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taggingtim · 3 years

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Why I love Pre-Boot Tim Drake and why the Reboot has ruined him

I love Tim Drake. He is my favorite comic book character of all time. I’ve been really upset the past few days about what DC has been doing with him lately, and I thought it would be cathartic for me to write something up about it. (No, this isn’t a rant about Tim being bi/gay; it’s a much larger problem than that. But I’ll get to that in a bit.) Bear with me for a bit of history, first.

When I was a kid I loved the Batman Animated Series. I know this will lose me a lot of internet cred, but I always preferred the fourth season. In particular, I loved Tim Drake. He was fun and funny and I absolutely adored him. I used to beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy issues of Gotham Adventures. For my birthday one year my parents got me a subscription to the comic, and I was blown away by the idea that I could have comics MAILED to my HOUSE.

Around middle school I started collecting Marvel comics, mostly X-men stuff. I loved them, but when I started college I quit the hobby for financial reasons.

Fast forward a few years, and I felt I was financially stable enough to start buying comics again. Rather than going back to Marvel, I decided to give Batman comics a chance. I had no idea where to start, and when I found out my beloved Tim had his own comic series, I thought it was a perfect entry point into the Batman universe. I bought the complete series from a local comic shop and dove in.

Tim’s Robin series was exactly what I was looking for in a comic. He was very different from little Timmy Todd from BtAS, but I loved him. I built the rest of my comic collection around him, grabbing up every book that he was featured in, from Young Justice to Teen Titans to Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing, Red Robin, and many others. I have random books from series like The Demon just because Tim was in them.

So why did I like Tim so much? What about this character made me so excited for more? I found in Tim something that I had never seen in a comic book before: character growth. Somehow, though he was written by many different authors over many different years, Tim managed to have a character arc that is consistent and makes sense. Sure, there were a few small bumps along the way, but on the whole Tim has always stayed true to his character, and he’s developed in a way that the big name characters, like Batman, never can.

When we’re first introduced to Tim, he’s a young teen who has been neglected by his parents growing up. He’s smart, healthy, and strong, but he lacks so much self confidence and has little sense of self worth. Tim notices Bruce’s increasing violence as he grieves for the loss of his son, and Tim knows he needs to step in and help. Batman needs a Robin.

For most characters, this would be the part where Tim put himself forward for the job. But he doesn’t. He seeks out Dick Grayson and begs him to come home instead. It’s only when Batman and Nightwing are in danger and there is literally no one else to help that Tim steps up and dons the cape. And once he does, he’s constantly plagued by self-doubt, terrified he will screw up and leave Batman worse than ever before.

From there, Tim undergoes intense training. He never begs to be in the spotlight, doesn’t push to go out on the streets before he’s ready. His goal is to help Bruce as much as possible.

Here’s where I started to fall in love with him. All that self-doubt, the constant need to be useful? That’s exactly what you would expect to see from a child whose parents had ignored and neglected him. He finally has a parental figure who sees him, who values him, and Tim does everything he can to make himself worthy in the hopes that Bruce will keep him around.

This is the first example of character consistency that we see with Tim. And it continues. When his mom dies and his dad is put in a coma, you see Tim struggle to come to terms with losing the people he loves, but never had a relationship with. Tim almost never mentions his mom after her death, because she just wasn’t present in his life. When his dad recovers and decides to stick around, Tim struggles to build a relationship with him. He’s plagued with guilt because he’s finally found the father figure he needed in Bruce, but he thinks that he’s supposed to feel that way for Jack. It’s a running undercurrent in their relationship that creates distance between them for years.

This is already so long, so I’m going to try to summarize a bit more. We get to watch Tim grow up. We see his awkward relationship with his first girlfriend, Ariana. He doesn’t know how to treat her; he’s never had the opportunity to observe a healthy relationship. But he tries so, so hard. All of Tim’s relationships are awkward, because he’s never had a model of a good one. Steph is a great match for him, because she’s very vocal about what she wants and needs, and she isn’t afraid to call Tim out when he messes up, which is exactly what Tim needs.

Big things happen to Tim. He’s stuck with Jean-Paul Valley, who slowly goes insane, leaving Tim to try to keep the city in one piece. He’s infected with the Clench, a plague that sweeps over Gotham and kills everyone it touches, and barely escapes with his life. His girlfriend is sexually assaulted, leaving him to deal with the fallout. His family moves out of Gotham, and he has to sneak back in during No Man’s Land to help. His relationship with his dad has intense ups and downs, resulting in him being sent to boarding school, punished in a variety of ways, and generally caused a lot of trouble in his life.

Then people start dying. Over the course of about a year in his life, Tim loses his girlfriend, his dad, a close friend, and his best friend, each of whom dies under tragic conditions. Tim’s grief is intense, and he is understandably traumatized by the losses. We see fundamental changes in his character. He changes his costume from something bright and cheerful to something darker that reflects his emotional state. He’s more subdued, his adventures a little more serious.

When Bruce first tries to adopt him, Tim literally creates an uncle and hires an actor to play him, just to avoid dealing with the situation. Bruce has viewed Tim as a son for years, so to him the adoption is an obvious step. For Tim, it feels like a betrayal of his father, and it takes a while before he’s ready to accept Bruce’s love, home, and a place in his family.

When Damian shows up on the scene, Tim really struggles with him, and not just because early Damian is a horrid brat who tries to kill Tim on multiple occasions. Tim has always felt the need to earn his place with Bruce, and Damian constantly throws all of Tim’s biggest fears in his face—he’s not wanted or needed now that the “real” son is here, he’s not worthy of a place in the family, he’s not good enough.

Tim tries to clone Conner, his best friend. He’s lost so many people, and he’s desperate to get them back. Conner was cloned to begin with and fully matured over a very short period of time; the technology clearly exists, so why can’t Tim use it to get his best friend back? And if he can get Conner back, why not the others he’s lost? He eventually gives up, but when he eventually gets access to a Lazarus Pit, he immediately wants to incorporate the waters into his process so he can revive his loved ones. With Dick’s help, Tim eventually decides to let it go, but it’s such a poignant moment for the character.

Then Bruce dies, and Dick takes Robin away. Tim switches to the Red Robin persona as he travels the world, alone, trying to prove that he was right. He has to deal with the trauma of losing another father, finds out that his girlfriend never died but let him hurt so much for so long. His brother and the only close friend he has left both think his grief has overwhelmed his sense and that he’s gone crazy. He’s utterly alone.

The Red Robin series is such a great culmination for Tim. He finds a place for himself as a hero, as a CEO. He gets parts of his family back—Bruce, Steph, Bart, Conner. He finally figures out who he wants to be and creates a place for himself.

This overarching character development is what I love about Tim. His many, many traumas impact his decisions, and you can clearly see how he changes over time as a result of them. I didn’t even go into his development as a leader from his early fumbling with Young Justice to his strong leadership of the Teen Titans, or how his relationships with Conner, Bart, and Cassie develop so fluidly and realistically over the years.

This is why I love Tim. Characters like Batman are static; nothing that happens to them will ever have a lasting impact, because in the end the character always returns to what they were. Tim, on the other hand, has changed and developed A LOT since his initial appearance. His growth has always been consistent and logical.

When the reboot happened, all of that character growth was lost. Tim was replaced with a jerk who betrayed his friends and cheated on his girlfriend. DC has basically retconned all of this and tried to turn Tim back into who he was, but by taking away all of the things that have happened to him over the years, Tim has lost SO MUCH.

I keep looking for my Tim in recent comics, and I just can’t find him. It breaks my heart, because I love him so much, and it feels like he’s lost to me forever. The most recent Young Justice comic series actually gave me hope; I felt like maybe, finally, someone was going to write Tim correctly. He had his primary friendships back, his relationship with Steph was developing (even if they seem to have completely dropped all the development around Steph’s decision to let Tim think she was dead). The actual book itself wasn’t fantastic, but it felt like they were headed in the right direction.

Over the last few days, I read the Batman: Urban Legends books. I actually read the Batman/Red Hood story first, which was fantastic. I was really excited to read Tim’s story (though I already knew how it ended). Jason’s character was handled so well, and he seemed to actually have some character development that will hopefully last. I anticipated the same for Tim.

But Tim’s story was awful. The plot was all over the place—kids are being kidnapped, so Tim has to join a pain cult to get them back? He’s somehow helping Oracle with computer issues while simultaneously questioning witnesses? He’s broken up with Steph, off camera, shortly after telling her how much he loves her, but Steph somehow thinks that they should have a caring relationship where Tim tells her what he’s feeling? Bernard has somehow become a good enough fighter to stand side by side with Robin? Tim STILL doesn’t have a code name? Why is everyone suddenly hounding him about what he wants to do with his life?

It’s just such a mess of a story. If it didn’t end with Tim agreeing to go on a date with Bernard, no one would ever have even mentioned it. There’s nothing particularly re-readable or enjoyable about it.

I actually liked that they brought Bernard back. I really enjoyed him in the original Robin series. It’s been a while since I read that part of the series (I’m actually working my way back through it now). I know Bernard always read as gay to me, yet somehow I felt like he was out of character in these books.

And then, the climax of the story. Tim is bi, or gay, or has at least agreed to go on a date with a boy.

If this had happened in the pre-boot, when Tim was Red Robin and had an actual character arc, I honestly wouldn’t have had an issue with it. I do think it would have needed a LOT more build up than it was given here. Tim has always been a very introspective character, and we’ve been party to so much of his internal monologue over the years. It seems very strange to me that such a huge thing just sneaks up on him out of nowhere when he’s never even thought about it before.

But more than that, this story just feels like the final death blow for the Tim I loved. The whole arc is about how Tim doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be. What will his hero name be? Will he go to college? What is he going to do with his life? These are all great questions, and his answer to all of them is… date a boy?

Is this going to be his defining characteristic going forward? From here will we just see Tim exploring and discovering his sexuality? The Tim we have now doesn’t have a family, a team, a purpose, or even a code name. Why was this the thing that DC decided to give us? It feels like they wanted to make a gay Robin and decided it would be Tim because they didn’t know what else to do with him.

It’s stupid, but I honestly feel like I’ve spent the past few days grieving the loss of a loved one. The Tim that DC is presenting now is just not the person that I knew. Tim would never break up with Steph that abruptly for what he admits is no apparent reason. He would never say “just call me Robin, since Damian’s out of town.” Everything that I love about Tim seems to be gone, and in its place DC has given me a date with a boy.

Again, it’s not Tim being not-straight that I have an issue with. I’ve never read the character that way, but it’s something I can live with. My issue is the way it was handled. Why not make Tim an actual person first, and then explore his sexuality? Send him off to college! He’s obviously thinking about it! It’s the perfect opportunity to give him his own book. He can move to a different city, choose a new name, and DC can introduce a whole new set of characters. Figure out which parts of Tim’s backstory are still canon, and which have been dropped. Make him a person again, and then let him explore his sexuality.

I know this post is all over the place, and I don’t have time right now to go back and edit it. I just really needed an outlet for my frustration. Right now it feels like there are so many people who are so excited about Tim being bi/gay, but they don’t know anything else about him. I keep seeing people comment how DC has been “dropping hints for years!” with no evidence other than “he and Superboy were really close!” I guess I’d just really like to have some dialogue with other people who are fans of Tim, rather than fans of Tim-as-bi/gay or fans of Tim-as-straight.

Does anyone else feel this way? I’d honestly like to have a dialogue about it with other long time fans.

#Tim Drake #Red Robin #this is a long one #pre-boot vs reboot #this formatting is a little weird #Batman: Urban Legends 6 #Batman: Urban Legends 5 #Batman: Urban Legends 4

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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Mythomaniac—childhood best friend!haechan x female reader.

summary: he’s your best friend, he’s always been. but sometimes you have to stop gazing through those rose colored lenses to see donghyuck for who he really is; a liar. warnings: recreational drug use, language, hyuck being an asshole maybe, depictions of a toxic relationship, peer pressure, happy ending? what’s that genres: childhood best friends to almost lovers (?), angst, fluff if you squint, coming of age word count: 10.5k author’s message: big thank you @yongiefilms and @gardenpebble for proofreading this and giving me the confidence to post this. this has been a work in progress for a long time, and i hope you all enjoy it! this story is inspired by the songs, “liar” by leon and “i swear i’ll never leave again” by keshi. i would recommend listening to these!

The first time Lee Donghyuck lies to you, you’re both eight years old and fighting over the playground swing.

It’s your turn, you argue, kicking the floor as tears well in your eyes. Recess is over in five minutes and you’ve been waiting for Juna to get off since it started! But then this random dark-haired boy suddenly shows up and is going to take it away from you.

“It’s my turn!” You screech again, on the edge of a temper tantrum.

Your shrill tone causes Donghyuck to wince, and being much more mannered than you, he sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll push you. Tomorrow, you push me. Okay?”

Sniffling, you nod and make your way onto the swing. When you jump up and land your bottom on the seat, your toes barely brush the ground. You grasp tightly onto the swing, looking over your shoulder at the boy who’s disappeared behind you. “Not too hard, okay? Not too high.”

“I won’t push too hard.” You’re still unconvinced.

“Promise?”

His response comes out as smooth as honey. “Promise.” His hands are already on your back, pushing you forward ever so lightly. It’s okay at first, and a bright smile spreads across your lips as you register the breeze fanning across your face.

A boisterous laugh leaves your lips, like sparkling stars in the dark of the night. For a moment your small childish world is overrun by excitement and enjoyment; the only thing that exists in this moment is you and the swing. From the height you’re at you can almost see the whole playground.

Wait—the whole playground? Were you already up this high?

When you reach the highest peak of your pendulum you look down, and your eyes widen at the distance from the ground that you are. Your bright laugh now turns into a terrified shriek. “Too high! Too high! Let me down!”

Donghyuck is, at first, unaware of just how frightened you are, but when you start flailing around in fear, his eyes widen. It all happens so fast. You swing back and forth a few times but your limbs are flying around so impulsively in your moment of fear that the boy has to scoot away so he isn’t hit by your flailing figure. Then one more time, you’re at the highest point of the swing when your frightened flailing becomes too much and before either of you can register, you’re flying off the swing and freefalling toward the ground.

He’s afraid to look so he turns away, but your loud crying quickly turns him back to you as the recess bell rings, signaling the end of your playtime. When he sees you on the ground, his first instinct is to run away. But then he sees you grasping your leg and crying, crying, crying.

God, you sure do cry a lot.

“Are you… are you okay?” He asks, running to kneel beside you.

You shake your head furiously, still grasping onto your ankle which burns with pain. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in all eight years of your life. Tears freely flow down the apples of your cheeks.

On the verge of panicking, Donghyuck tears your arm from where you’re grasping onto your leg in the moment of searing pain, and swings it over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, as though encouraging not you, but himself. With the strength that a normal eight year old wouldn’t have, he stands and pulls you to your feet. Your eyes wince in pain as sharpness shoots up your right leg, but alongside Donghyuck, the two of you walk to the nurse’s office.

He had lied. He said he wouldn’t push you too hard. He promised.

Your parents had told you since you were a little kid, fibbing about whether or not you ate the last cookie in the cookie jar, that lying was bad. But that day, you find that maybe lying isn’t always bad.

Because Donghyuck’s lie brings you a new friend.

“Do you think things will change, Hyuck?”

Your sudden question causes him to open his eyes from where he lays in the grass. When he does, it’s as though the stars in the sky are reflected on his orbs. But no, that’s just your crush on your best friend making itself prevalent once again.

“Things change everyday, Y/N.” His answer leaves you unsatisfied, so you roll your eyes, laying back down beside him in the grass. The playground is only a few feet away, but who are you to play at the park? You’re thirteen years old, for God’s sake.

“I mean in high school. The first day of school is already next week, aren’t you worried?” You turn to him, eyebrows furrowing at his relaxed expression.

His chapped lips purse in mild consideration, before shrugging his t-shirt clad shoulders. Carefree Donghyuck and worrisome Y/N, that’s your dynamic.

“It’s just high school. Same people, different classes. Why are you worried?”

“It’s just—” You sigh, eyes staring up into the endless dark abyss of the sky. “Things change. People change. You’ve seen the teen movies! The childhood best friends go to high school, one of them is super smart and becomes a nerd, the other one goes and does drugs.”

All you get in response is a laugh. Donghyuck’s laughter is something you’ve become accustomed to over the years. He has the light, boisterous laughter where something is so absolutely funny that he can’t help but screech. There’s the mid-tier average laugh, which he often lets out around relatives to be polite, but it comes off a bit awkward. Finally, he has the low chuckle in his throat he does when he finds something amusing and almost pitiful—it’s almost always reserved for you.

“We can definitely tell which one of us is which,” he jokes, which causes you to turn and slap his chest lightly, playfully.

“Drugs are bad,” you respond gently, reeling back into your space on the grass. Hyuck doesn’t understand: he’s easygoing, an extrovert with a sunny disposition. He’ll have no problem making friends in high school. You, on the other hand, won’t have it so easy. You can’t lose your one and only best friend. Wrapping yourself in your hoodie, you sigh. Hyuck registers this pitiful sound and settles down a bit; he knows when you’re really upset about something.

Suddenly scooching closer to you on the grass, he speaks softly. “Listen.” You do. “Nothing is going to change. Not between us. Things will happen, we’ll meet people, but we’re best friends forever, okay?” Now he looks straight to you rather than the sky, and you stare back. There’s something in his eyes, determination clear as he speaks. “I promise there will come a day when we grow up and become old, that we’ll come back to this park and stargaze just like now. By then, we’ll be able to drive ourselves, and your mom won’t have to wait for us,” he says, nudging his head toward the curb where your mom sits in her car. This makes you laugh: it really is amusing, your mom waiting for the two of you. “So shut up and stop doubting.”

Hyuck knows your insecurity and that’s what makes him your best friend. Your only best friend in the whole world. Quietly you respond with a question, digging your hand out of your hoodie sweater paws. “You really promise?”

