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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

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kkoongiee · 4 years

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stray kids reactions — their s/o has an indentical twin ‹𝟹

prompt, Hi!! I'd like to request a stray kids reaction to his s/o having a identical twin! Have a nice day

notes, cursing & i’m kinda swamped with this lmfao wish i had an indentical twin right ab now for this so i hope this is okay!!

bangchan is like what the fuck, mostly because he just wrapped his arms around your twin 😭 they r like, tf who r u & what r u doing????? it makes him seem even more creepy cause he’s your +1 at the wedding u took him to. he’s like :O A TWIN??? he’s like omg u have a twin when he runs into u,, chan can’t believe it and ur like,, ‘oh yeah..’ so u properly introduce him to ur twin and he’s like ‘lord .. how do i tell u two apart..’ rly the only way to tell u two apart is that weird lopsided heart birth mark that u have on your jaw, chan is like 🧍 so basically no way to tell u two apart 😭

minho was looking through pictures of u during childhood and he was like ??? they look just like you??? u kind of forgot u had a twin lmfaooo, i picture him dating an in the states person for some reason so u don’t see them everydayy but ofc u try and keep contact with them,, so minho just blinks at u explaining this.. awwhh ur so cute with them 😣 he wants to meet them this instant and next holiday he is planning to go n see them .. he just finds it super cool there is a SECOND you??? that’s fucken legit + i think he’d get along rly well with ur twin 😭 idk minho seems like that boyfriend who gets along with all family well

changbin asks u cause ur mom sent him something .. n its the most cutest baby picture with u and your twin 😣 u guys are wearing matching outfits n everything,, but like why was he not told u had a twin??? binnie was so happy to meet them,, but u two are literally impossible to tell apart??? like same everything 😭 he is dizzy by all the similarities and has no clue on how tfk to just .. tell y’all apart,, so he just decides that he might need to remember what ur wearing in the morning because changbin thinks that’s rly the only thing thats gonna work

hyunjin i picture him knowing ur sibling before he knew u???? so he has to adjust to the fact his friend looks EXACTLY like u and the fact that u guys both are just similar in every way. it’s a little FREAKY HOW SIMILAR U ARE??? like he has his bestfriend and he’s never once thought of them attractive but you look the same??? and hyunjin finds you attractive?? 😭😭 he is so paranoid about hugging the wrong one LMFAO he’s really got himself into this one, he ultimately decides that buying you a necklace to match him would be good - sort of like he has a label on you 🧍 just so he doesn’t forget...

boy oh boy, HAN JISUNG 😐 he is terrible at remembering yeah jisung doesn’t remember a thing when it comes to you and your twin.. it’s a constant ‘hey!!! i’m this twin 😡’ with both of u LOLOLOLOL he’s so just OVERWHELMED at u two in the same room he is dizzy he swears but he’ll go on and attempt his best at remembering. he enjoys u two around tho DONT GET ME WRONG,, jisung just HATES the IDENTICAL PART 😁 the first time he met them he honestly looked ready to pass out, he was like ‘oh um .. hi nicetomeetyou 🙂😥’ he also likes to brag about dating the older twin 🗣 yes u won the race and it’s RLY CUTE LOL he’s so happy u were BIRTHED QUICKER

felix.. baby.. IS IN LOVE WITH u two 😳 u have almost the same exact way of talking and u guys look the same so like?? it’s a very MIND BLOWING concept to him.. felix lowkey praises your mom for having not one but two kids??? at the same time?? basically?? he likes your twin though!!! like a lot, he is so happy to spend time with you both and he’s so happy u guys have such a good bond!!!! idk felix wouldn’t want anything including himself to get in between u guys or create distance.. all the members seem like they would be like that but i think felix takes the cake yknow? he has someone to send brownies and cupcakes and all that goodness to now!!!! he’s so happy when people get to taste his baking 🗣 but lix loves your twin and he doesn’t seem too confused either, i think he has some weird way of telling u two apart lolololol probably like smell or a very small detail that is not even noticeable but he manages to see it 😭

seungmin seems like he’s relatively happy to find out abt ur identical twin that u somehow hid for a year??? i think he digs the idea of two of u.. he lowkey acts like u two were a lab project and are the only twins to exist 😭 i dont think ur personalities would be the same,, i think that u would be less outgoing and ur twin is just super loud and outgoing 🧍 seungmin is GLAD he does not have that twin,, he likes to joke about it a lot lollololol but u both love ur twinnnn 🥰 and ur twin is happy to third wheel on dates or interrupt ur peaceful time with seungmin at ur place.. that is one of the cons of a twin because u two are PB&J and they also have a key copy ... no privacy for u two 💔🙄 its okaii :3 u r fine as long as they can boot in the next morning or like next few hours ...????? no offense but u need some ALONE TIME w ur bf so u can embarrassingly snuggle with seungmin

jeongin is so confused .. he bumped into them at one of ur parties??? he was like okay u changed clothes quick damn okay?? ur twin is like PARDON??? WDYM HOW DO U KNOW I CHANGED CLOTHES IDEK U??? u come up from behind like,, ‘heyyy 😁😁😁’ and jeongin swears the drink he has is spiked or something?? why is he seeing double you 🥲 why are there two clones in front of him??? but he quickly gets shocked at the news that theres TWO OF YOU?? NOOOOOOOOOOO 😔😔😔!!!!!! jokes aside he wants to know how this happened, he will get over it and spend the whole night with ur twin 😐 jeongin stole ur twin and ur twin stole ur boyfriend, too bad he doesn’t have a twin of this own... he’s excited to have TWO MIRRORED PEOPLE WALK AROUND PUBLIC LOLOL ITS SO FUNNY

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the-last-cuddlebender · 4 years

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hi! if youre still taking requests could you do the gaang doing dumbassery because they are all dumbasses? (if you want) anyways ur cool have a nice day

Aw, thanks, Anon🥰 I’ll raise you one better and give you Christmas-themed-Modern!AU dumbassery (feat. Zuko, Sokka, and Aang)

Words: 973

******************************

Zuko approached the house with a slack jaw and a firm questioning of...well, of everything. He blinked three times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and he immediately wanted to walk away when he realized he wasn’t imagining things. He had developed a sixth sense for knowing when he needed to have plausible deniability, and his instincts were screaming at him to get away from there.

Why. And why today. He was too tired for this.

“What…” Zuko struggled to find the ability to string his thoughts together. ‘Confused’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what he was feeling. He was concerned, for certain, and for many reasons. Some of it was for his own sake, but most of it was for his dwindling hope that humanity, as a collective, would be able to evolve forwards ever again. “...What is he doing?”

Sokka shrugged and didn’t look away from the warning-label-in-the-making wandering around on the roof. He lifted the lower half of his face out of his powder-coated jacket and accepted his fiancé’s greeting-gift of hot cocoa—extra marshmallows and a little gingerbread-man on top because being extra had its perks when Zuko got in trouble.

“He’s trying,” Sokka said between sips.

Zuko stared at the roof and the confused monk on top of it. And as he watched Aang gamble his life amongst the snowy shingles, he couldn’t help but have the same feeling of watching a documentary on National Geographic where he knew the baby deer was going to be killed and couldn’t do anything about it.

“But what is he trying?”

Sokka shrugged again. “‘Dunno. I’m just here to keep him company and to catch him when he falls off the roof again.”

“Again?”

Sokka spared him the same half-lidded gaze he had been giving their tattooed brother (in all but blood). “You were his teacher, Zuko. You should know he can be a pretty slow learner, sometimes.”

Zuko rubbed his growing headache and fought the urge to pound his head into the nearest tree. Aang was on the highest point of the roof and tangled in what had to be forty or so feet of Christmas lights. Thankfully, he had stopped waddling in a circle in his vain search for freedom and plopped into a seat in the snow. If the inevitable two-story fall didn’t kill him, then hypothermia definitely would. Born and raised in the mountains or not, he had no business wearing only jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the damn sleeves rolled up to his elbows (the shirt was reindeer themed and had ‘Naughty List Advocate’ printed across the chest).

