#apparently changing my bedsheets was a little much for me lol

[sensitiveheartless]

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[wordanoid]

Pretty Girl | (Fem!Eddie/Fem!Steve)

Contains: genderbending, praise kink, slight dom/sub undertones (dom!eddie), jewelry kink? (steve likes eddie rings), aftercare -let me know what I missed!

Summary: “This is cute.” Eddie says with an impish grin up at Steve. She’s paused her advance to hover over Steves hips and toy with the little black bow at the waistband of her blue and black laced underwear. Steve shoves at her shoulder with a scoff and mutters a “Shut your mouth, Munson.”

“What,” it’s annoyingly -endearingly- drawn out, “I’m serious sweetheart, it is cute as fuck.” And as if to punctuate the statement she leans down to press a kiss to the little thing before taking it between her teeth and pulling it up to let it snap back against Steve’s hips.

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: Genderbending is really usually my thing but I had this very specific scenario snippet in my head and also I’m fixated on stranger things rn and I tried to write it with our loves our girlies ronance but I couldn’t and I kept thinking of Eddie and Steve cause I have brain rot and so fuck me here we are. I didn’t change their names tho cause idk feels weird so… cope ig? /JK lol

•┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈•

They’re at Steve’s house, tangled up with each other in her bedsheets and watching some weird horror movie that Eddie had picked up from Family Video earlier that day when Steve was on shift.

It was a slow burner kind of movie and Steve was starting to get bored from sitting so long- and if she’s being honest, the movie kinda sucks. Her leg had started rocking back and forth like 20 minutes in, but now her hands are getting antsy too and she unconsciously started playing with the rings on Eddie’s hand that’s clasped in her own, twisting them and tapping them to make them clink dully against her bitten off nails. She loves these rings, she tells Eddie all the time how pretty her hands look all decorated up, but she’ll probably never directly admit just how much she loves them.

And they make great little fidget toys, so yet another plus to add.

Preoccupied with sliding around the rings on her hand, Steve doesn’t even notice Eddie looking down to watch her with a dimpled grin. That is until she wiggles her fingers and teases, “Having fun there Harrington?”

Steve jumps a little and looks over to Eddie, her face slightly flushing, “Oh, sorry Ed’s, didn’t mean to bother you or anything.”

“You’re not bothering anyone, love, just thought it was cute.” She says, pulling Steve’s now stilled hand up to press a kiss to it. “Are you getting bored? I didn't think the movie was that bad.”

“Oh no! I mean it's not great but I’m okay. Just happy to be here.” She says, squeezing Eddie’s hand and smiling at her.

“Jesus, I could eat you Harrington, you’re disturbingly sweet sometimes.” Eddie rumbles, leaning to kiss all over and around Steve’s nose.

Steve scrunches up her nose and tilts her head back, “Ed’s,” she drags out the S, “I thought I was badass? What happened?”

“Oh you can be both darling, you are definitely both.” Eddie’s kissing at her jaw, “Sorry I picked a bad movie,” and as an afterthought, “and also for interrupting your ring obsessing.”

“It is not obsessing! I just think they’re pretty and also apparently are fun to play with.”

“Mhm,” she grips Steve’s jaw to bring her face back down, said rings digging into Steve’s skin and making her lips pucker slightly, “well you’re pretty and fun to play with too, you make a great pair.”

Steve is effectively bright red, fumbling and mumbling as she tries to form words.

Eddie kisses her, slow and sultry and open mouthed and Steve is immediately responsive and pliant, parting her lips and breathing Eddie in, taking everything she gives as it comes. She sucks on her bottom lip as she slides her hand down her jaw to rest at the base of her neck, applying only enough pressure to make Steve light headed.

Pulling away she says, “See? A pretty necklace for a pretty girl.” Her eyes are half lidded and hungry as she looks down while squeezing a little firmer, smirking as she meets Steve’s eyes again when she hears her punched out and breathless whimper. She’s very pleased at how gone looking the brunette is, her jaw hanging slightly open and staring in shocked arousal, her pupils blown wide.

Steve swallows thickly, glancing over to the still playing movie and breathily stating, “Well this is certainly much better then that.” She meets Eddie for a kiss this time, tilting her head just right to allow Eddie in, groaning when their tongues meet.

Eddie rolls to hold herself over Steve while she sucks on her tongue, hand from her throat now resting beside her head and the other already snaking under Steve’s sweater to pet down her side. Steve’s hands are in her hair and around her neck, tugging at her as if she can pull their mouths closer somehow.

“Eager are we, babydoll?” Eddie whispers breathily against her lips, her eyes squinting from the coy smile plastered on her face.

Dragging her nails over Eddie’s scalp in warning, Steve grumbles under her, “I could always change my mind.”

“Oh no-no-no princess, trust me” Eddie’s quick to backtrack, licking over Steve’s lips and sinking her teeth into her bottom one, gripping her hips to roll them up harshly against her own, “I’m eager too.”

Steve shivers, immediately letting go of any pretend defiance as she wraps her legs around Eddies waist and merely whispers “You’re such a dork Ed’s” against the elders lips before letting her mouth fall open and inviting to Eddie's insistent tongue.

It’s filthy, Eddie’s tongue darting between her lips and licking over Steve's teeth and soothing over her lips every time she nips at them, and Steve is so happy to let her have her way and do as she pleases, letting out frequent little gasps and pleased hums.

Eddie’s hands have returned to fumbling under Steves sweater, scratching her nails down her back every time she drags Steve’s hips to press against her own and eventually shoving the soft fabric up when her hands travel up, up, up to toy with the soft flesh of Steve’s tits, barrierless from her lack of a bra in her pajama attire.

Eddie’s eyes are dark and focused when she pulls back and teases with slow featherlight touches on Steve’s chest, barely dragging her fingertips over sensitive skin, teasing around and over her quickly pebbling nipples. Steve’s back is arched into her hands and she’s looking up at Eddie with want in her eyes, begging for a firmer touch. And a firmer touch does finally come- in the form of Eddie leaning down to sink her teeth into the beginning fat of the top of Steve’s left breast as her other hand cups around the other to roll her nipple harshly between her thumb and pointer.

Steve moans wantonly, her legs tighting their hold around Eddies hips and her fingers digging into her shoulders, pulling closer as Eddie begins to lap soothingly at the indents in her chest before she decides to drag her mouth down to nibble and lick over a nipple while her fingers work at twisting and tugging roughly on her other unoccupied one.

She stays like that for a while, pawing at Steve’s boobs, switching between mouth and hand on each and enjoying her squirming, before eventually starting to tug at the shorts resting at Steve’s hips.

“This starting to feel a little unfair,” Steve says when Eddie’s leaned up to finish pulling her shorts of, flushing and motioning to their varying states of undress, she points to her dark colored sweatpants, “you too.”

“Okay, but only if you finish losing the sweater sweetheart.”

“But you still have on-“ Eddie lifts a brow at her before she can finish flubbing out the words sports bra, sitting up to take of her shirt, “fine.”

Eddie makes well on her word and kicks off her pants before kneeling back between Steve’s legs, giving her lips a chaste kiss before returning to her task of marking up Steve’s abdomen, kissing her way down surely but slowly.

“This is cute.” Eddie says with an impish grin up at Steve. She’s paused her advance to hover over Steves hips and toy with the little black bow at the waistband of her blue and black laced underwear. Steve shoves at her shoulder with a scoff and mutters a “Shut your mouth, Munson.”

“What,” it’s annoyingly -endearingly- drawn out, “I’m serious sweetheart, it <i>is</i> cute as fuck.” And as if to punctuate the statement she leans down to press a kiss to the little thing before taking it between her teeth and pulling it up to let it snap back against Steve’s hips. Then shes coming back up, not before delving her tongue into Steve’s belly button, which makes her stomach flutter, before trailing butterfly kisses and the occasional nip of her teeth all the way back up until she reaches her mouth to devour her yet again.

It’s messier, Eddie now focused on playing with the laced edges of Steve’s panties, and Steve herself thoroughly distracted by the soft touches of Eddie’s fingers pulling and pushing at thin lace.

Steve pulls away to shudder out, “Eddie.” An attempt to voice her want, her need, but it gets no response, Eddie just moves to mouth at her jaw and grip a handful of her ass under the fabric. “Eddie I swear to god if you don’t-“ she’s cut off by Eddie gripping her thigh and hip hard and manhandling her up to grind their hips together again.

“Patients Stevie. Be patient.” She says it in a light tone, but its most definitely a demand so Steve shuts her mouth and lets Eddie do her thing.

Her thing is apparently shuffling back down the bed again to hold herself up with one hand near Steve’s ass and lean down and use the other hand to pull a thigh up to start sinking her teeth into the skin there, licking over the pink blotches that bleed to the surface of her skin. Eventually she’s so close to where Steve really really needs her that she can feel her tongue at the edges of her lace and her breath ghosting over her where her panties are soaked and plastered over her core.

She makes the mistake of trying to shift her hips to grind against Eddie’s face.

With a click of her tongue and a swift movement to kneel up and away Eddie grips her hips and holds her down hard against the mattress, fingers digging hard enough to bruise.

“Ah ah ah Stevie-love, I told you to wait.” Her eyes are bright with fake disappointment, but she can’t hide how smug she is, especially not when her dimples pop as her lips curve into a smirk. Steve wants to bute her teeth into her bottom lip and wipe that look of her dumb face. In a sing-song croon, “Now we start allll over.”

Then she’s pulling up Steve’s other thigh and leaning back down to make it match the other.

Steve fights so hard this time to keep her hips still when Eddie’s finally made it back down to the edges of her underwear, lip clutched in her teeth and her eyes scrunched closed to focus solely on not moving for Eddie- she might even be forgetting how to breathe right she’s focused so hard. All she knows is that she needs to do what Eddie says, she needs to stay still. She needs to be good.

Eddie chuckles, the puff of air shocking Steve and making her jump. “You’re doing so good, baby, thank you.” She mixes the praise with a feather-light run of her ringed knuckles over the seam of her lips, such an easy target with Steve’s underwear completely plastered to every crevice. Steve full on gasps and her legs involuntarily twitch to close, to try and hold and deepen the pressure, but Eddie’s hands are quicker to keep them forced open. Eddie’s chuckling again, it’s mocking. It makes Steve blush and squirm.

Switching to dragging her thumb- still also ringed holy fuck- gently across where Steves clit would be through fabric and the flesh of her lips. Eddies back to mouthing at the top laced edge of Steve’s panties, teeth pulling at the lace.

These underwear were going to be ruined for Steve forever, she’ll only be able to think of Eddie tonguing at the bow.

Eddie leans up when Steve starts whimpering in frustration, her eyes watery with it and her hips shifting to their own accord- well not completely their own but so what if Steve’s playing it up a little. “P-please Eds,” shes got a grip on Eddies wrist from the hand at her crotch, “N-Need something… need more. Hurts Eds.”

“Aw baby, you need it that bad? Poor thing.” It’s said in a completely mocking tone with a faux frown to match, but Steve knows that its all for show, she’s already got the flat of her hand on Steve’s lower stomach, slowly but surely slinking lower to slip under her underwear. “I’ll give you what you need Stevie-love, don’t worry.” She whispers when the tips of her fingers begin to just barley graze dark course hair.

Eddie flips her hand and slips her fingers over to hook into the side of her panties at her hip, slowly unsticking them from her and beginning to drag them down her thighs. They’re nearly off but get stuck on one foot and Steve giggles as she kicks them away somewhere in the room.

“Gotta take these off too,” Eddie says wiggling her ringed fingers in the air, “I know how much you like them, but it's not very sanitary, sorry love.” And then she makes a show of it, pulling the first ring of her thumb with her teeth before tugging the rest off by hand for efficiency’s sake.

When the rings are off and have found a place on the nearby nightstand, Eddie returns to rest her head on Steve’s thigh as her fingers return to her cunt.

She groans at the sight of glistening strands of thick hair, running her thumb over Stves folds again without the barrier of cloth, “Fuck you’re soaked princess.” Eddie growls into her thigh as she hooks her thumb in and prys Steve’s lips open. Her gaze is so heavy on Steve’s skin, and so full of hunger when she looks up to meet her eyes again, Steve feels like prey trembling under her, waiting for her to strike.

And strike she does. Eddie secures the thigh already in hand on her shoulder and pushes the other up to spread Steve open, commanding her to hold it there, then leans down to run a flattened tongue through her drenched folds. She’s overwhelmed with the deep and musky scent and flavor, her brain short circuiting a moment and all she can think is Steve Steve Steve… It’s only made worse when she processes Steve’s cute little gasp, but she clicks back in when Steve’s back begins to arch up and she reaches up to hold her down.

With her free hand Eddie holds Steve’s folds the rest of the way open while she gets to work like a woman starved, dragging her tongue from core to mound, her lips and chin getting absolutely drenched in the process. She knows it’s no where near enough to work Steve up to anything more then further frustration, but if anything Eddie would love that- a crying a begging Steve is always a gorgeous sight. But she really has been so good for Eddie so she’ll treat her tonight.

She switches to licking her tongue over Steve’s clit languidly, occasionally dipping back down to tease at her entrance before focusing again. When Eddie suddenly presses a kiss to her clit before sucking it into her mouth she is so glad and yet so disappointed for the hand holding Steve down, preventing a hard buck into her face and providing the feeling of Steve’s stomach jumping under her palm. “Fuck,” Steve whimpers out, “do- do that again please.” So Eddie does, switching between sucking and lapping at the swollen nerves.

Eddie waits till Steve is a shuddering and twitching mess before bringing her fingers back into the mix. She nudges against Steve’s entrance, teasing around a moment before sliding two long fingers inside and smirking a little when Steve moans at the slight stretch.

She looks up to make eye contact with Steve on the first slow and firm drag of her fingers against her upper walls, disappointed when she can’t find her eyes with her head tossed to the side like it is and her free hands knuckle’s between her teeth, muffling her noises.

“So that’s why you’ve been so quiet,” Eddie says, barely pulling her mouth away to talk, “hand.” She demands, flipping the hand on Steve’s stomach to reach out. When she’s got a grasp on it she brings it to her hair, making Steve’s fingers lace through it. She’s firm when she commands, “Leave it there, you know I like hearing you. And look at me too, I wanna see your face.”

“Okay,” Steve’s hand finds actual purchase in her hair, “‘m sorry.”

“That’s okay babydoll, nothing to be sorry for.” She presses a sweet kiss to Steve’s clit, then pauses again to wink up at her and poke her tongue out goofily, “and pull as much as you’d like, you know I like it.”

Then she’s back to it, abusing puffy nerves with her tongue and working her fingers at a steady, unyielding pace against Steve’s walls.

There’s a flood of curses and whimpers from Steve now, and a mantra of Eddie’s name or branching nicknames pouring from her lips, and Eddie’s stilling hold on her hips is so deliciously frustrating as her hips twitch to move, to try to grind into her face, grind into the sensations , but she can’t and is forced to just take what she’s given.

When Steve’s walls start tightening and her thighs start to quake Eddie doubles down on her focus on her clit and circling her fingertips against the spongy nerves inside her, keeping up the same motions as her walls begin to clench and still keeps up when Steve grasps hard on her hair and cry’s out “Fuck Ed’s!” as her cunt spills fluid over Eddie’s chin and hand.

Eddie drags her through a lengthy orgasm, not letting up until Steve’s tugging at her hair and whining at her. She’s an obscenely gorgeous sight when she sits up, her face shining and a victorious toothy grin on her face- it makes Steve’s heart clench with unconditional love and her cunt in half-hearted arousal, still too soon for her to actually be ready to go again. She tiredly smiles back at her lover, reaching out to cup her face when she starts leaning back up to her, pulling her in for a slow kiss, humming as she tastes herself on Eddie’s lips.

“Good?” Eddie breaks away to ask in a breath, leaning their foreheads together.

“Mmmm very.” Steve smiles up at her, brushing their noses together. “Your turn?” Steve always asks before reciprocating when they have moments like this, knowing that sometimes Eddie just wants to pull her apart and take care of her and leave it at that.

“Only if you want to princess, I’m fine either way.” She’s smiling and pressing kisses to the corner of Steve’s lips.

“Of course I do.” Steve grins at her excitedly, quickly making a move to start flipping them and shimmy down when Eddie stops her.

“We could sit up, but I want you to stay up here with you like this.”

“Okay.” Steve says, gently smooching Eddie’s nose before starting to wiggle to move up against the headboard and pull Eddie into her lap, resting their foreheads together again.

Their kisses this time are a lot less messy, more languid and slow but still full of fire that continues to go straight to Eddie’s cunt, which before now she had been ignoring how damp her black boxers had gotten. Steve’s hands stroke over Eddie’s sides and stomach, tracing the tattoos littered around with fluttery fingers.

She tugs at the bottom of Eddie’s sports bra, looking up at her and waiting for approval which comes in Eddie just lifting her arms up and smiling challengingly at Steve, clearly giving the go ahead.

After slipping the fabric off Steve bends to press a kiss to Eddie’s sternum, hands slipping up her sides to cup both tits in her hands. Steve loves everything about Eddie, but when it comes to tits, especially Eddie’s cute little perky tits, Steve is no better than a pubescent teenage boy with a dirty magazine.

She thumbs over pierced nipples, kissing her way to one side and flicking her tongue over one, but she knows she can’t spend too long here, Eddie’s already been waiting for so long and made it clear she wants Steve to be in kissing reach, so Steve tugs at a piercing with her teeth before leaving it up to her hands as she returns to her lovers mouth.

Continuing to grope her chest with one hand Steve’s other hand begins the decent down Eddie’s abdomen, pausing to let Eddie readjust her knees to be able to kneel higher before, in a mimic of Eddie earlier, Steve snaps the waistband of her black boxers and says against her lips, “These are cute.” Eddie bites her nose in retaliation, making Steve giggle sweetly.

She rests their foreheads together and makes sure to make eye contact with Eddie when she scoops her hand under the fabric and starts tracing over her, finding her hole and teasing over it before dragging her finger up though her folds. Eddie’s intakes a sharp breath, hips immediately jerking.

Now, Steve knows Eddie is too sensitive to take direct and focused stimulation to her clit so Steve works around it, rubbing at the edges or using her fingers to cover and stimulate the whole area. It’s in one of these whole coverage moves that Steve slips her middle finger inside, and then quickly slipping a second in with the first when Eddie gasps against her cheek.

Steve works slowly, not dragging her fingers out of Eddie almost at all and instead firmly rocking her hand back and forth, using her palm to continue to gently stimulate her clit and making firm come-hither motions against her g-spot, her boxers holding taut around her hand.

Eddie’s gasps breaths and little groans against her neck, hands on her shoulders, and grinds her hips down into Steve’s hand to make the motions deeper and more firm. She grips Steve’s jaw and drags her into another kiss, her moans getting tangled in teeth and tongue.

Steve works her hand faster, Eddie speeding up her grind to match pace and they have to pull apart so Eddie can breathe, both looking down to watch the obscene image of Steve’s hand at work through tight boxer briefs and her hand still cupping one of Eddie’s breasts, tugging at pebbled flesh and silver metal.

“Yes, just like that babydoll.” Eddie hisses out, sounding completely breathless, “Good girl.” Steve moans at the praise.

When Eddie’s orgasm begins to approach she drags Steve closer to her by her shoulders, arching so their chests are pressed together while still leaving Steve’s hand enough room to move at her cunt. Steve’s dedicated-tit-hand till this point moves around to rest on her arched spine. Their foreheads are constantly knocking together as Eddie rotates her hips even faster against Steve’s hand and the air between them grows humid with their shared breaths.

Eddie’s eyes clench shut and her legs threaten to give out on her when she comes, her boxers and Steve’s fingers dampening further as she grinds herself through it. She twitches to a stop when it becomes to much and grabs Steve’s wrist to hold her in place a moment while she breaths.

Steve’s smiling a sweet smile at her and petting down her back with her other hand, waiting for Eddie to come back down. When she’s ready Eddie lets go of her wrist and lets her pull her fingers out and she brings them up to her mouth to lick clean.