Easily does he intertwine his finger with yours before leaning back into his spot. “Do I ever break my promises?”

The answer is yes, because a month later it’s a Friday afternoon when Hyuck does just that—break his promise.

Your first month of high school wasn’t as bad as you had initially thought it would be, really. Your teachers seemed nice for the most part, and you had managed to make a friend. A real friend, other than Hyuck. His name is Mark, and you only meet him because he’s the TA for your biology class. He’s a year older and not completely comfortable speaking Korean yet, but you’ll take what you can get!

Sadly, you don’t have any classes with your best friend. You don’t even share the same lunch period, and it saddens you that you can’t pay witness to Hyuck laughing so hard to shoot carrot bits from his nose anymore. He made friends in his classes though, and tells you about them. Most of them are upperclassmen… it’s not a surprise that your outgoing friend would be so compatible with older kids. So, you don’t get to see him that often. But that’s what the time outside of school is spent for: your best friend.

The two of you are supposed to meet at the park like you normally do on Fridays. It’s not a long walk from your school, and you’re halfway there when your phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, your eyes focus on the message lit on the screen.

[ Hyuckie ] : Jaehyun hyung invited me to hang out with the guys at his house. Sorry! Next week, I promise.

You sigh.

It’s not the first time he’s rainchecked you for that group of rambunctious older boys. The first week of school, you were supposed to get ice cream when he suddenly pulled up with those guys in tow. Just last weekend, he had promised to take you roller skating for your birthday, only to cancel when you already had your shoes on.

It’s like he has no time for you anymore.

So with a bitter huff, you send a passive-aggressive response and turn on your heels, trudging the rest of the way home.

When the bell rings, you slip your airpods into your ears and put your hood on. Finally, the day is over. Sadly, it’s only Tuesday so you still have a ways to go before the weekend.

Music rings in your ears as you tread down the halls of your high school, hands tucked into your hoodie pocket. It’s quite hot outside, winter transforming into the buds of spring. Spring and the oncoming heat make it more difficult for you to limit your fashion to hoodies.

When you push open the front building doors, the heat hits you, but you immediately walk toward a little shaded area under a tree near the courtyard. It’s where you always wait for him after school.

As you make your way there, the group of boys leaning against the wall don’t fail to catch your attention. With their brightly coloured hair and dark shaded eyes, it’s hard to miss them.

You have to reject the urge to visibly scoff at their appearance—they don’t even go here anymore, having graduated years ago. Why do they still show up here and hang around like they own the place?

Even if they left the school a while back, they still have a vivid reputation at the school. Though you had never paid attention, there are a few you know. Taeyong, presumably the oldest with his bright red hair and clouded gaze. Johnny, who had quickly been recruited into this group of delinquents upon his transfer from Chicago. Among them are others who you don’t care at all about.

Though their gazes follow you as you walk directly across their line of sight, you ignore them and retreat to your spot. Flopping down, your bottom meets the grass and you lean your head back against the tree. Closing your eyes, music fills your ears as your eyes meet darkness. For a moment, it’s as though you can shut out the world and simply relish in your own company.

High school hasn’t changed you much, but the people around you have changed.

The moment passes soon enough, as you feel a light slap on your thigh causing you to open your eyes. Your gaze lands on the sight of your best friend, who plops down beside you. A gleeful smile spreads across your face as you take your airpod out.

“Mark,” you tsk. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though a smile rests on his face. “Mr. Moon wanted to talk to me about something.”

“What about?”

“Auditioning for the talent show.” You blink, your eyes widening a bit at his revelation. Mr. Moon runs the talent show every year; if Mark had caught his eye, there would be no doubt that he would get in, and maybe even win the show.

“Really? You should!”

“I don’t know,” he says, pursing his lips in thought. “Honestly I don’t think I’d be good enough.”

“Shut up, you will. Besides, it’s your last year, you’ll never know what could have been if you never try.” The thought sobers you a bit: because Mark is a year older than you, his senior year will soon be coming to an end. The idea of spending your final year without your best friend saddens you.

Speaking of what could have been, the same time that Mark shows up, someone else also makes an appearance.

Fleetingly your eyes flicker over the group in the corner. Lee Donghyuck joins the group, his purple hair falling over his eyes as he lets his backpack fall to the floor. You watch, lips pursed as Taeyong hands him a joint, then you turn away.

He doesn’t call himself Donghyuck anymore. Or Hyuck, or your best friend. He’s Haechan now.

“Hello, earth to Y/N,” Mark’s voice rings in your ear.

Shaking your head to rid your thoughts of what could have been, you look to your best friend. Black hair is more appropriate than purple, you decide then. “Hm?”

“I was telling you that I’m leaving, but you zoned out.” You know he has his job, shifting through vinyls at the record store, in twenty minutes. Slowly, you bob your head in a nod.

“Okay… Have fun at work.”

“I will. I work for the rest of the week but we’ll hang out this weekend, okay?” You nod in response. He’s been a bit busy recently, but you don’t worry too much about it. “Promise.”

Your smile must visibly falter a bit, even though you try not to let it show. Mark’s eyes immediately widen slightly—sometimes he forgets how you dislike promises. How they give you a sense of false hope, and how you’d rather not give them space in your heart to do so. “Sorry,” he sounds. He stands and places a hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you.”

Then he leaves, and you pop your music back into your ear. With a soft sigh you look out at the courtyard, at the students leaving and cars moving. Will there ever be anything more than this? You take in the sight: the students running across the yard to their friends, the school doors opening and closing, even the group of boys racketing in the corner of your vision.

Hyuck—or Haechan as he now calls himself, though you find the name to be dumb and pretentious—is the youngest of them all. It all started in freshman year, when he met them and the distance between the two of you grew. His promises had worn thin, and eventually the string of friendship between you ripped apart right before your eyes. You can’t say that you miss him.

Because you don’t miss Haechan, the replacement for the boy you once knew. You miss Hyuck.

Your best friend who snuck over to your house on his bike when you had gotten rejected by Huang Renjun. The person you could always trust to push you on the swings and know your limits.

But that’s not him anymore.

The thought puts a sour taste on your tongue so you turn your eyes away from the cloud surrounding them and close your eyes. You don’t need him anymore. All you need is the music in your ears and the warm sun soaking into your skin.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass, but suddenly the warmth disappears from your skin. Your eyes slide open and there he is, casting a shadow over you. The sun is gone, only cold filling your veins at the sight of the long-legged memory before you and the smell of weed filling your nose. You take your airpods out of your ears, sighing.

Your voice comes out harsher than you intend. “What do you want, Haechan?”

Your use of his name must catch him off guard. You’ve never called him that—even when you drifted apart, like lonely boats without anchors, you always called him Hyuck in your sweetest tone. Now all you reserve for him is indifference.

“Haechan?”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

He blinks, eyes fluttering underneath his lavender fringes. “Oh—” Sheepishly, he nods. It’s unlike the normal persona he employs when walking around school. That Haechan is cocky, flirtatious. “It is.”

You’re not entirely sure what it is that ticks you off. Not him, but the memory of him. “I don’t want any weed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Haechan has the nerve to scoff. “No, that’s not what I’m asking.” You raise your eyebrow at him; he had left you in the dust when he decided to become one with those drug-doing law-breaking fools, yet he has the audacity to stand in front of you now. He takes a deep breath, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark ripped jeans, which definitely don’t fit the school dress code. “I want to ask if you want to hang out?”

“Hang out,” you repeat, eyebrow raised. You could almost scoff from how ridiculous it sounds.

“Yeah.” He nods. His eyes are big, almost sheepish, and for a second he looks like your old Donghyuck. Behind the chains, the hair dye, the eyeliner, and the weed scent, you wonder if he still is. “I promised you I’d take you skating, remember?”

“No, I don’t,” you lie curtly, rising to your feet. Skating, that was over three years ago. It’s upsetting, but something in the way he still remembers this broken promise pushes you to say your next words. “Fine.”

As though he hadn’t expected you to acquiesce so easily, he nods. “How about Saturday? I’ll pick you up at your house? You… you still live in the same place, right?” It’s both humorous and painful that he has to ask.

“Mhm.” You sling your backpack over your shoulder and stare at him. “6PM. Don’t be late. And leave the weed at home. You stink.”

With that, you turn on your heels and make your way home. Behind you, you can hear the group of rambunctious boys yelling, congratulating their youngest.

Saturday comes quicker than normal, and it’s nearing five when you’re still not dressed for your meeting with Haechan.

If it were four years ago, you would have thrown on a t-shirt and called it that. If you were hanging out with Mark, it would have been easy to just put on a hoodie and jeans. But something is different now.

Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as you stand before the mirror.

It’s not… a date, but something in you wants to dress up, to look nice. But why? You don’t own many fashionable items, and it’s not a date. You hold back a self-deprecating groan as you darken your lashes with mascara and slather some lip gloss over your lips. He doesn’t deserve it.

You had expected him to come to your door, but when Haechan pulls up to your house in his very own car, all he does is text you. You had deleted his number years ago. Had he kept your’s all this time? Is your contact name still the same?

Fluttering down the stairs in a pair of jeans and a nicer t-shirt, you have to stop to remind yourself not to get caught up in the moment. This isn’t a date.

“You drive now,” is your first comment as you slip into the passenger seat.

The air is dank, reminiscent of a clear weed smell but it’s masked, as though someone had tried to get rid of it. “You look nice,” he says.

All you say is, “Thanks,” then retire yourself to looking out the window. He drives you to the roller rink, the familiar streets sliding by. The ride is quiet, awkward. Four years ago, the two of you would have been chattering away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, you’re reconsidering why you even agreed to coming here with him. After he parks, you step out and walk ahead toward the entrance of the roller rink. He jogs to catch up with you, and it’s the first time you get a good look at his outfit.

He dons a blue flannel over a white t-shirt and blue skinny jeans. A chain hangs from his belt hook, and another by his neck. His hair is done up, unlike the purple fringe he wore over his eyes earlier in the week. The old Hyuck you knew was a fashion disaster.

“What’s up?” He asks, tucking his hands into his pockets again as the two of you fall into the line. You need something to do with your hands, and suddenly you regret attempting to dress nice; your hoodie was a lot more comfortable.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask suddenly, turning to him.

“I told you,” Haechan responds. “I wanted to hang out. And I made a promise to you that I’d take you skating for your birthday, but I didn’t. I just want to lighten my conscience a bit.”

A laugh almost leaves your lips at this. His conscience?

“Does your conscience ignore the weed and loitering?”

“Loitering? When do I loiter?”

“No, not you.” You shake your head, correcting him. “Your friends. They don’t even go to school anymore, why are they always around? Waiting for you?”

He blinks, then shakes his head. “Taeyong and Doyoung hyung are helping Mr. Moon coordinate the talent show. They have meetings with him after school. Jaehyun hyung teaches a piano class after school and Johnny tags along.”

Somehow, his answers shock you. It’s hard to picture his “friends” helping out at the school. You don’t respond, and clearly he’s less happy than you to talk about his friends because he follows his words with, “Can we not talk about them? I wanted to catch up with you, not talk more about them.”

“Sorry,” you mumble half-heartedly as you approach the booth, grabbing your size in the roller skates. Then, you search for a spot to sit down and put them on. For a few moments before Haechan joins you with his own skates, you think to yourself, is he sincere? He keeps saying it, and you want to believe it. Does your old Hyuck, your best friend exist somewhere in there?

Haechan approaches you, his skates in hand. You’re focused on tying your own, but you manage to scoot over on the bench you’re in to make room for him to sit as well.

But he surprises you.

He kneels, placing his skates on the ground and before you know it, your fingers on the laces are replaced by his as he ties them into a tight knot. You look up to him, but all your eyes fall on is his face, tightened in focused concentration. “What are you…” You start.

When he finishes tying the last lace into a tight bow, he looks up to meet your eyes. “You should tie them tight. Your laces used to always fall out when we were younger.” Then the corner of his lip tips up into a smile, and you can swear your heart races.

It beats out of your chest and you’re suddenly vividly aware of the fact that his face is mere inches away from yours.

But as quickly as the realization hits you, the moment is over.

He pulls away, taking the seat next to you before putting on his own skates. When he finishes, he pulls you up by the hand to the skating area and you let him. Your legs are a little shaky, but he looks over to you with careful eyes. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

It’s not a promise, but it feels like one. Maybe, you decide, it’s okay to let down your walls and be with him. After all, he was, once upon a time, your best friend.

As much as you want to pull away from him, your legs are sliding, about to give out. You grip onto his arm with both hands, trying to keep your balance, and his hearty laugh is heard in your ear. In the midst of his laugh and your attempt to stand straight, your hand slides down to grasp his instead.

By the time you realize this, you’re already sliding halfway across the rink with gentle hesitant laughs on your lips. This is the first time you’ve talked to Donghyuck in years, yet it feels, you realize as your gaze down at your connected hands, as if you’d never stopped.

A couple hours later when you’ve both had more pizza than your stomachs can hold and both your knees are starting to bruise from how you’ve slipped onto them, Donghyuck brings you somewhere else.

Despite the curtain of dark over the town, you know where he’s taken you the moment he pulls into the street.

When he parks and you slide your feet out of the car to meet the grass, you look around and take in the appearance of this old place which hasn’t felt your presence in years. Your old park. Everything still looks the same, as if your late night stargazing sessions had never halted.

You’re still gazing when Donghyuck pulls you by the hand to the playground. “Come on,” he ushers.

“Hyuck, aren’t you a little old for the playground?” You question, not recognizing your slip.

He stops walking altogether and blinks at you, the light of the moon reflecting off his sparkling orbs. “You… You called me Hyuck.”

You hadn’t even noticed it yourself. Pursing your lips, you respond carefully. “Well… it is your name, isn’t it?” Somehow, your gaze finds your interlaced hands. By the time you look back up, you realize Donghyuck was also staring.

A soft smile graces the tips of his lips. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, a short moment, Haechan is forgotten. All that exists at the park with you is Donghyuck, your best friend since age eight when he had pushed you too hard on the swings and caused you to fracture your ankle. You had always blamed it on him in the following years, but it was never his fault.

It was always yours, for not being brave enough.

Even now, Hyuck pushes you on the swings after you give him a pointed look which clearly says, “Not too hard.” The force of his push reminds you how big of a role adrenaline once played in your life. Hyuck was your daily dose of adrenaline, of energy you never knew was missing from your life until it was gone. Now, he’s back again.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourself lying on the grass gazing up at the stars, in a similar situation that your younger selves once experienced. You’re content to sit there staring at the glistening firmament above, but his velvet voice fills the silence between you.

“Is Mark a good best friend?”

His question catches you off guard. It could be a trick of your mind but is that… jealousy you hear in his tone? “Yeah, he is.” You nod, the cold breeze brushing your face. “He’s nice. Understanding… I’m just not looking forward to having to spend the next year without him after he graduates.”

“You don’t have to,” Hyuck replies quickly. You turn to meet his gaze, and find that he’s gazing at you with serious eyes. “You can spend it with me.”

The thought, however hopeful, causes a twinge of doubt to ignite within you. “What about the others?”

“What about them?”

“Are they good best friends?”

Like you, Hyuck takes a long moment to ponder over his answer. “They’re not my best friends,” he finally says when he comes to a conclusion. “They were always just placeholders. Just… people to spend time with.”

“Spend time as in vandalizing, smoking weed, and skipping school?”

He releases a scoff at your response, as though the idea sounded absurd to him as well. “Well… yeah. I guess that’s what it seems like.” You’ve never been the type to do those kinds of things, always too afraid of losing your self control for even a moment, so you ask: “What’s it like? Smoking weed?”

Your inquiry seems to throw him for a loop. You had always been quiet, comfortable living in a box which you knew to be safe. It was always him who had wanted to explore. He turns away from you and instead throws his gaze to the dark sky, though you remain watching him and the way the grass brushes his side profile from where he lays.

“It’s like… searching for something. You don’t quite know what you’re looking for. I don’t know—Nirvana, epiphanies, the meaning of life, or whatever. And for a second,” he pauses, his eyes matching the twinkle of the stars in the sky, but it’s a somber reflection. “When you reach that high, it’s… it’s amazing. It really is. You feel… calm. And relaxed, a bunch of things I’ve never felt before. But when you get used to it, and you come down from that high… it just feels… empty.”

Emptiness isn’t something you’d ever think Hyuck has experienced. In your memories he was always so bright-eyed and lighthearted, filling you up with everything you needed. Had you forgotten how to fill him up? Make him happy? Or, your hopeful heart suddenly asks, are you the emptiness in his heart? When he left you, was that when his heart had begun to feel hollow, as yours had? When had things changed so much, when had the two of you grown up? It seems just like yesterday that you were two little kids with hopes bigger than the world could hold, still playing on the playground.

Suddenly you lurch toward him, closing the space between you to lay shoulder to shoulder. The simple brush of your shoulder on his, a feeling that was once so familiar, speaks volumes to the both of you. “I wish things could go back to the way they were before.”

He sighs, a sound that’s supposed to somehow indicate that your words are easier said than done. “If only life was that easy.”

A thoughtful moment of silence passes over the two of you, the cold night air brushing on your bare arms. Your hoodies often kept you warm, but you don’t have them now. Instead, you have Donghyuck. “Are you cold?” He asks as he notices you shivering at a sudden strong gust of wind. You shake your head, not wanting him to give his flannel to you, but he does something else instead. “C’mere,” is all he says as he scoops you into his arms on the ground and presses your head into his chest.

You start to argue at first but you soon find yourself resting your head on the expanse of his chest. Eyes widened ever so slightly as you try to maintain the erratic beat of your heart, you whine quietly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We used to do this all the time.”

“Yeah,” you scoff gently with a roll of your eyes. “When we were ten and forgot our jackets.”

“Not much difference,” Hyuck responds. Suddenly a teasing tone occupies his voice, almost reminiscent of Haechan’s persona. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

You have the decency to be shocked, hitting his chest softly, playfully. “As if.”