Sokka sipped his hot cocoa. Zuko contemplated his place in the universe. “...She’s going to kill us for letting him do this,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Sokka slung an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and tugged them together. He gestured with his cup of cocoa towards the arrowed human hazard. “Katara won’t spill blood around the holidays. She’s too much of a goodie-goodie. Besides, this is Aang’s first Christmas. She wouldn’t dare mess it up for him.”

Zuko scowled but looked thoughtful. “I guess it is, technically, his first Christmas. Has he really only been here for less than a year?”

“Eight months. Feels a lot longer than that. And don’t worry too much about him falling from the roof. He pretty much lived up there for the first few weeks he moved in.”

“...Why?”

“He missed the altitude.”

“Ah.”

A small avalanche slid off the roof and plopped into a heap in front of them. The Christmas lights were all somehow turned on and probably an electrical hazard with how taut they were pulled, and Aang paused for breath from trying to free himself of his cocoon of pretty colors. He moped—nearly pouting—in a way that made them fight the urge to hug him and donate to an ASPCA commercial.

“Has he even seen Christmas lights before?”

Sokka smiled from ear to ear. “Nooooope,” he said, suspiciously happy.

“And you didn’t bother correcting him on…,” Zuko gestured to Aang’s creative stringing of lights, “...whatever that is?”

“He knows what Google is. He can look it up if he wants to.”

“Does he, though? Does he really?” Zuko shook his head. “Someone has to tell him.”

“I think it’s cute. Let him figure out what it means to him all on his own.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Aang shouted from two sheer stories above them. “Are all of the lights working—Oh, hey, Zuko!” The overgrown golden retriever disguised as their best friend smiled down at them with a floodlight’s intensity. He flailed his freed arm like one of those inflatable things in front of car dealerships. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right? I’ve been working on it all day!”

“Yeah, I can see that!” Zuko said. Sokka cackled, and Zuko elbowed him. “It looks...It looks very nice, Aang! Just be careful, okay?”

“I am, don’t worry! I’ve fallen from higher places back at the Temple!”

Zuko gave Sokka a pointed look. “You still think he’s going to learn?”

“Point taken.” Sokka passed Zuko his hot cocoa so he could cup his hands over his mouth. “Hey, Aang! I think that’s enough! It looks really good, but you don’t wanna overdo it! It’ll be too bright!”

“But...But I still have so much left to do!”

“Can’t you finish it later?” Zuko yelled. “You’ll catch your death out here if you don’t put on a jacket!”

Aang ignored that last part. “I can’t stop! Katara is going to be home in a few hours, and I have to have the lights up before she gets here! It’s a surprise!”

Sokka cupped Zuko’s mouth with one hand and projected his voice with the other. “Okay, that’s fine, then! Just be careful, okay? We’ll be right here if you need us!”

Aang nodded so fast that his head threatened to come off his shoulders. “I will! Thanks, guys!”

Sokka released Zuko’s mouth, and Zuko mumbled through his forced smile so Aang couldn’t see him talking. “You do realize that if he gets so much as a scratch, then our lives are forfeit, right?”

Sokka laughed a little, shrugged yet again, and sipped his cocoa some more.

Zuko rolled his eyes so hard that it was a miracle he didn’t go blind. “Do you have to have a deathwish for Christmas?”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Right on cue, Aang appeared as if he had been summoned—first as a startled yelp, then as a snowballing cocoon of lights, and then as a projectile.

Luckily, Zuko caught him.

Not so luckily, Zuko hadn’t meant to catch him.

...Zuko’s broken arm throbbed just as badly as his headache, and Aang—lying in the hospital bed right next to him and admiring the little Christmas wreaths and snowflakes Katara drew on his leg’s cast (she even colored a blue line to show where his tattoo wound down his leg)—wasn’t exactly helping him.

He was way, way too tired for this.

Zuko made the mistake of looking at his companion-in-cast. Aang’s puppy-dog eyes were internationally ranked, and they disabled Zuko’s ability to say ‘no’ when he asked if he could pretty please make up for breaking his arm by decorating his cast for him.

(‘Creative’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the end result...But Zuko really did like the pair of red and green dragons. They had antlers and snowy-white beards, and the fire they breathed looked like Christmas lights thrown into a blender. It made the nauseating amount of permanent-marker-smell completely worth it.)

Every few hours, Sokka brought them greeting-gifts of hot cocoa and fruit cakes—extra marshmallows and moonpeach-flavored gooey centers because being extra had its perks when Katara was contemplating her allowance of her brother’s and her future brother-in-law’s continued existences.

Aang meekly showed Katara the little drawing he made of what he intended their roof to look like.

She kissed his frown away and practically lived on the roof for the next two days to make it happen.

Once the lights were lit, a small crowd gathered around their house like how people did when they saw a car accident.

But Aang couldn’t have been happier, and, when he slung his arms around their shoulders and thanked them for making his first Christmas that much brighter, Zuko and Sokka couldn’t not smile along with their brother (in all but blood) if they tried.

#zukka #Aang #zuko #Sokka #kataang #modern!au #avatar the last airbender #protect the airboybean at any and all costs #Zuko is ~too tired for this~#fluff and humor #Christmas theme #gaang #fic request #myfanfictiontag #post #i love zuko so much and don’t say it nearly enough #or Sokka #love these beans

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svtxsoju · 4 years

Text

00. prologue | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is! ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 2.6k words ღ Binu’s Note: hi to anyone who is reading this!!! i’m super excited (and kinda nervous :0) to post this bc i’ve been working on this project for a while now. aaaa i hope there are at least some people who can enjoy it! this is a relatively short-ish chapter but it’s p dense with exposition lol but anyway if ur reading this, thank you i love you!!!

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ Navigation ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Introducing The Front ’s New Romance Advice Columnist: Miss Soju!

We all have an ideal: an ideal type, an ideal first date, an ideal relationship. The problem is love isn’t ideal at all. And sooner or later, we find ourselves sitting on that plastic chair in that tent on the side of the road with an ache in our chest. You’re hurt, confused, and kind of going crazy-- all the tell-tale symptoms of heartbreak are there. And the only cure? Soju, of course!

Finding a decent partner and maintaining a healthy, sustainable relationship is difficult enough as it is. Then layer it with the culture shock of university, where you’re experiencing actual adulthood for the first time without mommy and daddy to hold your hand. It’s enough to make anyone lose their minds! Sure, you could always turn to your friends for support and advice, but in all honesty, they’re even more of a mess than you are.

That’s why Mansae University’s affiliate newspaper, The Front, will be reviving our romance advice column this fall! Each week, Miss Soju will be answering all your burning questions, and that means all of them. Her expertise touches on topics as simple as explaining to that one guy that your love is fated because you passed each other at Yuhaeng Quad, like three times, and extends to more extreme situations that require an anonymous veil, like how to confess to your new boyfriend with the furry fetish that you’ve been severely allergic to animals since you were three and you have no idea how any animals act, let alone… Yikes.

It’s true, college is full of new and bizarre experiences, some we must go through and some we’d much rather avoid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life here. But it’s okay to admit that you need a little guidance through the mystical and confusing world of college dating. Miss Soju has got your back, and she’s not afraid to hit you with that real shit. As she always says, good advice is like taking a shot: sweet on the lips but burns your throat as you swallow it down.

Monday, June 3rd, 2019 3:07PM

“Jihoon, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Name: So Joohyun. Major: Journalism major with a minor in communications. Estimated graduation year: 2021. Desired position: World News Journalism Intern. That was what she had put on her application for The Front’s junior internship program. She had made sure to attach her published articles and to emphasize her interest in-- no, her passion for-- reporting compelling stories on an international scale. Not once in her application did she indicate that she was an expert in love or sex, let alone qualified to give others advice on the subjects! In fact, she was probably the least qualified person on campus for this position, which was probably the most perplexing aspect of the whole situation.

