicity...um, not gonna happen. you can't play a fae. and while apple can be gullible and come off as really friendly and non-threatening, her powers (and her old magic) will override any situation deemed unsafe and she will send that ass to a realm to suffer for all eternity so fast. so no crazy shit around here, folks!

[dandelionflower]

@mcheang I want a Felix episode AU, where Felix is taken with Marinette but doesn’t really try to go out of his way to see her. And then he meets her cousin

[Send me Felinette prompts!]

......

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, famous child designer.

Her mother was a famed model and her father a gentle baker. It was no surprise that with that encouraging environment surrounded by beautiful clothes that Marinette’s fashion sense bloomed. Her brand, Cheng, skyrocketed when she was barely ten years old.

When Marinette turned thirteen, her father, Tom Dupain, disappeared. Her mother became a recluse and Marinette took it upon herself to heal her broken family.

Her mother was taken to therapy and soon rejoined the modeling world, becoming the sole model for Marinette’s new line, Dupain.

Marinette was a legend, she was graceful, responsible and humble even in the face of success.

And she had been sitting in front of Felix in class for most of the school year.

Felix had to admit, he had had a little crush on Marinette ever since she offered him her umbrella after her first day of school, and the first day Felix became Crimson Spot.

He kept his distance, but there were still times where he found himself abandoning logic to hang out with her, but not to the extent that he could be.

But Marinette’s job as a famous designer did take a toll on her, as she put so much pressure on herself to learn languages, play piano and guitar and be a generally well-rounded human being. It caused her to have to skip some friendly outings.

Today was one of those days.

The whole class had met up to discuss ways to lighten Marinette’s mood on the anniversary of the day her father disappeared.

“What if we sent her videos?” Felix suggested. “Telling her how happy we are to be friends with her.”

“Great idea dude!” Nino elbowed him. “Why don’t you go first?”

A shock of fear ran through him as he snatched the tablet from Nino’s hand. “Why don’t I just record them for now?”

Nino gave him a look, but allowed it and moved on.

—

Gina Dupain stared down at her granddaughter, sitting next to her daughter-in-law, both of them looking at the statue of her son, singing the little kitten song he had taught them before they left.

She had so desperately wanted to tell them, console themselves with the information that he would return, just as soon as she got the miraculous from those pesky heroes.

She was the ‘villain’ Lady Violet and her darling son was resting under her families home, comatose, because of the peacock miraculous.

She wanted to tell them, to ask them to help her, but she just couldn’t.

Gina walked down the stairs and sat next to them, wrapping her arms around the only family she had left.

The doorbell rang and and they all jolted from their song and they walked to the door just as it opened, revealing a large shadow.

“Papa?” Marinette whispered, stepping forwards.

The figure walked forwards just a little more, revealing him to be Sabine’s brother, Wang.

He stepped aside to reveal a petite girl with deep blue hair tied in a high ponytail.

“Bridgette!” Marinette smiled and launched herself at her cousin. “It’s been so long.”

“It certainly has.” Sabine grabbed her brother by the arm and began chatting with him in Mandarin, a language the whole family was fluent in, thanks to Marinette. “Remember when those two would dress up like each other and you ended up taking Marinette home?”

He chuckled. “I was so easily fooled.”

After Bridgette had successfully detangled herself from her cousin, she glanced at Gina, more specifically, the necklace Gina was wearing.

Gina caught her glance and casually tucked the necklace into her shirt.

“So, sister, I don’t mean to pry, but would you consider giving me the family rings?”

“Of course, Tom’s is somewhere upstairs. Marinette, take Bridgette upstairs and help her get settled.” The four of them went upstairs and Gina was left alone, staring at the ring on her necklace.

That girl better be worth an akuma.

—

Bridgette scrolled on her phone absentmindedly, as Marinette chattered on about who knows what.

“I’m just so glad you’re here!”

“Yeah... so am I. Anyway, can I take a shower? I feel like I’ve been on that plane forever.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bridgette stood up and began walking to the room she gestured to, before she got an idea. She turned slightly, wrapping her arms around Marinette and slipping her phone from her pocket into Bridgette’s.

“Thanks for being here for me, Mari.”

She heard a soft hum and Marinette hugged her back.

“Anytime.”

Once the shower was turned on, Bridgette slid to the floor and started going through Marinette’s phone.

“A superhero crush? Seriously?”

Just as she was about to go onto social media, the phone buzzed with a video message.

“Hey, girl.” A girl in a plaid shirt waved at the camera. “I know you’re probably having a bad time right now, but-“

“Boring.” She deleted it.

“Markov and I have done the research an jokes are statistically proven to improve your mood by ninety-seven percent. So, knock knock?”

“Lame.” She snorted.

“You’re so sweet and kind and considerate and-“

“Wow. Original.”

“Marinette. I know you’re likely going through something right now, and I want to let you know that I’m here for you, because... I adore you. I have for quite some time, ever since you gave me your umbrella that day at school.”

“Pathetic.”

After the last video had been deleted, she leaned her head back against the wall.

So the little princess has some good friends... not for long.

“Hey Bridgette?” Marinette spike through the door. “I’ve got some stuff in the oven downstairs, mind if I leave you here to go get it?”

“No problem, but do you have any extra clothes I could borrow?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got some in my closet. Take whatever you want.”

She heard the door close and turned off the shower.

First, a little more snooping.

She checked the drawers, computer, and a really smelly cabinet.

“Yuck.” She threw the awful thing on the bed and pushed a pillow on it.

Finally, she opened a drawer and found the biggest stash of hair ties in the world.

Good, now she could put her hair in those insufferable pigtails.

She opened the closet and chose a navy jacket and neatly cuffed jean shorts, along with a white t-shirt.

She pulled out the phone and pressed record, a smile on her face.

—

“I hope you’re happy, Tikki. Because I am never doing anything again.”

She giggled, floating over his head. “Don’t be so dramatic! I’m sure Marinette will appreciate the confession.”

“During the time she is most vulnerable, another thing to think about is the last thing she needs.”

“Well...” His phone buzzed before she could answer.

“Marinette answered.” He remarked, walking up to the rest of his friends.

“...It only served to make me feel worse! I hate all of you!”

“I can’t look at this.” Alya passed the tablet to Nino.

“How could she say that about us?” Rose whimpered. “I thought we were her friends.”

“Marinette said all of that? Impossible.”

“She did.” Juleka shook her head.

The girl who made sure she was at every rehearsal, every practice, everything she was asked to go to?

“Nino, I really think-“ he was cut off when a cloud of violet attacked his three classmates, transforming them into their former akumatized selves.

“He’s not ‘Nino’ anymore.” Reflecta spoke, transforming Alya into a carbon copy of her.

“I’m Bubbler now.” He swung the tablet-shaped wand in the air, deadly bubbles pouring out.

“One of the three Punishers!” Princess Fragrance remarked with glee, a familiar toxic cloud pouring from her gun.

Felix gulped in a breath of air, barely muttering “Spots on” as he dove into the water.

It can’t be an akuma, maybe a sentimonster?

He threw his yo-yo out, swinging after the three punishers, hoping to save the true Marinette and get some answers.

—

“I made cookies!” Marinette sang, opening her door with the tray. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember what your favorite is, so I went with an old classic; chocolate chip!”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Bridgette rocket off of her office chair, hair in pigtails.

“Whatcha doing, Bridge?”