He says things aren’t much different, but they are. Back then, things were simpler and easier. Your best friend was just your best friend. But now, seven years later, he’s a boy and an attractive one—that much you can admit. And, you have a history that makes your heart wrench; you had come to terms with the fact that you would no longer be able to envelope yourself in Hyuck’s bear hugs anymore, that sleepovers with him would be further nonexistent.

Hyuck doesn’t say anything after your hasty response, and it seems like he’s satisfied sitting in the silence with you, but you aren’t. Gently you speak up, “Hyuck.”

“Hmm,” he responds, eyes closed rather than gazing at the star-stricken sky.

“What’s your dream?”

He takes a moment to think about it. A couple seconds pass with his eyes still closed, and you turn your head to gaze up at his contemplative expression with tufts of dark grass tickling his ears. A couple minutes pass like this.

You’re almost convinced he’s fallen asleep right there, so you prod once again. “So?”

Hyuck takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Everyone has a dream,” your brows furrow.

The next words to leave your best friend’s mouth sadden you to no end. His voice is soft but his tone is tired, as if he has all but given up. “I think somewhere along the line I stopped dreaming, wishing for things. It’s not the reality I’ve grown to know.”

By the end of the night, when the two of you arrive at your home, you’re starting to believe that a reconciliation with your best friend is possible. All these years, they were just… a break. A time for the two of you to learn yourselves and meet new people.

As he walks you to your front door, swinging your interlaced pinkies between the two of you, you speak first. The night, however sudden and strange, was nice. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” he quickly replies as he turns to face you though he doesn’t let go of your hand, your pinkies hooked around each other like a little unsaid pledge.

“I really missed you,” you confess. Before tonight you had never allowed yourself to consider how much you missed your best friend, how his absence left a gap in your life. “I want to do it again sometime.”

Hyuck’s eyes widen just a bit, and he blinks as though surprised. “You do?”

Giddily you bite down on your lower lip and nod. “I really do.”

His shocked eyes soften like sweet yellow honey, and he mirrors your smile. Here with the front porch light shining on his tanned skin and some lingering grass strands tangled in his hair, he doesn’t look like the cruel Haechan you’ve seen over your time in high school. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Why are you saying thank you?” you ask, a slight smile on your lips. “It should be me saying thank you.”

“I’m just glad you came along,” he explains, tapping his foot gently against the cement. “Taeyong would have gotten me in trouble if I hadn’t asked you to come.”

You blink. What?

“I’m just really glad you agreed to go out with me today. Even though I had no choice, I think it was really good for us, and I’d love to do it a—”

“Hyuck.”

He stops suddenly, having begun to ramble, and stares at you. “What?”

Anxiety begins to creep into your stomach, building a dark heavy pit. As your breath quickens, coming to your realization, you fall into the dark abyss of that hole. You tear your gaze away from him, your eyebrows forming a tight line as the gears in your head turn.

As he recognizes the way your chest starts to rise and fall rapidly, Hyuck leans toward you. “Y/N, are you—”

“What do you mean, you had no choice?”

“You’re shaking, you should go inside—”

You tear your hand from his, trying your best to control your accelerated breathing. Finally looking back at him, you feel despair begin to bubble inside you. “What the hell do you mean, you had no choice, Donghyuck?”

The look on his face is almost dumbstruck. He opens his mouth but no words come out. He closes it quickly, then parts his lips again after a moment. “I… I thought you knew…”

“Knew what?”

“That Taeyong hyung made me do it.”

If it’s possible for your entire world to crash in the fraction of a moment, it must be this. Suddenly your lungs feel heavy with burden and your eyes water, watching your ill-fated hope shatter before you. You want to scream at him, to yell at him, but you can’t find your voice. By your side, your hand which was once occupied by his, feels awfully, horribly cold.

Hyuck, on the other hand, still looks stupefied that you had no idea. Stuttering over his words, uncharacteristic of him, he continues desperately. “I-I… They know about us, about our friendship, and Taeyong hyung told me to ask you on a date or…or he’d make me deliver his next package. I already got caught once, I couldn’t get caught again! I couldn’t risk it,” he pleads.

Weed. That’s what this is all about.

“It was just for fun, they thought it was funny.”

Your throat feels dry, parched like the desert, and your voice feels like sandpaper as you speak. “I didn’t think it was funny.” A lonesome tear breaks the barrier, sliding down your cheek pitifully before being followed by another.

Clearly startled by the course of the conversation, he desperately reaches out to grab your hand. “Y/N, please let me explain—”

You whip your hand back, his touch making your skin crawl with betrayal.

“You’ve done enough.”

Of all the things he could say, he says the worst. “I thought you heard everything that day, in the courtyard.”

“I…” You start thinking back foggily. “I had my airpods on.” The pained look he wears at his realization of this would have been laughable if your tears weren’t threatening to flow down your cheeks.

All you want to do is run. Run inside, run away from him, run from this night and pretend that nothing had ever happened. But for some reason, your feet are stuck to the cement as though something holds you down. Burden-like weights, holding you down.

“I, I’m sorry,” he beseeches, only making it worse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You want to yell at him, to curse him into the next life for playing with you. For not knowing your character enough to think that for even a second, you’d be okay being a pawn in his game of dealing and dares. For giving you hope, even the slightest burning sliver. But you can’t raise your voice at him. Rather than fury, it’s sadness which erupts in your chest. You cannot find it in yourself to scream. Because he did, he did hurt you.

This must be the emptiness he was talking about.

Any sense of blankness you thought you knew before was nothing to this. As if your heart and mind itself have been ripped out of you, you’re overcome by a horrible, horrible hollowness. Then, looking at his pitiful figure, you realize that you want nothing to do with Lee Donghyuck any longer. Whoever he is, good or bad, best friend or stranger, Haechan or Hyuck, he is no longer important to you.

Wiping your tears against the back of your hand with an indignant sniffle, you scowl at him, but there is no anger, no resentment. Just exhaustion. You’re tired of his lies.

“Leave me alone, Haechan. Leave me alone, and don’t ever bother me again. I can’t believe I—” You stop yourself. You can’t believe you had believed, even for the shortest moment, that things would be okay. No, not with him, nothing would ever be okay. Nothing would ever be true, nothing would ever be pure. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how close you were to falling into him.

All you do is stare once more at his cowardly figure then turn away, hiding your tears which you refuse to let him see. Just as you’re about to turn to disappear into your house however, he reaches for your wrist.

“Y/N, please—”

“Don’t,” you say softly. If he truly is your best friend, if he had ever known you for even a second, he would be able to recognize the pain in your voice, the fragility with which you’re about to break.

But if he was ever your best friend, by now you can never truly know.

For a third and final time, you tug your hand from his touch. “Don’t. I mean it.”

Then you disappear into your home, flying up the stairs to the confusion of your parents, and leave Donghyuck there alone, stranded and in the dark.

There was a reason why you never liked parties growing up, and why you tried avoiding them at all cost, but today is different. Today is for Mark, you have to suck it up and enjoy yourself at least for him. Besides, since hitting twenty three you’ve been trying to “adult” more, and that means putting other people’s desires before your own.

You’re sitting on a couch in the bar, clutching a water bottle when you hear Mark’s voice in your ear. “Hey, you made it!”

Immediately you turn and feel your lips spread into a wide smile at the sight of your best friend looking completely ecstatic. Standing quickly, you collapse into his open arms. He pulls you tightly into a hug and you smile feeling his familiar embrace.

“Hey, you,” you say when you pull away. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, really.”

The beaming smile he wears back at you makes your heart warm. “Thanks, and thanks for coming! I thought you weren’t sure you were going to make it.”

“I cleared my schedule for you,” you admit cheekily.

“Aw, I must be so special,” responds Mark playfully, pulling you in for another quick hug. Mark has just been signed onto a record company as a producer. It’s only his biggest dream ever, and you couldn’t be prouder. His record label had insisted on throwing a party to welcome their newest hire, and from the smile on his face, it seemed like all his dreams had come true.

“But enough about me, how are you?”

With your busy post-college schedule, you’ve had little time to meet your best friend. “Just the usual. Work, eat, sleep.”

“Hey, at least you sleep, I’m up all night, every night working on music.”

“I believe that was your career choice,” you laugh and roll your eyes.

Mark laughs along with you. “I guess you’re right.” He suddenly eyes the water bottle in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re not drinking at my party.”

“I—”

“No excuses! It’s a Saturday night, don’t say you have work tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Sounds like an excuse, you better go to the bar right now and get a drink.”

“I’m—”

“Now!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” You finally acquiesce, rolling your eyes at your friend’s behavior. “Do you want me to grab you something?”

He ponders it momentarily, sitting down in the spot on the couch you occupied earlier. “Just one of what you’re getting,” he says, already making conversation with the other person on the couch, one of his new coworkers.

You make your way over to the bar counter, basically shoving past the numerous people occupying the bar. With the prestige of the company that Mark has just been hired into, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were brushing shoulders with celebrities in your search for the bar.

When you finally find a spot at the crowded counter, you attempt to speak over the music to one of the two bartenders maintaining the counter. Flashing your ID at him, you sound, “Two Negronis, one with light ice!” You’re in the mood for gin tonight. You would have gotten your typical gin on the rocks, but you’re feeling a bit fancy and with the open bar, you’re fine not paying for the extra pizazz of a Negroni.

The one you originally speak to seems occupied but he hears you, nodding at you. As you pull out your phone to wait for your order, you register him calling out to someone, likely the other bartender with him. “Take care of that,” he says, likely referring to your order.

Only a few moments pass of you attempting to type out a text until you hear it.

Though it’s not loud, you hear it. Above the music, above the crowd.

“Y/N?”

Eyes leaving your phone screen, you find yourself face to face, eye to eye, with Lee Donghyuck himself. In front of you on the other side of the bar counter, clad in a dark apron and clutching a tall bottle of gin, with his light brain hair, tendrils falling over his eyes, it’s almost like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Your gaze hasn’t fallen on him in years, not since graduation, watching him walk across the stage. Your jaw visibly tightens.

“Y/N, is that really you?”

“Who else would it be,” you joke tightly, deciding momentarily to play nice for now.

The laugh he shares is almost believable. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been…”

“Five years,” you finish for him.

Astounded, all he does is nod. “Yeah…”

The last thing you want to do is sit here and take part in a tired conversation with Donghyuck of all people, so you make a show of pointing your attention to your phone as you type a couple text messages. He seems to get the hint, and busies himself making your drinks.

Despite the buzzing bar environment around the two of you, there’s no doubt of the tension in the air. The last time you had spoken to Donghyuck, you had demanded that he leave you alone. For the most part, he had complied. But now, five years later, you have to ask yourself, have you forgiven him?

In the past years since your final falling out you’ve somehow learned to manage the emptiness that sprung inside you, yet now seeing him, you feel something other than hollowness, a swallow feeling in your chest. Are you… ready?

Within minutes he slides two glasses across the counter to you, red liquid occupying its volume. As you tuck your phone away into your purse and reach out to grab your two drinks, it’s clear to you that he has something more to say from the way his eyes linger on the glasses.

“What?” You ask.

“Are you…” He starts, eyebrows furrowing as he suddenly pauses, as though thinking over his words. “You got two glasses. Are you… here with someone?”

He’s curious if you’ve found someone. If you’ve brought them here and if they’ve managed to replace the empty space in your heart once occupied by him. You purse your lips, offering a tight smile as you shake your head. “No, one of these is for Mark.”

You’re unsure if the look on his face at your answer is a relieved one, but you’re sure it won’t bring about good things. “Oh,” he says. “That’s… interesting.” What is that supposed to mean? You have no idea, but when you’re about to turn and make your way back to your friend who is surely waiting for you, he speaks up again. “I have my break in thirty minutes. Can we… talk maybe?”

Talk. He wants to talk, but at this point you’ve learned that accepting any offer from Donghyuck will only lead to trouble. What is there to talk about? Will he apologize? You’ve already told him that you don’t want his apologies. Will he try to fix things? Regardless you’re sure that whatever it is, he will attempt to make his way back into your life, your life that you had worked so hard to create without him.

Every atom, every part of you screams at you to reject him.

But perhaps it’s the heavy feeling in your chest that tells you to say yes. You have unsaid words, words you have held within you for years, and now you might finally have the courage to say them.

Cautiously, you nod. “Fine. Thirty minutes?”

He’s visibly relieved at your easy agreement, and bobs his head in response. “Thirty minutes.”

Because you’re made uncomfortable by his gaze you feel the need to thank him for the drinks in your hands. With a slight gulp you hold the glasses up in a slight gesture. “Thank you for the drinks… Haechan.” His name feels foreign on your tongue.

“Oh, it’s just Donghyuck now. I stopped going by that name a long time ago.”

Over the following thirty minutes, barely sipping on your drink, you try to recollect all you’ve ever felt about Lee Donghyuck.

Once upon a time, he was your playground buddy. Pushing you on the swing high above the play area, he showed you the most thrill an eight year old could have. His excitement did lead to your broken ankle of course, but he had carried your backpack for eight weeks after that.

For many years he was the person you considered to be your best friend. The only person you could trust to share secrets with, like how your first kiss was with Huang Renjun of all people and how you were still, after all these years, afraid of the heights that came along with flying high on the swings.

In high school he was almost an enemy to you, someone you disregarded. Someone you had no respect for, with his smoking habits and dyed neon purple hair.

Then, for the shortest moment so fleeting it felt like a blink of an eye, he was someone you wanted. Someone you desired, someone you could have seen a future with not as a best friend but as a… partner. Laying there in the wet grass beneath the stars with your head on his chest and his voice in your ears, you could have accepted him. Could have forgiven all the distance between you and made it work. Could have become one again.

Then in the moment of truth all you could remember was anger and the pain of the betrayal. At that moment you were set on cutting Donghyuck out of your life. You could no longer take his lies, his habit of coming and going as he pleased. You cut him off.

But that didn’t mean he no longer occupied your thoughts.

Now, standing in front of him in a private room somewhere in the bar, you realize you no longer have anger for him. He is just someone who has hurt you, someone who is part of your past. From the way he gazes at you, he wants you in his future.

You’ve long since graduated from your hoodies and leggings. Now you don a dress, comfortable but also dressy enough for the occasion. But just because you’ve grown doesn’t mean you want him to watch you the way he does.

“You look nice,” he starts. Familiarity rings in your mind, and you purse your lips slightly.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” retorts Donghyuck quickly.

“Sometimes it’d be nice to hear a compliment not involving my appearance from you,” you respond almost a bit too harshly.

Taking the loud hint, he quiets and doesn’t continue the topic. Instead he asks, “How are you?”

Unable to control the lilted chuckle that leaves your lips, you raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s what you brought me here for?” There’s no hostility in your tone, yet he winces.

“Well, uh… yeah. I just—we haven’t talked since—”

“Since you broke my heart?”

This seems to be news to him, because his eyes widen ever so slightly, outlined slightly in dark kohl that seems reminiscent of your high school days. “I broke your heart?”

He didn’t know. It’s almost laughable and you could almost be upset at him for not knowing just how strong of an effect he’s had on your entire life, if not for the fact that he looks absolutely pitiful, staring with wide eyes at the damage he’s done. You gulp, and nod tightly. “Yeah, you did.” After a moment, you add, “Tore it to pieces.”

A timeline of silence persists, before he speaks, voice low. “I’m sorry.”

He even sounds it, and from the way he looks, still clad in his apron and standing straight in front of you whilst you’re leaning on the wall, you could believe it. But at this point you’ve learned better than to believe anything that comes out of his mouth. Has he matured? Perhaps, but something tells you that he’s still the same kid you’ve known since the time before you could do long division.

Yet despite this, perhaps to settle the disruptive fire in your heart that has been burning, aching since the moment you turned your back on him, you nod. “I forgive you.”

Still, you continue with a scoff. “You didn’t even know. Didn’t even know that every single relationship, every promise, every smile from anyone since I’ve met you, I’ve had to reconsider. You didn’t even know, probably still don’t, how hard it is to trust someone, anyone. You were my best friend, Hyuck, and you betrayed me. How was that supposed to make me feel? Especially when you didn’t even come find me after that? You just… expected to just get away with it? You thought it’d be easy to just leave and never say anything, never apologize?”

He simply stands there, eyes trained to the ground in what seems to be shame as he takes in your words. You’re not done.

“And to think, I almost thought that things could go back to normal, that we could be friends again. Maybe…” You catch yourself on your words. You had never admitted them out loud. “Maybe even—even…”

His eyes move up to meet yours.

“Maybe even more,” you finally release in a breath.

“More?” The familiar emotion of surprise flashes over his dark ochre stained eyes. “You… you wanted to be with me?”

The truth is, yes. You did. In some way, perhaps you still do. You’ve always wanted him, you’ve always been ready to freefall into him at any moment. But he doesn’t deserve it.

“I really wanted to. But clearly that’s not possible at this point.”

“No—” He runs a ring adorned hand through his dark locks, a contrast from the neon purple you associated with him. Other things you associate with him—sadness, betrayal, lies, yet still stars in a night sky. “Y/N, I… I love you. I’ve always loved you. I meant it when I said you were my only best friend, you’re the only one. Not Taeyong, or Johnny, or Jaehyun, or anyone. It’s always been you.”

He… loved you.

It hits you like a truck because as much as he claims it, he has a horrible way of showing it. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, fuck—I swear. I know I was a horrible friend, and I know I hurt you. Y/N, please, please listen to me. Please believe me.” Suddenly he’s grasping at your hands, beseeching you with pleading eyes. “I’m different, I promise. I’m not that old me, I’m better. I can be better.”

You rip your hands from his grasp.

“I said don’t lie to me! I told you to stop making promises you can’t keep. You’re doing it again, just like always did. You had your chance, and you lost it. You lost me, Hyuck, it’s over.” He stares at you with widened eyes at your sudden outburst, his brows and lips downturned in an expression of sadness. “I was always willing to make things better, I was ready to take you back the moment you stepped in front of me that day at school and forced me to go on a date with you. I never stopped loving you, and you never stopped being my favorite person, Hyuck. But this—” you say, gesturing to the two of you. “—was doomed from the start.”