But despite all of that, there she was, sitting in Yuhaeng Quad with her best friend, reading the promo piece she had written for Miss Soju. Jihoon had been ecstatic when he had thought of the nickname back in high school. She had snuck bottles of the alcohol over to his house one night after finals week, and he had drunkenly claimed that the name was doubly clever since So-ju were also the first two syllables in her name. When the newspaper had told her she needed an anonymous pen name, it was the only thing she could think of, mostly because creating a secret identity had made her in desperate need of a drink. She changed her mind. Having a secret identity was equally as perplexing as pretending to know how to spice up people’s sex lives. It was like she was some kind of Love Spiderman. She was not ready for that kind of great power or the great responsibility that came with it!

“‘I don’t know if I can do this’?” Jihoon repeated her words slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words in that order. Can I take your picture? I need to commemorate this moment.”

“Can’t you see that I am having a crisis?” she whined. “The integrity of my career is on the line because I’ve never bothered to go on a date!”

“When are you not having a crisis?” Jihoon laughed. He sat up from lying down on their picnic tarp to give her full view of his smug grin. Originally, he had dragged Joohyun outside in hopes that the perfect summer weather would help relieve some of her stress from the past week. He even found her favorite spot under the shade of an ancient tree that overlooked the stretch of green field. But Jihoon could not call himself a proper best friend if he passed on an opportunity to rub all of this in her face. “This is what you get for chickening out on all our group blind dates! I could have scored that hot bassist girl with the thigh tattoo, but nooo, you always had to put your career first.”

“Sue me for having priorities!” she huffed. Leave it to Jihoon to chalk this all up to karma. Now that he mentioned it though, she couldn’t help but feel like a higher power was taking a piss on her life. Or maybe it was just the shit-eating smile on Jihoon’s face that had her on edge. Joohyun tried to avert her focus to a couple of boys tossing a frisbee around instead, but somehow that irked her too. The idyllic weather, the carefree students, everything that was pleasant seemed to mock her sour mood. She pouted at the ground in defeat, and continued, “You are the first person to know that if I was told that dating and fucking around were going to be crucial to my journey to becoming South Korea’s top journalist by the time I turn 25, I would have become a hoe long ago.”

“Woah, are you gonna start your thot phase for this? Are we gonna have a hot girl summer?” The boy began to bounce excitedly. Joohyun felt it was high time to give him the finger, but she also felt a small smile tugging at her frown. “Easier said than done, though. Remember Jessi from high school?”

“Yeah I remember,” she said with a sigh. High school romance had lured so many of her friends into its clutches, with its enticing promises of sweet chocolates and stuffed animals, and she had helplessly watched from the top of the class as they forsook their grades for boys who didn’t even know what deodorant was. She only shuddered to think of the state of their grades after a nasty break up. It was then that Joohyun had decided that her future was not worth risking over a boy’s attention. “Which is exactly why I never got involved in all that mess in the first place.”

“This must be the gods telling you that it’s time to.”

“What kind of fucked up god sets up a virgin as a love advice columnist?” she asked the sky loudly. If she had known there was anyone listening, she would have insisted that her question was rhetorical and was not in need of any type of response! However, the gods cared not for grammar technicalities on the mortal plane. They just couldn’t resist the chance to respond to someone so openly questioning their decisions with some good ol’ spite. Honestly, with the way things were going for her lately, Joohyun probably should have expected the frisbee flying merrily towards her face, even if she hadn’t just challenge the universe.

“Oh fuck!” Joohyun jerked out of the way and felt the frisbee thunk against her shoulder instead. “Ow.” At this point, she didn’t even have the capacity to be annoyed; she just braced herself for whatever misfortune life threw at her next.

“Sorry about that!” A boy called out, jogging up to them. As he came into clearer view, she noted that he looked far from misfortunate, and also had to remind herself that staring was rude even if someone was unnaturally handsome. His features were soft yet striking, like he had been carefully sculpted from cotton candy. Or maybe a fluffy rain cloud? Joohyun shook her head a little as if that would get her to stop staring so shamelessly. She speculated whether it was the sun that made it look like his blond hair was a glowing halo. Okay seriously, stop staring! He gave Joohyun a sweet smile when he reached them. “My friend got a bit distracted. Now that I’m here, I can’t say that I blame him. Hope we didn’t do too much damage!”

“Uh,” was her captivating reply.

Jihoon, never one to miss such a ripe opportunity, piped up beside her. “She’ll be fine. This is Joohyun, by the way.”

His smile widened at Woozi’s introduction, and Joohyun could swear there was an actual twinkle in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both. I’m--”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” They all looked towards the call. The ethereal boy let out a startlingly loud cackle at the sight of his friend, who gave the two strangers a sheepish wave before continuing to gesture for Jeonghan to return. Joohyun must have been put in a staring mood, because she didn’t miss how his friend’s big ears were a shade of pink and how they bloomed into a cherry red when they briefly made eye contact. She caught herself wondering if all the boys at Mansae University were always this cute.

“I guess I better go,” the boy named Jeonghan shrugged. Joohyun felt his fingers brush against hers when he took the frisbee from her hand, his eyes glinting mischievously. Now she was sure she was seeing things. “See you two around!”

They both watched him retreat in an awestruck silence. That was certainly… unanticipated. Even long after Jeonghan and his friend were out of sight, the brief encounter left a blanket of fogginess lingering over them. Had she not felt his fingers on hers, Joohyun would have easily believed that it had all been in her head. At the same time, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t bold enough to conjure up someone that looked like that on her own. As she continued to fathom how a human being could glow, Joohyun felt the fog dissipate into the warm summer air. She felt like she was waking up from a disorienting dream, and she blinked to hasten the process. To her growing bewilderment, she found that her heartbeat was steady as she came back to her senses, her mind seemingly devoid of the panic and doubt that had plagued her all week. It was a gasp of fresh air.

Jihoon, on the other hand, had long broken free from the strong impression that the blond boy made. He noted the dazed look on his best friend’s face and rolled his eyes. Who knew that a pretty boy was all it took to make her shut up a bit? He nudged Joohyun impatiently, so that she could pay attention to him while he roasted her for totally flubbing her chances. “You thinking of risking it all for that guy?”

In an instant, Joohyun slammed herself back into reality just to shove Jihoon away from her. “That is so not happening,” she said a little too indignantly. Before Jihoon could reassure her that the guy seemed interested enough even though she had only said a single syllable to him, Joohyun suddenly turned to him very seriously. “Do you really think I can do it, Jihoon?”

“What, bang that guy? I can try calling him back here if you want,” he snickered.

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Jihoon replied, his grin now melting into a familiar smile, the one that could put her at ease on her lowest days. “I just don’t know why you have to ask. You and I both know that you kick ass at writing. You’ve written about stuff like natural disasters and the student protests, no problem at all. It’s not like you have a PhD in environmental science or politics. How is this any different? ”

Joohyun scrunched her face as if Jihoon had just suggested that chocolate milk came from brown cows. “Dude, they’re completely different. Those articles were reporting on facts. I did research, I conducted interviews!”

“That’s what I’m saying, Joo!” Jihoon exclaimed suddenly. As smart as she was, he couldn’t help getting a little giddy whenever he thought of a good idea before her. “Why not treat Miss Soju like any other of your other projects? I mean, love is probably one of the most well-documented experiences throughout history, and people are still going through all the same shit. There’s probably thousands of resources for a man simping on a hot chick alone. You can even take your pick, like movies, songs, books, weird couples on Youtube?You don’t need to have experience, because you can just do the research! ”

“Research?” Joohyun repeated. If there was one thing that she was good at, it was doing the work. From the moment she had decided to become a journalist, everything she had done was a strategic move to get her closer to her end goal. She had spent sleepless nights perfecting the details of her writing, countless hours reading through endless archives of old articles. Hell, she even restricted herself from dating for years just so she could focus on keep her grades up. It was almost too easy of a solution. Maybe she was meant to do this after all.