“Well...”

“Marinette!” Her mother barged in. “Akumas, get the both of you to the bunker!”

“Too late.” Reflekta walked in, accompanied by Bubbler and Princess Fragrance.

“Dude, which one’s the real Mari?” Bubbler whispered.

Marinette glanced at Bridgette. She needed to transform before anyone got hurt.

“It is I! The cruel Marinette!” She cackled, relishing in the concerned and confused look on Bridgette’s face. “You’ll never take me alive!” She dashed out of the door.

Once she had made it into a secure hallway, Plagg flew out of her pocket.

“So, I know you’re against using cataclysm on a person but...”

“No, Plagg.”

“She smushed my cheese!”

“I’ll get you more cheese, now come on, claws out.”

She felt the familiar magic leather clothe her and jumped out a window, eyes landing on the familiar red bug in the distance.

—

Felix swung into the room, grabbing Marinette and swinging her out and onto the roof of the nearest hotel.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Her eyes were wide and innocent; Felix felt his composure slipping.

“Well, if you don’t have any information, just stay here and hide; I’ll deal with the akuma.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait! Crimson Spot!” She grabbed his arm and Felix swallowed.

“Yes?”

She started walking and Felix stepped backwards in an attempt to preserve personal space.

“How ‘bout a little extra courage?” His back bumped against the wall and he stood, frozen, as he watched the girl he had adored from afar lean closer.

“That won’t be necessary.” He tried to gently push her away, but she persisted, her lips mere millimeters from his.

Something within him burned red and snapped. He crouched low and swept his right foot in a circle, knocking her to the ground.

“You’re either an imposter or a sentimonster, because Marinette certainly understands that no means no.”

“That’s Bridgette,” Catastropheline landed gently on her toes, not making eye contact with Crimson. “Marinette’s cousin. I ran into her and she told about the... situation.”

She glanced at Bridgette, who was backing away ever so slightly.

“It must be difficult keeping what few friends you have with you acting like that, huh?”

“If she’s not a sentimonster, then we need to stop wasting time and find the akuma.” He threw his yo-yo into the air and a small can of whipped cream fell into his hand.

“As always, Tikki.” He groaned.

“Cataclysm.” Darkness collected over Catastropheline’s palm just as three thumps sounded around them.

“I wouldn’t if I was you, kitty.” Refleckta had her brooch aimed at the dark clothed hero’s heart.

“I usually prefer my servants to wear pink,“Princess Fragrance twirled her gun around, “but I suppose red would do.”

“And if that’s not enough, I’ll send you both on a one way flight to the sun if you so much as move.”

“Crimson.” His partner spoke from beside him. “Do you have a plan?”

Before he could deliver the depressing answer, a shout turned them both to Bubbler, who was clutching his hand with Bridgette in front of them, holding the tablet.

“Good! Bridgette, break the wand now! Then this torture can be over.”

“Oh, I don’t want it to be over. I’m just switching the roles.” She smirked before she held up the rectangular wand. “Lady Violet! Are you listening? I can help you; all I need in return is a certain piece of jewelry.”

“Get the miraculous first, and I’ll consider it.” Bubbler growled, holding out his hand for the wand.

She grinned wider. “With pleasure.”

She tossed the wand to Bubbler and started running towards the superhero pair.

“Feline, batter up.” Was all he said as he launched his can into the air.

Even without the use of her ring-bearing hand, she swung her baton effortlessly, slamming it into the can.

It fell just ahead of Bridgette’s feet, and she stepped on it haphazardly, tripping and sending it into Bubbler’s face.

The wand flew through the air and started its decent to the pavement.

“Crimson! Go!”

“What about-“ He glanced at the imposter who had stood up and was moving towards him, only to see a metal baton slam into her abdomen.

He took in the two Punishers struggling in the pool and dashed to the side of the building, jumping off.

He landed directly on top of the bubble wand and heard the reassuring snap of broken plastic.

He purified the akuma swiftly and launched the battered can of whipped cream that had landed beside the wand, into the air with a shout of “Miraculous Ladybug.”

He swung back up as the cure swept the streets and landed beside Catastrophiline, who was helping Rose out the door.

“Pound it?”

She grinned and attempted to step over to him but ended up tripping over her own baton and, in a series of impressive acrobatics, landing on her face in front of Crimson Spot.

He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’d just begun to think you’d grown out of that.”

“Well, old habits hie dard, I mean, die hard.” She sprung to her feet with a sheepish grin, twirling the leather straps holding her pigtails in place.

They pressed their fists together and left, a screaming Bridgette still on the roof.

—

“... I just want you to know, Mari, that I am so sorry. I just... I was jealous that my father named his famed Celestial soup after you, and not me.” Bridgette, back in her own clothes looked down.

“What are you talking about?” Wang looked down at his daughter. “I’ve named so many of my dishes after you. My Angelic stew, to name one.”

“What?” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I thought...”

“If every dish I wanted to name after you was called ‘Bridgette,’ people would get confused.” He explained, pulling her into his arms. “If only I had noticed, I could have explained.”

“It’s okay, Papa. I overreacted.” She spared another glance at her father, then turned to her extended family.

“I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, after all the strife I caused.”

Marinette was the first to hug her, whispering a soft apology.

Sabine joined next, until it was just Gina standing beside the group hug with a hand on Bridgette’s shoulder.

She felt a slight tug and was pulled deep into the hug. The tension seemed to melt from her body and Gina allowed herself to feel content.

Bridgette was the first to pull out of the embrace.

“Thank you all, for forgiving me so quickly.”

“Of course.” Marinette grinned.

“You’re welcome back anytime.” Sabine added. “And, brother, I’ll call you if I ever find Tom’s ring.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

The two entered a black vehicle and drove off, Bridgette still waving through the window.

—

“Hey guys! I’m really sorry, but I wasn’t able to see your videos. It really warms my heart that you were thinking of me today, though. I want you to know that I love you. All of you.”

Marinette’s beaming face filled the screen as Felix watched the video again and again.

“She’s so considerate.” He sighed.

“Yeah, considering all that just happened with her cousin.” Tikki remarked. “It’s too bad she didn’t see your confession, though.”

“It’s probably all for the best. However, that Bridgette girl may prove to be an issue.”

“Yeah, working with Hawkmoth and his akumas all on her own, it’s kind of scary. I wonder what could be worth that?”

—

“It’s truly a pity that Sabine couldn’t find the second ring.” Wang sat down next to Bridgette, allowing her a window seat on the train.

“You mean this one?” Bridgette pulled a chain from her pocket and displayed the ring adorning it.

“Yes, Bridgette, that’s it!” He stared at the ring, transfixed for a moment, before hugging his daughter. “My little magician, always saving the day at the last minute.”

Bridgette smiled and, as her father turned to slip the ring in with its partner, turned to the window, her innocent features twisting into a cruel smirk.

It really was a shame their trip was cut so short. She could have had a lot of fun in Paris.

[yoon-kooks]

My Flower Academia

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: College!AU, Badboy/Flowerboy!Yoongi, Fluff

Summary: In the midst of avoiding social interactions with classmates, you discover a pink garden of hidden secrets, including one kept by the bad boy in your botany class.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: day 3 of myg fluff week! happy birthday to the softest honey boy around!!🌼🌼🌼

“I’ll see you all tomorrow morning for my lecture on butterflies, bees, and other pollinators,” your professor says as people begin filing out of the classroom. You shove your laptop into your bag, bending the pages of the notebook already in there. Once your bag is zipped, you attempt to blend in with the sea of people leaving.