“Fuck baby, you keep that up and we’re never going to bed.” Steve grins at her and makes more of a show of sliding her tongue over every crevice before sucking her fingers into her mouth for extra measure. “God, I should wreck you. Just you wait Harrington.” Eddie says with a pinch to Steve’s hip before slipping out of her lap and off the bed to stretch. “C’mon, lets go shower, unlike you I forgot to clean off my hand so you have your own cum all over your shoulder.”

Now that Steve’s focus’s on it she can definitely feel it dried there. She’s immediately up and following Eddie like a lost puppy to the bathroom.

The shower is warm, and they take turns washing each others hair and bodies, completely trusting in each other to take good care of each. And after Steve does both of their hair care, combing Eddie’s hair now before it dries and scrunching mouses and other hair products in. And then Eddie does skin, moisturizing both their faces before rubbing lotion down both their bodies, making sure to massage at Steve’s shoulders and neck and getting cheeky for a bit when she rubs lotion on her ass. It ends with sharing a few soft kisses while they help pull each others clothes on as well. No

They kick the comforter off at the end of the bed to wash tomorrow and crawl in with Steve’s favorite fuzzy blanket wrapped around their tangled forms. They whisper and giggle to each other for a while after, Eddie pressing kisses all over Steve’s face while she’s talking at least twice, before settling down to fall asleep, foreheads pressed together.

Nearly unconscious, Steve hears Eddie whisper “I love you my pretty girl.” She can only manage something that sounds like a mumbled ‘Mmmt’ before she falls asleep.

[silkenstarlight]

blackbird's lullaby

Summary: After a rough day, Bucky can’t sleep. Reader decides to help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning/s: a bit of angst in regards to Bucky’s past, but the end is fluffy and sweet :)

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: something possessed me to write this instead of working on my finals, so here, enjoy the fruits of my academic negligence lol

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Bucky’s side of the bed was cold when you woke.

You sighed deeply, wrenched from the arms of a dream, rubbing the heavy, lulling tug of sleep from your eyes. You were half awake, toeing the line between the violent brightness of a dreamscape and the hazy, blurred shadows of your bedroom. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around your limbs and threatened to pull you under again, but before you could succumb to their soft, enticing tangle, a singular thought rose in your mind from the murky depths of sleep. At first, it was quiet, a hushed voice in your brain whispering to you that you were alone. But then, the concern gained traction, and it blared in your skull with a deep, unnerving clarity, a nagging insistence that made your eyes snap back open.

Where the hell was Bucky?

You sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:46 AM.

You frowned, turning to face Bucky’s empty pillow, and reached a hand out, lightly tracing the crisp, untouched folds. The sheets on his side of the bed were still flat and pristinely tucked, his pillow perfectly fluffed. He hadn’t bothered to try to sleep.

You knew why.

You peeled back the blankets and shivered, met instantly with the deep chill of night air as you unfolded yourself from your fleece and goose-down cocoon.

Bucky preferred to keep the apartment cold. You obliged, of course, bundling up in endless sweaters and blankets as he opened the windows wide and turned the rotary fan on full blast. You never questioned him about it, never asked if you could dial up the thermostat just a few degrees. You knew that keeping the apartment cold helped him to avoid the dreaded space of sleep, helped him to outrun the ever-looming specter of his nightmarish past. And, whenever he did come to bed, he gave you all of the blankets, covering his body with just the thin cotton layer of a bedsheet.

You knew that he rarely fell into a deep, nourishing slumber, so you tried to help boost his energy in other ways. Big, steaming pots of the strongest coffee you could brew, a fridge stocked with healthy snacks, and daily morning walks around the neighborhood together. He quietly thanked you for your efforts, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and leaving fresh flowers in the vase on the kitchen table every Sunday. But, even though he preferred to stay awake, whenever you rolled over in bed to snuggle into his side and found that his eyes were still wide open, a hard lump rose in your throat and a worried pit formed in your stomach.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and put on your slippers, grabbing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts and shrugging it on as you padded out to the kitchen. You just wanted to check on him and make sure that he was okay.

When he had returned from his mission earlier in the evening, he had seemed a little off to you. Usually, he was quiet, preferring to listen to you as ranted about your stressful workday or gushed about the newest book you were reading. He never wanted to talk much about himself, silently refusing to drag the horrors of his work into your home. It was where he felt at ease-- the plush pillows, the diffused, ambient lighting, the cloying scent of vanilla candles-- it was all so you. He didn’t want to taint the safety and warmth he felt when he was surrounded by your essence with the cold uncertainty and lingering shame of his work. Even though his missions nowadays were usually unrelated to his past as a clandestine Hydra operation, and even though the two jobs differed vastly in motive, he sometimes felt the creeping prick of deja vu traveling up his neck. Follow this person. Disable that vehicle. Shoot this opponent.

All of the lights in the apartment were off, so as you approached the kitchen, you used the bright white glow of your phone screen as a flashlight. You didn’t want to go directly to the living room and make it too obvious that you were checking on him. He would just shake you off if you did, insist that you go back to bed. So, you reached into the cupboard above the sink and grabbed a glass, turning on the faucet and filling it as you peered over the countertop, trying to pick out Bucky’s rigid frame amongst the inky shadows of the living room. You turned off the faucet and brought the glass to your lips, swallowing a couple of small sips.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” The sound of Bucky’s voice coming from the couch made you jump, the thick glass of your cup clacking against your teeth. You placed it in the sink and walked over to the couch.

Despite the low light, you could see that Bucky was still wearing the clothes he had on when he came home from his mission. Gray tee, leather jacket, dark jeans. He hadn’t even taken off his heavy black boots.

You stepped slowly towards him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting the urge to bury him in a hug and pepper him with kisses. Instead, you sat next to him, leaving a little space between your body and his. Now, you could see his clenched jaw, his jittery, tapping fingers, and the jumping vein in his neck that only pulsed when he was stressed. His gaze was fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall in front of him, as if he were lost in thought.

This wasn’t a normal sleepless night. Something was wrong.

“I… I guess that I should be asking you the same question,” you said softly, voice gravelly and low from sleep.

He didn’t respond, just took a sharp inhale that made it sound like he was staving off tears.

You couldn’t help it. It was like your body could sense his distress. Your hand jerked up to rest on his shoulder, a subconscious reaction to his apparent suffering. You let it stay there, though, stroking your thumb lightly along the cool leather of his jacket.

He stirred from his reverie and turned to look at you. It was so dark, the curtains shut tight, not a single ray of moonlight filtering into the room, but the blue of his eyes shone bright, glistening with the wet sparkle of unshed tears. Sadness swelled in your chest.

“You can tell me,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here to listen.”

His gaze dropped from your face, silently weighing your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you enough to open up. The truth was that he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And then, his demons would be given a voice, and the doors to this vanilla-scented, blanket-swathed haven would be wrenched open to the darkness that waited for him beyond the threshold.

But he could also see the way that his silence affected you. You frowned more on the mornings after he didn’t come to bed. You talked and talked and talked, trying to fill his ears with noise to distract him from the numbing static in his skull. And you were constantly touching him in some way, whether twining your lithe fingers around his thumb or draping your body on top of his in a warm, crushing hug. It was as if you didn’t want to let him out of your sight.

So, he let out a long exhale and reached up, taking your hand from its perch on his arm and twining his fingers tightly with yours. He idly stroked your palm with his thumb and decided to tell you the truth.

“I… I had a bit of a setback tonight.” He felt like he was wrenching the words from his throat. He couldn’t look at you, a deep sense of shame settling into his bones, but he stared at your hand held in his and felt the creeping self-doubt hesitate just a little.

“What do you mean?”

He dragged his eyes up to yours, blinking nervously. “I, uh--” he inhaled sharply and felt tears prick at his eyes. “Someone used my trigger words tonight. And it worked.”

Silence lay heavy between you as you digested what he said, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t pry your hand from his. You simply held his gaze.

“How is that possible?” He had gone through years of extensive mental treatment in Wakanda, the emotional scars that he suffered after years of lost identity and unwilling servitude seemingly healed. But, now, it seemed that one of those scars had re-opened.

“Ayo said that it was unlikely, but that it could happen. Relapse is a part of the process.” His voice was pained.

You nodded slightly, assenting to Ayo’s expertise. But Bucky’s next sentence made you fall apart at the seams.

“I thought I was different, after all these years. But I guess I haven’t changed. I’m still him.” He spat the last word, his face creasing into an expression of disgust.

You didn’t hesitate. “Come here.”

You gently separated your hand from his and reached up to his shoulders, guiding him towards you in a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms behind his neck and he pressed his chin into the notch between your shoulder and neck. As you began tracing your fingertips along his jacket collar, his chest heaved in desperate inhales, slow tears tracking down his cheeks developing into full, wracking sobs.

“You’re safe. I won’t let you go.” You pressed your mouth against his temple in a soft, soothing kiss.

“You were never him.” Although your voice was barely a whisper, it spoke volumes, your words ringing clear and true in the quiet stillness. Bucky shuddered, squeezing you close. You moved one of your hands up to cradle the back of his head.

You stayed like that for a long time, until you saw the blue light of dawn trickle through the gap beneath the curtains, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for Bucky to say what he needed. When his breath finally stilled into a regular rhythm, no longer halting and ragged, you pulled back and took his face in your hands, staring deeply into his eyes.

“I’m so tired.” His voice was flat and broken, but when you wiped a stray tear from his cheek with your pinkie, a small, grateful smile formed on his face.

You nodded. “Well, I know what will help. Come here.” You pulled back, shifting down the couch, guiding him with you with your hand wrapped around his arm. When he had enough space to lie down, you stopped, settling into your seat. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he could risk falling asleep in his current emotional state, but he sighed, knowing that he needed to rest. He laid back, resting his head on your lap, and looked up at you.

You carded your fingers through his short hair, brushing it back from his forehead. He melted into the gentle gesture, relaxing into the couch, into the warmth of your body.

And then, you began to sing.

You were quiet at first, as if trying out the thought of singing him a lullaby. Your voice was tentative, trying out the feeling of the different notes in your mouth.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

You thought that your voice was nothing special, your untrained, warbling syllables rushing from your lips in a breathy exhale. But Bucky loved it. The way you let your words flow together, followed by a long, lilting end note and a pause to inhale-- it was sweet and soft and so very you.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

He could feel it already, the lull of an encroaching dream. His first instinct was to fight it, to blink the sleep from his eyes, but he let his lids shut, blocking out every sense except for the sound of your voice.

“Blackbird fly, blackbird fly,

Into the light of a dark black night.”

And, as he welcomed the embrace of sleep, your voice followed him, a glowing amber halo of warmth that pushed the dark away and lit his path into the space of dreams.

“All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

He dreamt of blackbirds and forehead kisses, of vanilla candles and forgiveness.

He dreamt of you.

[its-me-im-coraline]

Drive // Damiano David // Playlist fics

words // 1016

warnings // kind of angsty feelings but mostly caring!damiano sooo yeah

pairing // Damiano David x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. song is drive by ashton irwin. Also I changed the plot that I originally thought of because 1. i forgot my original plot lol and 2. i read the lyrics to the song and apparently I had heard some words wrong so it sparked a new, fluffier scenario

for some reason i only realized i didn't put any tags on it over a week later

request // nope

summary // Reader's partner breaks up with them letting some harsh words before leaving. Damiano is there to hear where it hurts most and pick his friend back up. Only thing is he is in love with them.

Y/N was still hurting. The tears were still fresh and the thoughts never wondering from the leaving man. They still heard the voicemails he left in the past, the same ones that he’s say how much he loved them, how amazing and important they were. They were all but a painful lullaby now, one that would put Y/N to sleep but not before sobbing their eyes out in attempt to heal the pain.

Damiano could sense his best friend’s pain, but even if he had a hard time deciphering people’s emotions, Y/N’s state was a tell all of their inner world. They were hurting, excessively, words still ringing in their head like a bell. Maybe I never loved you. Damiano would not waste any time comforting his friend, drying their tears, holding them close, letting them know that he understood how unfair it was, never forgetting to remind them of their worth. Y/N never spoke, though. They kept everything in, simply taking in Damiano’s care, afraid to speak to him about it.

It had been days in that never changing state. A constant cycle of wake up, cry, sleep and all over again the next day. They refused to eat, refuse to get out the room unless it was utterly necessary… Damiano could not take it anymore. He did not want to push them but they had to break that pattern they found themselves in. “Get up, we’re going out,” he said walking into their room, placing a sweatshirt of his along with some of their shorts on the bed - noting how although it was summer the breeze would make them feel cold, and he couldn’t have that happening.

“Go take a shower, get dressed and I’ll be waiting for you,” he said already starting to work on de-cluttering their little depression room.

The clock read 22.32, it was late, all too late to even attempt to get up. “What’s gotten into you, Dami? What are you doing - hey leave that where it was! What are you doing?”

The man took a deep breath, sitting himself on the crumbled up bedsheets, hand on his friend’s leg. “Listen, amore. I know how much he hurt you, I know, but you can’t stay like this forever,” he paused taking in their state. Eyes red from crying and puffy, their lips swollen from the frequent naps - oh how he wanted to kiss them right now - no no no, Damiano, you can’t be thinking that.

“Let’s go get some take out, drive around downtown… We don’t even have to talk, we can just play music. But please, get up.” He was pleading, just like his heart. He could not bare the person he so dearly loved, even if they did not know it, to hurt like that, to close off and hide away from him. It should have never been an option in his mind.

Y/N whispered a soft ok before vacating the bed. Damiano was already on his feet, placing the clothes on the bathroom counter, helping his love with anything they needed before their shower, and then walking back into the room, making it look less overwhelming and more ‘secure’, sitting on the bed after he finished waiting patiently.

It did not take long for Y/N to be done with getting ready, already feeling slightly better. “Thank you,” they breathed out, hugging Damiano close. He plainly chuckled, hands rubbing their back and lips on their temple, leaving small kisses. I love you, “You’re welcome.”

Getting into the car and getting their food was the easiest task out of everything so far, but the man needed to know what was troubling the person in front of him, so he asked. “Amore,” it came out as almost a whisper, a soft breath of words, “do you maybe want to tell me what happened that night? I know you said he left, but I know you! It’s not that, that is eating you inside out. What did he say?”

The hesitation in Y/N’s face was evident, a long breath being taken in before any words had the chance to. “He -uhm- he said he never loved me,” they let out, without thinking about it too much, knowing that if they did, they’d never say it.

His face fell, and so did his heart. How could someone say those words to anyone, but especially to someone like them. They were literally the light of his life and it seemed like such a paradox for someone to not love them. The man had become livid, ready to break the ex’s face, but when he saw the tears in Y/N’s face, he calmed down.

“He never loved me, Dami, never. Oh, god, no one ever will! What if he’s the representation of everyone’s thoughts about me?! Oh my-”

“Hey stop that! Stop trusting the words or a piece of shit like him,” he spat out as if venom. “He is crazy to feel like that and he is crazy to say it. Y/N, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” He could not believe he was doing it in that moment. Maybe it was wrong, maybe he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t keep himself back.

“You don’t understand Damiano… Maybe he was put into my life so i can learn that I’m unlovable. It feels like I am, and man does it hurt,” they quieted down, looking out the car window for a second before being unable to control the upcoming sob, “it hurts, Dami, it really hurts.”

These words pierced through his chest like a dagger dipped in his anger. Not much was able to be done until the man simply pulled his friend in his arms. “That’s bullshit!”

A sharp silence followed these words, both friends unsure of what to do.

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t want to act like saint - hell I’m far from that - but… I can help, ok? I can show you how wrong those horrible thoughts and that horrible man are. Just,, put some faith in me.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

playlist tag list: @cheese-toastie-11

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Willex, stay

anon this accidentally played into the fact that i’ve been thinking about touch starved willie nonstop for weeks. so. here you go. sorry it got long lol “a lil something” this ended up 1.5k words so it’s now available on ao3 as well

(send me a ship and a word and i’ll write you a lil something for clowngate // completed prompts)

Things have been weird, since Willie moved in.

Not bad weird, Willie doesn’t think. Or, a little bad weird. But everything was going to be bad-weird, after what happened with Caleb, anyway. He’s trying to move on as best he can, but there’s a lot of adjustment at once, after he meets Julie and she breaks his curse and suddenly he is - as far as he can tell - a regular teenaged boy again, alive and well, able to graze his knees if he tumbles off his skateboard.

(Yes, he learned that the hard way).

Usually, Willie’s good with change. He likes life to stay fresh, and exciting. It’s just that sometimes he looks around the Molina’s spare room, with its cozy blue bedsheets and little bookshelf on the wall, and thinks about Ray Molina’s kind eyes and the way he’s basically adopted four ghosts that he knew nothing about prior to this out of the sheer goodness of his heart. Willie wonders if he’s stepping on people’s toes, by being here. If he’s in the way.

Everyone else knows each other so well already, is all, and he can’t help but suspect that maybe they resent him for causing all this trouble in the first place, no matter how many times Alex and Julie assure him that’s not the case. He just doesn't feel like he can ask for anything, since they've given him so much already.

And Willie also has this weird sort of pain, maybe leftover from his curse, maybe his soul being a little battered and sore. But it’s this ache that sits just under his rib cage, that thuds with his heart, and that won’t shift. He lies awake at night and feels it, like a very blunt dagger, or a really cold stone. Sinking deeper and deeper in him, like his chest is a bottomless pool of water.

It’s not all bad. Ray lets him skateboard in the little courtyard outside the garage, when he doesn’t feel like going far. He hangs out in the loft and sketches in a book Julie got him, as he listens to her and the boys rehearse. They sound amazing, and getting to watch Alex is Willie’s favourite thing. He looks so relaxed, when he’s drumming, so unselfconscious. Like Alex finally sees, in himself, the Alex that Willie sees all the time.

He just wishes Alex would be that Alex around Willie, again. The way he was before. Alex treats him so carefully now, so tentatively, like any wrong move could make Willie flinch.

Maybe Willie just flinches more than he used to. Maybe it’s not all Alex’s fault.

--

The ache is back, and Willie’s lying awake, and staring at the ceiling, and wondering why Ray Molina has a copy of The Communist Manifesto in his guest room, when Alex appears at the door. Not literally appears, as in poofs in, but appears by poking his head through the gap Willie left and saying, “Hey, are you still awake?”

Willie looks over at him. Alex is clearly dressed for bed (it’s weird, having to sleep again after all these years), and his blonde hair is all shaggy and in his eyes.

For some reason, the pain in Willie’s chest deepens further. Maybe it is because of the curse. He knows how furious Caleb was about his feelings for Alex. How threatened he felt by them.

“Yeah,” Willie says, belatedly, when Alex gives him a stranger look than normal. “I mean. Apparently.”

“Can I come in?”

Willie nods, sitting up and shuffling his legs up so there’s room for Alex to sit on the end of the bed, which he delicately does.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Alex tells him, folding his hand in his lap and looking up at the roof, the way Willie was moments ago. Willie is looking now at the distance between his toes and Alex’s thigh.

In the past, he never would have hesitated to just tuck his cold feet under the legs of a boy he liked. In fact, that sounds exactly like the kind of thing Willie-from-before would do. He’s just not Willie-from-before any more.

Usually good with change. Not sure how he feels about this change.

“Check on me?” he asks. Still looking at his feet, and Alex’s pajama-clad leg, and Alex’s hands in his lap, now. Wishing he was holding one of Alex’s hands.

God, his chest hurts. It makes him feel shaky.

“You’ve been... quiet?” Alex offers, and then cringes at himself like he regrets the word choice, his beautiful eyebrows pulling together, his beautiful mouth pulling to the side, his beautiful nose framed by the light from the hallway, streaming in through the gap in the half-open door. “Not that you can’t be quiet! Not that you were loud before, either, just...”

Not yourself.

Alex doesn’t have to say it. Willie knows already. His throat feels tight, and man, he doesn’t want to cry in front of Alex, that would be such a shitty thing, after all of this. “I’m sorry,” Willie says softly, though he’s not even exactly sure what he’s apologising for.

Maybe for not being as much fun as he was before. For being yet another thing Alex has to worry about, now, instead of being somewhere Alex doesn’t have to worry about anything.