Another couple of months of research would simply be another hurdle on her way to the finish line and she was getting closer and closer. Finally, she felt a smile spread across her cheeks, a real, genuine smile. “I… I can do that.”

“Now that,” Jihoon said as he took her hand in his, pulling her up to her feet, “sounds like So Joohyun. Or should I say Miss Soju?”

She laughed as she dusted the grass off of her butt. “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to include the first part of my name in my anonymous persona. It makes it so obvious that it’s me.”

“Yeah, I mean it would be obvious if people actually knew who you were in the first place,” Jihoon scoffed, narrowly dodging a kick from her. “That’s a good thing for you! Anyway, let’s get out of here, I have a couple of tweaks to make to my song before releasing it tonight. Could you listen to it by the way? I need to know if it’s too cheesy.”

“Oh, the song you’re writing about your mystery muse?” Joohyun hummed playfully while packing up their blanket. She followed after her best friend as he began the short climb uphill. “I don’t know if I want to, you’ve been pretty out of pocket today.”

“Hey!” he said defensively. “First: I don’t need a muse for my songs, I just have a very vivid imagination and my talent does the rest. Second: I literally just stopped you from giving up on your lifelong dream of becoming a journalist, so I think you owe me one. You’re just jealous I can write love songs without having an existential crisis.”

“See, that is what I mean by out of pocket,” she paused for a beat. “I may be willing to listen to your song. For a small price, of course.”

“Okay, deal,” he agreed without hesitation, missing the way Joohyun deviously smirked beside him. They reached the concrete pavement at top of the hill and headed in the direction of his nearby apartment. “What is it this time, Ms. So?”

“Well Mr. Lee, thanks to your lovely suggestion earlier, I have been inspired to begin work immediately. So we shall be watching Twilight on movie night,” she said all too gleefully, mostly for satisfaction that Jihoon’s twisted face of disgust gave her.

“Do we have to?” he groaned.

“It’s for my research!”

#seventeen #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #pour.up #dj.woozi #mu.eros #soju.queen

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

Note

hello hi! if ur ever looking for ideas/prompts for spidey stuff i have an idea i've wanted to see but havent really yet: i have a sensory processing disorder so i personally always really connect w spidey when fics talk about him kind of having sensory issues, but they almost always only talk about getting too much sensory input. which is super valid! but a lot of people also have issues w not enough sensory input (i have issues w both! its gotta be a balance). (pt. 1 bc i talk to much)

(pt. 2 bc i talk too much) not having enough sensory input still needs grounding techniques and stuff! i know for me i'll start kind of pulling my hair, scratching too violently, etc. and then my service pup will lick my face to replace harmful sensory cravings with safe ones! i just feel like this might be interesting to see w peter and the avengers trying to give him safer/better sensory input bc it might be cute. totally no pressure though! just thought i'd yell this idea into the void

Oh god never apologize for talking too much! I love this idea, thanks so much for the request. Funny story, as I was reading I was just like...wait not everyone does this??? So...thanks for helping me realize things!

Just Right

Read it on Ao3

Warnings: descriptions of a meltdown, sensory deprivation (kinda), some self-injury

Pairings: none. found family is my shit

Word count: 2667

If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.

There are screens upon screens upon screens, little things scattered across almost every available surface, and even ones that aren’t technically available. There are haphazardly balanced books and sheets of metal and overflowing trash cans and more random trinkets scattered around than you can think of. And yet, Peter knows precisely where everything is.

Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.

Peter works in a state of 'a lot.' There's a reason for that, and a reason it's a bad idea for him to not have that.

If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.

Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.

Even Tony, the resident doer-of-so-many-things, is baffled when he walks in to see Peter looking at three separate screens, two sets of earbuds—one in each ear—texting as he calls out things for FRIDAY or KAREN or EDITH to help him with. Sometimes he’s talking to all three at once and texting.

“Kid,” Tony says, coming up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “you know you gotta pay attention to the stuff you’re doing, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m doing things!”

Cue an impressive rant that even Tony struggles to keep up with in places, all the while Peter’s fingers fly over his keyboard and beat out rhythms on his crossed legs. He looks up at Tony with a bright smile and sometimes, sometimes Tony wonders what goes on in that head of his.

Because if he’s only seeing the little bits that manage to make their way out of the kid’s mouth…god.

Can you blame him for giving Peter a technological playground? Kid lights up better than an arc reactor.

Tony just shakes his head and says: “Kids these days.”

It’s not an uncommon sight to see Peter doing his work with screens scrolling and music blasting over his earbuds. It drives Steve nuts, his mother-hen instincts trying to make sure Peter’s paying enough attention that he won’t hurt himself.

“I know, I know, Pete,” he laughs when Peter glares at him, “I know you can do it, and I trust you, I’m just…”

Peter softens the smallest bit, dropping his project to scurry over and hug Steve. “I know. You worry.”

Steve smirks, running his hand through Peter’s hair. “Gotta make sure you’re in good enough shape for our walk this weekend.”

“Are we gonna do just the anti-homeless benches or are we doing the ramp bars too?”

“We’ll see how fast we can run, hmm?”

“May wants pictures too.”

“Ah yes, for the Baby’s First Act of Civil Disobedience book.”

“Steve!”

“Nope, that’s what she called it. She sent me a photo.”

Peter’s fine. And Steve told the truth, he does trust Peter. They all do. Kind of a side effect of the whole superhero gig, you learn to trust your people.

Doesn’t necessarily mean you understand them.

It’s been a long day. They’ve had to do some interview with this-or-that news station about their stances on some issue that is ‘complicated on both sides.’ Long enough that even Steve’s—frankly impressive—public service mask is slipping. Natasha gave up trying to masquerade as someone who cared ages ago, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as suggested something unreasonable. Tony shoos the last of the day’s worries out the door as Clint flops down on the sofa.

“Why,” he groans, “did we have to do that?”

“We’re role models,” Steve recites, even as the slump of his shoulders says ‘no’ in every possible way, “it’s our duty.”

“Yeah well, I never signed up to be a fucking role model.”

“Clearly.”

“If you dare tell me off for cursing I swear—“

Bucky just smacks Steve upside the head before he can say anything.

“Ow!”

“Don’t, Stevie,” Bucky warns, “just don’t.”

“Peter?”

Everyone turns around to look at Sam, crouched in front of Peter. He’s hunched over, almost curled up completely in his chair. His curls bounce back and forth, small muttering sounds coming from under them.

“Peter,” Sam calls again, “Peter, can you look at me?”

Peter’s head raises slowly and Sam’s glad for the training he’s had that keeps him from reacting visually. Peter’s face is a mess, thin red lines, and tense muscles everywhere.

“Hey, Pete,” he says softly, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Peter shuffles. “Need something.”

“Okay. You hungry?”

“No. Need something.” He starts beating out a frantic rhythm on his legs, hard enough to make Sam wince. “Something, I gotta—“

“Where are your earbuds, Peter?”

“Counter.”

Tony tosses them their way without even hesitating. Sam hands them to Peter and almost immediately his hands fly to plug them in, jam the buds into his ears. The room waits, no one willing to move until Peter takes a deep breath and his shoulders slump. After a few seconds, he starts tapping his fingers again, this time much less frenzied. Judging by the pattern, it’s probably to the beat of the song.

“…sorry,” he mutters after a few moments, “sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam says, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You wanna talk about it?”

“Uh…not really, not right now.”

“Okay. Is that a ‘you don’t wanna talk about it at all’ or a ‘you wanna talk about it later?’ Either is fine,” Sam says quickly when Peter shifts nervously, “I just wanna understand a little bit more so we can help.”

“M-maybe later.”

“Sounds good.” Sam stands up. “You want us to leave you alone or are you fine if we hang out?”