“Y/N, Y/N! Wait up!” But of course your attempt at sneaking out doesn’t go unnoticed. You roll your eyes just before putting on a brave smile.

“Hey what’s up?” You turn around and face Taehyung and Jimin, two local frat boys who chat with you from time to time.

“Are you busy tonight?” Jimin asks. And before you can even give an answer, Taehuyng continues, “We’re having a party later and wanted to know if you-”

“No one wants to waste time with you losers.” A challenger appears from across the now empty classroom. Seokjin, along with a couple of other friends from a rival fraternity, steps between you and the other two boys. “Besides, I’m sure Y/N would rather hang out with me, Hoseok, and Namjoon. Right, Y/N?” Suddenly you have five pairs of eyes staring at you, waiting for a response.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy tonight,” you attempt to back out of the conversation, but you’re bothered with yet another question.

“Busy with what?” Hoseok frowns.

“A date,” you lie through your teeth with 100% confidence.

“See? I told you guys, Y/N’s out of our league,” Namjoon face-palms in the background.

“Right,” you chuckle, “But let’s all hang out another time, yeah?” Waving bye, you slip out of the classroom as the two fraternities continue arguing over who’s better and more deserving of your time.

It’s not that you dislike them or have something against frat boys. In fact, there have been plenty of times when you’ve genuinely had fun hanging out with them. It’s just that you sometimes want time to yourself. Sometimes you'd rather stay home and binge your favorite anime. But somehow, you don’t feel like that’s a valid excuse to forgo social interactions. So you lie. To everyone.

As you exit through the back of the building, you think the coast is clear—a rookie mistake.

“Y/N, hey!” A wild Jungkook appears. You want to pretend like you never heard him, but the good person in you waves hi and that only encourages him to start a conversation with you. “How’s the botany class going?”

“Jungkook, you’re in that class too…” You don’t know whether to laugh or feel concerned for the boy.

“Yeah, but we both know I always cut class,” he shrugs. “By the way, do you have notes for the upcoming midterm?” He gives you big bunny eyes in hopes that you’ll help save his grade.

“Oh sorry, I really have to go…” You point your thumb in a random direction. “I have a date soon.”

“With who?” Jungkook asks the one question you aren’t prepared for.

“It’s uh… you know, that, uh, one guy in our class?” Maybe Jungkook will just let it go since he probably doesn’t know many other people in your class.

“Oh, you mean Min Yoongi?” You aren’t even sure how Jungkook pulled that name out of his ass based on your vague description, but you suppose you’ll just roll with it. “The dude who almost cuts class as much as me?”

“Yeah, that one,” you nod. There’s not much that you know about Yoongi, other than the fact that he skips class a lot and falls asleep when he does show up. You’ve also heard that he doesn’t have the best reputation out there, but surely this fib won’t come back to bite you.

After the close call with Jungkook, you decide to take extra precaution in sneaking off campus without encountering anyone else who might want something out of you. So, just until campus clears of the students who just got out of class, you’ll look for a place to hide where no one else would think to go.

You stray not too far from the botany building when you catch something fluttering in the corner of your eye. A rather tiny swallowtail greets you with its colorful wings before flying off down a flowery path.

Tempted with curiosity, you follow the butterfly down the path until a small pink garden comes into view. You’d heard that garden had been abandoned by the Botany Club due to low funding, but by the looks of all the blossoming and thriving plants, you can only assume someone’s been taking good care of it.

Passing through the pink sea of sakura and azalea, you take a seat at the white wooden bench shaded by the trees. Aside from the slight breeze and rustling of leaves, you’re surrounded by the silence and solitude you had sought. Finally—some peace to yourself.

You let out a much needed groan and lean your face into your hands for a solid minute to de-stress. The sounds of the garden become more vibrant while your eyes are closed. The rustling of leaves become more intense, and a new sound joins in—the trickling of water? Perhaps it’s the automatic sprinklers, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think someone else was there watering plants.

When you rub your eyes and finally open them back up, you find a surprise staring back at you with a watering can in hand. A boy in all black stands in the garden, amongst the pink flowers. You wonder how long he’s been there, and if he’d caught you in your moment of de-stressing, when you had been most vulnerable. When you thought no one was looking.

“Um… How long have you been there?” You blink at the boy. If he’s who you think he is, you’d never expect to find him in a garden in the first place.

“Longer than you.” He says nothing more and goes back to watering his plants. You watch the water trickle down into the soil, waiting to see if he would ask you to leave. But he doesn’t.

“We’re in the same botany class, aren’t we?” You know your question catches the boy’s attention because he turns away from his flowers and towards you. At a closer glance, his face is somehow gentle, as oppose to intimidating like you’d assumed from someone with a bad reputation. “You’re Yoongi, right?”

He nods, “And you’re the one I’m supposedly on a date with, right?” You have no clue how he keeps such a straight face when he says this, but personally, you freak out a little. He isn’t supposed to know. No one is supposed to know about your little fib.

“W-where did you hear that from?” You fidget around with your fingers.

“I overheard my name being mentioned by some girls passing by.” He refills the watering can and resumes watering his flowers once again. Somehow he remains unbothered by the fact that his name’s been dragged into a nasty rumor spreading like wildfire. At the same time, you still feel obligated to explain yourself.

“It’s just a dumb excuse I made up to get out of something… because I wanted to be left alone,” you confess. “I didn’t intend for it to become a dating rumor, so I apologize for dragging your name into my own problem. If you want, I’ll clear the air so people don’t think you and I are-”

“I don’t particularly mind about things like that…. social obligations and the like.” He shakes his head, and you’re just happy he isn’t too upset about the situation. But he is interested in something else. “So that’s why you’re here too? Because you wanted to be left alone from social obligations.”

“I feel terrible for saying it, but yeah,” you chuckle. “As much as I have fun around others, it’s also exhausting having to always put on a smile in front of them.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to get away. There’s nothing wrong with that, you know.” He passes you the water can and grabs the hose for himself. You suppose he speaks from experience. Maybe he resurrected the pink garden as his place of refuge and solitude. Maybe that’s what had drawn you to the garden in the first place. And maybe that’s why it’s easy to talk to the boy. Because he gets you.

“Is this where you go when you skip class?” You join him in watering the garden. It’s oddly therapeutic.

Yoongi nods, “I prefer interacting with flowers over people because flowers don’t judge or give a shit about you. Same with small animals.” A friendly butterfly lands on the rim of the boy’s bucket hat. He tries to look up at the little critter but shows pouty lips when it flies away. He’s much softer than you’d originally thought, and you regret assuming things based on the bad reputation you’d only heard about. “It’s just peaceful.”

“I would’ve never thought you’d choose here. But that makes you a flower boy, doesn’t it?” you tease him a little bit.

“I guess that’s a secret only you and I know,” he presses his index finger to his lips to keep you from sharing the secret with others—not that you would. After all, you’re also guilty of hiding sides of yourself that you’d always been too ashamed to show.

“Well what if my real reason for wanting to be left alone is so I can laze around and binge anime all night?” you let a smile slip. Normally you wouldn’t tell anyone about your secret anime obsession. But it just felt like an appropriate time to share the news. “Would that be a valid reason?”