You sigh, but this time you calm yourself with a breath and grab at his hands, though you had pulled away from him earlier. “It could have been, you and me. We could have been the perfect trope of childhood best friends who fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together, but that was clearly always out of the question for us. And it’s okay, Hyuck. It’s okay. It’s okay that we’ve grown apart, and that you’ve hurt me more times than I can count, and that we won’t be able to fulfill that fantasy. It’s okay, it really is. Please, just… accept it.”

The way he stares at you, the passion that he holds in his eyes causes a yearning feeling to infiltrate your heart. Yet your mind is clear enough for you to discern it’s not him that you miss, it’s the simpler times with him that you long for.

His eyes are pleading when he finally opens his mouth to respond. “You’ve called me Hyuck four times now. That leads me to think that it’s possible. We’re possible, Y/N…”

“I called you that because it’s your name,” you tell him softly, eyes moving down to where your hands are comfortingly rubbing small circles on his skin. He still has the most rough, callused hands you’ve ever felt in your life. “And because I’m going to choose to remember you as Hyuck, my best friend. Not Donghyuck, the kid who pushed me off the swings. Not Haechan, the boy who hurt me. Just Hyuck, my best friend who… made me happy for a really long time, and who will always,” you say with a slight squeeze to his hands. “Always be special to me.”

His eyes are soft as you look back up to find him. “Y/N…”

“I’ve got to go,” you tell him with a small smile. Finally, everything you’ve needed to say for years has been said.

The tears which layer upon his eyes are evident to the both of you, though you choose not to comment on it. You’re his best friend, and you’re about to walk out of his life. The last thing you offer is a comforting squeeze to his hands before you tear away from him, making your way to the door.

“Y/N.”

You stop, not saying anything before his voice pervades through the silence of the room, despite the raucous party outside. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

This time, you really believe him.

You slide the key into the keyhole and unlock the door, twisting the doorknob as you step into your apartment. To no surprise, it’s dark and empty. With a sigh leaving your throat, you slip in and slide off your shoes.

As you make your way through the apartment you flick on the lights you pass to observe your home, before clicking them off to immerse yourself in the temporary darkness again. In the hallway, books and various clutter have been arranged carefully on the shelves. Entering the living room, you take note of the way the couch cushions have been straightened and a folded blanket rests neatly on one of the lounge chairs, awaiting your arrival. A quick glance to the kitchen tells you that the floor’s been mopped and the dishes put away.

A small smile pervades across your face.

Finally, the bedroom.

Your calm, harmonious smile remains present on your face as you slip into the walk in closet, allowing the fabric of your dress to slide off your figure. Instead, you reach for your pajama bottoms and a thin tank top.

After brushing your teeth and clearing your visage of any remaining makeup, you peel off the blanket and glide into the space between the comforter and the mattress. Finally, you’re home.

You’re closing your eyes, ready to fall asleep with a newfound peace, when a hand slides around your waist. Your smile grows wider as you turn in your spot to meet the sleepy face of your fiance, Jaemin.

“Hey,” he hums tiredly.

“Hey. Sorry for waking you,” you respond lightly, pressing a kiss to his nose.

A small shake of his head and a smile is all that’s needed to settle your guilt of waking him. “It’s okay,” he says while pulling you closer to him, gathering you into his chest.

“You cleaned the apartment,” you muse in amazement at him.

The sound which comes out of him is both smug and proud. “I did. And did you have fun?”

You nod. “I did.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice. I… I met Donghyuck.”

This piques his interest. “Oh? Your best friend from high school who broke your heart?”

A pitiful laugh leaves your chest, and you nod once more. “Yeah, that one.”

“Mm, how was that? Do I need to go punch someone, teach him a lesson?” His words intend to sound menacing, but the fatigue in his tone only makes you chuckle.

“No, honey, it’s okay really. I… I told him how I feel.”

“How’d he take it?” He asks, resting his chin upon the crown of your head. He’s more than knowledgeable about your heart wrenching past toward your friend.

“It was difficult for the both of us but I think everything’s okay. Finally.”

You don’t have to look, but you know he’s smiling.

Where Hyuck is a dark night sky of stars, signifying all the possibilities of the universe, Jaemin is the dawn; the sun reappearing after an arduous night to bring you hope. Where Hyuck is a world of lies, Jaemin is your truth.

He had struggled for many years to make you see, to make you forget the scars that your time with Hyuck had inflicted on your heart. Though you had worried for many years that you were unlovable, Jaemin taught you the opposite.

He is the truth, he is all that’s good, and he is yours.

“Yeah, finally. I’m proud of you, honey. Can we sleep now?”

A laugh leaves your lips, and you nod. “Yeah, go back to sleep, love. Goodnight.” With this, he presses a kiss to your forehead. This small touch, the slightest brush of his lips over your skin, causes a world of love and emotion to erupt within your chest.

So, you say proudly, “I love you.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, replying within a second. “I love you too, with everything I am.”

With your entire heart, you believe him. You have no reason to doubt him.

He is your last and final truth.

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

CREEP: I’m a creep

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker and Lexie O’Brien -- Book TRR

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone

I was listening to my iPod on my way home from work yesterday & Radiohead's Creep came on. One of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are great for an angsty Drake fic. It reminds me of him. Could you please write an angsty fic inspired by the song? I love how you write angst!!

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

This is part one of two.

I hope you enjoy it @nestledonthaveone 💕

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC --just for this fic. I’m still picturing Michiel and Valerie when they’ll be older though.

A/N3: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt #105 It's definitely ... interesting.”

Thank you ladies!

WARNINGS: Parental abuse. Eventually some lemons. ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

Tags in the comments.

LEXIE

I’ve always loved sunsets. The entire sky is painted orange and pink, streaking with white light and many other colors; I can’t take my eyes away from it. Sunsets remind us that no matter what is happening in our lives, the sun will be out again tomorrow. It’s raw, beautiful, and comforts me—the thought of the sun watching over me. I sit on my porch, my knees against my chest. I’m wearing a white tank top and jean shorts to fight the intense heat that invades Cordonia in early September. I fix my eyes on the sky, wishing a miracle. Something that takes me away from my father and his new wife. Away from the pain of losing mom.

“What are you doing?” The voice is so resonant, deep, and rasping. Slowly, I sit up and look around, pushing my long, brown hair out of my eyes. I raise my head, and I see him. Drake Walker.

My breath catches, and I cross my arms over my breasts, knowing the thin material of my shirt isn’t keeping me remotely modest. What is he doing here? At this time, no less. I go to school with Drake. We’re both sophomores at Valtoria High School. He’s six foot two, with strong shoulders, and has a knowledge of life in his eyes that boys our age simply don’t possess. We have five classes together, and he sits through them like a statue, his chocolate eyes unreadable. Tall, dark, and angry. Handsome in a hard way that makes the other girls nervous when he walks down the hallways. Not me, though. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stared at him from behind my locker door, breath trapped in my lungs, wondering what he’s thinking of behind his brooding eyes.

“I asked, what are you doing? This isn’t a safe place to be alone at night. You should get inside.”

“Inside is no safer.” Why would I say that? My first time talking with this boy, and I tell him my deepest secret? His eyes narrow at me.“I mean, there’s not a lot of crime in this part of Portavira.” That loosens the tension in his broad shoulders. “I’m looking at the sunset. I love it. It’s so beautiful and wild.” I bit my bottom lip noticing his eyes dip to catch the action.

“It’s definitely ... interesting,” he says, noncommittally. “There are things I like more.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He shrugs but looks back down at me, wrestling with something. He lifts a hand, brushing the very tip of his fingers down my cheekbone. “You,” he rasps.

Drake’s deep brown eyes look at me with something I’m only on the cusp of understanding. Is it…lust? His fingers move down my jaw, traveling slowly over the hollow of my throat to tease one of my tank top’s straps. “I like you. I can’t seem to stop…wanting. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, O’Brien. You don’t know that?” My knees start to tremble. I’ve always wondered how we end up in the same classes every single semester. He’s arranged for it to happen? He…likes me? That much? Say something, dork. Don’t act like it’s not mutual.

As if I haven’t lain my bed after school, when no one is at home and touched myself while thinking of Drake Walker. I must be doing a terrible job of keeping that secret to myself because Drake’s breath begins to grow shallow. “O’Brien.” He drops his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumb rubbing the soft skin of my neck. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I can’t talk, so I shake my head.

“Please,” he groans. “Let me.”

My head is spinning. “Let you what?”

“Kiss you. Finally.” His hands move to cradle my head, making me feel delicate, like something special. His minty breath is close to my ear, setting off an ache low in my belly. “I need to kiss you, O’Brien. I need it.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my lips in the most torturous, exquisite way. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when he puts his soft lips on mine for the first time. My first kiss is an amazing one. He bends his head, and his mouth finds mine with soft pressure. I thought he would be rough or impatient may be clumsy, but I didn’t expect the gentle way his lips caress mine. The way he coaxes my own lips apart before I’m even aware of it. My knees buckle, but he holds me firmly against him. He kisses me as if this wasn’t our first time but our last. It’s the most erotic moment of my life, but all too son Drake leaves my lips. I only feel urgency. Want so deep that it burns inside of me. It has existed between us all along, hasn’t it? Not one-sided. A yearning pull between two people, orbiting each other in the earthly, incongruous setting of school.

Drake opens his mouth to say something, but my name is shouted in the distance. From inside the house. With glittering eyes, Drake drops his hands to his side, though it obviously pains him to do so. He gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. One second later, the back door of my house opens, revealing my father, his imposing frame backlit by the interior.

“Alexis!” I start to tremble; I try to speak, but I can’t. ““What are you doing out here this late?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double-take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Drake’s mouth.

“Handyman?”

“Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Drake’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Liam called you by the way.” Drake can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Empty. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. I’m rich, and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is deepening by the second.

“Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Drake, his tone hard. “Alexis has to study. She is going places.”

I down my gaze to the ground, humiliation burning up my throat. My father is an expert at belittling people, and he’s just done it to Drake. I want to say something to make it better, to defend Drake, but I know I’ll only be making it worse. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to offer Drake an apology. At school. I’ll talk to him then.

“Yes, sir,” Drake responds stiffly, turning on his boots and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Drake glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better than to let anyone see the pain. My father has never been physically abusive, but his temper is getting worse. He hated mom and he’s taking it out on me. As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Drake’s boots walk back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Drake leaves, and that’s when I face the consequences. My father knocks on my door. When I open it, the look on his eyes let me know it’s going to be worse than usual.

“If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I’ll kick you out of this house.” His face is contorted with rage. “Then, I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whisper.

“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt. The only boy you’re allow to date is Liam Rys. No one else.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.” And I pay a good deal of it that night when dad slaps me for the first time. The next day at school, I don’t look at Drake in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting at the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruise on my cheek. On my body and my heart. I could never have predicted he would hate me for it.

Drake

Two years later

I walk past O’Brien in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. Shame, frustration, and resentment have been like a poison inside me, rotting my bones every second of the last two years, ever since that night in her garden when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman. Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me. Good enough to date a rich quarterback like Rys but definitely not a low life like me. Rich, stuck-up brat. What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me with those lips. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I’ve never done with anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and hating her guts for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her spotless sneakers. Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. By tormenting her. That’s the only term for it. I torture her, and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. My jaw is close to shattering as I watch O’Brien calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a masochist because I still trick the school into having the same five classes every year. My aunt Leona works in the front office, and she feels bad for me because of my dad dying and my mom abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me O’Brien’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine. Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in it, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of Rys kneeling to speak with O’Brien where she sits at her desk—cajoling a smile out of her. She refused to date him two years ago, but fucking Liam didn’t get the memo. No one has as much money as his father in this town. If Rys is asking her out again, she’d probably say yes. If I let it get that far, which I won’t. I never do. She’s mine. Only mine.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake x lexie #tw abuse #tw parental trauma

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izusun · 3 years

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ALRIGHT I'M THE ANON WHO SENT THE STRIPPER AU SO IM DUMPING ANOTHER AU THAT I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ONTO YOU (don't ask where it came from lmao)

Basically, quirkless Izuku gets a vibe check early in life when he realizes that his mom is really struggling to survive after his father walked out (no I'm not projecting onto him shut up-). Through middle school he slowly comes to the realization that capitalism sucks actually, especially when you are or are related to someone quirkless.

The sludge villain incident happens relatively as normal, only this time after rescuing Katsuki he fucking snaps at the pro heroes on the scene, then goes home without running into All Might. He does a bunch of research on pro hero scandals, losing that hero fanboy mindset as he goes along, but also does research into vigilantism and pre quirk media, discovering an ancient European pre quirk tale about a figure who robbed the rich and gave it back to the poor and needy.

Now he's on the streets as the vigilante "Robin Hood" who robs corrupt heroes and politicians and then uses that money to preventatively stop crime (donating to homeless shelters, giving it to various community centers for addict recovery programs, etc; he'd also stop any crime he happened to come by on the way to and from heists). He may or may not collect various other teenagers in his band of Merry Men all while Izuku dodges around telling Katsuki what he actually does all day (yes Kaachan's the Maid Marian stand in fight me).

TLDR; Quirkless Izuku becomes the vigilante "Robin Hood" thanks for coming to my TED talk-

- Goblin anon (I'm claiming it now, it's mine)

HI GOBLIN ANON!!! your au dumps in my ask box are always welcomed and loved!! sorry for the late reply hnsnsns, my lectures just ended

quirkless + vigilante midoriya who gave up on the hero system IS my fave trope, i’m not even joking. and this au??? this is just godtier!!

i have a thing for midoriya snapping at the heroes during the sludge villain incident. to set up the mood, i’d like to just unpack that scene for a bit.

ok sure there are many things that probably happened behind the scenes during that incident, such as them calling for more equipped reinforcements to take down the villain, but i think that they should have also done more for bakugou. like at least buy time to ensure he wouldn’t suffocate or, idk, strike a deal with the the sludge villain because their priority shouldn’t have been apprehending him but should have been saving bakugou. so imagine midoriya thinking the same thing i did. the torch he carried for heroes have dwindled over time and this was the breaking point.

imagine him growing up, accepting that sometimes the society just turns its back on you because you’re quirkless. imagine him thinking that there are certain thresholds only the quirked individuals would ever get to cross. imagine him thinking that being a hero really is only for bakugou and not for him. then-

then midoriya sees this powerful and strong individual who he kept looking up to at the hands of the same villain who also almost killed him, choking and panicking because the heroes are not doing anything. he thought that heroes only do nothing when you’re quirkless, but apparently they also do nothing to people like bakugou. bakugou who has a perfect quirk and a smart mind and who’s so so young. bakugou who the heroes aren’t even helping.

and midoriya snaps. he snaps because heroes do nothing to everyone. he thought he was the anomaly because of his pinky toe and everything, but no. the hero system is just fucked up. so as he ran towards bakugou and hurled his bag on the eyes of the villain, he thinks the hero system failed us but i will not. and he thinks i will not be a hero because i do not want to be like them. and he thinks i am here.

and so he saves bakugou and the heroes berate him for-? for what? for doing their jobs? he laughs maniacally and goes off. he spills his anger, spills the way it took a puny, quirkless middle school boy to save the day, and people are watching. people are watching the way he is screaming and opening his heart and pouring and pouring everything he never would have said, and the heroes are silent. they are silent as they listened. all of the them were.

people filmed this exchange, posted the videos they took online and then even more people listened to him. and midoriya sees this huge response and support; he sees the way people agreed with him so it helped him push his plans forward.

and so he does many many research and opens up several cases against slimy heroes and billionaires, and boom, he’s japan’s robin hood.

OK BUT we can’t have vigilante midoriya without dadzawa. LOVE ME SOME DADZAWA. and maybe parental tsukauchi because i love these two just trying to help this little vigilante who is too angry at the world who failed him, but never fighting the world back. they care for their little vigilante who shouldn’t be awake at the crack of dawn, busting out villain groups upon villain groups on his own. they care for their little vigilante who is becoming too popular.

so popular that even villains are looking for him. and maybe there would be an altercation between the LoV and midoriya, and who else would save him if not for dadzawa (and tsukauchi)?

also i’d like to imagine that bakugou too was moved by midoriya’s explosion of a speech. he’s taken aback and goes “huh, he’s right.” so he tries bridging their relationship back and midoriya always loved his friend so he accepts AS LONG AS bakugou does not cross him. because even if the hero system failed midoriya, as long as bakugou, who’s willing to change, still wants to become a hero, then there is hope in changing the hero system from the inside. to reshape it to how it should be.

and so bakugou enters UA and is more open (he’s in therapy) to everyone compared to canon (although not as much, still), and almost has a heart attack when aizawa pulled him aside one day, in the middle of the term, and asked if he knew who robin hood is. of course bakugou’s a master liar so he says no but aizawa is squinting his eyes at him.

also imagine: midoriya recruiting shinsou (they’re apparently from the same help group and they met up one night when midoriya saved shinsou from middle school bullies who cornered him and berated him even if he’s already in UA) and bakugou accidentally recruiting hatsume because she saw that someone changed some of his hero gear and she wanted to meet the smart genius who did it (it’s midoriya).

so midoriya’s circle grew from bakugou to now with the addition of aizawa, tsukauchi, hatsume, and shinsou.

(it probably would expand more because midoriya would stumble on this juicy information about the number 02 hero, endeavour but that’s for next time!)

AHHH ok i’m gonna cut it here because it’s getting too long BUT I LOVE LOVE THIS dhaksjwk

THANK YOU SO MUCH, GOBLIN!!!

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lilallama · 3 years

Note

Okay but I was thinking how would the cooking club be with a mc that is actually royalty from another country? Like she got enrolled not only cuz a special student but also she’s a Princess from another country? I feel like Seokjin and Taehyung would lose their shit😂❤️ (And for Jungkook and Yoongi you can say she grew up a few years in Korea to learn the culture and language before she had to go back)

Holy shit- The boys would be shocked but not surprised. I mean, Y/n already looks like royalty so it makes sense.