“Stay,” Peter says, “please.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Sam makes his way over to the others, shaking his head when a couple of them shoot him curious looks. He glances back over at Peter to see him doing some motion that involves all four of his limbs. It’s…oddly mesmerizing, actually.

“I think he’s doing a music exercise,” Natasha murmurs, “eighth-notes, quarter-notes, half-notes, whole notes.”

Bruce stares at her. “He’s doing what?”

Natasha eases her way onto a stool, her left hand tapping along with Peter’s left. “This hand,” she says, still staring, “taps out every quarter note. One, two, three, four.”

“The right hand,” she says, tapping twice as fast with her right, “does the eighth notes. One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and.”

“Then the feet do…one…three…one…three.” She starts gently tapping her feet in time with Peter’s. “And one…one…one…one…”

Steve just shakes his head slowly. “That’s…complicated.”

“It’s a good way to immerse yourself in music,” Natasha murmurs, smiling slightly, “helped me too.”

“What’s it for?”

“I think our Baby Spider is trying to ground himself.” Natasha gives Peter a smile when he catches her doing the same motions. “And it’s fun.”

His other hand never missing a beat, Peter plucks out one of his earbuds and holds it out to Natasha. She smiles and joins him, sitting by his side and carefully inserting the bud.

“Ooh,” she says softly when she figures out what song it is, “nice choice.”

“Thanks.”

They sit like that as the others bustle around quietly, getting all the interview stuff tucked away and Steve starts the cooking for tonight. He shoos Tony out with a spatula as the genius pouts, quickly picking some innocuous bickering fight that makes Bruce roll his eyes and take the book Thor offers him. Bucky and Sam crash onto a nearby couch, Bucky half-heartedly trying to copy Peter and Natasha for a few moments before laughing and giving up. The dinner passes in relative quiet until Peter sighs and plucks out his earbuds, collapsing onto Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha barely flinches, reaching up to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Hey there, Baby Spider. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, “sorry.”

“Told you,” Sam says easily, “you got nothing to apologize for.”

“No, I…I should’ve told you.”

“Peter,” Steve chides gently, “you��re allowed to not tell us things if you don’t want to.”

“But it’s also important that I tell you things,” Peter says stubbornly. “It’s not fair to you guys if I don’t tell you what bothers me and then you can’t do anything about it or it takes you by surprise.”

“That’s fair, Peter.” Natasha leans her head onto his. “Do you have something you want to tell us, then?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Peter twists his fingers together, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Actually, uh, do you mind if I…have my earbuds in while I tell you? I’ll—I’ll play it on low volume, I’ll still be able to hear you, I just—“

“Shh,” Natasha hushes, “you don’t need to justify your needs. Go ahead.”

“…thanks.” A few seconds later and Peter visibly relaxes, running his hands through his hair as he sits up. “So, I, uh, I have a sensory processing disorder.”

Most of them nod. He’s not the only one. Bucky and Bruce in particular make some gesture of solidarity.

“But I, um…mine’s weird.”

“Weird how,” Sam asks.

“Uh, you know how most people get overwhelmed from too much sensory input?” When he gets an answering nod, Peter takes a deep breath. “I have, uh, I have the opposite.”

“…yours is triggered by having too little sensory input?”

“Yeah. That’s why I have…all the screens going all the time.”

Tony huffs. “Little bit of an understatement.”

“I-it’s easier for me to think!”

“It’s okay, Pete, I don’t mean anything by it,” Tony says instantly, raising his hands in surrender, “just wanna make sure this old man can still keep up with you, that’s all.”

“He admitted he’s old!” Clint throws his hands up in triumph. “All hail Peter Parker, the One Who Got Tony Stark To Admit He’s Old.”

“Alright, alright,” Thor says when it looks like Tony’s going to throw Steve’s salad across the table at Clint, “that’s enough. Peter,” he says, turning back, “how do we help?”

“H-help?”

“Surely it can’t come as a surprise that we wish to help you,” Thor chuckles, “now come on, out with it.”

“Uh…you did good today,” Peter mumbles, “getting me my earbuds and stuff.”

“Is that what we should do, then?”

“Yeah. Just, um, get me stuff that’ll occupy my sense. Optimal levels of arousal and all that.”

“Does that include physical contact,” Steve asks, “or no?”

“…sometimes? I gotta ask for that though.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Steve smiles and reaches out to squeeze Peter’s hand. “Thank you for telling us. I’m proud of you.”

“Ah, jeez,” Peter mumbles, his cheeks flushing, “do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what,” Steve asks like he obviously doesn’t know.

“Like—like that.”

“Steve, you’re such an asshole.”

“I agree with Bucky.”

“Both of you hush or there’ll be no dessert.”

The cry of protest that goes up around the table is enough to make Steve almost fall out of his chair from laughing too hard.

It’s pretty easy after that. They all keep an eye on Peter during functions where they’ve gotta sit still for long periods of time. Often they’ll hide Peter in the back and one of them will reach down, let Peter play with their hands, or sneak some new piece of tech in for him to tinker with. They always keep his earbuds close by and there’s never a problem if Peter needs his earbuds in while he’s at dinner with them or watching a movie.

Then May texts Tony one day when Peter’s scheduled to come over.

May: Peter’s earbuds broke.

Immediately, Tony sends it out to the others. They’re all on high alert, scouring the floors for where they may have been left, if they’ve got extras Peter can borrow, just for a little, come on Tony, you run a tech empire, what do you mean you don’t have headphones?

They’re all so busy looking that they completely miss Peter’s arrival.

Peter’s been floating ever since he got on the bus. Everything feels like it’s happening behind a whine of static. He’s floating in this weird bubble of a fish tank and he can tell there are things beating on the glass outside but he can’t do anything about them. He’s floating and he hates floating. He can’t feel anything. Can’t feel anything.

Something, something, he needs something.

Does he still have a body? Does it still feel? He doesn’t know as he stumbles down hallways and through doors. The walls don’t feel like anything. His hair catches on a catch and it feels. It sends a zing down his spine and he can feel. So he does it again. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

His nail catches on his cheek as he raises his other hand to his hair and there’s a bright flash that shudders his body. It’s warm. He likes warm. He likes to feel. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

He can’t feel his arms. So he moves to his arms. The flare spreads. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

Where else can he feel?

He should be able to feel everywhere, shouldn’t he?

Feel.

He can’t feel his hands but he can tell his hands are making him feel.

It’s stopped being a word now.

Something tangles in his hand, at least he thinks it does. Something tangles in his other hand. They squeeze. Oh. Oh, he can feel that. He can feel his hands. He can feel…he can feel a lot.

He hears the gentle whine of metal against metal, feels the hardness of a claw in each of his hands. He blinks and looks up.

DUM-E and U are holding his hands, squeezing them gently the way he does to them. When he murmurs their names, DUM-E lets his hand go, leaning down to start stroking his forehead with his claw. Peter watches, trace the parts of DUM-E’s machinery, mapping it out in his head, grounding himself in the expansions of wires.

It’s better now, it is. U still sits there, patiently squeezing his hand, even as DUM-E whistles and chirps. Peter starts mumbling back that he’s fine, thank you, he’s okay now, can DUM-E move a little to the left, please?

“Peter?”

“Uh, h-hi, Fri,” Peter mumbles, “I, uh, guess you should tell them I’m here.”

“They’re on their way, Peter.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Steve will stumble in first, Natasha hot on his heels. Steve won’t be able to hide his shock at seeing the red lines drawn harshly on Peter’s skin, even as he tries to smile and call out for him. Natasha will look him over and softly ask permission to patch him up a little.

Tony will praise the bots as Sam and Bucky rope Peter into some inane fight that pulls him out of his head. Bruce and Clint will offer him their earbuds as they’re the only two who’ve managed to find some. Thor will offer to carry Peter for a little while.

But for now, Peter will sit here, on the floor of the lab, while the bots kiss his face, and feel.