For some reason, those are the words that break Alex, that make him impulsive.  It’s like he moves before he thinks, when he puts his hand on Willie’s knee, squeezes tight. His other hand he moves to Willie’s cheek, cupping his jaw, tilting his head up so they can look at each other properly. “Please don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

The feeling of Alex’s hands burns and soothes all at once, and something in Willie breaks. The floodgates stored in his ribcage burst, the pain overwhelming and then washing away, and he feels the tears spilling over before he has a chance to stop or hide them. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, so gently, with such kindness.

Oh. Yeah, he can. It was Alex, then, too.

“Shit,” Alex exclaims softly, trying to withdraw his hands, but that’s the last thing Willie wants, and he manages,

“Stay? Please, Alex, I can’t be-”

Okay, well, ‘alone again’ is a little melodramatic, he thinks to himself, even in the middle of his own breathless crying. No need to take it that seriously, Will. Alex is saying, “Okay, okay, I won’t go - I’m not leaving, just - what do I do? Am I helping or making it worse?”

Willie just surges forward, rolls onto his knees, and buries his face in Alex’s neck, arms around Alex’s shoulders. Alex holds him back, tight, soothes him in sounds more than words.

The pain washes away down the river. Everywhere Alex touches him, every time Alex runs a hand through Willie’s hair or down Willie’s spine, the ache recedes, reduces, dies down.

“I wanted to give you space,” Alex whispers, lips practically against his ear, the warmth like a bucket of water over Willie’s head in the best way. He’s doing some of his best overthinking, Willie can tell even through his upset. Alex is an astonishingly good multitasker. “But I gave you too much, huh? This... I should’ve been doing this.”

“You didn’t have to,” Willie says, sniffling in a truly disgusting way. “Shouldn’t have to now. Don’t want to make you worry.”

“Please make me worry,” Alex interrupts him. “Please. For once, let me play to my strengths?”

That startles a laugh out of Willie, and Alex grins, Willie can feel it against his face. Now that he’s done crying, now that they’re just sitting there holding each other, he can feel the blooming warmth inside him, the relief. The quiet.

“Better?” Alex asks.

Warmth where there was cold. Comfort where there was pain. It wasn't the curse after all, he guesses, but this is a change Willie can deal with. It’s not Caleb, haunting him still somehow. He just needed a hug. He hums his affirmation. “Can we just... stay like this, for a bit?”

“I guess so,” Alex groans, smiling, and laying back on the bed with his arm outstretched and welcoming, shaggy hair still in his pretty eyes. “I guess we can.” When Willie lays down on his arm, he says quietly, “Just. Tell me next time? If it gets like this? I just wanna help, but I can’t know what you need if you won’t ask me.”

Willie’s instinct is to brush him off, even after everything that’s happened, but the relief is still so palpable, and Alex seems so warm and genuine, and safe, like everything Willie’s ever dreamed of. Better than he deserves, for sure, but that doesn’t mean he has to say no. He’s seeing that now.

“I’ll ask,” he promises, and he means it. “I’ll ask you.”

--

part 2

part 3

[sparklingchan]

Taste of Spring || Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Han.

Word count : 2.4k+

Warnings : Cuss words, slight mentions of heartbreak, not proof read. .

Genre : Fluff, slight angst , best friends to lovers AU.

Description : For Jisung, the world is either black or white - friendship or love. You happen to find yourself stuck in the grey.

A/N: Haven’t written an skz drabble in a while so yeah, here it is(whatever this is lol) and I’ve had this in my drafts for a whole month now. Damn. Sorry, Jisung.

I hope y’all like it <3

Enjoy!

You had not seen your best friend in what felt like ages when in reality it had only been two weeks or so. But you often find yourself missing him at odd hours ,at the most random moments these days.

"I'll be back before dinner. Take care of my cat. Please." You call out to your sister who sits on the couch , sipping some cucumber induced water that apparently burns calories, and watching a very brutal, violent TV show that you wouldn't even want to ask her about.

"Say hi to Jisung for me." she replies with a quirk of an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin. You roll your eyes but the heat has already tinted your cheeks and ears red by the time you exit your house and are walking down the street towards Han Jisung's abode.

As you continue on the road, you feel the taste of an incoming Spring in the air, sweet and full of love. You didn't know why or how or even if it were at all possible in the first place, but you could feel spring knocking on the door ,waiting to be welcomed in.

An old couple walks past you, hand in hand and eyes focused on each other and you inevitably catch yourself thinking about Jisung for some reason. You've both made a lot of fond memories during your spring breaks - you were both inseparable back then.

Even now you are inseparable but things are different.

He was your best friend and nothing more ,yet you find yourself questioning your true feelings towards the boy these days more often than not ,all whilst wondering when you had crossed over the line of wanting to be friends to something more.

"Oh,y/n! Come on in ,honey." Jisung's mother has been nothing but sweet to you throughout all 18 years of your life and you honestly blamed her for making you want to visit their place more often.

But then again, maybe it's not really the mother's hospitality that pulled you in, maybe it is her son's tooth decaying sweetness that brings out the deepest desires from your heart.

You walk into their house , a sense of familiarity washes over you just how it does whenever you walk into your own house too.

"He's in his room ,as usual. Go on. I'll send some snacks in for you." She adds, patting you softly on the shoulder.

Jisung's room is almost always a mess and sometimes one might even find the boy leaving a trail of garbage everywhere he goes, so you aren't surprised when you find a few crumpled piece of paper lying just outside his door. Clumsy little Han.

"Ji-" your words are cut short when you hear his voice from inside , as loud as ever, probably speaking to one of his friends who he also lovingly refers to as his babies(he sometimes calls you baby too ; on purpose or by accident, who knows?) But he seems very into the conversation right now - almost serious which you find rather unlikely for Han Jisung who has very proudly nicknamed himself as Comedian Han since eight grade.

It's the semester break and spring is around the corner - two things Jisung loves the most in the world so there should be no apparent reason for him to be having this deep of a conversation, especially early in the morning. However as his voice grows louder and more frustrated , you cannot help but wonder if there is actually something seriously troubling him.

Curious , you peek into the room through the small crack of the door.

"I know I'm being a coward Changbin but I can't do that to her. She's all I have ,man." he speaks into the phone , leaning down on his rotatory chair.

You freeze in your spot,your heartbeat resonating from every inch of your body. Who's he talking about?

"What? Are you out of your mind? I cannot tell her what I feel. That's the whole point of this damn phone call ,you fucker!" he yells.

You focus harder on their voices , trying to make out the gibberish Changbin replies with from the other end of the call.

Your body aches from standing so soundlessly, leaning half against the wall and half against the wooden door but you tell yourself to bear it for a little longer.

"No. No way. I can't. I can't do this to y/n!" Jisung hisses into the phone and then with a big pop, your bubble bursts -a bubble that you'd been building since you both were kids , designed carefully with dreams and hopes of a happy ever after with the boy in front of you. But you were weaving these dreams out of nothing but thin air. There never was anything to begin with and you always knew that.

Of course he has another girl in his life. He doesn't owe anything to you. You have no right to feel these strong emotions of jealousy and anger. You are just friends, right?

But imagining him with another woman was a poison you didn't put too much thought into until this very moment. You should have been prepared, really.

All hopes have left your side.

You turn around and walk out the same way that you came in , ignoring his mother's questions and concerned gaze. 

You want to be alone right now. Alone and away from everything that ever connected you with Han fucking Jisung.

***

He is a peculiar man, your best friend , loud yet calm , talented yet humble,his songs make more sense than his words ever could - but he intrigues you so much. It would take you a lot of time to figure Han Jisung out and you had only hoped to solve this puzzle before.. well , before he chooses to hold someone else's hand in the walk of life while you just watch from a far.

And now, you've finally run out of that borrowed time. Without even finishing half of the puzzle . The last tick of your time together has tocked.

That night, as you let the arms of grief and heartbreak pull you in , your cat(also called Snowflake) cuddles right beside you, staring at you as if it understood you.

Maybe it did. Because even you couldn't understand yourself anymore.

***

"Y/n, wake the fuck up! Come on,open the door." Your sister bangs on your door while simultaneously throwing words at you that were extremely inappropriate for an early morning conversation.

Annoying bitch. She's never cared to wake you up in the morning all your lives. Why is she changing her ways now?

You groan into your pillow, "Go away! I'll be out when I want to."

Your eyes barely find enough strength to keep themselves open. Your body aches and the bedsheet creases on your skin show evidence of a very good night's sleep in contrary to the misery you were subjected to just a few hours before that.

A heavy heart induces a good sleep , you conclude.

"I literally do not care about what you want ,y/n!" She yells against,her fist pounding against the door with more force now than from a while ago,"Come out. Right this instant."

Snowflake - who was chilling on the floor, playing with her toys - jumps on the bed ,pressing her fluffy body against your chest ,eyes glazed with fear.

"Fine. Fine. Can you stop yelling? You're scaring my baby." You reply, taking Snowflake into your arms as you run a soothing hand through her white fur.

Forcing yourself out of bed , you waddle towards the door.

"What do you want?" You unlock the door and with hooded eyes , yell at your sister, "Can you not be so fucking annoying this early in the morning?!"

Instant regret is what you feel the moment your sister steps aside, and you see the blurry figure of Han Jisung in front of your bedroom door.

Pure terror seizes you ,as your brain loses all its ability to form any response in that moment, “Hi, y/n. Can we please talk?" Jisung says, his mouth twisted into a sad smile and his puffy eyes looking at the floor.

Has he been crying? 

He wears his favorite black hoodie and a pair of grey track pants along with his SpongeBob flip flops. The bird nest on his head looks even more disheveled today, even so you find your heart beat fasten seeing this domestic look on him.

No matter what, Han Jisung is pretty.

Really pretty.

And if you were given a coin everytime you acknowledged it, you'd be a millionaire by now.

"Aw, Jisung honey, don't ask. Just walk into her room. I'm sure she's glad to see you too." Your sister replies in your stead ,sending glares towards you as if to say 'You better listen to him.'

And you're too shocked to react when he politely brushes past you and walks inside your room, settling himself at the edge of the bed. You make sure to shove a middle finger up in front of your sister's face before following suit .

Jisung's enquiries start the moment you step inside.

"I was so worried, y/n. You left my house without saying anything to anyone. Your phone was off. I wanted to come here but mom said you looked upset and that I should wait until the morning. " he sucks in a deep breath , "Y/n, baby, what the fuck happened?"

There's that word again. That damn word which has the ability to set your whole body on fire even on a cold morning like this one.

You hate the affect he has on you. You hate the affect his words have on you.

"Nothing." You mumble.

Snowflake wiggles out of your arms, and towards him.

Betrayer.

"Don't even lie to me. I am not that stupid." Jisung argues as Snowflake settles in his lap, "Y/n, have I not made it clear that I will be here for you, no matter what?"

You want to laugh. He really thinks you trust him so much that you'd tell him everything going on with you.

He's delusional - you can't possibly tell the boy you are in love with that he is the boy you are in love with. It's completely mental.

"I'm not in the mood for this conversation right now. Go home, Sungie." You say , sitting down on the bed, as far away from his warm body as possible.

Jisung sighs, "Not happening. You can call the police for all I care but I'm not moving my ass before you tell me what happened."

Snowflake snuggles into his tummy, Jisung's fingers giving her soft belly and ear rubs. 

So this is what your life has come down to - you are jealous of your cat who is getting more affection from your best friend slash crush (who is interested in someone else) than you ever did. Brilliant.

"I fucking love you , you dumb fuck. Why do you never notice! "

Jisung's lips widen into a smile. Of course Jisung knew. He has always known. Only a blind person would not notice your not very subtle efforts to win his heart and make him fall for you. Maybe it was you who was a dumb fuck because you never figured out how much Jisung loves you too even after being best friends for so long.

"You hear that, Snowflake? You heard what mommy said? She said she loves me! " Jisung's eye's glint with happiness as he picks up Snowflake, peppering her with smooches, "Your mommy loves me!"

You stare at him , confused beyond anything.

Jisung turns to you, his big signature grin fixated on his lips , " Is that why you ran away yesterday? Because God decided to punch you with the realization that you are in love with me?"

You scoff, "No, I left because you and Seo Changbin were talking about the other girl who you referred to as 'all you have '. I didn't want to know what else you refer to her as."

Jisung laughs , his shoulders vibrating with the action and his hands finding their way towards yours(Ha! How's that Snowflake!)

"You said that you heard me talk about some other girl so you must have heard some name too ,right?" He questions you , his fingers clutching your hand as if he were afraid of you running off again.

"Yeah, of course I did!" you clap back , "I heard the name - " Your heart drops as the crystal clear memory from yesterday flashes into your mind.

Jisung raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin adorning his face, "Yes? What's that?"

Oh.

Oh.

"You had said my name." you whisper.

You divert your gaze from him and focus on your clasped hands and how perfect they look together - like the sole purpose of their creation was to hold each other.

Jisung shifts closer to you , your mattress dipping under his weight.

"Yes. I said your name." He tucks a few strands of hair behind your ears , "I said that I couldn't lose you because you're all that I have. And I didn't want my romantic feelings toward you to change anything between us."

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when he leans toward your face.

"So y/n, Will you please stop assuming things and be my girlfriend ?" Jisung asks.

You free your hand from his and slide them around his torso, hugging him.

"Yes, yes." you whisper, "A thousand times yes."

He engulfs you in the warmest hug possible, his hand rubbing your side comfortingly while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

"Sungie look, its a butterfly." You break away from the hug momentarily to point at the yellow and blue winged butterfly that settles down on top of Snowflake 's head.

Snowflake snarls at it , trying to chase it away with her paws while you and Jisung giggle. With arms secured around the other.

"Spring is on its way, isn't it?" He asks you ,"You know what it means?"

"More green vegetables?"

"Shut up ,y/n, you're so unromantic!"

You guys giggle a little more.

"No, but seriously ,what does it mean?" you ask , looking up at him from his chest.

Jisung presses a sweet, heartwarming kiss to your head , "New beginnings. Blossoming of New things."

Hs stares at you like he's trying to say something to you without using words and you like to be believe that you are able to get what he wants to say ; it's a new beginning for you guys.

Because you've finally crossed over this border line of friendship and stepped into the zone of no return, exiting the grey area you disliked so much.

And you know every second of it will be beautiful.

[scenariosbutmakeitgay]

Shibisu x Female Reader? Feel free to come up with the plot :)

it’s basically the little mermaid au, but even darker than the original fairytale

also that’s literally the longest fic on this blog lol

tw: death, violence, gore-ish theme

-

There once was a kingdom placed deep under the sea, where no human could reach. The kingdom was full of different creatures – starting with fish, and ending with mermaids. You happened to be the representative of the latter, one of king Jahad's many children to be more precise. Of course, the royal family wasn't the only one out there. Except from Jahad's offsprings, there were ten more names you could hear about quite frequently. The Ten Great Families, as some called them. You rarely bothered to spend time with other mermaids. Living under the sea, as beautifully poetic as it could be sometimes, became dull quite quickly. King Jahad prohibited his children from going near the surface – as if he was scared they might not want to come back. By the time you reached your eighteenth birthday, Jahad's overprotectiveness began to feel even more suffocating.

“I'm not sure what I expected to happen,” you murmured to yourself one night, when everyone was already asleep. “That he's going to change? It's ridiculous.”

Your father, as loving as he could be, was a man deeply stuck in his ways. If he said that you're not allowed to see the world above the surface, then that's it, and you shouldn't even try to argue. But the fact that despite your adulthood, he still treated you like a child, made you reach your boiling point. Tonight was the time of grunt changes, so you slipped out of your room, and checked if the hallway outside was empty. Not a single soul.

With each feet closer to the surface, the water became warmer, and the sounds of terrified screams intensified. You've finally reached your destination, and as lightning bolts pierced the sky, and cold air hit your face, everything became more alive. Suddenly, you heard a loud splash as an unconscious body of a man fell into the sea. An unknown urge overcame your senses, and before you could even notice, you caught the man into your arms. He wasn't that heavy, so carrying him to the shore didn't make much of a challenge. You placed his body on the sand, and moved long strands of dark hair out of his face.

You put your hand on his chest, and sighed in relief upon feeling a heartbeat. “That would be a dreadful night to die, wouldn't it?”

Predictably, no answer came. You looked at the man for the last time, and dived into the sea with no sense of where to go. Coming back to the castle was not an option, you would die out of boredom if you had to spend one more day at this place. That being said, there was only one option left. As a kid, your father always warned you to never wander alone outside his kingdom.

“I love spoiling you, my child, yet there are places under the sea you shall never visit,” he stated in a cold, demanding manner. “The castle and gardens surrounding it grant you safety. There are vicious creatures out there, and I cannot let them lay a finger on you.”

The kingdom was like a golden cage. It provided you with everything but freedom, which you craved the most. So you chose the path your father despised the most – the one leading to the caves where the Red Witch lived. Water there was muddy, almost impossible to see through. You swam with difficulty, determined to see the witch.

“I see you've finally found your path, daughter of Jahad.”

At first, you couldn't find the source of the voice. The woman was dressed in black and red, making her almost indistinguishable from the colored alike corals. One of her eyes, equally crimson to her hair, was hidden under an eye patch. Throughout your whole life you have heard different stories about the Red Witch and her appearance. Most of them described her as an old, ugly woman, which didn't hold much truth to it. There was one consistency in each and every story – the Red Witch was supposed to grant wishes.

“I've heard you can fulfill the deepest desires one dreams of. Is it true, witch?” you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible, while remaining to stay aware of your surroundings. As your father said, the kingdom meant safety. And you were outside it.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she replied with a barely noticeable smirk on her face. “But that craving of yours, little mermaid, comes with a price to pay.”

“I'll pay every price!” you exclaimed without much thinking, which only made the Red Witch snicker.

“Quite an eager one, aren't you?” she mocked. “With each royal generation that comes there's always someone like you. Incredibly foolish, and a little too curious for their own good. It makes everything even more entertaining, though.” The smile on her face widened, as she came up with an exciting idea. “We shall make a deal, princess. Your kind prides itself for their angelic voices, isn't that so? With each tongue you rip out of a mermaid's mouth, you will receive a human body for a day. When the slaughter ends, you shall fall asleep on the shore. I will grant you a pair of legs, princess. There is one more condition to our deal, I must say. When the pendulum of your human time stops swinging, and no man, woman, or any other human being loves you madly, your whole existence shall perish, and become a mere foam. Are you still interested in making your desires come true, Jahad's child?”

Your eyes widened in shock at the Red Witch's offer. It was violent, it was deadly, it was simply wrong! But you craved a pair of legs so madly, deeply, beyond any rational sense.

“I accept your conditions, Red Witch. Expect a silent morning, for I will rip out the tongue of each and every mermaid daring to sing in my presence.”

And your promise was kept. The witch gave you a silver dagger, with blade so sharp it could cut through flesh with almost no resistance. When the morning came, the whole kingdom remained deadly silent. You brought your gift to the Red Witch, and a bloody trail marked the path of your choice.

“I've done what I was compelled to do, witch. What now?” you asked, observing as the woman in front of you carefully counted the tongues. When she made sure what was the number of them, a wide grin appeared on her face.

“Your viciousness granted you a month as a human,” the Red Witch replied. She reached to grab a bottle of scarlet liquid, previously hidden behind one of the corals. “Swim to the shore, and drink it up. Beware, daughter of Jahad. The potion might give you legs, but they will come with great pain.”

Not caring about the warning, you grabbed the bottle from her hand, and swam away as quickly as possible. The shore wasn't that far away – with your current speed it took you barely a quarter of an hour to get there. You sat on the shore, feeling the warmth of the sand on your skin. It was way more pleasant than even the clearest waters in the sea. You opened up the bottle, and drank up the liquid without much hesitance. With the last drop of scarlet, the whole world went dark. A throbbing pain filled your whole body as you desperately grasped for air. You saw them... You saw their faces... They were twisted, convulsions filling their last moves as you ripped their tongues out. The disdainful glances they sent you... You weren't really surprised. Mutilating plenty innocent beings of your own kind was one of the worst crimes to commit – it made you understand the true price of your wish. The curse of the little mermaid shall make you feel the pain of your victims, with each tongue that you ripped out feeling as your own.