True to what you said, Seokjin would flip out. It makes so much sense! He doesn't call you Prince/Princess for no reason. But he would probably fall for you even more after fonding out about your status. He's already picturing Y/n and himself as the royal couple. If anyone will marry you, it'll be him. Have you seen Kim Seokjin? He's well educated, well-mannered (debatable), gorgeous, of good heritage and already looks like a god dang Prince. He would blend in with royalty, no questions asked. Also beggs you to let him accompany you to a ball or something.

Taehyung would be speechless.... Of course.. it all makes sense now. Y/n, his angel, is truly royalty. You know how Taehyung usually worships the ground you walk on, yeah multiply that by 5. He absolutely adores your country, your family, your traditions and makes sure to follow them all. He will make everyone in school aware of the fact that you're royalty. If they don't bow to you he will mske them.... by probably smashing their kneecaps in with a baseball bat, behind the school building, later that day.

Oop- there it goes. Yoongi's last hopes and dreams just flew off, to never return again. He already thought he didn't have a chance with you before knowing you're a fucking Disney Princess/Prince. Needless to say, it didn't help his confidence. Now he's even more aware of your differences. You're a entirely different class than him, a whole different standard and view of life. He can give you nothing. He's poor, his mom's a alcoholic and his dad left him when he was not even born. He doesn't believe you'd ever even give him a second look. It's torture for him, but the other boys enjoy it fully. Now he stands no chance of ever confessing, he's no longer a threat. RIP Min Yoongi - he realised that a Prince/Princess stood up for him when he got bullied and bought him ice cream.

Welp... this is awkward... Namjoon already knew. This man is intelligent as can be. His hobby is literally studying and stalking Y/n. What do you expect? He knew and thought the others did too. But turns out, thecothers were furious at him. His back is still littered with bruises after they hit him bloody. He didn't mean to hide it from them but rules are rules. He witheld important information concerning Y/n, that is a tremendous crime. But he doesn't view Y/n any different. They're wonderful either way!

Hoseok was absolutely pissed. Especially after what Namjoon had done. Knowing that Y/n is literal ROYALTY made everything more complicated. They would now have to learn the required etiquette and their language and culture. It was all different and new, he despised that. You being royalty means that he cannot separate you from your country or culture or family. Their original plan of kidnapping you being their new roommate can now be scrapped. Imagine a member of the royal family getting abducted. That'd be a huge mess and they'd 100% be found out. Hoseok really wished you would've grown up like Yoongi. It'd make everything easier. You'd probably jump at the opportunity to be with rich, handsome men who love you dearly. But oh well.

Excuse you? What? You're saying that he - Jeon Jeongguk, the son of a serial killer - was childhood best friend with the crown Prince/Princess of c/n? Well damn... He really didn't care for royalty untill he found out you were royalty. Let me tell you, he does not know a single thing about your country, your culture or your family, but he knows everything about you. And he really doesn't care for anyone or anything but you. Plus, he hates your family. They tore you away from him because of his father. How dare they!? He then thinks about Romeo and Juliet. Perfect! He'll fake your death and his suicide and then run away with you! It's perfect!

Jimin fainted. It was too much for him. It's as if you already know his fantasies and dreams and make them all come true. He daydreamed about marrying a Prince or Princess from an early age on. Prince Philip just awoke something within him. And then you appeared, his knight in shining armour. His one true love! He felt like Cinderella. A rich, spoiled, privileged Cinderella. If you ever let him visit your castle, hood luck getting him out again. He's in love and will keep you with him there. Of course he daydreams about being your spouse, your Prince. How wonderful. His family now 1001% supports his obsession.

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere yoongi #yandere jin #yandere hoseok #yandere suga #yandere rm #yandere jhope #yandere v

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henoda4 · 3 years

Text

--Just a little ficlet I had rolling around in my brain after the latest manga chapter. Can be read as platonic or romantic bkdk. Hopefully not too OOC, and probably some grammatical errors. Enjoy!--

* Manga spoilers- for those not caught up to chapter 317, ye' be warned!*

Finding that which is Lost:

It's been days, multiple infuriating days of searching, flying over rooftops and zigzagging through desolate alley ways and getting mostly useless information from the occasional civilian. Bakugou was pissed, hell he'd been pissed since he'd woken up in a hospital only to find out Deku was still unconscious, and then later to a goddamn letter and a nerd who'd gone off to fuck-knows-where. Uraraka had tried to tell him that he was probably just scared more so than angry, that they all were. Naturally he told her to shove it. But more than anything he'd been pissed from the moment that All Might walked right back into the UA dorms, fucking months later, looking absolutely miserable and terrified. The former Pro Hero had barely gotten the explanation out of what he and Deku had been up to before he'd straight up slugged the man. Deku left All Might behind? Deku's pushing everyone away? What the fuck does that even mean? Godammit, didn't he warn the damn nerd not to do this shit?! All Might at least had the decency to look apologetic, as if he knew he deserved the hit.

As he moves the buildings start to blur a bit and he recalls a memory from the recesses of his mind. He and Deku had been very little, he doesn't recall how old exactly, he just knew it was at some point before he had driven a wedge between their friendship, and it was the first time both of their families had gone on a camping trip. The two children had wandered away from the campsite for a bit to explore. He recalls several minutes passing and him and Deku getting separated, and even though /he/ wasn't scared of anything in the woods, he wanted to keep Deku close, you know, just in case, poor nerd would probably bawl his eyes out without him. Sure enough after a few minutes of searching he heard loud sobs and found the green haired boy crouched underneath a tree, his knees all scratched up from taking a tumble. Deku's green eyes lit up in relief upon seeing him and his little heart swelled at the reaction.

"Kacchan!"

"Stupid Izuku! I told you to stay with me!"

"I know, I'm sorry Kacchan, I guess I got lost."

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah-"

"Well, come on then!"

He grabbed Deku's hand and yanked him upright, then practically pulled him along behind him.

He put on his best All Might voice impression, "It's okay now, ya' know why? Because I'm here so you're not lost anymore. Let's go back Izuku!"

If he'd turned behind him, he'd have seen the beaming smile aimed his way.

But all he heard was the small, "Thanks, Kacchan."

Back in the present moment, Bakugou was snapped out of his memory by a blur of green, and he abruptly came to a halt on a rooftop. Looking over the edge, he saw down to the street below where there was another flash of green and just as suddenly a figure stepped out, their silhouette half covered in shadows. His eyes widened, he was far away, so he couldn't be sure. But that lightning, the black-green tendrils that trailed the figure, it had to be...it couldn't be. He leapt ahead to the next building over making sure never to lose sight of the ground below, and then jumped down the side to stay out of the figure's line of vision. He silently thanked Hatsume for the upgrades to his gauntlets that rendered them way quieter than usual. As he peaked around the corner he saw the figure walk close to the sides of the building heading his direction. Suddenly their head came under a direct beam of light from a street lamp, and he felt his whole body freeze from the inside out.

The person in front of him, was unmistakably Deku. The teal jumpsuit, worn and disgustingly dirty and covered in various degrees of drying blood, his leg bracers ripped to shreds, those ridiculous bunny ears frayed, and those red shoes that he would recognize anywhere. It was Deku, but not Deku as he had named him, a useless person, incapable of doing anything, and not Deku as the boy himself had taken the meaning, a person capable of anything, full of unlimited promise. No this was Deku as in a doll, a mere foreboding vessel of power and purpose. There was nothing in those green eyes, glowing but soulless. It was Deku, but it was no longer the Deku he knew, and it definitely wasn't Midoriya Izuku.

"I know you're there. Although if you're not here to attack me, then what is your purpose?"

Bakugou flinched at the voice, momentarily having forgotten about "Danger sense", All Might had tried to explain before, but he'd been a little too preoccupied planning how to get around the security at UA to go after Deku to pay close attention to the details.

He figured to hell with it and stepped out into Deku's line of view.

"What the hell do you think I'm here for Deku?"

Now Deku froze, his head raising slightly. His voice came out quiet and hesitant, completely unfitting the ominous aura his appearance gave off.

"Kacchan? Is that really you?"

"Who the fuck else would it be?"

To his surprise Deku started approaching him again, the tendrils of black whip receding and the lightning dimming to nothing. When he was close enough he yanked his hood down, and Bakugou got an up close look at the grime and blood caked on his face, the sunken eyes and black bags of sleep deprivation.

"What the fuck happened to you Deku?"

The green haired boy seemed nearly ready to collapse, as if he was standing upright on sheer willpower and adrenaline alone. Bakugou fought the urge to grab him and throttle him, as fragile as he seemed at the moment, like a breathe would knock him over. Instead it was Deku who grabbed him by the arm as if he couldn't believe his eyes alone, and needed the physical confirmation of his presence.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was worried... after you, you know."

Bakugou felt his anger boil back to the surface.

"Worried about me?! What the fuck?! Worry about yourself for fucking once! Do you have any idea how upset everyone was when you took off after nearly dying, and then left only a fucking letter! How worried sick your mom is?! How scared your fucking shitty friends are?!"

He didn't realize he was shaking until he felt Deku's hand slide down his arm slightly.

"I'm sorry Kacchan, I know I should've talked to you in person. But I had to go, and if I had waited, you would have tried to stop me."

"DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE!"

Silence.

"I told you not to do this shit on your own Deku, I told you not to play the hero on your own. Do you not think I'm strong enough to help you?! Are you actually fucking looking down on me this time?!"

"No, of course not! I told you I've never looked down on you. I just....I can't see you get hurt for me again. I can't risk anyone getting hurt again because of me, because I couldn't do anything to protect them....I can't let that happen! I have to do this on my own. OFA was given to me so I could-"

"You're such a fucking idiot. You think you can take down every fucking villain on your own? Take down AFO on your own?"

The little shit had the nerve to smile awkwardly at him, "I've managed fine so far."

Bakugou yanked his arm out of Deku's grasp, and gestured at his whole body.

"This! This is not fine! You're barely standing, you're covered in blood and you look like you haven't slept in weeks. When's the last time you fucking ate? You can't keep this up Deku, even in his prime All Might didn't handle shit like this. And I know I said some real shitty stuff in the past about you being quirkless, but you are more than just OFA's vessel. You were the one to fucking get that through my head.. that we are more than just our quirks. So what the hell?"

"I-"

"Just let me help you Deku."

"But Kacc-"

"Dammit! It took me years to understand that you genuinely wanted to help me not because you thought I was weak, but just because you're a natural born hero and you care about me or some shit. Just..just let me return the favor for once. You don't have to do this alone."

He turned his head away uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of how inept he was at expressing himself in these delicate situations. How was he supposed to get through to Deku? Would this be enough? The nerd always seemed to be able to read him like a book, he hoped that proved to be the case now.

"Ka-"

He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. He was running out of options, aside from pummeling the nerd into submission. But for once he wanted to chose a different option.

"Please Izuku." He lifted his gaze to meet his child hood friend's. A silent plea hanging in the air.

In the span of seconds that felt like an eternity they kept eye contact and Deku seemed like he was trying to find something in that contact, like a promise, or a confirmation, whatever it was, he finally sighed and lowered his gaze to the ground.

It was barely a whisper.

"Okay."

Bakugou let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Can you walk nerd?" He extended his hand out to the green haired teen who took it right away. He tightened his grip immediately.

"Yeah, but I'm a little sleepy-"

Before Deku could finish, and without a word Bakugou yanked the other teen towards himself and lifted him up. The teen seemed surprisingly small and light in his arms, a far cry from the monstrous visage he painted when they first crossed paths several minutes ago.

As he walked down the blocks and could feel the tension leave Deku's body as his form went slack, he gazed down to see the nerd's eyes slowly closing, he must be exhausted. He kept walking down the vacant streets, on alert for any potential threats, the nerd's weight a comforting presence in his arms. He assumed the other teen was already unconscious .

He briefly gazed up and saw the stars through the gaps between the building silhouettes, he thought back again to that time in the forest as kids.

He whispered in the dark, "It's okay now, ya' know why? Because I'm here so you're not lost anymore. Let's go back."

If he had looked down a second time he would have seen the subtle but content smile aimed at him. But all he heard was the small, "Thanks, Kacchan." before the teen fell asleep in his arms.

#bkdk #platonic bkdk #bkdk fic #bnha bkdk #bnha #mha bkdk #bnha angst #bnha spoilers #bnha 317

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sparklingchan · 4 years

Text

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.

"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.

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runrundoyourstuff · 4 years

Text

Seasons

(A Steven Universe Fic, 2632 words)

Written with love for a holiday exchange with the wonderful @mimik-u !

Prompt: Steven teaches one of the Diamonds about something beautifully mundane (a la Peridot learning about rain.)

It’s almost comical how the Dondai pales in size when compared to the Arm Ship—and the magnitude of the difference only grows as Steven descends the ridge. There are some items, both of human and Gem origin, that seemed larger when he was smaller—when he was younger—when everything mysterious in the world, every new thing he learned about himself, filled him with wonder. The Diamond ships, however, are not among these items. They’re as large now as they always seemed to him, if not quite as foreboding. As are the Diamonds themselves, and he is reminded of this, as Yellow disembarks from her spacecraft.

She doesn’t see him right away. Or if she does notice the car, she doesn’t have the frame of reference to recognize it as his, and even after he parks it beside the ship and gets out, it’s several moments before she turns around and acknowledges him standing there.

“Steven!”

“Hey, Yellow.”

“When I called, I hadn’t realized…” She sputters. “Your...your family returned my message to inform me that you were leaving on a conquest—”

“A conquest?”

“Yes, they said that you were going to travel—”

“Yeah, but not on a conquest!”

“Of course, of course, a scouting mission, then—”

“No! Nothing like that! Just a trip! I just...needed to hit the road for a while. Figure out what’s next.”

“I...right, of course. Your—I mean, the Pearl said that you would be taking a hiatus from your Diamond duties…”

At this, Steven chuckles. “Pearl wants me to.” But then he becomes serious. “I shouldn’t laugh. She’s trying to make sure that I take care of myself. She—all of them really, want to make sure I know that I don’t have to be involved in any Gem stuff if I don’t want to. That it’s my choice. And ya know, it’s true that I don’t want it to be my whole life, not like it was when I was a kid. And because there’s no hierarchy anymore, I do want to give other Gems a chance to manage things on Earth if they want to—to show them it doesn’t always have to be a Diamond, and I’m not a Diamond anyway—but I do want to be involved, ya know? Or at least know what’s going on! I put so much work into everything, and not all of it was bad. I was really proud of a lot of what we did, and the Gems are my family…” A pause. “Anyway, that’s all to say that I routed some of the messages from the Base to my phone.”

“I see. I…” She pauses. “I didn’t intend...You did not need to come. I merely called because I didn’t want to catch you off guard. Give your...our...Given my history, I thought if I showed up on your planet unannounced—”

“It’s not my planet.”

“No, of course not. I meant the planet on which you reside. I’ve already...I did not intend to make you feel that…that you needed to come fix—”

Steven raises a hand. “I know. I just happened to be in the area, so I thought I’d stop by. Say hi.”

“Ah. Alright.” The silence resounds. Yellow’s eyes flit away.

“So,” Steven says after a moment—looking for something, anything, to cut through the quiet. “Why Zona?”

“Is that what this place is called?” Yellow glances around. “I needed an area of the Earth where I would cause the least disruptions, where I could dig a sufficiently large hole such that I could access the Cluster. I initially planned on going to one of the Kindergartens, as we’d already irrevocably destroyed all hope of organic life thriving there—I thought I could minimize the destruction. But each already has a fairly extensive subterranean framework that makes it impossible for me to dig deep enough.” She sighs. “I realize this place isn’t perfect. My digging will certainly disrupt some of the plant life. But it appeared at least that there were few humans in the vicinity…”

“Mm.” Steven leads against the hood of his car. “I’m surprised you brought your ship out here and didn’t just Warp. We’re not that far from the Beta Kindergarten, and there’s a Warp there...”

“Those Warps weren’t built for us. We’re much too large.”

“I guess that’s true, but you could always shapeshift.”

“Hmm. I suppose. But there was also the equipment to bring.”

“Equipment?”

“Yes, I...There are...billions of shards in the Cluster. I figured...if I am going to dismantle it and reconstruct each of the Gems whose shards it conatiend, it would likely be easier for me to do it on Earth, rather than bringing all the Shards back to Homeworld. I don’t want to risk losing any of them or damaging any of them even further in transit…And while I may need to ultimately to transport some of them back to Homeworld to locate all the pieces, and though it may be disconcerting for the other Gems to reform on Earth...I…” She leaves the syllable hanging in the air, turns her head away. Steven can just barely make out her tense jaw as though she is gritting her teeth. Sparks radiate from her skin.

“Yellow? Are you...okay?”

“I’m fine!” But then she bows her head, inhales and releases, murmurs: “I apologize, Steven. I am not angry with you. I simply…It has been difficult enough for me to face each of the Gems I have reconstructed on Homeworld. Once they recover from the shock and the terror, they have each looked at me with such disdain. And those Fusion experiments, while they were certainly terrible, pale in comparison to the Cluster. I can only imagine what each of the Gem’s contained within it will feel. And I will deserve it. I hurt so many Gems in the service of the Empire.”

Steven opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Yellow continues, speaking ever rapidly, ever louder, as though desperate to expel the words. “Do not try to assuage my guilty conscience! That...is not your responsibility. I shouldn’t have just put you in a position to think that it was.”

Another tentative backpedaling, Steven thinks. A walking on eggshells moment, like he’s witnessed with the Gems and Dad over the past several months. And difficult though it is for him to sometimes believe, it’s not as though Yellow is wrong, at least not if he trusts his therapist. But there is a distant look in her eye, a panicked tension in her cheeks, which, when coupled with the fact that this is the first time he’s seen her since his breakdown, makes Steven wonder if she is remembering that day on the beach.