“Depends on which anime we’re talking about.” The weeb jumped out real quick. “Boku no Hana Academia?”

“That’s the one!” your eyes light up. Leave it up to the flower boy to know your favorite anime about talking flowers who fight off human noses with their pollen powers and critter companions. “Do you watch it too?”

“Of course I do. Is that even a question?” he shrugs. “I guess that makes us both secret weebs for botany and anime. Good to know.”

You nod. “And it was refreshing watering plants and talking with someone like you.”

“Someone like me? You mean a bad boy, flower boy, or weeb?” He points at himself.

“All of the above,” you giggle, “but also someone who I don’t have to put up a front with. It’s a relief that I finally have a buddy to watch Boku no Hana with.”

“Hey, I never said I’d watch Boku no Hana with you,” he crosses his arms as if he has something to be proud of. “I’ve already seen all 427 episodes so far. But it sounds like you’re lagging behind if your plan was to binge a bunch of episodes tonight.”

“Well what if I get caught up to the most recent episode?”

“Then we’ll talk,” he unfolds his arms and softens his expression. “But until then, you’re free to stop by here whenever you’re trying to avoid people.”

“Really? You don’t mind?” You give him big puppy eyes just to make sure he doesn’t change his mind.

“It’s fine,” he assures you, not even a little flustered by your adorable puppy eyes. “You and I aren’t all that different, so I don’t find you that annoying to be around.”

“Umm, thanks??” You suppose you should take the comment as a compliment, especially coming from a boy who usually closes himself off from the world.

“Besides, this garden could use an extra pair of hands to tend to it now that it’s in full bloom.” Yoongi points to the watering can in your hand, motioning for you to stop standing around and get back to watering.

Rather than sprinkling the plants with water, however, you splash the boy next to you with a few drips from the nearly empty watering can. You point and laugh at the tiny wet dots on his black shirt. The way he frowns down at the wet spots and threatens to spray you with the hose somehow reminds you of an angry wet kitten. A cute kitten.

But before he gets the chance to get back at you, you hold the empty watering can out in front of him as innocently as possible. “Can you refill my watering can, pretty please?”

“Dump water on me again, and I’ll spoil all 427 episodes of Boku no Hana for you,” he hisses with an arched back. At the same time, though, he sticks the end of the hose into your watering can until it’s heavy and full again.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you look up at him, just long enough to see a subtle upward curve in those soft kitten lips of his. Then you resume watering the flowers, side by side with the boy in all black, in a pink garden of secrets and solitude.

A/N: did anyone catch the boku no hero / my hero academia references?? also hana means both flower & nose in japanese so that’s where that obscure anime synopsis came from afhjsdakl;

[ofglitches]

( brief meta about rob & love (kinda) )

     he genuinely has a hard time comprehending the very idea that someone actually loves him for him & not whatever facade he’s put up, whether it be kind & friendly, tough & cold or otherwise. because at this current moment in time, he just considers himself a mess.

     like for one, he’s actually physically broken, as in his body’s so messed up it doesn’t even require basic needs anymore, & his appearance reflects that damage & honestly he hates it. he doesn’t like how he looks at all. sure, his previous appearance wasn’t perfect but at least it seemed more normal (well, as normal as an elmore resident can look) than how he looks now. & he couldn’t picture someone ever looking at him & thinking ‘wow he’s handsome’

     his moral compass have been skewed somewhat after the void. he’s done a lot of crap that he never, in a million years, would’ve pictured himself doing prior to disappearing (& this does include all the things he tried to do to gumball) & the worst part is he has very little regret for the majority of his actions, & what little regret he does have isn’t exactly regret for the action so much as it is regret for hurting someone he actually cared about. & believe me, he’s incredibly aware of all of that & he couldn’t picture anyone finding that feature too endearing.

     & last but certainly not least, he’s just got issues?? like he’s got trauma that he’s gotta get through more or less on his own & he’s gotta live with the knowledge that his life’s just part of some show that’s meant to entertain people (honestly the whole entertainment part kind of sickens him - all these people going through hell just to entertain others) & he’s also homeless & literally lives in a dump & he’s just - he’s got a lot to work through, man. & he’d find it hard to believe anyone cared about him enough to actually try & help him through it - he’d probably figure they’d try to help, realize it’s more than they can handle & then run off without another word. it’s why he mostly sticks to being a private person & tries not to let himself get too vulnerable.

     now that isn’t to say if someone did genuinely love him, he’d run off. if he loved them back, he’d certainly try to better himself. heck, he’s already trying to recover & better himself - he’d just be trying a little extra hard. it’d be a bit of an uphill battle for him - mostly on the part of trying not to let his own doubt get the better of him on the days that aren’t going quite as well as he’d like - &  i would say one would have to be patient with him, but, truth be told, he’d probably have to be more patient with himself than anything. but - & this does sort of depend on the other party as well, but in an ideal situation - it’d eventually work out. 

     no, his problems wouldn’t just go away because he got romantically involved &, honestly, he’ll never be perfectly recovered from the void & he’ll never not know about the world not being real, but, if nothing else, he’d have someone he felt he could trust (because yeah, he’d have to REALLY trust the other person before even considering being in a relationship with them) & he’d have someone who he felt he could actually just...be himself around. & not the friendly little social butterfly he used to pretend to be, or the villain he once played the part of, or the cold & uncaring persona he’ll put on to protect himself - but the awkward but caring rob who stumbles over his words sometimes & gets excited over topics he has interest in & will crack jokes & is overall a far more sensitive but also a more genuine & true version of him.

TLDR; rob’s p much gonna be like ‘lol im an ugly mess’ @ anyone who shows romantic interest in him but also isn’t completely opposed to trying to have a relationship so long as they acknowledge that he’s far from being a model boyfriend for anyone & he’s definitely not perfect by any mean s

[shawol9196]

Teacher AU 5/?

~5K. Just MinKey, with a mention of side HaeHyuk.

As happy as he is that Kibum feels comfortable at the apartment, Minho starts to doubt his own intentions. Whether it’s for friendly motive or some desire to save him from whatever is troubling him, Kibum is here now. Minho just hopes that soon there’s a sign to let him know.

AFF / AO3, if you prefer.

Minho’s first alarm goes off at 6:30. For a year now, he’s worked on a two alarm system. The first turns on his radio; it’s loud enough that he starts to stir, but not enough to properly wake him up unless the song is obnoxious. The second alarm was a gift from Kyuhyun: a five minute recording of Changmin. Even Minho, the king of sleeping, isn’t immune to the oh so soothing sound of Changmin screaming “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? GET IT MOVING!!! THIS ISN’T NAP TIME, LET’S GET GOING BEFORE I GET OLD!” at the top of his lungs. Normally, the first alarm just barely starts waking him up before Changmin so eloquently finishes the deal. Today though, the radio alone is enough. It’s partially because he’d gone to bed earlier than normal, but mostly because of Kibum. He wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement that he was feeling; either way it was enough to keep him awake. He gets out of bed and makes sure to turn off Changmin’s lovely serenade. After searching for his basketball shorts, he goes into the kitchen with the hope that Kibum is still asleep. He’s not sure why the thought of seeing a barely awake Kibum excites him, but when he sees that he’s already up there’s a small feeling of disappointment. What doesn’t disappoint him, however, is the smell of whatever Kibum’s cooking. He walks over to check if the coffee maker has run yet.