Suddenly, the darkness began to fade. The ground underneath your body didn't feel familiar – it was too silky for the sand you previously passed out on. The fabric felt quite similar like bedsheets in your room in the castle. How appalling. The chamber you were in was decorated with wooden furniture, full of ornaments, and quite pleasant to the eye. As you admired the interior design, the mahogany door moved with a creak. A tall man with short hair walked in.

“Oh, I see you're already awake. How are you feeling?” he asked, and placed a beverage on the cupboard next to the bed. It looked like some kind of tea, though you couldn't be sure.

“I-” you tried to reply, but a wave of intense pain hit your throat as you spoke. It felt as if someone was ripping your tongue out. “I'm f-fine,” you finally managed to blurt out. It was excruciating, numbing, and absolutely well-deserved.

The man smiled. “I'm glad. I will explain everything once you rest properly,” he said, and passed the beverage to your hands. It was hot, but not burning. Perfect.

“Oh, also, the prince wanted to talk to you. It has something to do with the place we found you at.”

The prince?

You assumed one of the members of the royal entourage must have found you on the shore. Apparently a princess can never escape from the palace.

Suddenly, a look of realization showed on the man's face, as if he remembered something important. “Please excuse me now, I must attend the rest of my duties. If you ever need any help or simply someone to talk to, ask the guards for Shibisu. They'll certainly find me.”

You nodded, and gave him a thankful smile. When Shibisu, or whatever his name was, left the room, you decided to try out your legs for the very first time. It was a weird feeling for someone who spent their whole life with a fishtail, but not weird enough to be uncomfortable. After all, humans were bizarre creatures – their anatomy had to be on an equal level of eeriness.

A deep breath, and there we go. Your right leg carefully slid off the bed to touch the floor. It was cold. The left one followed right after. Okay, it shouldn't be hard. One leg, two legs, and up!

Your posture was everything but graceful, but at least you didn't stumble. Sole standing won't do, though. You had to learn how to walk. Using the same method – one foot, two feet, and go – your legs made a few small steps. Swimming was way easier, and you felt as if your body was heavier now. As you walked from one corner of the room to another, you noticed a small piece of paper left on the table near the door. It was a note, and whoever put it there, had an incredibly neat handwriting.

“Hello,

I'd like to apologize for contacting you in such an indirect manner, but it was quite hard to guess when you would wake up. There are some spare cloths left by the maids in the closet, so feel free to change into whatever's to your liking. I'd appreciate if we could have a little chat.

Sincerely, Jue Viole Grace.”

That must be the prince the man from before talked about. Maybe he'll clear everything up, and tell you who exactly brought you to the palace. It was a little naive to judge him based on a few sentences, but the prince seemed like a generally kind person, which you considered a rarity among the nobles.

You opened the closet, and picked out a simple dress. It was pretty, but nothing extraordinary. The next step was fixing your appearance to look presentable, because let's be real – passing out, and being unconscious for who knows how long didn't do your face any justice.

One step, two steps, open the door, and walk out. It was simple. You saw the guards as soon as you left the room.

“Prince Viole is waiting for you, miss. Follow me.”

You didn't ask any questions – it was awfully painful to speak, after all. The guard walked through some hallways, corridors, and different rooms to finally get outside the palace. You were in the royal gardens. They didn't look like those king Jahad owned. The gardens above the surface were more colorful, and you could almost feel their liveliness filling your soul with happiness. The prince was sitting on a chair, sipping a cup of tea. He placed his drink on the glass table in front of him as he saw you. Suddenly, you widened your eyes in bewilderment. Prince Viole was the exact same man you saved from drowning just a while ago. You tried to regain your composure, and walked over to him, greeting the nobleman with the kindest smile you could muster.

“It's nice to see you're finally awake. Please take a seat,” the prince said, and patted on the chair next to him. “Are you feeling any better now? You've slept for quite some time.”

You sat down, and cleared your throat. “Yes, I think I'm certainly better now. Thank you for helping me, Your Highness.” It was smarter to play it polite – despite seemingly friendly behavior of the prince, you didn't know what kind of person he was.

“Just Viole is fine, believe me,” he reassured you. “I'm not the right person to thank, though. It was Shibisu who found you on the shore. Surely you two must have already met.”

You nodded, and made a mental note to bring up the topic when you see the man again. The prin... no, not prince. Just  Viole took another sip of tea, and looked you straight in the eyes.

“Do you have any family? I don't want to keep you here against your will if someone's waiting for you to come back.”

The memories of your father and siblings sent shivers down your spine. You wanted them to scream at you for your selfishness, or even yell how disgusting you were. But they couldn't. No matter how many times you tried, they wouldn't answer your prayers. The sea remained deadly silent.

“N-no, I don't have anyone,” you stuttered, trying to sound as convincing as you could.

Viole gave you an understanding smile. “Feel free to stay at the palace as long as you like, then.”

A nod. That's exactly what you did. When your little chat with Viole came to an end, you decided to come back to your room. The palace was surprisingly quiet, even though you could swear you saw plenty of people there earlier. As you walked into another hallway, you felt someone bumping into you. Not hard enough to make you fall, but equally unpleasant.

“Sorry, didn't notice you!” a quick apology left the lips of a man you were already familiar with. Shibisu.

“No, it's my fault. I should have been more careful.” Getting used to the pain took less time than expected, yet the urge to cry in agony with every word spoken didn't disappear.

“Were you heading anywhere in particular? It's quite easy to lose a sense of direction in such a big place.”

“Actually, I planned to go back to my room. Could you show me the right way? I admit I'm a little lost,” you replied.

“Sure thing, miss. You're the lucky one today, because I know the castle better than anyone else,” he said with a cheeky grin. How charming.

With each passing day the clock's clicking became louder, and louder. Your days were numbered, and you were painfully aware of it.

When the pendulum of your human time stops swinging, and no man, woman, or any other human being loves you madly, your whole existence shall perish, and become a mere foam. Are you still interested in making your desires come true, Jahad's child?

The Red Witch was right about one thing – you were incredibly foolish. It was supposed to be a fairytale! A mermaid princess falls in love with a human prince, so she exchanges her tail for legs to be with him, and they live happily ever after. But you? You had no interest in the prince. The person you grew attached to was the man who found you on the shore, and has been taking care of you ever since. An excuse of a princess fell in love with a dorky servant, who doesn't even know the crime that stains her past. What a pitiful fairytale that would be. Not only you were sure that your feelings were one-sided, but your human body wasn't meant to last much longer.

Since your life was close to its end you took one more selfish choice – to spend more time with Shibisu. You shared meals, breaks, and sometimes went on walks together. He was quite a storyteller. You knew that he served the Grace family for over ten years now, and Viole himself considered him a close friend. Shibisu, despite his usual jokerish behavior, was actually a really intelligent person. He also had a sweet tooth, cared deeply for his friends, and liked saying that his favorite color was the one of your eyes.

Tick. Tack.

Tick. Tack.

Tick. Tack.

Your last day was about to end.

“Please, it can't be like this,” you whispered a quiet prayer that no god could ever hear. It was an ironically similar scenario to the one that began your journey.

“I'm not sure what I expected to happen,” you murmured to yourself one night, when everyone was already asleep. “That he's going to change? It's ridiculous.”

A bitter smile formed on your lips as tears began to fall. The palace was deadly silent – just like the morning after the slaughter. You slipped out of your room once more, and tip toed to the kitchen to find a knife. It was sharp, and made of silver – just like the dagger the Red Witch gave you a month ago. All you needed was just a few hours more, maybe even minutes!

Tick. Tack.

Tick. Tack.

Tick. Tack.

Cold breeze hit your face as you came to the shore. The shore that let you fulfill your curse, and the shore that Shibisu found you at.

With each tongue you rip out of a mermaid's mouth, you will receive a human body for a day.

Even with human body, you still possessed the blood of a mermaid, right? Right?! The knife was cold against your skin, slowly coming near your face. The shore was empty. None but you could see the viciousness of the act that was about to happen.

One cut, two cuts, blood filling everything. It was an atrocious sight. You ripped out the piece of flesh like the tongues before, and threw it into the sea. The shore was silent. Just one more day, please.

Suddenly, you heard a scream. It was Shibisu.

“What are you even doing?!”

The shore was neither empty, nor silent now. You wanted to speak, you wanted to yell, you wanted to confess your love for the man in front of you. But the only sound that left your mouth was a cough as blood started to stream down your throat to choke you.

“Y-you...” he stuttered. “You're bleeding.”

You fell down to your knees convulsing. With the last amount of strength left in your body, you started writing on the sand with your finger. The message was simple.

I love you.

His eyes widened both in shock and horror. Your state was getting worse with each second. Shibisu leant over your body, clearly panicking.

“I love you, too! You can't leave me, you heard me?! You can't!”

The night was a stormy one, but no lightning could be louder than your heartbeat. The Red Witch was right once again. Your body didn't perish, because only a madman could break the curse. As your lips touched his, the world around you fell silent. Blood staining both bodies, as if it was an agreement to never mention the crime that caused it all. The night was a stormy one. And not a single soul noticed as the wild waves of the sea consumed both of the lovers, staining the water with crimson foam. Maybe not every fairytale had to end happily.

[gwoongi]

(abandoned) all i want for christmas is woohoo

kim seokjin / kim namjoon genre: uni au, fluff, crack rating: general words: 4.9k warnings: clownery, i knew nothing about uni, character dynamics based off a fic none of u have read a/n: incomplete prequel to the yoonmin fanfic i wrote three thousand years ago. i will never finish this so here’s what i started and left behind for the dogs to have at

The stranger makes a noise of voiced agreement. “Mood.”

September 8th.

One thing they never tell you before going to Uni, is that it’s fucking mental on Move In Day.

Obviously, he had some idea that the student digs would be fairly busy with students moving in, but he never expected to be waiting in a thick line of tired and excited first years for around fifteen minutes, only to then wait another twenty just for the student- who, by the way, was way too busy picking at her purple nail varnish to give two damns about Namjoon’s clearly very important moving in schedule- to find his key on the board barely 50 centimetres away from where she was sitting.

So, yeah- when his sister comes to Uni after him, he’s definitely going to warn her about the madness that is Move In Day, because clearly nobody else had cared if Namjoon was stuck waiting like a doormat for one student who thinks she’s something to hand him a key. I mean, how hard can it be? He doesn’t get it.

“Sorry about the wait,” another male student, who noticed the lack of enthusiasm from second year student apparently named Jisoo, says as he moves from behind the desk to give Namjoon a silver key on a chain, with two other keys present. “Here are your keys- one’s for the front door of your flat, second is for the main building in-case you’re late after hours and the third is for your pigeon box.” He pauses: “no help from your parents?”

Namjoon shrugs politely, “Just me. My parents are back in Ilsang, couldn’t make it.”

“Bummer,” the student replies. Along with the keys, he shoves a brown paper bag into Namjoon’s hands with a toothy smile. “Your complimentary moving in gifts, from the students who moved out! Thanks for picking Blossom Island as your student accomodation!”

Although Namjoon wants to tell him that Blossom Island was the only cheap option out of three absurdly priced accomodations for first years, he doesn’t; instead, he smiles, lips closed and dimples on display, nodding his head and turning all within the same second. The student moves away after, so he doesn’t feel bad about ending the conversation so abruptly.

Blossom Island is located smack bang outside of campus, across a small stream that Namjoon thought would be filled with blossom, but instead is littered with algae and tinfoil. It’s large, tall like a regular apartment complex, with a courtyard out the front with a bouncy castle that Namjoon can already see some people jumping on with what he assumes is their new roommates.

Namjoon leaves the lobby- should he call it a lobby? It was more of a downstairs kitchen and living room, with two small sofas and a mounted flat-screen, a pool table pushed weirdly in the middle of the colourful boxed room and a door near the back wandering into the community study area, another door for what he guesses is for laundry. Hauling his suitcase and big, cardboard box in his arms across the courtyard, he follows the number on the key- number 8, floor 6, Kyoto Building and barely makes it five steps without almost dropping the box entirely, all thanks to some jerk wearing Thrasher and a beanie.

“That’s what you get for not tying your shoelaces.”

Mid-crouch, Namjoon looks over his shoulder and spots Min Yoongi stepping out of the building, followed by a rather proud looking set of parents, preening at the fact that their son is going into Nursing. Due to that, he bites back a curse word he figures would be impolite for the elders, and manages a smile in the sun.

“What? He clearly pushed into me,” Namjoon reasons, standing upright and saying a hasty hello to Yoongi’s parents, who, in all honesty, have never really liked him much. He laughs breathily, waiting for a few seconds before asking, “where are you?”

Yoongi checks his key. “Number 13, Floor 0, Juko Building. What kind of name is Juko, anyway?”

“Beats me,” Namjoon scoffs. “I think Juko’s close to Kyoto. I’ll come visit when you’re all settled and moved in, yeah?”

Yoongi nods, already beginning to walk away. “Yeah, I’ll get your mug out ready.”

That’s the thing with Yoongi, Namjoon thinks as he walks away; he’s always been about the little things in life. In the many, many years that Namjoon has known Yoongi, he’s never really changed- Yoongi has always been compassionate and cutely caring, buying two mugs instead of one and making pasta for two when he knew Namjoon was due to visit on days his parents were working late. And he feels bad, because Yoongi is a giving guy, not a receiving one.

He watches as Yoongi leaves with his parents, and he feels weirdly sad. It’s none of his business, too, as he watches the three Min’s enter the Juko Building, painted a pastel pink with mint compliments, swirling patterns dancing as the leaves on the trees move in the whisper of wind.

Namjoon now has the urge to paint.

In Number 8, Floor 6, Kyoto Building, Kim Seokjin finally sets down the last potted plant on the sparse looking shelf above his desk, and he steps back with his hands on his hips to admire the minimal effort. Although it definitely took some struggle, what with his Dad accidentally dropping his bag with his Nintendo inside and his Mother judging his absurd amount of pink bath-towels, Seokjin has a feeling in his stomach- the feeling where you know that everything is going perfectly.

There’s a smell in the air; blossom from the large tree outside his window, propped open on the hatch to allow a breeze air out the room. Since his roomie hasn’t arrived yet, the least he can do is get rid of the stuffy smell, something strangely similar to pool chlorine. He inhales it deeply, a smile tugging at his lips. Seoul weather amazes him- even though Gwacheon is a blink away, Seokjin is already starting to feel like a new person.

Maybe it’s just University excitement. Maybe it’s University nerves. But, maybe it’s also because he really needs a wee and can’t think properly.

He waits nicely for his parents to finish up straightening every single crease in his bedsheets before saying goodbye. Although he might tease to their faces that he won’t miss them, and they won’t miss him, Seokjin knows from the minute they open the door to head back out to the corridor that it’s going to take a while to adjust to life without the nagging, but endearing, guidance of his family.

Because Seokjin has always sort of been the baby boy of the Kim’s from Gwacheon- his older brother inherited a type of broodiness that Seokjin is thankful he hasn’t got yet, and so Seokjin’s always been the favourite. The favourite crawler, the favourite footballer, the favourite baker and painter- in honesty, Seokjung never wanted any of that. Seokjin’s proud of who he is- he’s so fucking proud of his family. So he sort of takes pride in being the baby boy of the Kim family. He wears it like armour, glistening armour that represents him in front of a whole army of potential threats and friends.

Jinyoung, an old friend, used to say it was embarrassing- as if Jinyoung doesn’t have a comfortable enough life with parents who would murder for him, but Seokjin doesn’t care. Why should he be ashamed of being loved? Most families aren’t as close as the Kim’s, so he takes extra care in making sure his family know that he loves them. That’s the sort of guy he is- giving, occasionally receiving, but giving, giving his whole heart and soul to everybody else in order to make others happy.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose as the door closes with a sickening click, the noise muting around the faint buzz of traffic across campus and the baby birds in the nest a few floors down on a branch, fluttering in the wind like wings. He’s so lost in the way the small twigs are woven together, like the way a spider builds a web, or an ant a colony, that he doesn’t realise three minutes have passed.

Now he really needs a wee.

When Namjoon opens the door to room 8, he’s surprised.

Not shocked, but surprised. Because there’s a difference between shock and surprise- shock is entering a room and finding a serial killer, but surprise is walking into a room and finding a party. The difference is in the level of reaction, and Namjoon hadn’t walked in and been completely thrown off by a wall of cute posters and the obvious collection of DS games and a cool looking computer. If anything, he’s intrigued. Surprised. Pleasantly surprised, perhaps.

To the right, Namjoon hears the toilet flush and he knows that he has a couple seconds to look around the room and plonk his bags and box on the plain bed before his roommate emerges from the bathroom. As he sets them down, he casts a gaze towards the right side of the room where his roomie has claimed a bed, a desk and a small looking wardrobe near the door. On the wall next to his bed, a collection of posters have been washi taped to the boring blank canvas- although, as an artist, Namjoon considers anything blank and white to be inviting and anything but boring, because a canvas holds endless opportunities- and his bed covers are a washed out blue, a colour that now, actually, as he’s looking at it, is becoming more chiffon coloured.

It’s evident his roommate likes video games- half the posters on the wall are related to games he knows that they must like; Animal Crossing, a small Stardew Valley postcard and a commissioned drawing of Jinx from LoL, taped next to a large artwork of Mario Kart and more postcard art of games Namjoon thinks he’s heard of but isn’t sure- The Last of Us, Tekken, Zelda. He pretends not to notice the small Minecraft postcard in the corner of the mural but weirdly enough, he finds it endearing knowing that someone at University still plays Minecraft. 

Most of all, Namjoon notices the strange obsession with The Sims, as seen through multiple artworks and the fantastic collection of Sims3 Expansion packs sitting on the shelf above his bed, next to pop figures and a photo frame of a group of friends.

He wonders if his roommate will let him use the expansion packs when he’s bored.

“Oh, hey.”

Clearly having not heard the bathroom door open, Namjoon spins on the spot to look back at the bathroom, where his roommate stands with his hand animatedly raised in a wave, a smile lifting his cheekbones. They look pale, almost watery, but Namjoon doesn’t say anything. He knows why.

“Hey. Namjoon,” he says, leaning forward to shake his hand. For a moment, his roommate stares at the hand, as if wondering what to do with it. “What?”

His roomie shakes his head, moving to shake his hand once, up and down, before letting it drop. “Nothing. It’s just, well, how many people give handshakes nowadays?”

Namjoon thinks it over in his head. “Well, a lot of people. Useful in business, and stuff. A manager might want to shake your hand at a job interview.”

As he says the words, Namjoon can tell by the passing look on his roommates face that he wasn’t expected to give an answer. He stops talking after that, looking back to his bed with a feeling similar to embarrassment, while his roommate moves towards the window and clears his throat awkwardly.

“Seokjin.” He finally introduces himself. Seokjin- it has a ring to it. Namjoon says it over in his head, growing familiar with it. Now that he’s mentioned it, Namjoon looks back over his shoulder and realises that he looks like a Seokjin. The name suits him. “What’re you studying here?”

“Art and Design,” Namjoon replies with a brief smile over his shoulder. Seokjin isn’t looking, anyway. “Nothing too crazy.” He looks at the wall of posters- “Are you studying graphics?”

“Yeah. I’m studying Digital Art,” Seokjin replies, and it’s clear in the way his whole body moves as he says it that he’s passionate about his subject. He laughs shortly, “Isn’t it funny how we’re both doing art and we got pushed together? Do you think that’s intentional?”

Namjoon shrugs, taking out his clothes first from one of his suitcases. “Maybe. I’m glad you’re Digital Art and not Performing Arts. One, this room is not big enough to dance and sing and two, I don’t want to be woken up by a classical alarm clock. You know?”

Seokjin laughs and it suffices as a reply.

As Namjoon sifts around his bag and pulls out the remainder of his clothes, Seokjin turns around and watches for a swift three seconds, and then moves back towards his desk and absent-mindedly moves around his keyboard, straightening it up.