His own memories of it are fuzzy-to-nonexistant; he remembers the pain, and the panic, and the anger he’d held despite knowing that he shouldn't. Then, he has a vague impression of multiple embraces, of Connie kissing his forehead, of crying hot, cathartic tears...And then he’d woken up in the Cluster’s hand, with the eyes of most of the people he loved and almost everyone he’d ever fought all on him.

Despite his own lack of recollection, however, Connie assures him that she’d given everyone—the Diamonds included—something of a blunt talking to that day, a rallying speech, but she won’t elaborate on the specifics of what exactly she’d said. Might that—whatever its contents— be behind Yellow’s hasty assurances now?

“Okay,” Steven responds finally. “I won’t try to make you feel less guilty. But can I show you something?”

Yellow furrows her eyebrows. “Very well.”

“It’s just on the top of the canyon.”

They deliberate for a few moments on the details. Yellow offers to carry him, but even if she’s not White, Steven declines being held in a Diamond’s hand, and while she could shapeshift to fit in the passenger seat of the Dondai, she ultimately elects to simply follow behind the car as Steven slowly drives it up the cliff.

They reach the plateau just as the sun begins to dip in the horizon, casting a golden glow over the grass, over the Autumn leaves, just starting to paint themselves with the vibrant shades that return year after year.

Steven opens the door and steps out. “You never spent much time on Earth, did you?”

Yellow considers. “No.”

“Do you know what I think my mom fell in love with about this planet?”

“Organic life, of course. Humans.” She gestures to Steven. “Obviously.”

“Well, yeah, but not just them. Us. I think it was this stuff too.”

Yellow squints. “These weeds?! These...dying outgrowths?!”

“With things that change. Things that grow. There’s so much of it here.”

“Hm.”

Steven paces over to the grass, then sinks down onto it so that it brushes against his bare calves. It’s mostly soft on his skin but there are dryer patches too, scratchier places on the ground as some of the longer areas start to dry out for the season. The sun dips lower in the sky, and it leaks hues of pink and orange onto the daytime canvas of darkening blue. Yellow looms behind him.

“Feel this.” He pats the ground next to him, and tries not to wince as Yellow’s gargantuan hand settles down on the grass. “You might not be able to tell, but it’s growing. Even right now. By the time the snow—frozen water that falls from the sky—starts to cover it in a few months, it’ll probably be a few inches taller than it is right now. And then it’ll take a break for a while, but when Spring comes next year—when the weather gets warmer again—it’ll start again.

“The trees too. Look out there—they grow taller every year, and every year the leaves change into those beautiful colors you can see. And the shades are similar every year, but never exactly the same. Then the leaves fall off, and then bud again and come back. And the trees keep getting taller. And every time the leaves return, the whole tree is a little bit different too.”

Yellow hesitates. “These are familiar to me. Someone, I believe a Peridot—your Peridot—”

“She’s not my Peridot, but I know who you mean.”

“Yes...Well, she brought some of these...trees...from Earth to Homeworld, and determined how best to make them grow there. I’ve been gazing at them through the windows of the palace ever since, but I hadn’t realized how elaborate, how ever-present, their growth cycles were…”

“I’ve lived on Earth my whole life, and I only just started thinking about it recently. It’s easy to take for granted, but it’s really incredible when you stop to think about it.” He angles his head upward. “And it’s not just the plants. Look at the sky. It changes like this every day.” A pause. “Well, it’s really not the sky that’s changing—Connie told me that it’s an effect of how the planet moves around our sun. But from down here on Earth, it looks like it’s always changing. In a different way every day. I don’t think it’s like that on Homeworld.”

Yellow settles next to him at last, squatting, and then kneeling. “It isn’t. Things are constructed on Homeworld—not grown. We have a sun, but our sky does not transform like this.”

“Exactly. And I think that’s why my mom fell in love with the Earth so much. She was so in awe of how everything naturally grew and changed here.” Steven sighs, clenches him gemstone beneath his hand. “I’m still angry at her a lot of the time, but, like, I get it. She saw herself as this monster.” Here Steven pauses, glances away for a moment before finally letting the words return. “And she didn’t think that she was capable of growth or change. All she thought she could do was pretend to be someone else. And then she found herself on this planet where all anything did was grow for real, and she wanted to be a part of that even in some small way, so she made me.”

“Steven…”

“But the point is, she was wrong. She could have grown as herself. I think she did, even if she couldn’t see it. And she and I aren't the only Gems that grew. All of my friends and family have. None of us is the same as we were when I was a kid. Maybe it just took coming to Earth to see that, ya know? Gems can grow and change, just like the trees can, and the grass, and the sky.

“So yeah,” Steven continues. “White hurt you, and you hurt Mom, and Mom hurt Pearl and Garnet and Amethyst and Spinel and you, and everyone she hurt hurt me, and I hurt Jasper and Dad and a lot of people and could have hurt a lot more, and you hurt all the Gems who were corrupted, and who became the Fusion experiments and the Cluster...and that’s all true, and we all have to deal with that and make the things we did wrong right the best that we can. And it’s hard, and it sucks. But the ways we’ve been hurt and hurt other people aren’t all we are. We can grow and change too. As ourselves. I think the Earth is just one big reminder of that.”

Yellow’s brows are once again furrowed, her jaw agape. “I…”

“So, yeah, it’s going to be hard to face all the Gems in the Cluster as you put them all back together. But it’s the right thing to do. And if it ever becomes too much, you can always come up here, and watch the world change and grow to remind yourself that you’re growing too. You’re better than you were, and if you keep working at it, you’ll keep getting better.”

Then, without waiting for Yellow to respond, Steven stands, walks back over to the Dondai. “Now, I gotta hit the road. I want to get to Vegas by tomorrow. It was nice to see you, Yellow.”

“You as well, Steven.” Yellow rises to her feet.

“Good luck,” he calls out the window as he pulls away, and glancing in the rearview mirror, he sees Yellow’s arm raised in farewell, something like a small, apprehensive smile on her lips.

Six months later, after a sojourn up and down the West Coast, Steven returns to the ridge en route back to Beach City for a visit. He pulls up just as the sun is rising over the canyon, glinting off Yellow’s arm ship, and off of the chest and arms and backs of the little gaggle of Gems gathered next to the ship and the adjacent hole. Yellow is not among them, though. She stands on the crest of the cliff, gazing at the trees, at the little buds beginning to spring into being on each branch.

“Steven.” She turns to him in greeting as he gets out of the car.

“You’ve been busy!”

“Yes, we’re progressing nicely.”

“We?”

Yellow nods. “Some of the Gems I reconstructed from the Cluster decided to remain here to help. Then others in Little Homeworld—and even a few on Homeworld itself—learned about what we were doing, and traveled here to volunteer.” She pauses. “They’re here for the sake of the Gems inside the Cluster, not for me. Still, it is nice not to be alone.”

“Mm.”

Yellow turns from the trees to the canyon, in the direction of the rising sun. The growing orange light catches her Gemstone too, and it glimmers in it. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Yeah,” Steven says. “It is.”

[ao3]

#my fic #su #yellow diamond #steven universe #the cluster

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

The Fine Line | Juyeon (The Boyz Imagine)

Requested! Prince Juyeon! au x Royal Guard! Reader.

In which you’re stuck with the most disorderly prince of Nuine, Juyeon.

To anon: this fic took me so long to write and I am so sorry for being so late. BUT i hope that you like the end result and that I made your idea justice! Please do let me know :) <3 Stay safe and stay healthy <3 xx Thanks so much for requesting!

Genre: fluff, crack-ish? Just all the good stuff.

---------

"Your Highness ,no."

"Come on Y/N, don't you want to try a teeny tiny piece?"

"I said no."

"Ah come on! It's just a bite!"

"No."

Juyeon finally threw both hands in the air with exaggerated exasperation, "you're really no fun."

"I'm not on duty to have fun, if I might remind you," Y/N snapped, barely keeping hold of her neutral facade when the prince kept acting in such a foolish manner, definitely not like how royalty should behave and yet, the king had stuck her with their youngest son, Juyeon, who knew nothing of royal pride nor did he care about where his family came from.

That wasn't what unnerved her though. What did was the fact that Juyeon thought he was free to do as he pleased, whenever he pleased, and it didn't matter whether he was prince or not. That, in itself, was a motto than did not run smoothly in Y/N's mind.

She was a proud soldier, one that had climbed through the ranks at lightning speed because of her amazing dexterity and talent in wielding weapons as though they were water and she was mother nature.

But she hadn't signed up for this, a.k.a babysitting the most irresponsible royal family member of Nuine.

Except -- she kinda liked him.

And not just as a friend, or a mere man.

She really liked him, and that only fuelled her hatred. Why would she like such an incompetent man in the first place? It must be the hormones! At least, that was what she had come to the conclusion, before realizing that there was much more to this little crush than she thought there was.

Juyeon sat on the ground of the royal garden, legs crossed as he observed her with alert eyes, "do you ever smile?"

Y/N didn't bother answering him. Though she had a huge urge to just roll her eyes.

"I don't get it. You were so happy and nice when we were young," his orbs were calculating, deep with thought as he surveyed her as though she was a book he couldn't quite decipher, "what happened to you?"

"Life happened. Not everyone gets to spend their days doing nothing like you."

The heat of his gaze did nothing to help, and she found strength in her feet to stop herself from squirming.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, the prince tilted his head in curiosity, no trace of offence whatsoever on his face despite her harsh reply.

"What?" She barked.

“Did I do something to you?”

“Huh?”

Juyeon tilted his head to the other side, “what did I do for you to be so pissed that you have this permanent grudge against me?”

“I don’t have a grudge,” she huffed.

“Okay so, why then?”

"Just because, Juyeon. Not everything I do needs to have a reason.”

He puffed up his cheeks like a blowfish, “Jeez, you’re really mean Y/N. I just wanted to be friendly, make conversation you know?”

It might have been true that during their childhood, Y/N and Juyeon had been very close, practically attached at the hip even. Because of her father being appointed head of the Royal Guards serving the Majesty of Nuine, Y/N was always around roaming the halls and lifting weapons much too heavy for her spaghetti arms. But her interest had been there since her young age, her passion for fighting and the natural talent that came with weapon wielding a skill that her family had recognized very early on.

So it was no surprise that she got enrolled in the nearest soldier academy despite her mother’s protests, following right into her father’s footsteps and gladly acing all midterm tests with flying colours.

Everything changed one dark night, when her father died.

After that, Y/N had never really been the same. Did she blame the Royal Family for his death? Not really, it was in their job description after all.

But did she resent Juyeon for having lived a sheltered life all his life? Maybe so.

It was selfish of her. Though, it wasn’t like she could control herself.

A few days later found the pair in the middle of Nuine's street food market, with Juyeon craning his neck in curiosity over the multitudes of heads inclined towards a stall in particular.

Y/N tugged on his shirt sleeve, "your majesty, I think we should go."

"Oh but wait, this is the best part," Juyeon insisted without peeling his eyes away from the said cook behind the stall. As if on cue, the cook flipped what seemed to be an omelette pancake in the air.

The crowd gasped as the pancake flipped twice on itself, before landing securely on an already-prepared plate.

"Wow!" People burst into applause almost immediately while the chef bowed and extended the pancake to his most recent order.

"Alright," Y/N was already turning, one hand gripping Juyeon's arm in warning, "we've seen enough--"

She was tugged back instead as the prince moved forward until he reached the front of the stall, a crooked grin dancing across his lips as he peered at the cook from underneath his cloak.

"Can I have an omelette please?" Juyeon asked while ignoring the dagger eyes coming from Y/N's direction.

"Tomatoes? Olives? Onions? Ham?" As the cook listed all his ingredients, Juyeon merely nodded along and Y/N let out a trepid sigh. Her foot started tapping on the ground, impatient.

"Juyeon, you know what your mother said about--"

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. Live a little."

"But--"

"If anything happens -- and it won't," he hurriedly added as she opened her mouth to protest, "then I'll take full responsibility."

"And I will lose my job," she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

------

And of course, considering Juyeon's luck, something was bound to happen.

It was only mid-afternoon -- a few hours after they had returned to the Kingdom, that the prince doubled over due to a stomach ache, coiling so bad that sweat broke over his forehead and his mouth was a tense, thin line of pain.

"I told you so," Y/N tutted while helping him maneuver his way into the bathroom, head practically buried into her neck as he groaned in pain.

"Y/N really? Right now?" he all but groaned against her.

She was about to find a snarky comeback, only for the prince to lurch himself straight at the toilet bowl. Disgusting noises echoed through the room and Y/N turned away from the scene briefly, her own stomach twisting into tight knots.

Y/N was strong, yes. But have someone throw up in front of her? Even smelling that? No way. She could live without that.

When he was done heaving twice more, now sprawled across the toilet bowl as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she judged him with a smug look.

“See, this would never have happened if you had only listened--”

Juyeon held up a hand, silencing her, “not now, please.”

He really did look awful. His usually tan skin was the colour of chalk, fingers holding so tightly over the toilet lid that his knuckles flushed white. As he tried lifting himself from his position, his knees buckled and he would’ve face planted on the ground if not for Y/N’s arms quickly holding him up against her.

Silently, she moved him back to his bedroom before tucking him underneath his covers, all the while avoiding his gaze that seemed to poke through her countenance with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.

And then, came the tiniest murmur, “sorry.”

Y/N paused for a moment. Her eyes fluttered to his face.

Juyeon gazed back, hooded eyes seemingly genuine to apologize, “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

She quickly swallowed, “it’s fine.”

There was a soft pause in which Juyeon’s heavy breaths filled the air. It was suddenly warm in his room, maybe because the thick curtains were now drawn against the slow-setting sunset off the coast of Nuine’s edge, the light a vibrant golden slithering through the wine-coloured drapes. Feeling suddenly vulnerable and out of place, Y/N stood up from her crouching position at his side, causing the man’s eyes to flutter up at her movement.

“Where are you going?” He asked as she made to move towards the door. When she glanced back, she couldn’t help but notice the confusion on his face as he blinked up at her like an over-sized man child.

“I thought you’d like to rest, your Highness,” she replied stiffly.

Another pause.

Then, in the smallest voice possible, Juyeon mumbled out:

“Could you--stay? With me?”

She blinked, “stay? With--”

And then the words made sense in her head.

“Uh--” her cheeks coloured instantly at the thought of being so close to a man. Or maybe it was because it was Juyeon, or it was the heat! Right! Totally made sense that it was the heat. Her mouth moved before her brain did: “Sure.”

What in the name of Nuine are you doing? Her brain screamed at her the moment she sat herself down on the bed’s edge, Juyeon’s body instantly curling up against hers with his head resting upon her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Uhm--” Y/N’s brain blanked out at the warmth of Juyeon’s head against her thigh, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” as he spoke, his breath washed against her legs and goosebumps suddenly erupted along the skin there. She shifted uneasily, trying to force herself to stay still despite the fact that there was a full grown man lying down on her like a cat in need of affection.

“Can you pet me?”

His question threw her off guard. She blinked down at him, at the way his eyelashes were casting dark shadows over his cheeks, “What?”

“My mom used to pet me whenever I was sick,” he murmured, one of his hands grabbing her own before placing it atop his own tuft of hair, “it used to calm me down, make me go sleep.”

“I’m your guard, Juyeon. Not your personal maid.”

He let out a long sigh, then dropped her hand, “Fine then.”

The silence that followed felt so thick and coated with an awkward kind of tension that she knew, without reading Juyeon’s expression, that he was currently mad at her. Trust him to be a little brat about it. Usually, Y/N wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. That kind of behaviour was one of a five year old child, one that she wasn’t going to tolerate.

But maybe it was the fact that he was being so dependent, maybe it was the closeness of their two physical bodies and the lack of distance between them. In any case, her heart melted slightly when she felt him shift in her lap and before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to caress down the side of his skull.

The sight that left Juyeon’s mouth was laden with such satisfaction that it sent shivers running up her spine. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose right into her thighs, causing her to yelp slightly.

His head snapped up, “what?”

She recovered quickly though, snapping, “I want to make myself clear, Juyeon. I am not, and will not be, some kind of mistress that you bring to your quarters whenever you feel like it. I’m your Royal Guard.”

“Jesus Y/N,” the prince turned so that he was facing upwards, gaze landing right onto hers without flinching, “Is that the image you have of me? That I take advantage of everything that moves?”

Suddenly embarrassed, she cleared her throat, “That’s not what I said. I just wanted to let you know.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Okay good. Just so that I make myself clear on where I stand.”

“I wish you didn’t though,” his murmur was a low one, but still one that reached her ears and prompted her to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Her question was only met with stubborn silence, which made sense, as she might see how Juyeon might have taken this as an offensive use of words. But she’d never been one to beat around the bush and had always been passive aggressive whenever Juyeon was concerned.

Once, she thought that she actually liked him.

And maybe she had. But instead of falling straight into that pool of romantic feeling, Y/N had just brushed it aside, already deciding for herself that it was never going to happen and that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up.

That was, in part, why she was used to being so cold and distant.

It was the only way she could protect herself, make the prince hate her.

She was about to let it go and change the subject, when his words pierced through the air like needles, “what is it about me that you can’t stand?”

Her hand froze in mid-stroke, still entangled in his dark locks.

His gaze was so intense she felt him burn holes through her skull.

Y/N cleared her throat. Looked away.

“I--I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Juyeon’s dark eyes were still surveying her every movement, “but can you be honest with me? What is it with me that you can’t stand? It’s almost like--I don’t know. You don’t even look at me when we talk. You barely acknowledge me sometimes, and you never try. With my brothers it’s like--it’s like you’re this completely different person. You talk to them, you laugh. Why don’t we have that? What did I do Y/N?”

“You did nothing.”