It’s just right.

#dragonbabbles #fic #peter parker #avengers #spiderman #marvel #mcu #self-harm #sensory overstimulation #sensory processing disorder #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #bruce banner #thor #clint barton

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wincore · 4 years

Note

AGREEEE, WORKING OVER THE WEEKEND IS THE WORST esp since im in uni full time and i work 9-5 on the weekends which means... no breaks for me ever.. 🥲

MASSIVE CRUSH ON OIKAWA OMGGG I SUPPORT THIS!!!!! but i am unfortunately much older than 15 and still enamored by 2d men 😔 life’s rough like that HDJWKDJ YES ATSUMU CAUSES PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE.. HES THE WORST!! btw.. ive heard that the oikawa to atsumu stan pipeline is very real... so if u get to s4.. u may develop atsumu brain rot like me 👁_👁

OOO alright run on, extracurricular, vincenzo, true beauty, love alarm, & perfect crime. NOTED!! ive actually been meaning to watch extracurricular for a while now, it looks so interesting!! now that it has the wincore seal of approval i must watch 😤 OMGG SAKURADA DORI I SAW HIM IN ALICE IN BORDERLAND!! super good show but really gore heavy at some points 👁

ahh ok thank u for the reccs, ive been thinking about starting demon slayer too!! shoplifters sounds really interesting :oo crime??? i havent watched a full movie in a while so i will def check it out!! THESE R ALL GOING IN MY NOTES APP.

NEXT YEARRR omg it sounds far away but i know time passes so quickly nowadays so I WILL WISH U LUCK ONCE AGAIN 💛 i hope u update us when the time comes!!

UGHWHHD EVEN THIS SYNOPSIS IS MAKING ME MISS UR WRITING?!? I LOVE THE WAY U WORD IT... “given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear” AHHHHHHH omg “he’s in a relationship and doesn’t rlly care about the soulmate system” THIS IS ALWAYS SUCH A PAINFUL SCENARIO IN SOULMATE AUS PLSS!!! Wait is the soulmate of yn gonna be an oc/vague character or another member :O EITHER WAY... PAIN! THIS IS GETTING ME SO EXCITED AND U HAVENT EVEN MENTIONED ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT JAEHYUN’S LIKE IN THIS FIC YET

RUNWAY CHARACTER CAMEOOOS YESS I LOVE RUNWAY YN!!!! i actually reread it last night and ugh i was reminded how much i love yns personality... just the process of experiencing all tht self doubt with them!!! so real & makes u root for them :’)

“if jeno plays edward i need him to that apple scene like taemin did” WHHHHHWJDJJWJDBW THIS MADE ME CHOKE ON THE WATER I WAS DRINKING LMFAO

GODDDD THESE TROPE/MEMBER PAIRINGS, HARD AGREE HARD AGREE!!! HAECHAN AND RENJUN ARE E2L 100%!!!! i think bc the ppl in the bff2l category cant convincingly hate yn back LOL

“gets complimented on his lyricism often but like every song’s about you” STOPPPPP HES SO PERFDCT FOR THIS TROPE!!!!!

OMG I SEE EXACTLY WHAT U MEAN ABT SICHENG IN ROYALTY/CHAEBOL AUS... i think like u said it’s because of his poise & the way ppl are generally in awe of him but also bc of his reluctance to open up!! more reserved until he trusts u... funny and kind but sometimes perceived as aloof... those r some prince tendencies! “what are corporate businesses but modern day kingdoms” LMFAOOWJDJ SERIOUSLY THO

“mans really said i will not give you any onscreen idol personality to work with” HDJWJDJWJSJ LITERALLYYYY this is why i have trouble reading jaehyun fics sometimes bc sometimes they can feel “inaccurate” but its mostly just bc there’s no Standard Personality Stereotype to go off of. but a random & uncommon trope i think he’d pair well with is exes to lovers!! Yes im basically just a jaehyun + angst advocate.

“i think most of them would pair well with bff2l??” FACTTTTTTT and no im not just saying this bc its one of my favorite tropes.. heh... i think i told u this before?? but ur like the main reason i started enjoying e2l!!! i didnt like it before bc i love the PINING in bff2l but then i started reading ur works n was like OH SHIT! THERES LOADS OF PINING HERE TOO...

i think yangyang is not bff2l or e2l, he is in his own category which is Annoyer2Lover HDJWKDJ ex: troublemaker, wasted nights

OMGGGG I DID NOT EXPECT ROYALTY AU TO HAVE SUCH A LARGE LEAD IN THE SURVEY??? and cryptids is so low 😔😔 cmon guys, vampires r fun!!!

WE R LITERALLY WRITING ESSAYS TO EACH OTHER RN BUT I LOVE IT 🥺🥺 its a such a nice break to read ur response when im burnt out from studying!!

OMG IM GOING THROUGH #moonwrites AND IM LITERALLY AN IDIOTTTT IVE BEEN OFF TUMBLR FOR SO LONG I DIDNT REALIZE THAT ROMEO ROULETTE HAD A PREVIEW OUT????

“And I get what out of this?” “Me?” IM IN LOVE WITH THIS CHARACTERS PERSONALITY ALREADY LMFAOO

“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.” ?!?!???? THE WAY JAEHYUN IS A LITTLE SHIT! THEIR PERSONALITIES ARE BOTH SO FUN PLSJWJDJEJ IM MORE EXCITED NOW!!

pls disregard the part in my last ask where i asked abt romeo roulette.... i had no idea all of the information i needed was sitting right in front of me 😔😔

- tata

WHAT 9 TO 5 ON EVERY WEEKEND???? the system has failed you this honestly feels like a villain origin story 😭 when does it get better???

ALSO let me answer the other asks separately for better readability lol we really out here writing essays GOOD THING i have practice writing but like. this is infinitely better to write 🥰

PLSSS SOMETIMES I WILL SEE AN EDIT/TIKTOK OF OIKAWA AND BE LIKE DAMN I REALLY NEED TO CATCH UP I MISS THIS MF also are you daring me to ruin my life for 2d men bc i will do it without hesitation. wait till i watch hq again and get that atsumu brainrot with you he seems annoying enough for me to like ^_^

AND YES PLS I WAS SO ABSORBED IN IT!! extracurricular was the most gripping show i’ve watched in a while like yes enough teen romance give me two unhinged teenagers doing crime 🤩 AND OMG??? THAT’S WHERE WE SAW HIM TOO and although niragi was literally vomit-inducing human trash, sakurada dori is like. a good actor. except i hated coffee&vanilla which starred him it was literally so cringe i couldn’t 😭 i blame the writers for that though. IM EXCITED FOR S2 OF ALICE IN BORDERLAND THO i really like horror (and i can tolerate gore if ive been desensitized enough) and like i read the manga too!!! the games were really interesting (although morbid).

😭😭 MY NOTES APP IS FULL OF RECS FROM FRIENDS ALL OF THEM HATE ME FOR NOT WATCHING THE SHOWS BUT LIKE. i binge 3 or 4 at a time and strike them off and then go 6 months without watching a single tv series hhh.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I SURE WILL UPDATE !!! it’s so exciting to think about grad school sometimes :33

AHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT AND THE PREVIEW TOO SGSDJKDS there’s a few differences in the actual fic i think bc i changed up the language (and i dont remember what else bc i refuse to look at my writing) JAEHYUN RLLY IS A LITTLE SHIT he’ll be like hm yeah im pretty chill :) and then proceed to beat yn at her own game at times. (she wins mostly dw) the fact that i made her soulmate cha eunwoo like girl if i were you i’d crash their relationship 🥱 (jk) but like. jaehyun too is 🤩 despite being dry af

ASDKDSKDS YOU REREAD ALL (ALMOST) 19K WORDS ??? IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THAT FIC SM AAAAHHH IM FEELING LIKE AN ACTUAL AUTHOR 🥰 i loved runway yn too they were like boss attitude with 20% anxiety.