“Did you sleep ok?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, I actually slept really well. Thanks.” Kibum says, not turning around from the stove. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a comfortable bed.”

They both turn to look at each other, but immediately turn back away.

“I’m making pancakes, I hope that’s ok. I just wanted to do something to say thank you for letting me stay here,” Kibum says.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to that trouble, dude. I’m happy to let you stay, to help out a friend.”

When Kibum doesn’t respond, Minho’s worried that he’s upset him. He finishes starting the coffee before moving so he’s standing next to Kibum.

“I actually really love pancakes, I just feel bad making you feel like you have to do work your first morning here,” he says quietly. Kibum fishes the finished ones out of his pan onto a plate, pouring a new set to replace them. Minho takes the plate but doesn’t move.

“Go eat, before they get cold.” Kibum instructs.

“Kibum, you’re my guest. I can wait til you’re done and ready to eat.”

Kibum doesn’t argue but also doesn’t look up.

“Is this the last batch?”

Kibum nods.

“I’ll set the table then.”

Minho puts his plate of pancakes on the table. He gets butter out of the fridge; it takes him longer to find the syrup. The coffee maker beeps and he makes two mugs, handing one to Kibum. He leans against the counter and watches him attempt to flip the pancakes. There’s something vulnerable about the sight of Kibum: still in what Minho assumes are his pajamas but hair wet from a shower, struggling against one pancake in particular. His quietness reminds Minho of when they first met and the realization that he still knows relatively little about Kibum strikes him. Kibum finally wins his battle against the pancake and his small celebration brings a smile to Minho’s face. He could get used to waking up early, he thinks, if he got to wake up to this sight. With Kibum’s pancakes finished, they both sit at the table.

“So why did your last roommate move out?” Kibum asks as he cuts his pancakes.

“To put it shortly, he got engaged.”

“What’s the longly then?”

“My roommate, Donghae, and I have been friends for a long time. Since high school, actually. He’s a social worker. We moved in here 5 or so years ago, before we were done with school. We tend to volunteer together a lot since we have similar interests and abilities and stuff. Anyways, when I was part of that group that helped attempt to repair your apartment building, he was in it too. He was assigned to a different area, like the 3rd or 4th floor. When we finished and came home, all he could talk about was this doctor that he was teamed up with. How cute and interesting he was. They’d exchanged numbers and it was pretty evident pretty quick that there was something serious between them. They started dating within a week or two, and he started having him -- his name is Hyukjae -- over pretty regularly. Which was fine at first, but then it started feeling weird to be here when he was over. Anyways I mentioned it to Donghae that I wasn’t feeling comfortable with the arrangement and when Donghae mentioned it to him, Hyukjae proposed. They got an apartment within a month and it’s been just me here since then.”

Kibum nods, slowly eating his pancakes.

“What about you?” Minho asks, shoving a huge bite into his mouth.

“What about me?”

“Have you ever had a roommate?”

“I did once, when I was in college. He hated me.”

“I can’t believe that anyone would hate you but I also know college roommates are the worst. What happened?”

Kibum laughs bitterly.

“Well for starters he told me he hated me and that we wouldn’t get along on the first day. He then proceeded to vaguely terrorize me weekly with fun little pranks like stealing literally all of my clothes when I went to shower, throwing water on me if I happened to fall asleep while he was still awake, and stealing my textbooks on a regular basis. He was close to the resident assistant, so I couldn’t complain to her about it. The RA was close to the building supervisor, so I couldn’t go to her about it. The director of housing was on the brink of retiring and wouldn’t do anything unless the president of the university explicitly demanded that he do it, so I couldn’t go to him. I ended up buying a suitcase so I could lock all of my clothes and textbooks up and take them with me wherever I went. I slept on benches a lot and in my classes. I think a lot of people thought I was homeless, not that I can blame them.”

“That’s terrible, Kibum. I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

Silence ensues. Minho’s surprised that Kibum gives him so much detail, though he feels guilty for asking. His expression is unmistakably pained throughout the story and Minho wishes he could offer something to ease it. He looks at the clock and knows they need to get ready to leave before they miss the bus. He’s finished his pancakes, but Kibum is still eating. He stands and takes his plate to the sink.

“Since you made me pancakes, would you accept if I made you lunch?” he asks as he heads to the fridge.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’m...I’ll be ok.”

Minho grabs his supplies out and closes the fridge before looking at Kibum.

“Kibum,” he starts softly. “You didn’t bring any food with you, nothing’s going to be open before we get to work, and even though you’re admin today, I know you don’t have time to go get anything while you’re on your lunch break without sacrificing your entire break. I know you don’t want to be burdensome but I’d rather you have at least a little something to take with you.”

Kibum sighs and after another bite of pancake replies with “I guess a small sandwich would be okay. Like half of what you normally take will be fine.”

Minho begins making his sandwich at the counter but as he thinks back to Kibum’s story, he notices Kibum watching him. He moves to the table and Kibum looks somewhat relieved that he can see what’s going into the sandwiches.

“Are you going to come sit in the teacher lounge with me during your break?” he asks.

Kibum looks surprised at the question.

“I understand if you don't want to. It's just if you are, I’ll just put your stuff in with mine so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking it, and by anyone I mean Kyuhyun or Suho.”

Kibum laughs.

“Yeah, I’ll come sit with you.”

*

Over time, their relationship gets more comfortable. When Minho comes home after volunteering on Saturday, he finds Kibum waiting at the dinner table with a pasta bake and a shy smile. On Sunday, they go grocery shopping. Minho makes a list, which Kibum refuses to add any requests to. As they walk down each aisle, anything that Kibum grabs Minho puts in his cart; when Kibum protests, Minho says that they can start sharing grocery bills when Kibum gets settled in. He also grabs anything that he sees Kibum longingly look at but not pick up. It costs a little extra to get so many treats, but the shy smile on Kibum’s face is more than worth the price. When they get home, they start cooking freezer meals for the week ahead. Minho’s surprised at Kibum’s cooking skills: Kibum reveals that he used to volunteer at a elderly care facility; he’d always wanted to learn how to cook so when there was a position open he jumped on it. Minho’s eager to try more of Kibum’s cooking and maybe learn how to get his onions to dice as nicely. Though there shouldn’t be anything charming watching someone washing and cutting potatoes, Minho is enchanted watching Kibum work, regardless.  By the next weekend, they figure out a system. Kibum offers to make their breakfasts if Minho will continue making lunches; their team work on freezer meals means that neither one has to put in more effort. Kibum will pay as close to half of the rent as he can manage and put money in the grocery fund as he can. In turn, Minho agrees to do his best to stop disallowing Kibum to pay for anything. With the ground rules settled, Minho watches Kibum start to allow himself to be. He spends more time in the living room and even makes mention of decorating his room. When Kibum starts asking for help with things like working the washing machine, Minho’s oddly elated. Though he tries not to let himself get his hopes up, it seems like a sign that Kibum is really intending to stay.