“If I did nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

It feels all too real suddenly; the heat radiating from Juyeon’s body, the intense emotion swimming through his dark brown swirls even though she couldn’t muster the courage to actually lock gazes with him, and the weight of his head on her lap as though they were blissfully in love and comfortable in each other’s presence.

Her eyes quickly flitted to the golden descending rays dancing along the curtains, anything to keep her away from his probing stare, “I...”

“What?” Juyeon pressed on, “tell me.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she kept quiet.

“Okay,” Juyeon sighed once more. Then without warning, he hoisted himself up before his face suddenly zoomed in on hers, so close that she couldn’t help but fall back against the headboard as he dipped his head down so that it was level with hers.

Her heart speeding up, Y/N tried not to focus on the lack of distance between them. Though that was quite a hard feat, considering he was everywhere she looked.

Sitting there in Juyeon’s bed, with him trapping her from any sort of escape felt as though she was on the brink of a cliff being pressured to jump when she clearly had no intention to. But when she opened her mouth to protest, Juyeon’s eyes snapped up to hers in a way that told her words weren’t going to work, not anytime soon.

She swallowed thickly.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if it was anyone else,” once he started, it was almost like the flow of words were suddenly too much for him to keep in. He kept on going, voice closing up with emotion, “but it’s you, Y/N. No matter how much I try not to think about it...I do. A lot. And I--I hate it, the way you don’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. I just--I just want to get along with you because I--”

Before she knew what she was doing, one of her hands had shot out to yank his shirt, with him toppling over before she landed a kiss smack on his lips.

Juyeon stared, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, jaw slack in naked surprise.

“Wh--What was that?” he stuttered, a red blushing mess that she would’ve made fun of, if she hadn’t been trying to stop herself from being just as red as he was.

“Look Juyeon, I might hold some feelings for you,” Y/N said it outright though her cheeks were flaming ablaze with heat, “but I just hated you so much, after my dad died. I--I couldn’t look at you without thinking of his death and I tried really hard to loathe your guts. But then...” she shook her head, bit down onto her bottom lip as she chewed on the words that were about to fall from her mouth, “but then, I just--couldn’t. Hate you, I mean.”

“S-So you--you’re telling me that you-- that you might -- that--” he was gesturing so wildly she thought he might faint from shock. Breathing out softly and pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his balance. Then, he opened them once more, “you like me. But you hate me.”

“Tried to,” she corrected him.

“That--That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N.”

“Yes it does! I liked you, then I hated you. And then I hated that I liked you because I just couldn’t hate you--” His hands were suddenly at her hips, “Enough talk,” and no sooner had she tried figuring out what that meant that the young man was dragging her over to his lap before his mouth pressed down onto hers in a passionate kiss.

Y/N tensed for a few seconds, before her body slowly melted in his embrace as his mouth moved slowly over her own, a sinuous dance of lower lip against her upper ones while his arms tightened their hold around her waist. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hard frame against her curves, causing the prince’s mouth to tilt up in a smirk as he progressed the intensity of his kisses. Mouth chasing her own with a hunger she had never been victim to, one of Juyeon’s hands didn’t hesitate to ghost up her arm, along the back of her neck, to mess up her tight ponytail so that her dark hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain.

There was a soft throaty rumble that signalled his approval of this newfound hairstyle, before he slanted his lips even further by tilting his head. Kissed her deeper, with longer strokes and with his tongue slowly introducing itself into her mouth. It was almost like she was being consumed by his entire being, her breath being taken away every time she tried to as she drowned into Juyeon’s ocean of feelings that seemed to emanate in the form of every kiss, every touch, every line of his body that aligned with hers and set fire to her skin.

Only when her back met with the soft foam of the mattress that realization trickled through her mind like icy water. Unlatching their lips with a soft ‘pop’ and scrambling back against the headboard, she looked up, right into Juyeon’s hungry, predatory gaze, one that swam with full-fledged desire, a thirst that she had never seen on the young prince’s face before.

“Juyeon?” her whisper was breathless, and she felt like slapping herself for sounding so needy.

“No,” he let out a soft growl, leaning over her body with his arms settling on either side of her head. HIs mouth started a slow, sensual path of kisses that trailed up her neck, leaving fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, “you’re not talking. You’re not telling me off, not now. Not tonight,” he nipped at a small patch of skin right under her jaw and the girl squirmed, desire rippling through her veins and shooting right down south. It didn’t help that every inch of his muscular frame was pressed against hers as though demanding her to beg for what he could give her.

“Please tell me you’re not playing around,” came Y/N’s soft spoken murmur. She hoped that he didn’t hear it. But it was Juyeon, and Juyeon heard everything that concerned him.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Y/N,” his eyes locked onto hers and she saw his gaze brimming with a vulnerability, a tenderness that shook her to her core and made her heart flip upside down, “you of all people should know that.”

“So you like me?” she hated how squeaky her voice sounded. He only let out the softest of chuckles, before he leant down to peck her on the mouth, “yes. Yes Y/N. I kinda like you a whole damn lot.”

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starman-john-tracy · 3 years

Note

mmmmSKSKSKSKSK I sent this to the wrong blog but,,,for the prompt list thingy you reblogged, misc 13 with 2 characters you want

(I HOPE TO JESUS IT'S YOU WHO REBLOGGED IT THIS TIME)

“I’m worried about you.” [From this Ask meme]

The best response John can manage, at that precise moment, is a vague, dismissive flick of his fingers as he swipes his older brother’s hologram off of his screens, ending the call.

He’s busy, damn it, Scott.

Alan and Kayo have taken Thunderbird Three out to an asteroid between Mars and Jupiter to help a returning deep-space shuttle with engine failure and Alan’s got twelve minutes of air left in his tank, blood-red holograms ticking the numbers down at the corner of John’s vision. Thunderbird One’s been deployed to the Alps in the sub-zero temperatures of a snowstorm following reports from the family of a missing skier, and John could really have done with all the little comments about their Mom that Scott had decided it was a good time to slip in amongst receiving his instructions, probably in an attempt to keep it together himself. To crown it all, Gordon’s in the middle of a risky deep dive with Thunderbird Four in one of the darkest parts of the Atlantic Ocean, trying to find a missing ocean surveyor, with Two coasting overhead despite the fact there’s not much Virgil can do but clutter John’s airways with his worries. Penny’s apparently in the middle of some kind of bank heist in England, and so can’t take FAB1 to help. John, in an almost Scott-like fit of insanity, is almost itching for The Hood to turn up, just because he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to hit something very hard with the mooring claw…

It’s been like this for a week solid. John’s not slept in thirty-two hours and colours are desperately trying their best to become audible. His mouth tastes stale with jumbled numerical readings and directions and what-his-brothers-need-to-do-nexts.

The astronaut takes a deep, ragged breath and rips his hands from the blue glow of his holographic array. He rubs the textured blue fabric of his fingertips hard against gritty eyes, trying to force away the tired moisture that’s gathering determinedly there from trying not to yawn.

This should all be routine by now. He’s got a schedule. A delicate balance of exhaustion and focus. John knows his body’s limits and how to push himself past them - swaddling himself in a cocoon woven of holograms and the loud, urgent voices of people who need his help until he’s lightheaded from the brightness and downing enough caffeine to make his hands shake is the only thing keeping him going.

It’s not a good system, but it works.

Well, sort of works.

John scrubs at his eyes harder, pushing against his closed lids until phosphenes bloom fractal galaxies across the darkness from the pressure. He’s so tired but there’s no way he's gonna be able to sleep this one off. Not with everything going on all around him right now.

Not until these people are sa…

“John.” Fantastic. Scott’s back. Calling on his wrist Comm this time, and big brother doesn’t exactly sound pleased about being hung up on. John thinks better of ignoring him twice, though he rolls his eyes about it. “You’ve been running Comms for three days straight now, you need to take a break.”

“I’m fine, Scott.” John’s mouth shapes the words even though he feels anything but. He has to be fine. “I’m just doing my job. Go get on with yours. And fly a little lower, the wind speed’s up.” The holograms had started swimming alarmingly over two hours ago, most of their words blurring beyond legibility, but John knows what the warning orange blob and its proximity to the logo of Thunderbird One means regardless. Focusing is getting harder and harder and that’s probably dangerous because what if he slips up, what if he gives one of his brothers the wrong instructions and something bad happens, what if...

John really wants a coffee. Another coffee. That’s probably a bad sign in itself because John, ninety-nine per cent of the time, doesn’t drink coffee. Certainly not like his brother’s do. Thunderbird Five’s got a massive range of teas vacuum packed in little silver packets, mostly courtesy of the Lady Penelope, because John far prefers it, but there is a sturdy metal tin of strong, Indian coffee in the galley, waiting ominously for him like a red break glass in case of emergency box.

John’s been choking down up to three mugs of the stuff, black and thick as tar, spiked with crushed caffeine pills, every other hour, in an attempt to keep himself with it enough to do his damn job.

The system works.

He grinds the heel of his palm against his forehead, trying futilely to prevent his pounding headache from getting any worse. He thinks there’s a bottle of painkillers in the first aid kit, Brains’ good ones, and mixed with another mug of caffeine John reckons that should get him through the rest of today even though he’s hungry and exhausted, and all his muscles have a dangerous, creeping ache that warns of atrophy, of too much time spent in Zero G. John just knows his whole body is going to kill the minute he relaxes, and that, if the constant chatter of the globe weren’t enough, makes taking even a little break just not an option. He ignores it all like a pro, slipping out of the segment of Five’s ring with the globe in, and drifting toward the galley, his fingers uncoordinated and clumsy on the handrails.

Coffee. Black. Two capsules of painkiller and another of caffeine, crushed into a powder with his fingers and dumped in.

He snatches up the plastic cup of coffee and heads back toward his globe, lifting the cup to his lips.

“John,” Scott says in his ear. “You can’t seriously be going to drink that…?”

John does, in fact, drink that. He knocks back the boiling beverage so quickly he doesn’t even need to swallow and chases the scald down with another cold cup of coffee that’s been left on his countertop from who-knows-when in the past three days. It’s gritty in the bottom from the drugs. John swallows hard at the acrid taste, coughs, and shakes out his shoulders.

“Alright,” John manages, suppressing the urge to throw it back up. “I’m good.”

Scott just blinks at him like he’s clearly a moron. Which, John thinks, is a bit rude when he’s the one with two PHDs.

“How long has that mug been there?” Scott asks, gaping slightly. It’s not at all like John to leave liquids out in the open, and especially not in space. “John, it had a layer of mould floating on it.” Not like him at all.

“Yeah,” John offers him, with a weak, crooked smile that doesn’t make sense on his face. “Penicillin. Adjust your tail flaps thirty degrees, you’re coasting too low. You need to compensate for the way the wind’s being channelled between the rocks.”

“John,” Scott’s voice comes back dangerously low, “John, when did you last have a proper break?” John’s head throbs and he’s saved from trying to work out any kind of reply to that because Gordon takes the opportunity to check-in. It doesn’t matter that John’s vision is blurring, as long as he can hear his little brother just fine.

Crackling static buzzes in the spaceman’s ears long after Gordon clicks off again.

The newest shot of caffeine is slowly starting to soothe his frayed nerves, though everything’s a bit… hazy, if he’s honest.

“John!” Oh, Scott’s still here, huh. “Ok, little brother,” The elder of them puffs his chest out and folds his arms, but John’s not paying enough attention to his hologram to notice. “If you string yourself out much longer, I’m going to put you on medical leave until you die, alright? Nothing can stop me.”

“I don’t need med leave!” John exhales all of the air in his paper-bag lungs at once. “I’m fine and I’m doing a damn good job monitoring everything! I never take sick days…”

“You never take vacation days, either.” Scott cuts pointedly across him.

“Irrelevant.” John dismisses him again, flicking the point away like it’s a hologram he’s done with, “I’m just doing my job. If you want to come down on me for working hard, then you’re the one with the issue here.”

“You’re going to kill yourself,” Scott growls. “Your exhaustion and carelessness puts everyone who works under you at risk and I don’t know what the answer to your workload without Dad around is, but it sure. isn’t. this.” A sweeping hand encompasses his brother head to toe - taking in the coffee stains on John’s blue fingertips and the darkness smudged under his eyes. “We’ve got to, I don’t know, there must be something that can take some of the pressure off. Alan was talking about wanting to try a rotation.”

“Alan’ll be bored to death within five minutes alone up here,” John points out, “he’s still too young.”

“Gordon then, or Virgil, hell I’ll do it. I’m sure we can scrape together something.”

“Scott.” John’s voice comes out much softer this time, certainly softer than intended. “We’ll work something out but… just… not right now, ok?” It sounds almost pleading. A little broken. Perhaps Scott shouldn’t have brought up their Father, or perhaps there’s already too much for John to focus on without throwing himself into the mix. “We can pick this up later if you want, when we’re finished,” He goes on to offer, hollowly, “but right now you need to check your heat scanner and find that missing skier before those kids who called lose a parent.”

There’s a harsh intake of breath from Scott at that. He knows as well as any of them why they, why John, does all this. If they can keep together just one family, compared to their own loss, anything seems worth it.

Doesn’t mean Scott’s got to like it though.

He clicks off and John closes his eyes for one, very long moment - the residual Comm chatter swirling in his ears. It’s tempting to just press his forehead against the cold glass beneath his feet and just not exist for a few hours... But Alan needs to get back aboard his Thunderbird with the crew members, and Gordon’s discussing going EVA with Virgil in the background and Scott’s thermal scanner has just picked up an orange blip amongst all the blue.

There’s always a later. When everyone’s safe. John can rest later.

#Thunderbirds Are Go #Thunderbirds 2015 #John Tracy #yEET #bonsaiiiiiii #heheh yeah it was me XDD oh nooo hehehe #tw: really sad tired john ??? XD #tw: a man who hates coffee drinking too much caffine

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allhailthewicked · 3 years

Text

Random JATP Headcannon: Reggie Pep-Talking Julie

Disclaimer: Hey y’all there’s a lotta negative self-talk and body image stuff in this long and chonky puppy (like a dachshund). Am I just simply projecting in this headcannon? Si señores, señoras, y señoritas ...umm chile anyway so... on to the angst and fluff.

Julie is a bad bitch.

And we love that for her. But every bad bitch has a few weaknesses. Like popping balloons or falling for a ghost who died in 1995 or being afraid that you are going to lose everyone you’ve ever cared about. But there are days when Julie’s biggest weakness is her body. Then again Julie loves her body, she loves how her hair curls and how it frames her, and even though it can be a pain in the ass, she loves it. She also loves her smile and the gap between her teeth and how musical her laugh is. She loves how she can pull off a blazer and a dress and how her eyes sparkle in the sun. She loves how clear her skin is and her brows and her height and everything but some days she doesn't. But some days she looks in the mirror and cringes at what she sees.

Ha, it's funny to think that I can pull this off.

I'm too much of this and not enough that.

I don't really love how I look in this.

Maybe I should just change

These thoughts often seem to be swirling around in Julie's brain. But sadly those aren't the worse thoughts she has that award goes to thoughts like:

Luke would never fall for a lifer like you.

and

He’s way too good for you. Maybe you'll have better luck if you're prettier

Julie sighs flattening her crop top grabbing her sides before quickly opting to change into a longer looser shirt. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand shooting a text to Flynn.

Trouble #1💜: hey love! you free rn? i’m having a terrible bbd today and i need a distraction and a hug

Trouble #1💜: and maybe a good cry

Trouble #2💕: aww girlie i would love to but i’m in colorado at my aunt’s wedding reception

Trouble #1💜: oh shit. i’m sry i forgot.

Trouble #1💜: no thoughts head empty only body negativity

Trouble #1💜: how’s the wedding? did stacy cry when your aunt came down the aisle?

Trouble #2💕: don’t worry about it jules. a certain dead ghost boy has haunted your brain cells maybe you can go to him. i’m sure he’ll love the cuddles 😉😉😉

Trouble #2💕: stacy bawled btw but so did aunt hilda and dad pretended that he didn’t, but we all know he loves seeing hilda happy.

Trouble #2💕: it’s so fucking freezing. but the dress was absolutely gorgeous tho

Trouble #1💜: cuuuteee love that for them. well, i have to go guys maybe practice a song or two. but luke was kind of the one who started this. idk i’m just going to try and get through the day so i can rush back to my room and rewatch New Girl or something

Trouble #2💕: WHAT DID THAT BASTARD DO?!?!?!

Trouble #2💕: I WILL COME DOWN FROM COLORADO TO BEAT HIS ASS!!!

Trouble #1💜: He did nothing. I’m just overthinking ya know. Like I’m not worth it. He doesn’t need me. I don’t deserve him

Trouble #2💕: jules i’m going to be real with you. HONESTLY HE DOESN’T DESERVE YOU!!!! but he does look at you like you’re his source of life so don’t let this dead, paler than wonder bread boy hurt you!!! he’s so lucky to have you in his life.

Trouble #2💕: you are a gorgeous girl!!!! stunning. an absolutely beautiful, smart, and amazing person!! everybody lights up when you walk into the room. but you know who lights up the most. mr. boo-berry music man simping cute bright dead eyes looking ass.

Trouble #2💕: but maybe you should talk to alex if you don’t believe me. sadly he seems like the himbo with the most emotional knowledge. so maybe talking to him will help. but promise me you’ll take care of yourself love

Trouble #1💜: I promise. flynn imma just wear a bigger sweatshirt and pretend that i’m okay instead of feeling like I want to wrap myself in a blanket. it’ll be all good. gtg bye love you :)

Trouble #2💕 : THAT’S NOT HEALTHY!!! but please do take care of yourself. i’ll be back soon and i’ll talk to you later💕.

Julie grabs an old Orphuem hoodie that belonged to her mom, slipping it on noticing how she still hasn’t quite grown into it. Walking past her mirror one more time Julie scrunches her nose not appreciating how her tight jeans look on her. In fact, she doesn’t like how her nose looks today.

Fuck I hate when I feel like this. Maybe Flynn is right. I should probably talk to Alex and at least try to avoid Luke. He doesn’t need to see me like this.