“Do you need any help?” he asks, and as Namjoon turns to catch his eye, he notices he means it genuinely.

“Uh, I’m alright,” Namjoon replies, and even though Seokjin can clearly see the amount of work he has left to do to his half of the bedroom, he doesn’t pry and decidedly drops it. He shrugs.

“Alright then. I’m gonna head out,” Seokjin says. He gestures with his head to the hallway. “Out on campus, they’re doing that thing. What do they call it- Wildflower? I think I just wanna go meet some people. I can wait for you, and we can go together, if you want?”

Namjoon does want. He really wants to. But he takes several glances back at his boxes and frowns deeply. And anyways, he’ll have plenty of time to hang out with Seokjin later, won’t he?

“I’ll pass,” Namjoon rejects him softly, a smile on his lips as if to say, I do want to come but I’m way too busy. Seokjin’s lips twitch into a pursed mouth and he nods. “I’ve just got a lot to do. We could hang out later, if you want?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, already inching towards the door. “Yeah, alright. If you need help, just text me. I’ve got my number on the pinboard above my desk- just incase, you know?”

Namjoon glances over; surely enough, on a corkboard pinned to the wall above his desk and beneath the shelf, he can see the sleek black letters printed with “emergency number” written next to it in messy handwriting. He smiles, mostly because he’s never seen someone have their own phone number hung up in their room before, and nods without looking in Seokjin’s direction. “Okay, thanks, Seokjin-ssi.”

Seokjin makes a sound similar to a laugh, air through his nose, a small intake of high pitched breath afterwards. Out the corner of his eye, Namjoon can see him hovering his hand over the handle and to be polite, he finally looks over. Something tells him he was waiting for that.

“Seokjin should be fine,” Seokjin replies with a smile.

By the time Namjoon finishes sorting out his things (and by sorting out, he means that he’s hung up his clothes and kicked the cardboard box towards his desk out of the way), Seokjin’s still not back from Wildflower, and quite frankly, he’s bored.

As if by a magnetic pull, he finds himself leaving Kyoto building to trudge in the mid-move-in-manic, across the small courtyard where the bouncy-castle has deflated thanks to someone jumping on it wearing shoes, and towards Juko building, a big clump of pastel next to the white blossom tree that Namjoon is jealous of. Yoongi’s room, even back at his home in Daegu- where Namjoon had lived throughout his entire high-school life before his parents moved back to Ilsang during his final year-, was somewhere Namjoon had felt completely and utterly accepted. At home.

He always found it funny how Yoongi said the same thing for him- his bedroom back home was small, smaller than the dorm room he has now. It was an average room, with small bold letters spelling out his name on the front of his door, and his walls were painted a navy blue with dark wood floors that went through the entire house, with thrown around covers and three pillows to sleep with and furniture which didn’t match the colours. But Yoongi’s room was different. Yoongi’s room was Yoongi.

Slanted ceilings and an off-white coloured paint-job on the walls, with grey curtains and white sheets and an electric piano pushed up against the window-wall, overlooking a small line of houses out the front of the street Yoongi lived on, a tree that turned orange in October. On his walls, Yoongi liked to keep it minimal, minus the posters of his favourite artists and a little area above his desk for pictures of him and Namjoon, his first family pet, a ticket to his first family vacation when he was thirteen, dried flowers from a tiny bundle he was given on a Valentine’s Day. His first Valentine’s gift. A memory. A wall of memories, stuck with shimmery tape and dried blue-tac on the white, unremovable, stuck like glue. It was everything Namjoon wanted in a room. It was everything Namjoon needed in a place to feel completely and utterly safe.

Namjoon wasn’t surprised that Yoongi had stuck with the bland style of dorm room, compared to the bed next to him which his roommate- a kid studying Music with an incredible obsession with BoA and Michael Jackson- who, even though he was an amazing artist, Namjoon always felt weirded out by.

He stands by the doorframe as Yoongi shuffles to straighten his blanket at the end of his bed, simply looking at the decor, taking it all in with a deep breath. His roommate stared at Namjoon waiting in the doorway and pulled his lips to a frown, excusing himself, “...heading to Wildflower, bye,” being the only words he ever said to Namjoon.

“Namjoon, I hate it.”

“You’ve been here for two hours,” Namjoon frowns, sitting on his roommate’s bed. He won’t mind (only he does, and he notices the imprint of Namjoon’s arse left behind which he thought would disappear after five minutes.) “It’s not that bad, surely?”

Yoongi shakes his head adamantly. “I wanna go home, Joon. I don’t wanna do nursing.”

“You might really like it, though,” Namjoon sighs. “You never know!”

“I don’t want to study nursing,” Yoongi repeats himself through pouted lips that Namjoon can hear. “I wanted to do art, or music like my stupid roommate. I don’t know why I’m here, Namjoon, I really don’t know why I’m doing this to myself.”

Namjoon knows it’s hard for Yoongi. His family expect too much- like most parents, actually, Yoongi knows they want the best for him. But, the best isn’t forcing him into a nursing degree.

Toying with the frays on Yoongi’s roommate’s blanket, Namjoon says, “hey, hey, calm down. It’s fine- if you don’t like the first three classes, you can’t be expected to stay. You’ve got to do what you want to do.”

Yoongi bites his lip before replying. “I have nowhere to go if I drop out. I’ll do a year, maybe. Maybe half a year. Oh, I don’t fucking know. I don’t wanna give up and let down my family, you know?”

Namjoon does know. His parents had wanted him to be a lawyer. His sister, Kyungmin, wanted Namjoon to do something with his music. But, like the delinquent he is, Namjoon always knew he had a passion for art. Drawing made him happiest- letting his thoughts draw something on a blank canvas was the closest thing to real magic. Singing your feelings is one pleasure, but capturing the colours and movements onto paper was something Namjoon found absolutely rewarding. Thankfully, his parents knew there was no point in forcing him into doing something he wouldn’t enjoy. He was lucky.

“Yeah, I know.”

Yoongi knows Namjoon knows, and he also knows Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. He pulls at the bridge of his nose and lets out a low grunt. “Anyway. How’s your roomie? A weirdo?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, not really. I mean, he’s really into video games but it’s not overbearing. Kinda endearing. He’s fun. Seokjin.”

“Oh, cool,” Yoongi replies, nodding slowly. “You get all the good stuff, you know that?”

“What’s mine is yours,” Namjoon says with a frown.

At that, Yoongi smiles. “Yeah. I know, Joon.”

Wildflower lives up to the frantic Google search that Seokjin did moments before heading down to check it out. Even before arriving, he could smell the variety of foods on rickety stalls, and hear the experimental strum of a live band getting ready to play near the main building to the University campus.

Ducking his head underneath the waving arm of another female first-year, Seokjin took a stroll around the small section of Wildflower, politely looking at the bits and bobs he could purchase, like complimentary University flags and tapestries for walls, or a coffee where the change went to a local suicide-prevention charity. He bought one, a tea that was too milky for his taste, and continued walking.

He hadn’t bought much change with him. After the rather awkward first meeting with Namjoon, Seokjin had let it slip his mind. Regardless, he wasn’t willing to let the lack of coins and a credit card spoil his First Day mood. Inhaling the smell of a nearby Jjinmandu stand, he let his stomach steer him towards it, collecting the spare change in his pocket- luckily for him, he had around 4,000 in his jacket pocket which more than comfortably paid for a portion of Mandu.

“Here you go,” the server hands Seokjin his small paper dish of Jjinmandu with a smile, a smile that reminded Seokjin of his third-year teacher back when he was a child. Warm, inviting, kind, a mother’s smile. She smiled toothily when Seokjin handed her more than he was being charged, saying it was a tip, first day luck, or something. She bowed her head meekly.

Without wanting to hold up the slightly growing line, Seokjin moves out of the way and towards a small cluster of metal tables and chairs, shivering as the umbrellas moved in the wind, passing the sauces with a thoughtful pause. He has time to kill; he puts his dish on the small counter and puts a tiny blob of sauce in the corner, and he dips his finger in to taste it. He recoils visibly, finding the taste too bitter.

From somewhere behind him, Seokjin hears what sounds like laughter and he turns, surprised, and finds another student with a bright orange lanyard hung around his neck. He’s a total stranger, with hair pushed into a black beanie and a denim jacket covering a brown shirt, with some black jeans with the knees cut out. On his feet, worn out Converse. Seokjin does a double take.

“You know that’s spicy BBQ, right?”

Weirdly enough, Seokjin finds that he sounds exactly like what he thought he would. He stares at his glasses, first, and the way they slide down his nose, slightly oily because of the heat.

“Don’t you usually have teriyaki with Mandu?” he continues, wandering over to glance at the bottles of sauce, before pushing a slightly stained bottle towards Seokjin with a smile. “There. Honestly, scrape off the BBQ, this will taste so much better.”

Seokjin feels dumb. “I only usually have the tomato chilli. “

“Yeah, and BBQ?”

“No,” he replies, and then he laughs quietly, “no, never BBQ. Let’s call that...first day experimenting.”

The stranger nods along, shoving a mouthful of his own Mandu. Seokjin wants to point out that he has sauce on the corner of his mouth, but it feels rude. He barely knows him.

Glancing at the lanyard around his neck, Seokjin finishes his mouthful- “Are you staff?”

“What?” the stranger asks, caught off guard. Then, he looks down at the lanyard and smiles, politely, not in mockery, and shakes his head, disturbing feathery hairs that were once tucked up into the beanie. “Oh, no. No, I’m a first year.” He chortles at Seokjin’s stunned expression. “What, do I look really old?”

“No,” Seokjin replies. “I was just...surprised. I don’t know- today’s been weird for me. I’m all over the place.”

The stranger makes a noise of voiced agreement. “Mood.”

They stand in silence for a couple moments after that, eating, staring off at the little stream that ran around the perimeter of the small square, listening to the sound of the live band kicking off their setlist with a slow song appropriate for the weather.

The stranger swallows his Mandu, pointing at Seokjin with his spork without really realising, “oh, I’m Hoseok by the way.”

Hoseok. A name to the face.

“Seokjin,” he replies. Now he’s finished his Jjinmandu. “Digital Art.”

Hoseok makes a noise. “Woah, no way.” Gesturing to himself, “Art and Music.”

Seokjin wants to laugh. “That’s so weird. My roomie also does art. It’s like I’ve been thrown into a pool full of art students.”

“Yeah. Well, we are in the Arts Square. Wouldn’t it be weird if I was doing Chinese studies and I hung around in the Arts Square on my first day?”

“True,” Seokjin nods.

Talking to Hoseok is easy. It’s so fucking easy- it’s as if Hoseok has been a friend for years. They walk together, along the small path that barely fits them both, weaving around the stream. Seokjin learns that Hoseok is from Gwangju, and has a sister who designs clothing in the city. Hoseok, in return, learns that Seokjin barely escaped being a lawyer and comes from a family inheriting endless zeros. It doesn’t bother him. It usually bothers people.

“It’s cool that you got to do what you wanted to,” Hoseok says as they walk further along campus. Now, they’ve reach the on-campus convenience store, the artificial lighting making Hoseok squint, even though daylight still pushed on. “Most kids don’t when they’re in your kind of position.”

Hoseok quickly looks over, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, I only-”

“No,” Seokjin agrees, nodding and thrusting his hands into his pockets. He dips his head upwards, inhaling the smell of the sunshine, before looking at Hoseok with a friendly smile. “No, you’re right. Most kids don’t. I’m lucky.”

Hoseok’s grateful Seokjin didn’t misunderstand. “Hm, maybe we’ll be in each-other’s classes.”

He says it with a hopeful tone, lightly nudging Seokjin’s shoulder with a small smile, that caused dimples to spread across his lower cheeks.

“I hope so,” Seokjin replies, but the sound of the stream covers it. Hoseok keeps walking, not making it known if he heard. He probably hadn’t.

Namjoon rolls over the next morning, not quite remembering how he got home and when, and squints at the Sepia screen of his phone. It reads 6:45am, too fucking early to be awake on a Saturday.

did you get home ok yoongi

dont think i care about you or anything yoongi

Namjoon snorts quietly, wincing when he thinks he’s woken up Seokjin across the room. But, when he looks over towards Seokjin’s side of the dorm, he notices that he’s not even in bed. His sheets are tucked in tightly, and his jacket is absent on the coat hangers on the back of the door.

Holy shit, Seokjin gets up early.

yeah. hows minjoon, the name robber joonie

seriously fuck off he’s playing fred videos yoongi

it’s fucking 7am yoongi

Namjoon scoffs, mostly to himself- because who else is he going to scoff too?-, and rolls over flatly to press his feet onto the flattened out carpet of his room. The sun barely peeks through the shitty curtains, and he yawns loudly, feeling the euphoria of a morning stretch. Namjoon sighs with pleasure at the feeling of his body stretching out, letting his arms drop and grabbing his phone to reply to Yoongi, who Namjoon’s surprised is awake, even when Fred is involved.

i thought fred had died, fr joonie

bitch me too but here we have his channel, still screeching away about rubber sharks in his tiny swimming pool yoongi

im really not joking joon. i wanna quit so bad i’ve been here less than 24 hours and i’m already fantasising about drinking the bathroom bleach yoongi

He’s about to reply when the door to their dormitory room swings open, and the hostility of the swing almost makes him drop his phone on the floor. Namjoon scrambles to catch it, staring up with surprise at the sight of Seokjin carrying two mugs of what appears to be tea. Namjoon smells the cranberry as Seokjin comes closer with a sheepish, yet almost smug, smile. Bare in mind, Namjoon hates cranberry tea; at the smell he smiles and fakes joy.

“Saw your post-it saying you had to set an alarm for seven,” Seokjin said casually. “Figured you’d be up by the time I came back with this...hope you like cranberry.”

[punkscowardschampions]