As happy as he is that Kibum feels comfortable at the apartment, Minho starts to doubt his own intentions. He continuously claims that it’s just ‘helping out a friend,’ but as he finds himself observing Kibum more and more, he starts to wonder if that’s the whole story. If it had been someone else, would he have volunteered his time and space and money so quickly? When he and Donghae had moved in together, though they shared the space they kept their time mostly separate. They didn’t cook for each other (unless they were hosting a get together); they didn’t watch each other shyly; they definitely didn’t have trouble making eye contact for more than a brief moment. He wants to ask Kibum how he feels about the situation, beyond the standard “is this ok?” and “how is this working for you?”, but he has a feeling that Kibum will just say what he thinks Minho wants to hear. Whether it’s for friendly motive or some desire to save him from whatever is troubling him, Kibum is here now. Minho just hopes that soon there’s a sign to let him know.

*

The sign comes the next Friday. Minho knows something is wrong when he comes out in the morning to a dark kitchen. It’s 7:00, so he’s not up early by any means; he’s also never seen Kibum sleep this late. He decides to give Kibum a few extra minutes: he starts the coffee maker, makes their lunches, even fixing a big omelette for them share. By the time 7:30 rolls around, he can’t stand it anymore. He taps on Kibum’s door. No answer. He knocks a little louder, calls out Kibum’s name. Still no answer. He tries the door and is somewhat surprised to find it unlocked; they’ve been working on trust since Kibum moved in. While Minho trusts Kibum, he knows that Kibum needs more time and evidence, so he lets Kibum decide the boundaries on his own time. He knows Kibum’s been locking his door since the first night, though he hasn’t directly talked to him about it. Minho feels a moment of pride: the unlocked door symbolizes a big step for them. He opens the door just enough to peek in. The lights are still off and there’s a big lump on the bed that Minho assumes is Kibum. He softly calls out for him again before going in. He’s amused at the way that Kibum is cocooned in his blankets and feels guilty for trying to wake him up.

“Kibum, it’s time to get up. You’re going to be late if you sleep much longer.” he says, gently shaking his shoulder. Kibum’s warm to the touch, a little too warm for Minho’s liking. He sits down on the edge of the bed; he shakes a little harder and Kibum finally starts to stir. He blinks, coughs, and finally turns to look at Minho.

“Minho?”

“It’s 7:30 so I came to check on you.”

“It’s what time?” There’s a rasp to Kibum’s voice.

“Do you feel okay? You don’t look so good.” Minho asks, feeling Kibum’s forehead with the back of his hand. He’s very warm and Minho begins to wonder if he’s sick. It takes Kibum a moment to respond.

“I feel cold. And sore. And...and gross.”

“I’m going to go get the thermometer out of my room, okay? Just stay here.”

Kibum doesn’t respond, instead attempting to rearrange the blankets around himself. Minho’s glad that he and Donghae had started a first aid box and that Donghae let him keep it. He finds the thermometer quickly and heads back to Kibum’s room. Kibum’s all but asleep again.

“I’m going to take your temperature, okay? It’ll probably feel cold on your forehead but it’ll be quick I promise.”

Kibum attempts a hum in response, resulting in a cough. Minho’s suspicion is confirmed: Kibum’s temperature is 102℉. He knows Kibum’s in no shape to go to work but he also doesn’t want to leave him alone. At least it’s a Friday and there’ll be no need to find a substitute teacher. There’s a warmth on Minho’s hand and he sees Kibum trying to reach for him.

“I don’t think I can go to work today” he croaks. Minho laughs.

“No, Kibum. I think you should stay in bed today. Are you going to be okay if I go to work?”

There’s a pause and then a hummed yes.

“I’m going to bring you some water and crackers, is there anything else you want?”

Kibum makes a disgusted face at the mention of crackers but doesn’t request anything. Minho goes and gets the promised goods as well as an extra blanket from his room and the box of tissues from the living room. He arranges them on Kibum’s nightstand, then sits on the edge of the bed again.

“I put it all right here for you. I’ll keep my phone on in case you need me, but if you really need someone and you can’t get ahold of me, here’s the neighbor’s number as well. His name is Siwon and he’s really nice.”

Kibum reaches for him again and Minho holds his hand. He brushes Kibum’s bangs out of his eyes; he’s almost asleep again and Minho doesn’t want to keep him awake. He gives Kibum’s hand a gentle squeeze before standing.

“I’ll try to come check on you at lunch, alright?”

Kibum hums in acknowledgement before pulling the blanket over his head.

When Minho gets to school, he finds Leeteuk and explains the situation. He’s understanding and tells Minho that he’ll find someone to cover Minho’s class a little longer so that he can go home for lunch. Minho’s able to put his worry on the back burner in order to teach; it’s enough to fool his students but not enough to fool his coworkers. When he brings his students to the mixed use room for Jonghyun’s Friday Music Extravaganza, Jonghyun doesn’t waste any time asking what’s wrong. Minho doesn’t answer Jonghyun’s question but announces that Heechul (who has a half teaching, half administration position like Kibum does) will be getting the class.  He hurries out of the building and towards home. Unable to remember if they have soup or not, he stops at the restaurant a block from the apartment to order some. When he gets home, the apartment is still quiet. He puts a little bit of soup in a mug and, after knocking, ventures into Kibum’s room again. The blinds are open but Kibum is still mostly under the blankets. The crackers on the nightstand are untouched but Minho’s encouraged by the empty water glass. He sets the soup down and sits down. There’s a muffled “Minho?” from under the blankets followed by attempts to move them; Minho pulls the blankets back enough for Kibum’s face to be visible.

“Did you get some more sleep?”

Kibum nods, coughs.

“I brought you soup. Do you want to try a sip?”

There’s a pause, followed by a barely audible “what kind?”

“It’s beef bone soup. The lady at the corner always makes it and everyone I know swears that it has magical properties.”

Kibum wrinkles his nose but there’s a light in his eyes.

“That’s my favorite soup but I don’t think my tummy can handle it.”

“How about I put in the fridge for later and we try again when I get home.”

“Aren’t you home?”

“No, I’m on lunch break. Heechul is supposed to cover for me so I can make it back.”

“Oh.” There’s a tinge of sadness in Kibum’s voice. Minho grabs the thermometer off the nightstand. Kibum’s fever hasn’t budged.

“I’m going to put this up and get you more water and a tylenol.”

By the time Minho comes back from the kitchen, Kibum’s trying to pull off all his blankets.

“I’m hot now.”

Something in Minho’s brain urges him to say ‘I know’, but he just silently helps pull the blankets before arranging them on the side so that it’ll be easy to pull them back on when Kibum inevitably gets cold again. He checks his watch: his lunch break is technically ending and he needs to get back. He lets Kibum settle before saying a goodbye.

Though he does his best to clean up quickly, it’s still after 6pm by the time Minho gets home. Kibum’s sleeping, buried under his mountain of blankets again, so he lets him be. After heating up some of the soup -- who knows if Kibum will be able to eat it before it spoils and he hopes it’ll keep him running well enough that he won’t get whatever sickness this is -- he starts cleaning the apartment. He’s in the middle of washing dishes when he hears coughing, followed by the unmistakable sound of vomiting. After rinsing the dishes in his hand, he goes to check on Kibum. He’s in tears but it seems like he got most of the vomit in the bucket Minho had brought in for him.

“You alright, buddy?”

Kibum hiccups and shakes his head. Minho walks in further and realizes that somehow, Kibum’s gotten some of it in his hair. He sits as close as feels safe and reaches out his hand, which Kibum gingerly takes.