Sighing, she makes her way over to the garage. She opens the door only to see Reggie intensely focused on playing the riff he was working on for their new song.

“Is Luke around? I need to snatch up Alex, but I don’t want him to see me and worry,” she asked, starting to giggle when he snapped out of his trace as a small yelp left his lip.

Reggie spotted Julie’s Orpheum hoodie not noticing how much his eyes widened.

Julie cocks her head at the gaping Reginald before realizing he was staring at her hoodie. “It was my mom’s,” Julie whispered as Reggie nodded along, “she used to work there in college. Mom and her best friend, my Tia Maria were waitresses there. But I’m getting distracted, is Alex here? I just really need to talk to him and his dumb emotional availability.”

“Well, it’s Alex and Willie’s 6-month anniversary, so I hope he’s not around here. But he’s like at the beach with Willie being all mushy.”

“Oh wow, they’re so cute together! He’s definitely seemed so happy since he met him,” Julie said, truly proud of her drummer but not completely masking her disappointment of not having anyone to talk to.

“Yeah, he's more free now. Plus it gives me and Luke the opportunity to rag on him on how easily he flushes when Willie teases him. But you don’t need to worry about lover boy or your lover boy,” he says while waggling his eyebrows at her.

Julie sadly laughs trying to hide her face from the boy. As Reggie seemingly oblivious continued “Luke is at his parents. He’s been going more often trying to find sneaky ways to leave his song. Some unpublished songs Julie. He has never done anything like that since you went to his parent’s house with him. The closure is cathartic for him,” he whispered, putting down his bass. “He loves seeing his mom’s face light up when she finds another song. But you seem down Julie, what’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing Reggie don’t worry about it,” Reggie cocks an eyebrow at her with a concerned look on his face. Julie looked away sighing, putting on her hood before continuing on, “I’m just a little under the weather and just needed someone to talk to, but it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I will be fine in a few hours. But don’t worry, and please don’t tell Luke.”

“Well Julie you can talk to me,” Reggie pauses puts down his bass putting his hands behind his head, legs cross, frowning slightly, “Believe it or not I can be a little insightful but seriously Julie you’re like my little sister and I hate to see you like this.”

Reggie taps on the spot on the couch next to him motioning for Julie to sit down.

“I’m not going to force you to tell me anything but if you need someone to talk I here when you are ready,” And with that, Reggie picked up his bass and started to work on what seems like a new song.

Together they sit in this calming silence as Reggie starts to pluck away at this melody taking notes of what chord progressions work and what doesn’t while Julie quietly points at chords. This goes on for about five minutes until Julie finally says something.

“Fine okay you need to promise me that you won’t tell Luke because he’ll try and fix this, and he’ll probably make me feel worse,” Reggie quickly nods before putting his fist out giving her a promise fist bump. Julie wetly laughs at this before taking her hood off, running her hands through her hair.

“You know for years I’ve waked up and then immediately looked in the mirror and some days I loved what I see those days are good. I love how I look and how I feel, and I’m just happy. But some days I don’t... some days I look in the mirror and I just see every single flaw I have, and I just want to hide in my bed and not let anyone see me. Some days I feel like I don’t deserve you or Luke or Alex or Flynn or even my family. I just look into the mirror, and I’m like why would anyone stand to look at me. And you know today is one of those days. When Mami was alive she would call a day like today a BBD. It was a code for bad body day or day when we would just wear matching hoodies, cuddle, and binged movies without telling Dad what was wrong. But he understood, he understood that Mami would take care of it and that she understood what I was going through. We did it so often until she you know... that I don’t know how to tell my dad about it. Like him making me hot chocolate like he used to won’t make going away,” Julie sighed wiping the quickly forming tears from her eyes. Julie turned away from the concerned, so he couldn’t see how close she is to completely breaking down.

Reggie wrap his fettuccine arms around Julie pulling her into a warm hug that smelled like the lemon-lavender bath and body works body wash she bought him for the shower in the garage. The was comforting which led to Julie letting her guard down, shoulders shaking as she heavily sobbed into her undead friend’s shoulder as he rubbed her back. After she was seemingly cried out she looked up at Reggie, who looked wide eyed at her.

“I’m sorry I snotted all over your flannel. God that’s so disgusting. I’m just going to go to bed and just mope and watch Netflix. Thank for being a shoulder I could lean on. I’m sorry that I was just being annoying,” Julie whispered as she tried to wipe away the snot only to make a bigger mess.

"Hey hey hey it's okay Julie I can just wash it or like blame it on ghost ectoplasm. Julie do we leak ectoplasm?"

Julie laughed wetly as Reggie frantically looked to see if he was oozing before realizing that he was getting distracted. She quickly noticed the major shift in demeanor change as he seriously looked at her.

"Julie you are beautiful and I know that you don't feel like that now but you will eventually. And I know that you don't want me to fix you and I won't because I can't. And I know you might want to try to impress Luke with how you look or just think that your looks are all that Luke that think about, but I am his best friend and I know that he would be head over fucking heels gone for you. Even if you look like whatever a Jar-Jar looks like he would see you as the light of his world. He is in love with you and your soul and you deserve that love. But you deserve self love even more. Julie you are not a thing to be looked at then judged. You are a person with feelings and personality and a story, a story to tell. Your body looks the way it does because of all the things you've experienced in life. Julie I know this all may sound meaningless coming from me but you are literally one of the strongest people I know and I know you can through. You will not be less strong if you reach out for help. You might be my favorite Molina but talking to Ray is smarter than you think and he can help. I just hate seeing my sister hurt like this," Reggie said before yelping as he noticed that Julie had started to bawl again.

"Wait Julie no I'm sorry. Was that too much. God I know you said I shouldn't try to fix things. I should've kept my dumb mouth closed and not bring up Ray. I'm sorry Julie don't cry," Reggie rambled nervously rubbing her back

“No no no no Reggie you didn’t say too much. You just shocked me honestly but like in a good way. I mean I can’t say that I will believe everything you said. But thank you Reg. Thank you I am so glad that you are in my life. You’re my favorite Peters and you are much smarter than other people give you credit for,” Julie says laughing at Reggie’s bright smile.

“I mean need them to underestimate me sometimes. But let’s watch something together to at least make your BBD a little better.”

Julie smilies quickly nodding before putting on the first episode of the Mandalorian and snuggling close to the older brother that she never had.

Julie felt okay to say the least for the next couple of weeks her next BBD hit her. Julie sighed pushing herself off the bed looking in the mirror that is covered in encouraging notes from her Dad, Reggie, and Flynn. She sighed about to leave her room to go talk to her Dad again about what was going on before she notice a hoodie on the bed. It was a fleece lined hoodie that was left on her bed folded her bed saying ‘Uke I’m your father’ on it.

Reggie Julie sighed shaking her head smiling as she picked up the little note that was left with it

‘I knew that you said that you and mom had matching hoodies for your BBD’s so here’s one that we can wear together. I mean only if you want to I know it was something you and your mom did so I don’t want to butt in on a tradition. But it could be like a signal that you’re having a BBD. I don’t know it might be stupid but I hope you like it.’

Julie smiles at the slight awkwardness of the note before slipping on the hoodie

A/N: HEY IT’S ME AGAIN WITH THE ANGST FOR THE SECOND TIME IN LESS THAN A WEEK!!! Idk what it is but every time I write something for this fandom it turns into angst. Am I sadist? Ehhh wouldn’t be surprised but idk I think I went through something writing this lol. Also I’m sorry if some the dialouge is cringe I’m tired and I really wanted to post befire I got distracted. Anyway please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist down below by either replying to this post, reblogging this post, or sending me an ask! I would appreciate reblogs and feedback because I love reading your guy's comments and tags they seriously make my day!!! but it's fine if you don't want to :)

~✨My Taglist Isn’t Under the Cut Tonight Lol✨~

@poppin-peters, @sunset-bobby, @theobligatedklutz, @soupforfree, @iamthefryiestfrench-blog, @fiddlepickdouglas, @gay-ghosts-committing-crimes

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killjoysfromyesterday · 4 years

Text

all her skies are yellow

new drabble! wrote this during english today. not proofread whatsoever but it’s 10pm pls cut me some slack lmao

summary: set a few months after sing, jet survived.

content warning: slight su*cidal ideation, bl**d, raygun usage

word count: 2,176

"you let us die. why were you the only one to get out? you're a monster, jet." jet can imagine the way kobra's lips turn up into a snarl with his words, the same way he'd talk to dracs during claps, and jet recoils.

jet can't even get in a word to kobra because poison's stepping up, footsteps always so hard, and once again he can see it in his head: poison's eyes always lighted with fury that almost matches the cherry red of their hair.

"you think you're brave? that you're a killjoy like we were? you can't even see anymore." their voice is cruel and jet's heart is going rabbit-fast in his chest, he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out.

"it's all dark, isn't it? that's what you deserve." ghoul pipes up. jet can't help but agree.

and then there's soft footsteps around him, and he braces because he expects to be kicked, but then somebody's got a hand hooked under his jaw to force him to look up. of course, he can't see who it is, but their presence feels familiar. too familiar.

"you're nothing." the voice says, words light as feathers but hitting jet like a ton of bricks.

ma.

the hand on his face is snatched away, and he barely manages to catch himself with his hands and avoid faceplanting onto the ground below him.

there's a cold barrel of a ray gun pressed between his eyes. he knows it's her, because he can hear the far-off cackles of ghoul and the venom siblings.

his ma is going to kill him. he disappoints her that much. he wants to talk, wants to beg for his life, but he can't. the words are stuck in his throat. why would he beg? it's not like he's got any purpose here any more. the girl's got pony, doc, and cherri; she's in good hands. he only weighs them down, hiding away in the shadows and never leaving his room. he's another mouth to feed, and he can't even fucking see now.

"you should've been a better son." she says, voice just like he remembers it as a kid when she sang him to sleep, except now it's nothing but knives that cut straight through and lodge so deep he thinks her words are just enough to kill him. he wants her to just shoot, he doesn't want to think about it anymore. he hopes the witch has room for him.

except she doesn't shoot, just rears back the barrel of the gun and hits him between the eyes so hard that the blackness of his vision fuzzes and spins before he jolts awake with a start, still in his bed at the station.

he's gasping for air, hands flying up to his throat because it feels like his lungs are simultaneously working double time and not working at all, he's getting lightheaded and there's alarms going off in his head.

it's all so loud, he needs it all to stop. he can't think, it's so, so loud, he can hear his blood rushing in his ears. his ma's voice is playing over and over in his head, he can't, he just needs it all to shut up, he-

"you're nothing." her voice repeats like she's standing right there next to him, and he falls off the mattress trying to flinch away from her. he's scooting back, the noises of things falling and breaking with his scared movements are so loud. something falls and he whimpers, clamping his hands over his ears.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i don't know, i'm s-" he's choking, coughing and sputtering and he thinks he's dying. maybe this is how he's supposed to go, the witch just kept him alive for longer than the others as a cruel mockery. she's gonna come and take him away any minute.

poison's talking again, and it's drowned out by ghoul's cackling and kobra's snarling. he's got his legs curled to his chest, and he buries his head between his knees.

he wraps his arms around his torso protectively, trembling so hard he can barely keep himself backed into the corner. his shirt feels wet, and he knows he's most likely torn a few of the stitches on his chest. the stitches over the raygun blast that nearly killed him that night. he wishes it had.

he can still feel the hood of the car, he's staring up at the city sky, thinking the witch was gonna take him. no, instead she had just frowned at him in his dreams and swiped her hand over his face, and the sight in his working eye was no more.

now he's sniffling, arms wrapped around himself so tight he can feel his ribs. he needs to eat. that's what doc tells him. maybe doc would agree with his mom, he's a failure. who would willingly parent such a wreck?

he's twenty-three, he's lived in the desert his whole life. he should be able to process death by now. but instead, he's hiding and shaking like a stray dog. witch, the blood is seeping through his shirt now and onto his hands.

the words of his ma and the others hit a crescendo and he digs his nails into his face, hands clapped over his eyes. he wants to hide. he knows he's probably getting blood all over himself, but better that it's his own than someone else's. he's had too much blood of others on his hands, both figuratively and literally.

he can hear other voices, there's footsteps out in the hall and he knows they're looking for him. shit, he woke them up. he just hopes the girl hasn't woken up.

the door creaks open and he cringes, and little footsteps patter across the floor. well, that question is answered. he grimaces.

"found him!" the girl shouts back in the direction of the hallway.

"you should go back and rest." cherri's voice is hoarse with sleep. it makes jet feel a million times worse.

"but-" she asks, voice trailing off.

"girly. go on." doc says. he sounds the same, he's likely been up for hours. he almost never sleeps anymore. the girl huffs but her footsteps disappear down the hallway and jet assumes she's gone back to her room.

"you opened your stitches." cherri says. he's closer now, his voice is soft. jet doesn't answer, and when cherri goes to touch his arm, jet's hands tear away from his face and he curls himself closer into the corner.

"oh, jet..." pony's voice is behind cherri now, soft and sympathetic. jet wraps his arms back around his torso, fingers digging so hard into his sides he knows he's gonna have bruises. it's the only thing grounding him right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" he's rambling again.

"sorry for what, tumbleweed?" doc asks. doc hasn't called him that since he was a kid. it just makes jet feel even worse.

jet doesn't know how to answer him, doesn't know how to tell him he's sorry because he lived and they didn't. so instead he just shakes his head and digs his nails even further into his ribs.

he doesn't know how to tell doc that he feels so alone, that his bedroom feels like a prison and he thinks he'd be better off with his mask in the mailbox.

doc always tells him the girl needs him now more than ever, but jet has a hard time believing him. jet can't even see her anymore, her smile has been replaced by the permanent black fuzziness that is his vision now.

poison and kobra are yelling in his ears again, and ghoul sneers so sharply it makes his head hurt. he just wants it to stop. his ma was right. he's nothing.

why did he have to be the one to get out that night? and not the others? poison is- no, was (it hurts to correct himself) poison was a natural born leader, kobra was a genius, and ghoul had so much spirit.

who was he? just the damaged, desertborn kid they hauled around with them? the fact that he made it out was a sick joke.

witch, it's all too much. he's gonna be sick.

"c'mon, let's get you cleaned up." cherri says. jet doesn't want to get up, he just wants to be left alone, but he still stands up on shaky legs and follows cherri to the bathroom.

jet slides onto the edge of the tub, hands gripping onto the sides harder than necessary. cherri's turned the sink on, jet can hear the water running.

"look up." cherri says, and jet tilts his head up so cherri can swipe a washcloth across the scarred mess that is his eyes to wash away the blood that smeared from his chest to his hands and ultimately onto his face when he was panicking. it reminds him entirely too much of the encounter with his ma in his nightmare, and he resists the overwhelming urge to pull away.

"jet, i'm sure you can understand why we're worried." cherri says. his way of enunuciating every syllable is odd to jet, city kids in general are weird, but kobra and poison never had the poshness in their voice like cherri does. it doesn't match cherri, jet thinks.

"these nightmares are getting worse. you're not eating too well, either. you of all people should know how important food is." cherri says.

jet knows that cherri didn't mean it that way, but his words felt like a jab at the fact jet was homeless as a kid. jet just clenches his jaw as he hears cherri put the washcloth away. cherri turns back to him, sitting on the edge of the tub next to him.

"what's really going on?" cherri asks. and then the words are tumbling out of jet's mouth before he can stop them and shove them back in, permanently bottled up in the pit of his stomach.

"i'm a monster. it's my fault, isn't it?" jet asks quietly. the question's been weighing in his head for so long that it feels strange to speak it out loud.

"what?" cherri asks.

"it's my fault they're gone."

"jet." cherri's voice sounds firmer than before.

"no, it's true. please don't try to-"

"jet, you're not a monster. you're like a little brother to me. the others were too. and doc? doc can't handle losing you too. he's already gone a little funny in the head, he's asking where kobra and ghoul are constantly. the girl, she's..."

"she's fine without me." jet interrupts, voice small.

"you have no clue." cherri sighs.

"what?"

"she's not okay without you. she's so scared, jet. pony dropped a pan yesterday and she ran like a bat out of hell. she thought it was a raygun blast." cherri says.

"she misses you so much. you know, she still sets aside the blue crayons for you when she colors. all her skies are yellow now.” cherri chuckles sadly. jet can imagine it in his head, and it makes him too damn sad to think about it for long. the girl setting aside his favorite color for him, and he's barely left his room since they both came back.

"i'd just scare her now." jet mutters. the texture of his face is enough to tell him he doesn't look the same. the gnarled scars covering his face are mostly healed now. sure, he's been missing his right eye since before the girl was born, but it wasn't as bad. she grew up knowing the singular, thin scar across the bridge of jet's nose. what she doesn't know nearly as well is the raygun blast scars from that night, the ones that hit him before the final shot to his chest that sent him back against the hood of the trans am.

"i know you think you're doing the best thing for her by staying away, but she needs you, jet. now more than ever."

"you're slipping, jet. we don't want to lose you too. the girl can't handle losing you." cherri says, and his voice sounds suspiciously tearful.

"you won't."

"then promise me. promise me things will change and we won't have to have this same conversation in a month." cherri's practically begging now. jet doesn't answer.

he can't.

they've had this exchange before, and nothing changed. he can't promise to cherri that things will change this time either, because witch, it's so easy to just hide away. it's so easy to curl up in his bed and think about what could've been. it's so easy to sit there until the grief washes over him like a wave and he's practically drowning himself to feel past the ebbing and flowing numbness that settles in his bones now.

"if you're not gonna do it for me, do it for her. please, jet." cherri pleads, but jet barely hears him because he's thinking about the girl drawing pictures with yellow skies.

"i promise.”

#ray toro #fun ghoul #danger days #cherri cola #destroya #dr. death defying #jet star #kobra kid #party poison #phoenix witch #frank iero #mikey way #gerard way #ttlotfk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #my chemical romance #mcr #long post

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