Sick Kids Group Chat

sonmychest: 🤗 tigerbalm: 👋🧡 tigerbalm: it's been so long! 🙀 how are you?? sonmychest: I know! I suck sonmychest: don't want to be the youtuber spending ten minutes apologizing for not being here though sonmychest: I'm doing pretty good right now, how are you? 😚 tigerbalm: it's a bad day, not a bad life...is what I would caption if I was an instagram influencer or something 😸😸 brainpain: 🦸 speaking for me when I haven't streamed in days LOL sonmychest: 🤭🤭 sonmychest: at least we have reasons for being that #extra that aren't the vague notion of NEEDING a break from taking pictures of our ☕ brainpain: I do spend LOTS of time in a dark room but not for 📸 no flash photography PLEASE 😵 inandout: your feed just updated, Lo brainpain: 👮🚓🚨 sonmychest: stalking or hacking? sonmychest: either way I might need those expertise brainpain: I had a 🌈✨🧁 FIGHT ME, Zachary tigerbalm: it is pretty tbh inandout: friend request, but it's not as if I don't have zero hacking or stalking skills sonmychest: wait, what happened to the anonymity rules??? sonmychest: where's @gotspoons and what have you done with her?! inandout: you missed the overthrowing of a tyrant inandout: not really, but the rule book is gone gotspoons: going to pretend I was summoned by mention, not notification gotspoons: say how you really feel, Zach! 😔 inandout: I said not really, rowboat gotspoons: I have 👀 and 👂 everywhere so you better be nice 😏🤭 gotspoons: but no, hi again, @sonmychest! we missed you! gotspoons: it seemed the whole no names no real life details thing was more of a hindrance than a help to the whole goal of this group, so we came to the conclusion by majority, and the higher ups were all okay with it, providing everyone under a certain age got their parents to sign off and we all used the same common sense we use on other areas of the web gotspoons: so feel free to introduce yourself by real name if you would like, but it's not necessary if you would not 😊 gotspoons: reintroduce, I should say tigerbalm: we shared selfies & everyone was 😻😻😻 brainpain: learned what a sex god @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously aka Rich is sonmychest: 😱😱😱 sonmychest: can't believe I've missed so much sonmychest: need to get better at socialization, my mammy is right 😂 brainpain: an unrivalled love story brainpain: not that he's here to back me up on that inandout: Paris and Helen who? Romeo and Juliet who? Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII who? tigerbalm: wait, those are all 💔😿!! brainpain: he's being a brainpain: insert a swear word of your choice sonmychest: *stage whispers* it's not jealousy though, is it? sonmychest: clearly, fill me in on all the nuances whilst I frantically try to find a picture of myself that's even one 😻 brainpain: he's a 👶 you already know brainpain: but Rich will be leaving me for some uni girl 🤓 so he's not wrong about the doomed part sonmychest: face that launched a thousand ships is a really great insta bio though sonmychest: right, so we have Rich, Zach...who else? gotspoons: Rosie here 🤗 brainpain: Lauren tigerbalm: & me, Robyn inandout: the new girl who started the revolution is Zelda inandout: @ihatemyguts sonmychest: no way sonmychest: a fellow nerd, or at least child-of-a-nerd sonmychest: 'cos I'm Kara and I don't totally hate this photo [selfie] tigerbalm: 😻😻 tigerbalm: you look so like I imagined you, except I thought maybe you'd be 👼 tigerbalm: should we all send new pics? brainpain: [does because any excuse] brainpain: they'll be buried tigerbalm: [a selfie that's even shyer than the first one she sent] gotspoons: [the same photo as before] inandout: if I must [some ridiculous selfie] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: This is a nice welcome back tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and I've only been to physio brainpain: NOT ready for another selfie drop from you, boy brainpain: I'll be on my fainting couch brainpain: also hi tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Perhaps I should save your 🦴s and my pride when poor Kara, hello again btw, has to pretend to swoon too brainpain: 🦸 has great taste brainpain: we all love a shy boy tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: My teachers undoubtedly wish I were shy, make their lives a lot easier tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [a photo] here we are anyway, I hope you found a soft surface suitable for you, Lauren brainpain: ☁ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Ah, so you're the 👼 brainpain: LMAO 😈 brainpain: but you're looking angelic sir sonmychest: how are you ALL so cute sonmychest: this keeps happening, omg tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👼 face hides a multitude of 😈 sins apparently inandout: but reading between the lines, who else is making you swoon/stalk/hack inandout: that's my question tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Well spotted, Zachary 🔎 sonmychest: 🙈 ugh, I'm so embarrassing sonmychest: but we can pretend it's all spilling out now because I played it SO cool in the actual conversation, right 😬😅 inandout: that's the official story, everyone'll confirm sonmychest: thanks, I need the backup so I can also pretend I have lots of friends and a normal social life gotspoons: we are your friends, Kara! gotspoons: though are normal is different from most tigerbalm: & you're coming to my birthday party & even though you have to stand on the other side of the room to Zach, it's still social tigerbalm: OH & we were talking about potentially meeting up!! All of us brainpain: keep it 6ft, children inandout: I'll be in the garden with my date, you can have the indoors with yours inandout: collectively, because we're all speed dating here now inandout: proud of you for picking someone outside this circle sonmychest: GAH so much exciting information today!!! sonmychest: 😁 sonmychest: obviously, I figured no one needed the drama of me falling for you, Zach sonmychest: 💀 not cute inandout: there's already a book and film about it, the chance has been thoroughly missed brainpain: Ignore him, Zelda's nothing but thrilled to find someone else in her age bracket brainpain: 👶👶 brainpain: hit us with your 💞 please sonmychest: well, I didn't just re-log into this chat today, I went on all my old forums because well, boredom, we can all relate, right? sonmychest: what I thought would be the least promising one was the sonmychest: not a dating site, I'm not 100 but you know the kind sonmychest: anyway, the CUTEST boy starts talking to me and he's also really funny and nice ??? tigerbalm: OMG! Did you swap selfies there too? sonmychest: not yet sonmychest: because he sounds so 😻😻 sonmychest: and he wants to talk to me again and he might not if we do tigerbalm: you're 😻😻😻 Kara brainpain: what she said brainpain: + if he's as funny, nice, all of that, as you said brainpain: I doubt he's a shallow jerk inandout: are you a good judge of character or not? inandout: what it comes down to sonmychest: oh, thank you guys! sonmychest: I don't know sonmychest: I think I am sonmychest: he didn't immediately come out with weird requests or weird 📸 of his own and that's a massive start on that site, I was honestly there to 🗑 my account but he changed my mind brainpain: I'll PM you the spooky stories my sister sends me about guys, it'll make you feel better brainpain: you'd know if he was one sonmychest: 🤭 do, can compare notes sonmychest: we honestly just talked about totally normal, nerdy things, it wasn't even a little sketch brainpain: ✉️ + 100000000s brainpain: hold up tigerbalm: that sounds 🧡 & so does this boy tigerbalm: awwhhh sonmychest: [sends the description he sent her slow your roll gal lol] sonmychest: assuming he isn't the archetypal internet weirdo from the 90s scare tactics tigerbalm: WOW inandout: tall, dark and handsome inandout: original sonmychest: okay, I know that covers a lot of bases sonmychest: but someone has to be brainpain: continuing to ignore you, Zach sonmychest: I get it though sonmychest: it's not like I even care what he looks like though, so even if the pics aren't exactly that description brainpain: not every man can be my Rich but doesn't make them 👹/🤡/👻/👽/👥 brainpain: trust your gut, it's not that body part that's failing you tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👹 is a solid representation but the hair needs to be longer tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: at the risk of making myself or Zachary appear like overly protective boys, I think as long as you're as sensible as you surely are with this, then there's no harm in the back and forth tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: so if you were going to meet this person IRL, he could perhaps come to the group meet-up, that would be a good way to do it? brainpain: *🧝🏻 that's what needs to be said about your representation tigerbalm: Great idea, Rich! 😺 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: when the beard comes in I'll look more Gimli than Elrond but I'll take the compliment 👽 babe from outerspace brainpain: who's watching the LoTRs with me? gotspoons: count me out, I'm the worst film buddy ever 😴 ihatemyguts: how many naps could you have in 20hr28mins assuming we're watching everything extended release 'cos duh ihatemyguts: 🥳 go hard or go home 🥳 brainpain: that's you in ihatemyguts: of course ihatemyguts: long since stopped asking for a pause every time I gotta 💩 ihatemyguts: adept at catching up with the plot is a life skill I didn't expect to gain like this but 🙌 gotspoons: 😅 I could do the whole 20hr28mins and that not be a record for how many hours I've slept consecutively brainpain: I'll act it out for you, I can get the 🧝🏼🏹 costume together during the pauses brainpain: dressing up box runneth over sonmychest: 🙋 dibs Arwen sonmychest: my old Katniss cosplay can be repurposed with some bedsheets and a 👸 vibe to it brainpain: that makes Rich your daddy 👀 you, babe sonmychest: 😖😳 nooooooooooo brainpain: I'll be Galadriel if only so I can speak to my man telepathically 💕 brainpain: swerving off book for that love connection ihatemyguts: obviously eye of sauron ihatemyguts: jokes write themselves inandout: hair of a hobbit wig so likewise inandout: and you know, a jew, gonna be the one to handle the 💎 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: How hairy are your feet, a pickup line that doesn't get thrown about enough inandout: not sending you free feet pics inandout: PM for prices though tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Respect the hustle, Zachary tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but I have clearly pledged myself and my allegiance to an e-girl already 🧝🏼🏹 brainpain: changed my Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim name to Galadriel for you, Richard, you've officially made me basic brainpain: will cite it in the divorce tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as I can proudly produce said divorce to every mouthbreather that calls me a freak, I am okay with that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: devastated, naturally 💔 but okay brainpain: hit me up for multiple re-marriages at your convenience, I like that for us tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Make a solid livestream 👰💒🤵 gotspoons: I'll get officiated! tigerbalm: imagine if any of us actually did get together cos of this forum gotspoons: You never know, Robyn gotspoons: it would be so adorable 😊 tigerbalm: Kara is giving me hope that online dating doesn't have to be a minefield sonmychest: don't give up yet! sonmychest: you're so lovely, a total catch tigerbalm: there still isn't a blushing 😸 emoji & I NEED it ihatemyguts: a travesty ihatemyguts: who do we need to @ for that brainpain: @fibrofog brainpain: he was a BIG DEAL ihatemyguts: 😏 hoping he comes back and I can 👰💒🤵 him obvs brainpain: 🔺 between me/him/Rich was prime in my life ihatemyguts: glory dayz brainpain: if he doesn't show up to stop our first wedding ihatemyguts: Zach won't even properly date me until we're confirmed #foreveralone at 18 inandout: you don't call this properly dating? inandout: @Kara you've got yourself a hater before your romance has fully taken off ihatemyguts: oi, don't drag me in to your 🧂 behaviour ihatemyguts: I'm very nice, I swear inandout: that's just how I taste inandout: she knows brainpain: if I didn't know my CF facts I'd be calling for a ban brainpain: that sounds filthy sonmychest: first declaring Rich my daddy, now 👅 Zach 😲😲😲 sonmychest: I'm also quite nice but not that kind of nice, I 🤞 tigerbalm: I don't think I wanna know.... inandout: But I'll tell you inandout: when we sweat, we lose too much salt, one of our many flaws inandout: on a hot day, you could lick us and taste it, if we like you enough to let you sonmychest: maybe that can be enough of a selling point? sonmychest: if crush boy talks to me again and it invariably comes up inandout: he might get to see it crystallise on your skin, not 💎 or ✨ but hey sonmychest: such a sexy condition, when you leave out all the mucus inandout: ZZ top is feeling it, she wants to properly date me ihatemyguts: 🧂 is a flavour I can enjoy pretty unrestricted ihatemyguts: let me have some pleasure tigerbalm: do the normies flirt like this too? tigerbalm: Kara you'll have to tell us, when you go further undercover ihatemyguts: don't know how lucky you are to have that pickup line in your back pocket ihatemyguts: just add tequila and a lemon and you've got a good time sonmychest: I'll 100% report back, providing he doesn't go 👻 brainpain: you need a drink when a boy lovingly strokes your hair only to feel the dent in your 💀 sonmychest: but also, to work out if your amazing hair is real or nah brainpain: I have too many split ends to be asked if it's a wig sonmychest: I ✂ my own sonmychest: and not often enough 😅 brainpain: don't reach for the bleach cos Robbie sees you as a blonde, there's my sisterly/old lady advice sonmychest: oh God, with these brows? sonmychest: I can swear I won't do that, along with meet up with internet randos alone brainpain: I'd volunteer to come along but I don't do disappearing into the background brainpain: would wear a trenchcoat for the right 💸💸 gotspoons: Normies definitely TRY to use our disabilities as a way to flirt with us, with varying success gotspoons: the amount of time I spend in bed is nothing to be 😏 about, honestly gotspoons: even if I was also chiming in to confirm blondes do have more fun, when they've had all their vitamins, a perfect amount of sleep, the stars have aligned JUST right... 🤭 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as resident ♿ user, they most ask if IT 'works', which is a bizarre level of care for people who aren't concerned about how me getting into their establishment really 'works' tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and, my dear, you are a terrible third wheel tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🔻 suits you better than obscurity 😎 brainpain: but I am a fun time with the TBI having increased the impulsiveness + removing the few inhibitions I did have 😉 brainpain: inappropriate sexual activity is a listed symptom 🤞 boys ihatemyguts: definitely a case of 'okay when I point it out to embolden myself, creepy if you do it' ihatemyguts: think some normies point out their flaws to be endearing but idk, is low-key a disability superpower guys, + 1 for us brainpain: like, what does that mean? Inappropriate for who? Answers on a ✉️ please ihatemyguts: could range from, science, you're being a prude to calling you a master criminal on the low brainpain: so many of my symptoms could describe anyone in their teens or early 20s brainpain: Rich, write a smart boy uni essay on it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: depending on the bit that gets damaged, could be the same part that isn't yet fully developed in young people tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: checks out 🧠 brainpain: you're SO clever brainpain: you'll be fighting off more than one 🤓 girl tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm not sure about that, on either count tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though the chair is a useful battering ram when it needs to be brainpain: I'm into it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: then you can hitch a ride, of course brainpain: reserved™ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the parking is unparalleled brainpain: not allowed to drive, you are my transport now, no pressure gotspoons: Me either, who can? gotspoons: need to work out the carpool situation brainpain: my housemate will, she owes me 10000s of favours inandout: + my parents tigerbalm: mine too but they're a lot to inflict upon anyone sonmychest: ^^hard same tigerbalm: maybe we get ourselves there unless someone can't? tigerbalm: & those people speak up sonmychest: That makes sense to me brainpain: ok, is there anyone who needs a lift? ihatemyguts: I'm good tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: likewise gotspoons: I'll make a permanent post where people can register interest in the meet-up, as well as need for a lift gotspoons: so anyone who can offer a lift, can respond there too, sound good guys? 😊 inandout: cool inandout: very un-tyrant like gotspoons: thank you, Zach 😏

[dropsofletters]

So I just wanted to throw this at you because of all the angst you were writing (a tiny change of pace) and the fact that I have time :) so I just want a prerequisite by saying that Sehun is my dude like Chanyeol my ult bias but I don't know like Sehun is just my bub so when I got the notification for your fanfic I backed out of what I was doing to read it even though I was going to go to bed, I was just dedicated. your writing+ Sehun would be worth lost sleep. Tangled Satin Bedsheets just -🍋

reiterates your diversity and skill in writing and the fact that your fluff could rival your angst. Dude I teared up because of how sweet it was. I feel as though what really shines about this fanfic is what you chose not to do if that makes sense. Kyungsoo's relationship with the reader is so perfectly executed it isn't overdeveloped to leave the reader wondering why they didn't end up with him and it isn't tarnished by Soo being mean in an attempt to shift affections over to the lead Sehun-🍋

(which are just some tropes I've seen) it's nice to see the reader and Sehun as friends in the beginning and once Sehun realizes his feelings he still tries to help the reader even though his aversion is apparent he still just cares for the reader. And all of the ways the two boys care for the reader are so sweet like obviously there is a difference in their interactions but both are just as cute and caring. Plus dude you're really funny. And the reader is so wonderfully written :D I-🍋

couldn't help but be as hopeful as them in the moment their feelings were expressed delightfully "In retrospect, she has but at the same time she hasn’t. It is the kind of pessimism that crawls to her when she is dreaming, that tells her to shut any source of hope because her dreams are unreachable." I felt that whole line just struggling between being hopeful and staying in the realm of reality. I don't even believe what I'm saying is completely coherent but I'm just so in love with this fic-🍋 it's so beautiful sweet just really really tender I was gonna cry again when I was skimming through it since it had been so long for me. I have nothing but praise for you and this fic. It has such a nostalgic feeling surrounding it I find myself randomly thinking about it because of the lasting effect it had on me. Thank you for your writing every time 😊 (sorry that it's really more just emotions??)-🍋

MY LEMON ANON, YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE MISSED YOU! i’m so happy you’ve decided to pass by! so, for starters, i have the good news coming for the following fics in november/december that they are not angsty, or at least do not have That Much Angst, so i am getting better at not projecting my inner emo in my writing lol. sehun is also my dude, i adore him to no end! i feel like writing tangled satin bedsheets was half-inspired by my crackhead mind thinking about all the possibilities of sehun in a red uniform and just going around gossiping about the celebrities that stay at the five stars hotel, BUT i decided to turn it into fic...that’s what happened.

i’m thankful, really, that you always come up with these amazing praises for me. first off, this past few...weeks have been tough on me, for personal reasons, and i was thinking “welp, maybe i’m just a boring writer. i like it but it doesn’t stay with people” and seeing that you’re out here, thinking about my valet!sehun fic and feeling touched by it, really makes me want to cry. i feel that, nowadays, i try to put little bits of real life in my fics and that’s what i meant with that reality/dream/hope thing. it’s easy to feel that way, we’ve all been there, and that’s what i wanted to portray.

THANK YOU, really. you’ve been a huge highlight of my 2019 and that’s Factual, so i’m glad you had some time to pass by and just give me some love. i luv u hehe.

[deepdickdaniel]

Kang Daniel | Reappear

prompt: the sequel to Vanish; love is all it takes to help daniel bring you back.

note: this is the 7th and LAST day of DANIEL WEEK aka MY BIRTHDAY WEEK!!! this is the week i post seven days of daniel stories as a treat to myself! I am very sad to see this week end, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them! i don’t think i’m going to allow myself to write for daniel for at least a month after this LOL. 

His eyes were prompted open by the bright sunlight streaming through the window. Groaning, he covered his eyes with his hand and tried his best to go back to sleep. A few seconds later, his eyes opened, but they were no longer blurry with drowsiness.

Daniel patted the other side of the bed cautiously, half in fear of what he’d find, and the other half in fear of what might not be there. His fears were justified as he felt nothing but the coldness in the air and on the bedsheet. He sat up and looked around the room for any trace of movement. But all he heard were the meows of Rooney and Peter begging to be fed.

That scared him more. Every morning that you woke up before him, you fed them without fail. He begged them to wait for a second and ran all over the home you two shared, opening the bathroom door and even the closets, eyes searching through every nook and cranny for your face. But all he saw were unused hangers and empty space.

Rooney and Peter reminded him that they were hungry, bringing him out of his miserable trance in front of the closet doors. Daniel dragged his feet to the kitchen and filled their bowls with food and water, then he sat on the couch and stared into oblivion. His head was still in pain from his hangover, but the lack of your presence hurt him more.

He held his head in his hands, desperate to stop the pounding, to stop the reminder of why you left him. He didn’t mean the words he said...so why did he say them at all? He reflected in his own feelings, not wanting to ask for your forgiveness if there was even the slightest chance that he actually did not want it.

But then all of your memories with him suddenly slapped him across the face, as if scolding him for even thinking that he didn’t want you back. He let a few tears fall, some sliding down his lips. Daniel licked them away, only tasting the saltiness of regret. He closed his eyes and could only see instances of your beauty, both internal and external, filling his life with such warmth.

After everything, after all the love you had poured into him, was he really going to give up on you that easily? You are home to him, the source of energy that he needed to make it through the rough life of an idol. You are everything to him.

When he said, “This isn’t worth it” - he meant that fighting wasn’t worth it. He was just too tired to communicate that with you. He knew you wanted him to fight for you, but he just didn’t have it in him last night. That was his biggest mistake: thinking he would have more time to fix this.

He had never spoken to you like that before, never even implied that he was upset with you. That’s because he really wasn’t. He was stressed out with work and displaced his frustrated feelings onto you - you, the greatest thing that ever happened to him. Whenever his head got too big or he felt like giving up, you kept him on the ground and looking at the stars. You reminded him that there was so much left for him to learn and achieve, that you’d be there for all of it.

But where were you now? You weren’t with him because of his stupid decision to drink the stress away instead of relaxing with you. He had missed you so much, but because of his mistake, he could possibly miss you for the rest of his life.

Daniel was still in love with you. He smiled to himself bitterly, knowing that that would always be the case. Even if this was the end for the two of you, his feelings would always remain.

That’s why he decided to fight back, to fight for you.

He knew that you needed time, so he was willing to wait two or three days. Any more than that and he felt like he would crack and run to see you. He also understood that you had to think about the entire situation and what you wanted to do, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to contact you.

So he did: the next 48 hours were filled with text messages from him.

I know you need your time. Just know that I would like to talk to you whenever you feel ready.

At first, you were scared of his messages. They all sounded like he wanted to formally end it. But just like clockwork, Daniel started sending texts proclaiming his love. Somehow, he knew just what you were thinking, just like he always has.

I don’t want there to be miscommunication in case my past few messages sound like I don’t want you. I love you. I’ll always want you.

You bitterly smiled at his lack of emojis. You weren’t used to that - his texts were always filled with cute faces and cartoons. You knew he was serious and you would be lying if you said it didn’t satisfy you a little that he realized the gravity of the situation and that it hurt him.

He was texting you before and after every practice, not begging for a response, but simply telling you how his day was going. You recalled having asked him a while ago just to communicate with you, to make you feel like you still knew what was going on in his life.

I just got to practice! I didn’t sleep very well...I think you know why. No pressure or anything! I just wanted to tell you that.

Jaehwan teased me about my dark circles today, but Ong gave him a look so he shut up.

Don’t worry though, I didn’t tell any of the guys. I still have hope for us, so I’m not announcing anything until you tell me you don’t love me anymore.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and let out a small laugh when you read that.

I’m eating properly just like you told me to!

The text messages continued on until you got a call one night.

You didn’t speak at first, so Daniel was unsure if you had actually picked up. But you sneezed and got caught. He smiled at the face he knew you were making on the other side of the phone, probably cursing your own body for being unable to stay quiet.

“I know you’re there...I think you should visit Rooney and Peter. They aren’t used to the whole single parent thing and would like this trial separation to end.”

“Who said it was a trial?” You couldn’t help but throw those words at him, biting your lip in slight regret after. It was harsh, but you also knew he deserved them, so inner conflict filled you.

Hearing Daniel intake a small breath, you knew that you had stung him. He took a few seconds to collect himself before replying, “I have hope that it is. Please come back, it...” he breathed in, “...it doesn’t have to be permanent. That’ll be up to you. I just want to talk. Please.”

You entered the home you shared before the fight, walking as if you had never stepped into it before. As if knowing you were behind the door, Rooney and Peter were waiting for you at the foyer, begging to be noticed. You bent down to pet them and kissed them both softly before looking for your intended target.

Daniel was just sitting still when you sat down across from him at the dining table. He looked more tired than usual, the circles under his eyes had gotten darker. But his eyes themselves became bright the second they met yours. That had never changed. He smiled at you weakly, his eyes never leaving your face.

In a way, you were disappointed that he wasn’t rushing to your side and begging for forgiveness. But this was Daniel. Despite being the silly person that he is, he was smart when it came to this. He knew you didn’t want showy gestures. You wanted genuine and he would give that to you.

Besides, he prefers to observe a situation, playing out the different scenarios that could take place depending on what he says. He is cautious when sober, taking in what could go right or wrong. So there he was, observing you. He was watching what your eyes looked at, how your eyebrows furrowed. He needed to see if things would be okay.

And by the wince and quick drop of his smile, you knew that he didn’t like what he saw.

You looked so blank, so tired of it all. He would have rather had you screaming at him, throwing pillows at his head, anything - anything that showed you still cared for him. So he racked through his brain, trying to find the words to make it better.

Apparently, he took too long. You were waiting to hear the reason why you were here, but he was just staring at the table. So you threw your arms into the air, exasperated.

“Daniel, why am I here?”

“...I wanted to apologize.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Okay? So apologize. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to leave. I didn’t even mean anything I said that night and you know that.”

“Do I know that? You seemed pretty serious to me.”

Daniel signed and ran a hand through his hair, “Everything was so in the moment. It’s such a bad excuse, but believe me, that’s the truth.”

“What about ‘why did we even start if all you make me want is for us to end?’ Hm? According to you, you’ve been just dying for us to break up. So why not take the opportunity?” You were egging him on.

“You are everything to me: my happiness, my dreams, my future. None of those exist without you with me.”

“I guess they don’t exist anymore, then.” It might have been cruel but you wanted him to crack, to feel how you felt on that night. You needed him to feel the agony in the unknown, in not knowing if it was over or not.

Daniel definitely felt it, but he was trying so hard to be calm, to not scare you away. He wanted to show that he was mature and that he could take anything you threw at him. But the growing awareness that you might not have anything to throw at all caused his resolve to shatter.

“Please!” He said a little too loudly and stood up. He noticed how you winced at his voice. His heart squeezed in realization that you must have remembered how he sounded on that night.

So he took a deep breath and sat back down, but his eyes were no less pleading as he said, “Those words truly mean nothing. And I know that sounds like the biggest lie, but I promise my frustration has never been because of you.”

“Mind telling me where it comes from then? Because I’m pretty sure it comes from my ‘nagging.’” You bit back with air quotations, eyes as fierce as his the night of the fight.

“Please just listen…” he pleaded with you to remain quiet, to listen to what he had to say. So you bit your lip and nodded, eyes urging him to go on. He sighed in relief at your silence and continued, “The idol life isn’t easy. You, as my number one supporter, know this. But my stresses and insecurities have been adding up. I didn’t have a proper outlet for it…”

“...If I had screamed at anyone else, there would’ve been really bad consequences…” he trailed off, in hesitation of what that might have implied. And you understood. Just when your mouth opened to attack him once more, he panicked and continued, “I took you for granted. I thought you would always be there. I didn’t spend enough time with you. I didn’t spend time with you, period. I regret it all, I really do.”