“I know throwing up isn’t any fun and it probably hurt, but it’s going to be okay,” he says in his most soothing voice. It’s times like these that being a kindergarten teacher is most convenient. He lets Kibum have his little cry, rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

“If I turn the water on for you, do you think you can manage to shower?” he asks when Kibum seems to have composed himself as much as possible. He takes a few deep breaths before shaking his head. Minho knows that Kibum needs to get cleaned, even if it’s just washing his hair.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I washed your hair for you?” he offers.

Kibum looks at him, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Minho hopes he hasn’t crossed a line but it’s the only solution that seems realistic given the circumstances.

“I promise I’m not going to try anything weird. I just want you to be able to get better and I’m sure you’re ready to have clean hair again.”

“I...that should be okay.”

“Are you ready or do you need a minute?”

“Yeah just...just give me a second.”

Minho goes to stand to empty the bucket and get the hot water running, but when Kibum doesn’t let go of his hand he simply waits at the bed. Eventually Kibum hands him the bucket, which Minho sets down temporarily in order to help him stand. Once he’s on his feet, Minho guides him to the bathroom and helps him sit down next to the tub. Minho starts the water so it can warm up; he empties the bucket and gets a few towels while he’s waiting.

“Do you just use shampoo or do you like conditioner too?”

“I like both but at this point just shampoo is fine.”

After making sure the water is warm enough to be soothing, he positions Kibum so he’s leaning on the tub with his head far enough over that the water go down the drain instead of on the floor. He puts a towel on Kibum’s back, just in case; he notices how tensed his shoulders are and pats him reassuringly. As he starts wetting Kibum’s hair he wishes he’d thought to play some music. He’s not sure how Kibum’s head is, so he refrains from saying anything more than little warnings about using water and apologizing for the occasional hair pull. It’s not the first time he’s had to wash someone’s hair: over the course of their respective friendships, he’d washed Kyuhyun and Suho’s hair on more than a few occasions. He’d even washed Sooyoung’s hair after a particularly gross party foul, mostly because he was the only person that she knew there and she was too drunk to do it herself. There’s something different about it this time though, and as he does his best to get Kibum’s hair completely clean, a soft peaceful atmosphere develops. Kibum seems to enjoy it too, the tension slowly disappearing from his shoulders. When he’s done, he takes another towel and does his best to dry him off. Kibum sits up when he’s finished and takes the towel to dry his face off. Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so cute when sick: Kibum’s cheeks are flushed from the fever and his half-dried hair is sticking out in all sorts of odd ways. He realizes he’s staring and looks away, but not before Kibum notices.

“Do I look that bad?” he asks, voice stronger than before.

“You don’t look well, but you don’t look bad.”

“So if I don’t look good but I also don’t look bad, what do I look like?”

Minho studies Kibum’s face a little more before answering, now that he has a proper reason to. Though everything about Kibum has become pretty to him in a way, his cheeks are what stand out right now. Though his fever worries him, Minho can’t deny that the pink hue it’s bringing to his face isn’t anything less than lovely.

“Like a peach.”

Kibum attempts a shy laugh and Minho hopes that somewhere under the fever flush he’s blushing.

“I’m going to go change your sheets, when you’re ready to get up just let me know.”

Kibum nods as Minho stands. As he strips the sheets off of Kibum’s bed, he figures he should wash his own as well, shoving both sets in the washing machine. He hears another hiccup followed by what sounds like dry heaving. When he gets back to Kibum’s room, he takes his temperature again; it’s gone up half a degree. Kibum’s shivering now and so Minho replaces the towel around his shoulders with one of the warmer blankets. As he’s adjusting it, Kibum seems to reach for his hand but doesn’t take it. The heaving starts again, so Minho sits down next to him and rubs his back to try and keep him calm.

“If you want me to stop, just say.”

Kibum manages to squeak out a “please don’t stop’”, so Minho continues until the episode passes. From where he’s sitting, he can see the clock. It’s already 9pm; he gets up and finds his phone, letting the coordinator at his volunteer program know that he won’t be able to make it the next day.

“Are you going to bed?” Kibum asks, voice hushed. Minho would be lying if he said he wasn’t tired but he also knows that he’ll probably be too worried to sleep.

“Maybe. Do you want to lay down again?”

Kibum nods, then adds “But I don’t really want to be alone.”

Minho looks at Kibum’s bed; it’s a single, and while they could fit together on it, Kibum’s a little too sick for that. His own bed, though, is a double; room enough for the both of them (assuming Kibum doesn’t spread out too much) to sleep spaced out.

“Why don’t you come sleep in my room? My bed is bigger, so we could put pillows or something in between us. Then you’re not alone and I don’t keep getting up to check on you. I’ll be right there if you need me.”

Kibum looks at the floor, tilting his head.

“I...I think I’d like that. If it’s okay,” he says, looking up at Minho.

“Are you ready to move or do you need a bit?”

Kibum attempts to stand, but it’s clear that he isn’t strong enough for it. He reaches out for Minho who catches him. Kibum tries to stand and move a few times but after a minute or two, Minho simply carries him from one room to the other. He sets him down on the side of the bed nearer the bathroom then goes back to get Kibum’s pillow and things. He grabs all the extra pillows he has to put in between them. Once Kibum’s settled and the pillow wall is made, Minho takes what might be the quickest shower of his entire life. He’s surprised to see Kibum still awake when he comes out of the bathroom.

“My bed not as comfy as yours?”

“I was waiting for you to get back. If you’re going to let me sleep in your bed with you, I can at least wait til you’re in it to sleep. Now that you’re out I make no promises though.”

Minho laughs at the response and gets into bed.

“Thank you for taking care of me today,” Kibum whispers as Minho turns off the light main light. He had found a nightlight, also courtesy of Donghae, and plugged it in just in case Kibum needed to get up.

“You’re welcome. I can confidently say you’re the best patient I’ve had to take care of so far, seeing as you just slept most of the time and didn’t throw anything at me.”

“No one’s ever taken care of me like this before so I just tried to do what seemed easiest for both of us.”

Minho’s heart drops at the comment; he wants to ask more, but with Kibum’s fever he isn’t sure if he’d actually meant to share that information. Minho can’t tell if its the illness or if Kibum’s actually crying, but either way he reaches out in an attempt to find his hand. Kibum’s is already resting on the pillow wall and he wonders how long he’s been waiting. As he intertwines their fingers,  Kibum goes silent for a while and instead Minho begins humming a tune.

“What song is that?” Kibum asks when Minho reaches the end of it.

“A lullaby my mom used to sing to me when I would get sick. If it’s bothering you I can stop.”

“No, no. It’s...nice, actually. I like it. Your voice is nice. All of you is nice. Especially your personality and your hair.”

Minho’s heart flutters at the compliments and so he starts humming through it again.

"Do I really look like a peach?"

"Yes, Kibum. You have the pinkest peachiest fever I've ever seen."

Kibum seems satisfied with the answer. He starts shifting his head around, so Minho reaches over and moves his bangs out of his face. As he continues humming, he hears Kibum’s breathing slow and his grasp on Minho’s hand loosen. The nightlight is just bright enough that he can see Kibum’s chest rise and fall, and its in that moment that he reaches an epiphany. This whole time, all these weeks since they met, he’s been trying to figure out what makes Kibum’s company so special that he’d been willing to lay out everything for him. As he falls asleep, he thinks back to earlier in the day, to Kibum’s peach colored cheeks, and realizes that for him, in this moment, it’s love.