LOOK JENO BETTER BE PULLING MOVES LIKE THAT TO IMPRESS THE GIRLS 😤 if he hits himself in the forehead with the apple, bonus points bc that was true comedy (as invented by taemin)

AND YES. LIKE I KNOW MARK HATED DONGHYUCK SO MUCH HE WANTED TO LEAVE SM BUT LIKE HE’S TOO NICE WITH EVERYONE ELSE 😭😭😭 i cannot picture him pissed off apart from that summer fight </3

thinking about dejun getting rejected by a girl he wrote a song for. rip brother.

IM GLAD YOU PUT THAT INTO WORDS BC THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS!!! he’s got all of these regal qualities but he’s still human ykyk so it makes for the most amiable person on earth 😌 i love this characterization of him!!

oof exes to lovers with jaehyun... i had a similar idea a while ago (with theme song sincerity is scary by the 1975) that i discarded bc i don’t think i’m cut out to write that 😭 (YET) so i will keep this is mind. u r so right about jaehyun feeling inaccurate bc it’s like he’s very mild in personality onscreen sometimes?? so him having strong personality traits makes me go 🤔🤔 that man is overreacting. (jkjk but like you get the idea)

WAIT RLLY OMG BC OF ME???? i would never enjoy e2l irl bc irl dudes are 🤢🤢 and if they annoy me i will end them. but in fiction the mutual pining and initial disgust at yourself for liking the other??? helllooo 🤩🤩🤩 especially if it’s in a romcom style <3 bff2l is also better in fiction bc if the relationship doesnt work out irl and the person become uncomfortable with me i will just get annoyed jskshdl

LMAO YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT YANGYANG HE’S JUST THAT™ DUDE skgkhs he feels like someone fun to hang out with but he would annoy you the whole time. also he is cute 🥰

AND EXACTLY!!!! IM HAPPY FOR ROYALTY AUS BUT CMON. LOOK AT THOSE VAMPIRE TEETH. feel like media ruined vampires for people 😔

THIS IS SUCH A NICE BREAK FROM STUDYING HONESTLY!!!! im like working on two semi-large projects AND studying course and out-of-course material simultaneously so my brain is a little fried. thank u for this 😘

#tata 💖#anon #answered

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theokotrain · 3 years

Text

Vestige - Interlude: The Party

Wattpad Version

As the night fills the sky

All my fears are dissipating

'Cause I feel reassured

That I might make it through

And if all my luck should burn

Then I guess it burned for you

---

April 13th, 2012

I was sitting on my bed, back against the bed frame with my knees raised in front of me, holding up my laptop. I had been spending the last few hours writing an essay for my English class, specifically answering the topic question my teacher had given everybody: "How do our past experiences influence our decisions?". The question was simple enough, it's a pretty universally recognized idea that stuff that happens to us has an effect on our decision making. I mean, that's what it means to grow, right? You gain more knowledge as you live through life and form new memories, and that helps you make more informed decisions in the future.

I've never really been too good at writing anything analytical, especially non-fiction. Essays and research papers that required informed arguments that helped to prove your point? Those were an entirely unknown game to me, one which I had never managed to breeze through. Of course, we were supposed to use some of the books we've read this year as evidence for our arguments, so that at least made it a bit easier, even if most of the books were ones from nearly five decades ago and definitely out of touch at this point. The sound of my laptop's keys clicking as I typed away were the only sounds I could pick up in the room. I had my earphones in for a bit, but those always hurt my ears after a while, so I had taken them out.

Looking at the time in the corner of my laptop screen, it was 4:43 PM. I started writing as soon as I got home from class, so I've only been going for about an hour. Unfortunately, this essay is a non-insignificant amount of my course grade, so I needed to finish this as soon as possible.

God, it's a Friday! I could be out doing something actually fun with Shae and the other guys. Isn't that the whole point of high school? That's what it always seemed like in movies, at least, but I guess I've been a victim of false advertising.

After a bit more time passes, the sound of my phone ringing from my desk brings me out of my writing trance. I sigh, setting my laptop next to me on the bed, not wanting to get out of bed, but eventually forcing myself into maneuvering over to the desk, I grab the phone and flip it open, looking to see the Caller ID.

Shaela.

I instantly accept the call, it's almost second nature at this point. She calls me at least once a day so she can tell me about whatever person is pissing her off that day, or whatever drama she's heard from her other friends. I was never really one for gossip, or whatever, but I did appreciate talking to her.

I put the phone up to my ear, "What's up?" I say, a tinge of fatigue in my voice.

"Hey! Just warning you that I'm like five minutes from your place and you don't have a say in the matter." She replied bluntly. I can hear the sound of cars driving by on the other side of the phone, so she's obviously outside, confirming her words.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "...Why?" I said with exasperated sarcasm.

"Because! I have something to tell you, and if I say it over the phone then I seriously doubt it'll work out in the way I'm hoping it does."

"That clears up nothing, actually, and now I regret picking up."

"Even if you didn't answer, that doesn't stop your parents from letting their son's lovely goody-two-shoes of a friend stop by for a visit!" She exclaimed, a mischievous tone subtly layered in her voice.

She's not wrong.

"Wow, you make this sound like you're sneaking into a high-security building or something." I say, utterly confused at her motives. "Obviously you can come over, but I'm not exactly filled with confidence at whatever you're planning."

"Like I said, I can't tell you yet, but it's gonna be awesome!" She said. There was an unusual perkiness to her that made itself pretty clear over the phone.

Before I can say anything, I'm met with the dial tone, signalling that she had hung up. The only thing I can do at this point is wait for her to get here, I guess. She always lets herself in when she comes over, so I don't make the effort to meet her downstairs. A sudden ping sound fills the quiet room, seeming to come from my laptop. I get back into bed, looking to see where the notification came from.

It's a message from Tyler.

He's definitely the newest member of our little group, if even that. I'm the only person in the group that he's actually friends with so far, despite my efforts to bring him along on any plans we all make. I only met the Grey Wolf back in February, at the beginning of the second semester, in the school's photography class. Nobody I knew signed up for it, and due to our prestigious high school's advanced budget for technology, we were forced to be paired up for shared computer use in the Photography Room. I suppose Tyler was also fortunate enough to not know anybody in the class, as we ended up being paired together by the teacher. He was definitely someone I could only describe as uninterested, as the first week or two I spent with him in that class consisted of him either giving me one word answers or answering in the most blunt, bored tone he could manage. Though, it seemed that it took a bit of persistence on my part to push him to be more open, and since then he's grown to be a pretty great friend.

Tyler: u goin to that party tonight ive been hearin about?

Party? I wasn't made aware of anything like that, at least... not yet. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that Shae had ulterior motives about coming to my place so suddenly, but I'm still hoping that I'm wrong. I hate parties.

Jake: party? havent heard anything, are u going?

Tyler: thinkin about it

think its gonna be over at chris's place, guess his parents r gone for the weekend or somethin

Jake: chrisssss? ughh that guy is such an asshole

Tyler: yeah u dont havee to go, but itd prob be more fun to have someone u actually know there

The way he worded that was directed at me, but I could tell he didn't want to go on his own.

Jake: i guess ill think about it

Tyler: sickk, call me if u make up ur mind

Before I can type my farewells over IM, Shaela energetically bursts through the door.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, don't you knock?" I said, mildly exasperated.

"Oh come on, I literally called you a few minutes ago, you had plenty of time to not make a situation where it'd be a bad idea for me to barge in," She replies, laughing, before setting her bag on the ground and dramatically falling into my bed. "Today was garbage."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, Claire decided to just not show up, I guess, on the day we're supposed to present that stupid History project? And, obviously, she didn't give me her part of the project or anything, so I had tell Mr Thomas about the situation, which was fucking embarrassing." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Luckily, he said he wouldn't reduce my grade for handing it in late, since I actually had my part finished. God, what a bitch- I must've called her like thirty times before class to get her to email me her part, and every time it went straight to voicemail - and she told me last night that she'd have it ready for today!"