“So you just used me as a punching bag? To blame because if you did it to anyone else, it’d be over for you?”

He wanted to close his eyes to avoid the hurt, accusing look you were giving him. But he was afraid that by the time they’d open again, you’d vanish once more. So he willed to keep them open and on you as he replied, “Yes. I regret it, but yes.”

“Who says it’s not over for us?”

You tried your best to not let your emotions seep through your words, but he could see right through you. He saw the quivering of your bottom lip as you spoke, heard the crack in your voice at the end of the question. Daniel knew you wanted to stay together almost as much as he did.

So he walked over to your seat and pulled you out of the chair, grabbing your arms and tugging up. You tried to swat him away with a “Don’t touch me!” but the second you felt his warmth, you felt your body slowly caving.

“Daniel, you are not forgiven!”

“I know,” he muttered as he simply wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder as he felt you gradually stop squirming, “I know. I don’t want you to forgive me for doing this to us. I put us in such a dangerous position. I almost broke us to the point of beyond repair.”

You felt yourself tearing up as you stood still in his embrace, taking in his words. He knew that you didn’t want to let him hear how much he was affecting you, so he continued to speak,

“But just know that even if that happens, even if you really leave me, I will always try to pick up the pieces. My love for you isn’t going anywhere ever. My heart only knows you, my eyes only look at you. You are my end and my beginning. There won’t ever be a true end to our story, I will always need you. I will always want you.” He pulled away to keep a hand on your waist and his other holding your face to look at him. You were trying not to cry, but the way he was looking at you was so intense that a tear escaped you.

“I know that I hurt you and I hate myself for it. But please, just give us another chance. Please.” Daniel finished, his eyes not leaving your face. You shut your eyes for a moment, reflecting on his words.

Those few seconds made Daniel anxious. What if you still decided to leave him after all of that? He would just have to try harder. He would make you fall in love with him all over again if he had to.

You opened your eyes and he searched them, digging deep into your soul. He found them unreadable until you smiled through your tears, and he knew he still had your heart.

“You’re so stupid! Do you know how annoying your texts are when I’m trying to be mad at you?! And why didn’t you beg sooner?! Ughhh, I thought it was really the end of us…!” You started rambling in earnest, no longer conscious of the relieved tears streaming down your face.

Daniel just started to chuckle as he listened to you talk, happy to hear the life in your voice once more. He stared at you lovingly while wiping away your never-ending tears with his thumbs, laughing harder every time your voice cracked.

By the end of your rant, you were panting and glaring at him. He responded by kissing you on the forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

He was observing you again and his heart soared when he saw you hide a smile at his confession. He knew he had gotten a second chance when you reappeared, and he would make the most of it.

[writingbarnes]

Sea Change • Bucky Barnes x Reader • 02

Summary : There were things she expected to happen in her life. Getting fired from her job after punching a perverted colleague in the neck was one of them. But getting kicked out of her apartment because she couldn’t pay her share of the rent for the month (and because her roommate’s boyfriend was moving in) apparently was not something she thought she would experience. Good thing Clint Barton knew someone who was looking for a roommate.

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader )   |  Warning : Cursing  |  Words : 2K-ish

Author’s Note : Merry Christmas! Here’s another update lol i hope you like it! Let me know what you think! <3 Thank you, Victoria for proofreading this !

• 01 • 02 •

Sometimes [Y/N] wondered how much more the world could fuck her up. Like, when she was just eight years old and was a little too excited for her own good to climb a tree, only to end up with a broken arm. Or that time she had to submit a very important essay for her finals, only to spill coffee all over it. Or when she was celebrating her 21st birthday and ended up getting mugged the moment she stepped out of a club. Her life might be filled with misfortunes but this? This took the whole cake.

[Y/N] sat on the blue couch in Bucky’s apartment with a cup of tea while she watched Clint explain his brilliant idea to Bucky. Steve was kind enough to steer her to the kitchen once Bucky’s face contorted into pure frustration. He sat her down on one of the kitchen stool and took out a plate of chocolate cake from the fridge.

“Chocolate always make you feel better.” He offered, grabbing two spoons from one of the drawers. She didn’t know what she would do if Steve wasn’t here to mediate the whole argument (there was a 98% chance she would start crying in front of everyone, but no one needed to know that).

“Sorry for this.” Steve smiled.

She scooped a spoonful of the cake and slowly brought it to her mouth, eyes automatically closing in delight. “This is so good.” She moaned, grabbing another spoonful. “I might even forgive my old roommate for kicking me out of our apartment if you keep giving me chocolate cake.”

“You don’t have a place to live?” Steve frowned, his spoon stopped mid-air. [Y/N] looked up from the cake, eyes filled with confusion.

“Yeah, I thought you knew? That’s why Clint told me to come here. I didn’t have a place to go. I’d stay with Nat and Clint but they have Peter.” Her answer seemed to startled Steve for a moment before the blond guy got up from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. She wondered if she had offended him in any way, but her worry soon disappeared when she heard Steve’s panicked voice.

“You need to let her stay here, Bucky!”

“What-No, I don’t?” came Bucky’s reply.

“Yes! She doesn’t have anywhere to go. She needs a place to stay and you need a roommate. She seems nice, Buck. Definitely better than the other applicants.”

“She loves cleaning too! Just like you!” Clint added excitedly, earning a glare from Bucky.

There was a long silence in the living room and [Y/N] opted to shove another spoonful of cake to ease her nerves. It took her five more spoonfuls of cake before Bucky finally let out a sigh and a mumbled, “Fine.”

Huh, maybe this wasn’t as bad as she initially thought.

The three men walked into the kitchen a moment later. Steve had the happiest expression on his face and Clint couldn’t stop fidgeting in excitement as they relayed the news. Bucky, on the other hand, only stood by the table with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on her.

“I like my place clean. I don’t like loud noises. Do not take my cake and sweets. Clint said you were in a rough spot, so I’ll let you off for this month’s rent. In return, you will clean the apartment and do some chores for me. Is that okay with you?”

[Y/N] nodded quickly. “I’ll even bake you cookies and cakes if you want.” That seemed to brighten him up a little. Bucky gave her a little nod and shook her hand.

“Welcome, roommate.”

“Yes! Why don’t you show her around while I go get Donut?”

.

“Uhh–“ [Y/N] stared at the huge bathtub installed in the bathroom. This bathroom was probably bigger than her new bedroom, with the gigantic bathtub taking almost half of the room. She looked up at Bucky, who stared at her, as if daring her to say any stupid comments. She gulped down her curiosity and nerves and flashed him a nervous smile. “So you like bath time a lot, huh?”

She could hear Steve’s snort from behind her.

“Your room is across the hall.” Bucky changed the topic, dragging Steve out of the bathroom while [Y/N] trailed behind him. “You’ll have to buy some bedsheets and covers later, but I can lend it to you for now.” He said as he pushed open the door.

The room was decorated with minimalistic interiors. The blue color of the desk, wardrobe, and window frame provided a nice contrast to the pale colored wall and wood flooring. There was a huge window on one side of the room, with generous sunlight pouring in and [Y/N] fought the urge to smile at the prospect of basking in its warmth.

“It’s not much.” Bucky quietly said, still staring at her, gauging her reaction.

“It’s beautiful. I love it so much. This is definitely better than my last apartment.” She gushed. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

He flushed a little, quickly dismissing her gratitude with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing.” He mumbled before leaving her room.

“He’s not very good at making new friends,” Steve whispered with a grin. “He’ll warm up to you soon. Don’t worry.”

[Y/N] opened her mouth to reply when she heard loud profanities coming from the living room. She and Steve quickly made their way out of the bedroom and into the living room, where Clint was standing with a huge white cat who kept hissing at Bucky.

“What the fuck is this?!” Bucky glared at the cat.

“This is Donut. I told you I’ll be bringing her over, Buck.”

“I thought you meant the food.”

“Donut is her cat.” Clint pointed at [Y/N] who shuffled awkwardly under everyone’s stares.

“She’s really nice, I promise.” She mumbled quietly, not daring to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You will be in charge of throwing out the trash for two months.” Bucky grumbled in response.

.

Bucky didn’t mean to pry. He wasn’t that nosy of a person, but the red notebook was just lying there on the couch. It was practically begging to be read. He probably would blame it on the chilly weather and the abundance of free time he had gotten after finishing another project as well. And it was definitely not a payback after that particular incident just shy two months ago.

He was practically immune to cold, which was great, because he got to save a couple hundred bucks every winter, much to Steve’s and Sam’s dismay. He had been saving money for years, opting to splurge on other essentials Steve dubbed as ‘useless-fish-necessities’. And he would have been showing off his pride and joy to his best friends and bragged about his money just like he did the past years if it wasn’t for his new roommate.

It was a quite a chilly evening in late October and Bucky was quite excited to go home after a long meeting with a client. He had been planning on enjoying the cold evening with a box of pizza and a nice beer, alone in his living room. [Y/N] said she would be home late, which gave him more than enough time to relax. Maybe he could even use the bath bombs Natasha gave her few weeks ago. Bucky’s smile grew as he approached his apartment door, keys in his hand. Today had been a good day.

A click and a turn of the knob later, he pushed open the door, smile quickly slipping off his face at the state of his apartment. Nothing was amiss. In fact, it was too clean and he would’ve been impressed by his roommate’s cleaning skills if it weren’t for the irritating warmth of his apartment. His eyes landed on the huge glass window near a single couch and an electric heater. [Y/N] was currently curled on top of a fluffy carpet in front of said couch, face filled with pure bliss as the heater warmed her body and lulled her to sleep. It was almost adorable.

But Bucky was too annoyed with how warm his apartment was and how he could feel sweat starting to form on his forehead to admit it. He glared at Donut, who hissed quietly at him from the couch, as if daring him to wake up her beloved owner. And Bucky Barnes was not going to be a petty person, especially to a cat. He raised his eyebrows at the cat in a mock challenge and took a few steps closer, setting his belongings on the table before he closed the distance between [Y/N] and him. Donut, in all her white fluffy glory, let out another hiss, and wiggled her butt in a stalking manner, ready to pounce him.

                                     Screw being the bigger person, Bucky huffed, poking her gently with his foot, eyes never leaving the cat.

“[Y/N]. Wake up.” He called her name, giving her another gentle poke.

She scrunched her face, curling her body tighter to itself before letting out a little happy sigh.

“What the fuck did you do to this apartment?” Bucky continued poking her, earning another hiss and a growl from the cat. “You, shut up. Let the adults talk.” He pointed his finger at the cat.

“It was too cold.” [Y/N] mumbled, voice groggy with sleep.

“It’s not even snowing. You’re not supposed to turn on the heater! Do you know how expensive this shit can be?”

“Nice to know you care more about your money than my life.” She replied and opened one eye. She pulled the thick blanket up to her chin as she looked up at him and the sight of her definitely didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

“Are you sick?” Bucky frowned. He might be immune to cold but he knew today’s weather was not even that cold. Sam and Clint were doing just fine with their sweaters, and Steve was even sporting a simple t-shirt when he met them for lunch earlier that day.

“No. I just hate the cold.”

“It’s not even that cold, [Y/N].” Bucky crouched down in front of her, hand automatically touching her forehead. “You don’t have a fever though…”

“Our kind likes warmth.”

“Your kind?” Bucky frowned. She was already drifting back to sleep, her speech slurring as she spoke.

“Yeah, werecats…”

It was how he finally discovered his roommate was a werecat and he didn’t know if he should kill Clint for not telling her, or laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

He thought the first option was better when he received the monthly electric bills.

.

He took few careful steps closer to the couch, as if afraid [Y/N] would sense him and call him from her new workplace, a quaint bookstore owned by the descendant of Bastet named T’challa. He was the most charismatic and terrifying and beautiful man Bucky has ever seen in his life, and he had been friends with the Steve Rogers since he was 5.

He shook his head a little, turning his attention back to the red book sitting on the couch. His hand slowly reached out to grab it, flipping it open to a random page.

“I shouldn’t be reading this.” He paused, gaze still fixed on the date at the top of the page. He was about to close the book and set it back on the couch when a little voice in him reminded him of last night’s fiasco.

“So…” [Y/N] awkwardly started out. They were enjoying take-outs during their off-day. A random animated movie was playing on the TV, one Bucky didn’t bother to know its title. He picked up the last piece of dumpling and turned to her, waiting for her to speak out.

“I was talking to Clint earlier…” oh this can’t be good. “I was asking him how to be your friend and he told me to ask you about Finding Nemo and The Little Mermaid?”

Bucky choked on the dumpling, the food spluttering all over the floor. He kept coughing loudly before [Y/N] quickly offered him a glass of water. It took him a few moments to finally calm down and he wiped his mouth, grabbing the extra napkins to clean up the mess.

“Do you like the movies?” [Y/N] asked after a long beat of silence. “I mean, I guess you do, judging by how you decorate your apartment.”

“I- I–“ Bucky took a deep breath to calm his frustration. “The movies are fine. Clint is just being an asshole.”

[Y/N] nodded quietly, slurping some noodles before she turned to him again.

“Can we watch The Little Mermaid, then?”

“Maybe I should.” Bucky said to himself. “Just a little peek.” He convinced himself as he reopened the book.

Thoughts ?

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers @4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @elfwriter1088 @wordsturnintostories @chromealchemist @showbuckysomelove @meavie

[mcrmadness]

Saw again some weird dreams...

So just like the header says, some more weird-ass dreams coming from here :D The first part was mainly about Die Ärzte and then it turned into some sort of scifi-fantasy movie where I was the protagonist/antagonist/antihero and I was running away from bad or good guys and hiding in closets that had lots of bedsheets and stuff in them. So, here we go:

1. I think it started with me being just at home, browsing all my Die Ärzte files on my computer. I’ve collected quite a big “archive” of photos and videos and stuff over the years. In this dream I apparently was browsing my folder for Bela photos but for I also had there a subfolder that was named as “well done”, might have been in Finnish, not sure. Anyway, there was apparently some of my favorite Bela photos and actually every photo in that folder was created by my subconscious last night. For some reason, in that folder was also many REALLY GOOD Bela/Farin videos that’s existence I had forgotten (well because those also were created by my subconscious, they don’t exist in real life). This kind of dream if actually nothing new to me: I often see dreams of videos that don’t exist and I’m always watching them as videos so that I try and sometimes even can replay them. And it’s always as annoying to wake up from them :D

So in this dream was some Bela-interview from... not exactly sure if it was 2007 or what. But he had short hair, either black or dark brown. And this was like some sort of a festival area and behind him was a normal... fence, I don’t even know how to call that in Finnish :D Anyway, and behind that fence there was people, it was like a crowd in front of a stage, idk. And he was giving some interview when then suddenly someone ran from the crowd to him but was still behind the fence - and that was Farin, wearing sunglasses (I think it was early Spring) and he had a camera with him and he was really smiley and apparently on a good mood. Here they had some conversation of their own, I think it was about a jacket. I feel as if Farin was asking Bela to hand him his (Farin’s) jacket (this might have even been in German lol I’m slowly getting there with my language skills XD) that was on this side of the fence. But they also hadn’t seen each other in ages, I think. I feel like there was lots of happening but I no longer can remember that all, but lots of nice, small things I always look for when I see interviews about them. I think Farin went back to the crowd eventually. And when the interview ended, Bela was also going to the other side of the fence and on the left side there was a huge gate and he went there and Farin also walked there and then they hugged tightly because they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Then I think I tried to rewatch this interview but it was something else and I noticed it only after watching it a while. This time Bela definitely had the 2007′s hair. And this video was basically filmed “by Bela” even tho it was also quite far away from them, in some sort of interview studio and it had nothing to do with the “first” video I just saw. From this one I mostly remember them AGAIN talking about a jacket. Farin wanted to borrow Bela’s jacket - which turned out to be bright purple leather jacket wtf :D Looked like what you can maybe buy from girls’ sections from these cheap clothing stores. And Farin wanted to wear/try on that jacket even tho Bela told him that that he doesn’t think the jacket is even big enough for Farin. This was again quite confusing. And it ended in Farin wearing a wig - long and black wig, and he was basically doing the same what Bela did in their “Serienklassiker” videos when he was playing the part of Lassie. I think Bela was sitting on a sofa, it was still an INTERVIEW IN A STUDIO and Farin was wearing black wig, sitting on the floor and rubbing himself against Bela’s knees like a cat as a joke and I heard someone saying in English “I think Farin wants to be Bela’s pet.” And THANK GODS this is where the dream ended!!!

Or. Almost. Next thing I see is me again being me but now it was like the setting for their video Bettmagnet, but instead of watching a video, I was in this room WITH them. The arrange was exactly the same except that now I was also sitting on this bed but just on the right edge. And There was two tv’s hanged on the walls, one right in front of us and one on the wall on Farin’s side. And I was watching DÄ interviews or videos with them. I don’t even know what we were watching but I remember this white text on a purple background (same color as the too-small-jacket from the previous part :DDD) and Farin wasn’t feeling so good about that and I don’t know what language he used but he said something like how it’s quite embarrassing to watch this now as someone is seeing it too, as it was always meant just as a joke and not that they would actually once watch it and see other people watching it too. (Yeah same everytime I need to watch something about or made by me while others watch.)

I have no idea what it was that we were about to watch but then there was an advertisement to something that looked like a handheld game console made into a shape of Batman logo and Bela had designed. I don’t know why but it made me laugh so much and then Farin either turned into my mom or asked me as Farin: “Are you laughing or crying?” And I just told him I’m laughing. And my mom was included because I actually once ad my mom to come ask me if I’m laughing or crying when I was alone in my room laughing, as sometimes my laugh does sound very, very stupid :D And I could hear my laugh so well in this dream, I wonder if I was actually laughing asleep...

2. Then I think this was a cool switch to another dream. I kinda dived into this “movie”.  Because this “movie” had a Batman logo, it was DC themed and then there was the name “Malcolm Merlyn” which I know mostly from the tv series “Arrow” but he’s also included in the LEGO DC Villains video game (yes I love LEGO video games :D). It was some kind of huge place with narrow hallways and lots of doors, bit like in a spaceship style but it was still on the ground on Earth and not a spaceship. I saw him lockpicking his way to somewhere but that’s all, I didn’t see him again and also only saw his back. I went to another hallway and I also tried to lockpick some door open but I was caught. Some woman came there to talk to me, saying things like “Did you really think you could get away like this? You shouldn’t have done *something* to your shoelaces as they gave you away now.” and I was just standing there, not moving or saying anything as I was not sure if she was able to see me or not. Somehow I felt like everyone in this place was bluffing me and talking to me as if they saw me but that they did not, and therefore they only talked to me instead of attacking right away. And if I attacked them, I’d give away my place. But I was not sure if it was like that or if they were just typical villains keeping a monologue before they act cos they think they have already won. ANd then they always fail.

Anyway, I think I then acted really fast. I don’t know what I did, maybe I attacked her or something but I sure as hell started running. This hallway  was like... there was huge pillars to it was like a “ladder” shaped bluprint. So I was running and hiding non-stop and these women kept coming and going, trying to capture me, and at some point I think I had the “belt” part of a bathrobe and I did something with it to get one of the women out of the picture.

While I was running, I heard a woman’s voice from the speakers as an alarm went off and she said how I was on the loose and information about me, I only remember her saying my real-life name and then that I speak Italian - which is not true. I don’t speak Italian :D I might want to learn it tho, because having relatives in Italy.

Then it kinda changed and now I was in a place that looked like a hospital of some sort. I was still running away and tried to hide into these closets but all of them just had shelves with besheets and pillows and stuff like this and I could no fit into the closets. I still hid in one of them but they saw me going there, and again it happened: this woman was standing at the door staring at me and talking how she sees me, but doing absolutely nothing about it and I still said nothing but just kept sitting there and didn’t move so they don’t actually see me. And when they least expected it, I acted and could escape them again. And then I run to another thing like this and could hide in the last closet, somehow could fit myself on the lowest shelf on all these pillows. But a little girl came to the door and said that she found me, but I said her if she doesn’t give me away, I’ll give her candy - which btw was the only time I ever spoke in this part of the dream. So she just stared at me for a while and then said “Deal.” gave me the pillow that had dropped from the closet and closed the door and shouted the women “There’s nothing!” and went with them. And this is where the dream ended.