[you-can-call-me-verge]

Floodgate (Prinxiety)

Summary: After harsh words are exchanged between Roman and Virgil, all of Virgil’s insecurities come back. A hurt/comfort angst fic with a happy ending.

Pairings: Prinxiety (This can be read as platonic or romantic, I have no preference.) 

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None.

Author’s note: Based off a prompt from corvidprompts. Enjoy!

Virgil was sat in his room, which wasn't exactly unusual. In his head, he replayed the events of earlier this afternoon. He was on his side, clinging onto a blanket. He felt the urge to sob, and yet no tears came out.

Which wasn't exactly unusual.

His first mistake was going downstairs in the first place. In the living room, Logan was reading on the couch, Patton was on his phone next to him, and Virgil was listening to music. Ever since he'd tried to “duck out,” he enjoyed spending time with his friends a little more. It was much easier to believe they liked having him around after they started going out of their way to make him feel wanted. Now, he was just sitting, enjoying the fact he had the option to be near them. He looked up from his phone just as Roman came bustling across the room.

“Where ya headed, Princey?” He asked, popping out an earphone.

“Wouldn't you like to know, Beetlejuice.” The harsh response had Virgil off guard already.

His second mistake was responding. “Yeah, I would actually. You just came through the room like a whirlwind, am I not allowed to be curious?”

Roman seemed to be restraining himself, speaking through clenched teeth. “Well, Anxiety, maybe if you didn't insist upon being such a menace all the time, I’d believe your curiosity was innocent.”

Virgil was shocked. Words were lost on him, so he just stared up at Roman, who loomed over him with rage. That was Virgil’s third mistake- he didn't respond. He didn't apologize, he didn't explain himself, he just sunk down into his chair and prayed the prince didn't continue. Thankfully, that was all the prince had to say to him. On the other hand, he turned away sharply and continued on his way, face still red with anger. Virgil followed him with his eyes until he'd exited, and made a beeline for his room.

Logan and Patton, who had witnessed the entire event, exchanged a look.

So much about the incident had cut deep, as if Roman had seen his deepest insecurities and went straight for them. He'd only been trying to make conversation, to show genuine concern for the side he'd historically fought with the most, and Roman just snapped. Even worse, Virgil was sure that he'd been making progress with him. He thought the jabs were becoming more joking, the nicknames less insulting and more affectionate. But this time, the recently warm and affectionate side had taken on a cold, cruel voice.

But the worst part of it all, worse than the realization he was wrong about Roman liking him, was the fact that he hadn't used his real name. The others, including Roman, were always so careful to call him Virgil. Everyone slipped up sometimes, but it was always accompanied with a quick apology and and correction. But this time, it wasn't. This time, it was followed with harsh insults, not so much as a pause to consider correcting himself. This was… calculated. Somehow, that made it so much worse. Somehow, that simple action had brought Virgil’s composure crashing down. Somehow, Virgil was now sure that every time any of his friends had gotten his name right, it was an act. It was a formality, canned, they didn't actually care about his name, they didn't actually care about him.

He was violently pulled out of his head back into reality when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He jumped and rolled over in his bed, and immediately saw Patton’s concerned expression. As he sat down on his bed, Virgil took a second to untangle himself from the blanket that had wrapped around him as he turned. Once he was free, he sat up, withdrawing a little from Patton.

“Hey-”

Virgil began speaking, deciding to apologize before the paternal side could lecture him. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I shouldn't bother you guys, it's just- I thought- I thought it was okay, I thought you guys wanted me to be more social with you, and I was wrong,” -it was getting progressively harder to talk- “But please, d-don't yell at me for this. I’ll get out of your hair, I'll leave, I'm sorry, it's just I can't h-handle being yelled at right- right now.”

It seemed like just minutes before, he hadn't been able to cry no matter how much he wanted to. But now that he was in front of someone, now that he was vulnerable, the floodgate was opened. His ribs creaked as he sucked in a breath, and he tried to hide his face with his hands as he broke down in large, body-wracking sobs.

Two strong hands gripped his wrists, and even though he struggled to keep his face covered, he quickly gave in as Patton brought Virgil’s hands down to his sides. Quickly, Patton brought his hands up to Virgil’s face, brushing away tears with his thumbs while gripping the other side’s chin, ensuring he couldn't hide his face. Virgil hated to think of how he must look, his eyeshadow likely running, face red and twisted as he cried.

“Hey. Hey, listen to me. I saw what happened downstairs.” Patton’s voice was soft and quiet, comforting. “I know you weren't trying to upset Roman. Me and Logan talked it out, and we theorized that Princey is just extra stressed out. It's been a while since Thomas has uploaded a video, and him and Logan have been overworking themselves trying to come up with content to release. That doesn't mean it was okay for him to speak to you that way, but it's important for you to know that he didn't mean a word of what he said to you. Okay? We care about you, Virgil. We love you.”

With that, Virgil closed the space between him and Patton. He rested his head on his chest, feeling the soft gray cardigan there. As his arms wrapped around Virgil's shoulders, Patton asked him, “Is there anything you need?”

“Can you please reassure me that I'm not a menace?”

“Virgil, you are the least scary person I've ever met.” He thought for a second. “Demonic attributes aside.” He added.

With that, Virgil laughed. He laughed and laughed until he was too tired to think.

It was later in the night. Patton asked if he was coming down for dinner, but the ordeal had taken so much out of Virgil that he decided to take a nap instead. So now it was 10, and Virgil was hungry. He groggily made his way downstairs. After a quick dilemma over what to have, he decided to microwave a couple pre-made, frozen tacos. It was the perfect mix of low effort and deliciousness. As he was pulling them out of the microwave, he turned around to see Roman standing in the doorway. They looked at each other for a long time, both feeling like deer in the headlights. 

Roman made the first move, tentatively stepping forward and pulling out a chair. The scrape of the chair against the floor was unsettling in the pin drop silence between the two. Virgil sat down across the table from him.

Roman broke the silence first. “Are you okay?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah. Me and Patton talked, I cried it out, I took a nap, its all good.”

Upon hearing the word “cry,” something like shame ran across Roman’s face. “I'm so sorry, I get it if you're mad.” He said. “This wasn't about you, it was about me. I'm so stressed out over this stupid video, I can't think of anything to do- but I shouldn't rant. I hurt you, and that's not okay.”

“It's fine. Really, I understand.”

“It's not fine, it's not even close to fine! You don't deserve that, you deserve to know how loved and important you really are to us. It's just- I asked Patton about how you were doing, and he didn't want to go into specifics, but he said that you were very upset. I just want to know- I want to know, what happened?”

Looking into the prince’s eyes, he saw how terrified he was. He looked desperate to make amends. “A lot happened. I kinda convinced myself that you hated me. And from there I convinced myself all of you hated me. I was sure that any amount of friendliness between us was faked out of obligation, not because you actually liked me. I was sad. Before then, I thought we were getting along better. I was really sure of it. Thinking that was untrue was… devastating.”

Roman took Virgil’s hand. His head snapped up at the contact, he hadn’t realized he'd ducked it while he spoke. His stomach twisted oddly.

“I'm so sorry I put you through that, however briefly. I don't hate you, anything suggesting otherwise is entirely false.”

“So, you like me?” Virgil asked, voice tinged with hope.

“No, I-”

Roman hesitated.

Virgil’s stomach twisted.

“Virgil, I love you.”