I have no idea what this action movie dream really was :D It was also so weird because I don’t know if I was the hero or the villain even, or maybe an antihero. I did watch both Hellboy movies with my dad and sister couple of days ago but this dream had pretty much nothing to do with those movies. It also makes me think of a movie that I have never even seen yet and know nothing about, so I don’t know...

On the other hand, my head seems to hurt migraine-like every time I cough so migraine can also create some of the weirdest dreams.

[renaroo]

Promises (6/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: This chapter was slightly hard to write because Cass is my girl and any emotions she feels just get me unlike few characters I’ve ever written, so putting her through the ringer right now is a test on my own writing fortitude lol

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @slytherinkyuubi, @chimaerakitten, and an Anonymous fan on tumblr for the feedback and suppot!

Hurt

Cassandra could feel herself drowning again.

The water boiled around her, ate through her skin and bone. She couldn’t move, even thrashing seemed to only encourage her body to stiffen tighter and tighter in the coils of death. Her throat burned, and she wanted to scream not because she was dying, but because against her will, against her sense of peace, her body was being willed to live again.

She was utterly ensnared in the waters of the Lazarus Pit, kicking and screaming, until finally she tore her way through and clambered to her feet, breathing heavily and holding back the tides of the Pit from trying to wash her back down again.

Only, there was no Pit. There were no waves, no currents, no boiling fires or the smell of death and sulfur.

Clenched in her fists were the two sides of a bedsheets torn in two. And her feet rested not in the banks of sand but in a mattress that was far too accommodating for someone who had shot out of it like a slingshot.

Cass continued to breathe heavily, looking around her room as her eyes tiredly adjusted to the change.

It wasn’t even dark, at least not anymore. Sunlight was attempting to pour into her room despite the obstruction of the curtains. And outside her door the Manor’s halls were apparently lit as the light was brightly shining through the cracks.

She hadn’t been revived again. She wasn’t suffering in the pools of green hell water. She wasn’t drowning.

It had been a dream.

Except for the part where all of it had been utterly, truly, overly real just days before.

Exhausted before even starting her day, late as that day may have already gotten without her, Cass dropped the remains of her bedsheets and hopped down from her bed. The baggy I bat Gotham shirt hung halfway down her thighs, and her loos drawstring pajama pants far from matched, but Cass had never been one for fashion all the same.

She walked toward the door, rubbing her face and leaving her hair to stick up on ends that she wasn’t aware she had grown back yet, and opened herself and the room up to the world of the living.

From the first step on, things were startlingly routine.

Cass maneuvered silently through the mansion on instinct, arriving in the kitchen and perching on a seat by the island that let her pull up her feet into the seat and rock steadily back and forth on it as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes again.

Somehow, magically, Alfred came along and was already halfway through making her a breakfast of her favorite things.

“Look as though we will be out of cereal soon between you and Master Richard,” Alfred said, though there was a curl to his nose as he examined the box of sugary treats.

“He here?” Cass asked, leaning her cheeks into her hands as she watched Alfred.

She already knew the answer.

“I am afraid he and Master Tim are both at the hospital. He is determined to talk some one who did not earn their doctorate into taking his cast off early. I am assured that Leslie and Master Tim will put a stop to it before he comes too close to sawing it off himself,” Alfred announced, pouring milk in a bowl then orange juice in a cup.

“Bruce?” Cass asked.

She already knew that answer, too.

“I am afraid he is at work this morning, Miss Cassandra,” Alfred said before putting her tray before her. “But, as always, I am here to serve, Miss Cassandra. Happily, contently, forcefully,” he joked before poking at her nose.

Despite herself, Cass laughed at the affectionate gesture and picked up her spoon. She was two scoops in before she looked warily in Alfred’s direction. “Alfred?”

“Hm?” the butler hummed as he turned back to her.

“I tore my sheets in half again,” she informed him, beginning to gulf down what was left of her cereal. “Third time. Let’s just not change them anymore. S’not working.”

A worried look crossed Alfred’s face and then he sighed heavily. “You absolutely will have new sheets, Miss Cassandra. There will not be a charge in my home without proper covers. But I once again must urge you to seek out someone to talk to about why you continue to have such violent nightmares, dear girl.”

Cass finished her cereal in record time and gabbed her orange juice to take with her, pushing off from her seat.

“Not just dreams,” she said as she walked off. “Me. I’m just… violent.”

Alfred let out a discouraged noise but Cass couldn’t bare to witness his disappointment in person. Instead she headed for the Cave.

It was time to train and hope that, eventually, her demons could simply be fought away.

By nine, Cassandra still had not seen Bruce, Dick, or Tim, but she also did not bother Alfred with any questions as to why that might have been. In truth, it was difficult for Cass to get past the numbness that overtook her throughout the day’s routine, as the rawness of waking from her nightmares grew more and more distant to her.

She trained and she ate and she spent all of it alone where once it might have felt like an intolerable amount of time.

For Cassandra, it was old hat.

At nine, there were still a few hours before peak patrol time, and the Manor was growing more unsuitable for the restlessness Cass felt after hours upon hours of numbness. So she suited up and went, without warning, to the small, private airfield in Bristol where the Aerie One was currently grounded in secret.

Though, considering a suited up Batgirl was heading toward it in the dead of night while on a Batcycle probably brought into question just how firmly kept that secret could be.

Still, for as unconventional as Cassandra could sometimes be, she was not refused in the slightest as she came on board.

And more than that, she was expected.

Helena Bertinelli — the Huntress, as Cassandra knew her better — was in a purple sweater with black leggings, holding a smoking cup of coffee that must have been freshly made as its smell permeated the entrance of the plane. “Hey there, didn’t realize we were doing this in costume. I would’ve been dressed more appropriately.”

Cass gave a small shrug and came on into the plane. “Going to patrol. After.”

“Makes sense,” Helena said, shutting the door behind her and following Cass to their usual spot. “Did you pick up the book I recommended to you? I know it’s in Bruce’s library. I called to make sure.”

“Not yet,” Cass said, pulling up into the desk chair and drawing her legs up to hug against her chest. “Phonexes today. Yes?”

“Phonics, yup,” Helena replied, settling down beside Cass with her coffee, taking a sip. “Have you been practicing on your own?”

“Yes,” Cass lied easily.

“Mmhmm,” Helena said before pulling out the phonics cards they had been using for the last week. “Well, going through these will be pretty easy tonight then, right? We’ll get you right on out to patrol before the Scarecrow can split a hair.”

“R-right,” Cass said less confidently, arching her shoulders forward in a way that draped her cape to cover more of herself.

The numbness ebbed away for the first time that day since it had arrived uninvited, but feeling was not always better than not feeling. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and flustering caused her brows to wrinkle as she studied cards with ridiculous rules.

Part of wearing her costume was because of her anticipation for an upcoming patrol, but another part of her costume was the importance of her mask. It shielded her face in ways few things could, keeping Helena from seeing her full reactions to being told no and try again over and over.

It also hid the genuine excitement and relief that crossed her entire body as a correctly pronounced card was placed in the good pile, that was done for the night.

In a way, Cassandra hated how learning made her feel. And she hated how ds and bs were not interchangeable but sometimes cs sounded like ks until chs and ths came by to also confuse her. And then as sometimes on cards in certain fonts she could mistake for qs and it was so hard to remember z at all because she saw it so little.

Cass hated it so much.

But she hated even more that the emotional exhaustion she went through while Helena’s steady, calm demeanor was as practiced and poised as ever. She lived for teaching, Barbara had once said. It was as natural to her character as putting on a cape.

And that made her particularly frustrating for Cassandra, just like the rest of the family. Because it meant Cassandra’s struggles — if she let them be seen without her mask — were quick to be judged. She was certain of it. Even when Helena assured her otherwise.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you didn’t actually practice on your own since last time,” Helena said, putting down the cards after what felt like ages to Cassandra.

Shame came down, crushing Cassandra as she buried her head in her knees. “Mmsorry,” she muttered.

“It’s alright, but you need to remember that learning is just like anything else. You get out of it what you put into it. Even if you sometimes have to put in a little more effort for something like reading than you think others do, it’s no bigger of a deal than them having to put in extra work in order to fight as well as you do,” Helena said as she put up her teaching materials.

Cass’ frown only grew and she narrowed her eyes as she looked at Helena. “No one… feels this bad about not having good enough kicks or punches. Not like I feel now. For reading and for… just talking,” she pointed out sharply. “And no one… thinks Tim’s stupid because he kicks too slow!”

Helena’s brows furrowed in response and she set aside her coffee mug. “Wait a second, Cassie. Who’s calling you stupid?” she demanded.

Immediately, Cass curled more into her cape, instant regret coursing through her. Barbara’s words were still there, in the back of her mind, vicious and unthinking in a way that Barbara almost never was. It was the first thing that came to her mind, like always, but it was far from the last or only.

Truth was, she had seen the flicker of resentment from many faces, many times over the years.

“Everyone,” she finally answered. “They… think it.”

“And they’re wrong,” Helena said firmly.

“No,” Cass said, hugging her shoulders. “Nyssa… she said she could teach me… Told me I was… broken to everyone else. That’s why no one tried—“

“Hey, isn’t this trying right now?” Helena pressed, tapping her finger on Cass’ books. “There’s nothing broken about you, Cass. You’re different. You’re amazing… and not everything can come as naturally to you as fighting and reading people. That gets you frustrated and makes you not want to try. I understand that more than almost anyone else. That’s why we’re working together.” She then turned to gather some of the items on the desk together. “That’s why I keep telling Barbara you would be better off coming with us when we take off. But even if you don’t want to, then you and I are going to make a schedule and keep in contact on Skype or phone — however we can get it to work so you’re still tutoring—“

Caught off guard, Cassandra perked up and looked Helena’s way with wide eyes. “Take off?” she repeated, startled.

Helena looked at Cass warily. “Yeah, we’re leaving next… Oh, for godsake, she didn’t—“

Getting to her feet so fast, Cassandra accidentally sent her desk chair flying back into the wall behind her. “Where’s Barbara?” she demanded.

Covering her face with her hand and sighing deeply, Helena pointed toward the cockpit. “Damn it, Babs.”

Furious, Cassandra took off for the front.

Cassandra nearly burst down the door in her anger and she wasn’t even sure if she would have cared had it happened. Instead she just barreled on through to where Barbara was sitting beside Zinda at the helm with a large projected map of the east coast out before them.

Both women looked back in surprise.

“Easy on the Aerie, she’s a sensitive lady!” Zinda admonished, pulling back on her cap.

To her credit, Barbara seemed more expectant. “Cass, how did your lessons with Helena go—“

Ripping off her mask so that Barbara could see exactly how upset she was, Cass glared at her mentor. “You’re leaving? You’re leaving again!?” she cried out in anger.

“Whoo boy,” Zinda muttered, looking less comfortable by the minute.

“Yes,” Barbara replied. “Dinah is taking time off to retrain and—“

“And?” Cass asked, nose curled as she got in Barbara’s face.

“The Birds are needed elsewhere,” Barbara fought back stubbornly. “Our main headquarters is a plane, Cassandra. We operate across the world. We don’t belong only to Gotham anymore. We can’t stay in one place. It’s… Well, it’s dangerous.”

Narrowing her eyes, Cass clenched her fists so tightly she could feel the knuckles popping. “It’d be with me,” she hissed. “You promised—“

“I’m keeping my promises,” Barbara assured her holding up her hands. “I am, Cass. I never lied to you.”

“Then why can’t I go?” Cass demanded.

“Because I’m keeping my promises,” Babs replied in frustration.

Easing back, Cass felt like she could breathe again. “You’re… She’s going with you?”

“Yes,” Barbara said, though her expression could not have looked more soured if she tried. “Sandra Wusan is a probationary member of the Birds of Prey. She’s getting her second chance… though I’m not taking her out of her cell until I’m sure we can push her off the plane at about a thousand feet first if we need to.”

Relieved, Cass tilted back her head and smiled. “Good. This is good,” she said firmly.

Zinda looked back and forth between them before scratching at her head. “It is? Well I hope someone bothers explaining how!” she groaned. “We’re keeping a murderer on the Aerie One… and then there’s the Lady Shiva business!”

“I can hear you,” Helena called as she came to the cockpit’s door. “Babs, are you honestly telling me you were going to leave without even offering to bring Cassandra with us?”

“It’s okay,” Cass assured her tutor. “Understand now.”

“Understand what?” Helena demanded, still eyeing Barbara for answers.

“Cassandra and Shiva cannot be together,” Barbara said firmly. “First off, I wouldn’t allow it after what she put Cass through over the past two years. Second off, it’s… It’s Shiva’s only motivation. She says she will keep her promise to Dinah for the next year, but it’s Cassandra… Cassandra is going to be the only thing that truly motivates her to stay on this path. They both have something to prove to each other.”

Helena looked to Cass sympathetically. “Isn’t that something that would be easier to prove if you were allowed to work together?” she asked Cass gently.

“No,” Cass said. “She would want me to… kill her. It’s what she… really wants.”

At that, Helena and Zinda looked at each other equally perplexed.

“We’re gonna get a woman to change her mind about not killing other people for a year so that she can ask her daughter to kill her at the end of it?” Zinda asked.

“Shiva is not Cass’ mother,” Barbara said firmly. “She gave birth to Cass. That’s it. And I still haven’t ran the DNA test so it’s taking Shiva at her word—“

“Yes,” Cass answered more simply.

“Helluva year it’s about to be, isn’t it?” Zinda asked Helena.

Reminded of just how long it was going to be, Cassandra looked back at Barbara. “I… I won’t see you?” she asked.

“Of course you will,” Barbara promised. “Maybe not always in person but…” Babs reached forward and tenderly cupped one hand against Cass’ cheek. “Cass, you’re everything to me right now, you understand? You’re…”

“Batgirl,” Cass completed.

“You’re Cassandra, and even if you don’t know it yet, that is a thousand times more important to me than even Batgirl,” Barbara answered. “I want to do right by you… to make up for all the big and small mistakes over the years and more. I’m doing this for you… no matter how hard. I’m going to try to show Shiva she has a second chance — that she doesn’t deserve. And that it’s because of a daughter — that she really doesn’t deserve… that doesn’t belong to her.”

Cass wanted to find the words within her to dispute Barbara, to remind her that everyone had the opportunity — the second chance — for anything. And that if they did not believe that for the likes of Shiva, how could they begin to believe in it for themselves.

For their relationship.

Reaching down, Cass cupped Barbara’s chin in her hands and offered a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said instead. “Thank you for helping Shiva.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Barbara’s smile came through and she pulled Cass by the waist into a hug. “It’s for you, but alright.”

Closing her eyes, Cassandra tried to imagine that hug could last them more than only a moment in time.

Patrol, if it could even be counted as patrol, was mercifully short by the time Cassandra had made her parting words and embraces with the Birds.

As Barbara had wanted, she never saw Shiva in that time, and in a way Cass thought it was best. Knew it was best. Because as much as Cassandra wished to help the mother who birthed her find reformation, the rest of the path had to be Shiva’s or it was not going to be true at all.

Afterwords, Cassandra did not detect anything unusual until she pulled into the cave on her bike and found no one else coming in for the night.

It wasn’t unusual for Cass to be the last to call it quits on patrol, but the Redbird and the Batmobile looked practically undisturbed when she passed between them. She even reached down and placed her hand on the hood of the Batmobile and found it cold. It had been sitting there for a while — if it had been used at all that night.

And more alarming was that Batman was not sitting at the computers, filing away his findings of the night, updating files, doing basic casework. Which, in truth, he had been doing more than actual patrolling for the last week or so by Cassandra’s estimations.

Her heart began pounding in her chest. Something was dreadfully wrong.

Without even changing at her locker, Cassandra ran up the stairs to the Manor, ripping off her mask and all but kicking down the grandfather clock in her desire to get to the others of the Manor and fast. She did not know what was wrong, but she knew it had to be something.

Even the Manor air felt stale and choking as she raced through.

She desired to shout out for the others, but she couldn’t even fathom what names to call, what danger could be available. Not until she reached the foyer and found four surprised expressions meeting her.

“Miss Cassandra! Thank goodness you’re here,” Alfred said, putting a hand to his chest as he breathed with relief. He then looked to Bruce, Dick, and Tim. “I suppose you were about to surprise her with this announcement as well, Master Bruce?”

Breathless, Cassandra tried to calm herself down — everyone was fine, everyone was alive. But there was an unmistakable tension between all of them. Alfred’s anger was hardly subtle, which was a rarity for the butler. Tim was to the side, further from Bruce than from Dick, the same deadened expression he had worn since Superbly’s funeral clear on his face. Dick was limited in movement due to his injuries, but he kept on the balls of his feet all the same, shifting uncomfortably under Alfred’s gaze and Cass’.

Bruce was… Bruce was walled off and not looking at Cass completely.

When there was no cowl, it was his greatest tool to keep her from reading him like a book.

“You shouldn’t be upstairs in uniform, Cassandra,” Bruce said first, because of course he did.

Cass’ brows furrowed and she stood her ground, glancing across all of them. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

It was then that she noticed the packed suitcases and totes behind them. It was then that Cassandra’s teeth began to grind as she worked desperately to refute her own conclusions.

“Nothing’s wrong, promise, Li’l Sister,” Dick said with his own note of desperation. “We just… Well, not we,” he said with a flicker of resentfulness in his glance toward Bruce. “It’s been decided that the three of us are going on a trip.”

For a moment, Cassandra stared at all of them in disbelief. Then she produced a scowl to rival the Bat’s.

“You’re leaving me too?” she demanded angrily.

“Too? What do you mean? Cassie, it’s just—“ Dick began.

“No,” Cass said, holding up a hand to silence Dick. Her full glare was on Bruce. He finally returned it. “Why?” she demanded.

“You’ve not been honest with me recently,” Bruce surmised. “I don’t know what happened in—“

“Not your business,” Cass snapped.

“You are my business,” Bruce retorted.

“Master Bruce, really?” Alfred cut in before Cass could shout back. “I believe we are all speaking out of turn and without enough thought. If we could only take a moment to talk this through and not last minute go on a cross world tour—“

“It has been decided, Alfred,” Bruce continued. “It’s necessary. Just like it’s necessary for Cassandra to stay—“

“Why!?” Cass demanded.

“Because Gotham needs protection,” Dick answered for Bruce. Cassandra looked into his eyes and, as usual with Dick, they were open with honesty. “It needs it, Cassie. It needs someone to be the Bat in town while Bruce is away and… and I’m not in condition. It’s why I’m going, too. Isn’t that right, Bruce?”

Cassandra looked squarely at Bruce — at Batman — but… she did not find either. The man who stared back at her was… vacant. Injured. He hurt in a way that bent his character and confused his soul to an unrecognizable fashion. She wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

And the same judgment, the same view, was looking back at her.

Bruce didn’t know her anymore either.

“Gotham needs Batman,” Cass said, breaking the silence. “That’s… what you wanted me to be. Isn’t it? That’s why… It’s why I’m learning to read. Isn’t it?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she stomped down her foot. “That’s why I’ll do it. That’s why I’ll stay. If you still want me to… be you when I’m gone—“

“You should want to read because it’s a necessary skill for your independence and livelihood, Cassandra,” Bruce interrupted.

She couldn’t cry, it wasn’t like the other night with Tim. But she certainly felt like it.

“You should want to be Batman again,” Cass retorted angrily, “because… Because Bruce Wayne sucks!”

With that, she stormed off to her room, ignoring the calls after her.

She slammed her door behind her and covered her mouth with her forearm as she squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a scream. Her blood boiled like Lazarus waters and she, for a moment, missed the numbness in exchange for the rage and upset that pumped through her veins instead.