"Have you gotten a hold of her yet?" I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

Shae turns her head to me, shaking her head, "Nope, she's been ghosting me all day."

"Sounds like typical Claire."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have partnered with her, but apparently I can't say no to anyone, so..." I chuckle lightly in response. "Anyways! I didn't just come here to complain to you!" She says, sitting up on the bed, now facing towards me.

"Right... So what was so important that you just had to tell me in person?" I say, sarcastically.

"Like I said, if I asked you over the phone you would've definitely said no, and my ability to pressure you into doing things isn't as effective unless it's in person!" She responded.

I subtly rolled my eyes, but it's clear she noticed from the stare-down she gave me, "Okay, so what is it?"

"Soooooo..." She says, trying to find the rest of the words, "There's a party."

Wow.

"Wh- did everybody know about that party except for me?!?" I exclaimed.

Shaela's face quickly turns to an expression of shock, "Who told you?"

"Tyler did, like, not even five minutes ago." I say, bluntly.

"What? How does he know Chris?"

"Friend-of-a-friend, I'm guessing?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, thinking about something, "So, did you tell him you were going?"

"I specifically said I'd think about it, nothing definite." I made it clear in my tone that I wasn't particularly interested.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be fun!"

I didn't really have an interest in going, but I know it'd make Shae happy, plus it'd be nice to hang out with Tyler again even if we've only known each other for a couple months.

"...Fine. But, if Chris or any of his buddies start shit, I'm leaving."

"Awesome!"

"Lemme just call Tyler and let him know," I said as I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, finding Tyler in my contact list and dialling.

"You gonna bring him with-" The phone rings a few times before he picks up and I extend my hand out towards Shae in a shushing motion. She rolls her eyes, smirking.

"Hey? So are ya gonna go?" He said eagerly.

"Well, Shae showed up at my door literally right after you messaged me, asking the same thing!" I exclaimed in a fake-preppy voice. "So, I guess I have no choice since she'll probably just drag me there if I say no," I joked. She nods her head toward me in response.

"Oh, is she going too?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so! Your place is kinda on the way to Chris', so we could probably meet you at your place and go from there."

"Yeah! Sounds good!" He quickly responded.

I laughed, "Okay, we'll call you when we get there?"

"Sure thing!"

We exchanged our farewells, and hung up. The party wasn't for at least another hour or two, so Shae and I had some time to burn, of which I was entirely out of ideas. I figured I could at least spend this time actually being productive, so I grabbed my laptop and continued on writing my English essay as Shae resumed her previous conversation topic of stuff at school that was pissing her off. It was pretty entertaining, to be fair. She was telling me about how Chris had gotten in a fight with this other kid in our grade yesterday after class, which I wasn't lucky enough to witness, but it was obviously all anyone would talk about for basically the entire day today so word spread around fast. The part I hadn't heard about was that both Chris and the other guy, Nathan, got suspended for a week because of it. Chris was generally an asshole to everybody, including myself, so I didn't feel too bad about that. Although, I didn't know Nathan all that well. Other than having a few classes together, I don't think I've ever held an actual conversation with the guy. I think it was safe to assume that Chris was the one who started it, and Shae seemed to agree with me, even though she hadn't seen the fight either.

"But, apparently Nathan's gonna show up tonight!" She exclaimed coyly.

"...Remind me again why you want me to go to this specific party?"

"You'll have a great time! It's not like we'll be involved in the drama anyway so think of it more as entertainment!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'entertainment'," I joked.

"I'm sure you can go run off somewhere with Tyler if you're not having fun," She said, her tone reminding me of my mom.

"Oh yeah? What about you?"

"I can't just leave Alex at a party with Chris, those two start shit between each other so much and I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that today."

"I'm guessing it's safe to assume that Elliot's going too, then?"

"He's not big on parties, but he'll usually go if everyone else is, unlike somebody," She says, gesturing towards me.

"Good one," I reply, unmoving as I keep typing away at my assignment.

"Well, we should probably leave soon since we're stopping at Tyler's place on the way.

I saved the document I had been working on, closing my laptop. "Sounds good to me!"

---

"I can't believe you actually agreed to go." Tyler joked as we walked towards the road from his house.

"Yeah, me either." I replied. I definitely didn't put in any effort in dressing up for the party, opting for a snug space-themed graphic tee, along with black jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. Shae and Tyler both stand on opposite sides of me as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Luckily I learned the subtle techniques in convincing you to do things against your better judgement, so now you get to have fun for once!" Shae exclaimed.

"It's not my fault that going to a party is literally the last thing on earth I'd do for fun in any normal situation." I retorted, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Oh yeah? And what do you consider a 'normal situation'?" Shae asks.

"Any situation where you guys aren't the ones trying to get me to go! I'm only doing this for you two, y'know." I said, looking over at both of them.

"What about Elliot and Alex?" Tyler chimed in.

"They aren't the ones asking me to go to this party." I sarcastically remarked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. "Speaking of the party- this is Chris we're talking about, there's gonna be beer, right?"

"Uh, duh?" Shae replied.

"Yeah, that's a definite no for me, I'm already enough of a disappointment to my parents,"

"No one's making you drink, Jake. At least you'd be safe if some old hag called the cops about the noise." Shae said.

"I think at that point we're guilty by association, so we'd just make a run for it if that happens," Tyler joked.

"Dude, the chance of me outrunning a police officer successfully is about as likely as me not wanting to punch Chris tonight."

"And the chance of you winning that fight is just as low!" Shae retorted, Tyler laughing in response.

"I specifically said 'want' because of that very reason!"

"Wow, I'd pay money to see you fight that guy." Tyler said, nudging his elbow into my side.

It isn't a secret that I'm not exactly athletic. I mean, I'm definitely not weak, but fighting basically any animal of a similar size to mine was not a situation that favoured my victory.

"That sounds more like just getting the shit kicked outta me for your entertainment." I remarked, lightly punching Tyler's shoulder in return.

"Absolutely worth every penny!" Shae exclaimed. Luckily, the place wasn't any more than ten minutes away from Tyler's place, so I didn't have to endure listening to these two talk about me getting beat up for much longer.

We finally make it to Chris' house, and I'm suddenly filled with an impending sense of regret. Obviously, my parents would never in a million years agree to me going to a party like this. As far as they know, I'm just spending the evening hanging out with Shae at Tyler's house. So yeah, this entire night had a lot of potential for disaster.

Shae can clearly see my hesitation, because she grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway, Tyler following closely behind.

"I wonder if Elliot and Alex beat us here?" She says, knocking on the front door.

"I doubt they had anything to do earlier, hell they probably came straight here after school, knowing Alex." I said, laughing.

Our conversation is cut short by the opening door, revealing the familiar black cat.

"Oh, look, the Stephenson kid brought his girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed mockingly, looking back into the house, before peering around my shoulder, "And... Tyler?" He said, inquisitively.

I lean over, blocking Tyler from his line of sight, "Yeah, hey, not dating by the way!" I said. I've known Shae since I first moved to Vestige, around the time I turned five years old, so it wasn't uncommon for rumours to go around that we were dating. I've always thought of her more as a sister, if anything.

"I asked them to come!" Tyler said. That was only partly true, but according to Tyler, they've been 'somewhat-friends' for quite a while now, so saying that would at least mean less mild-harassment from Chris for tonight.

"Oh, uh, okay... come on in! But you're on the hook for any shit they pull, Tyler!" He said, opening the door wider.

---

The party had been going on for a few hours at this point. I could recognize most of the animals here from school, but not enough to actually hold a conversation with any of them, so most of my time here had just been spent with Shae and Tyler. The place hasn't been incredibly crowded luckily, but there were easily about forty others in this part of the house alone. I'm assuming only high school grades were invited, but there were a considerable number of students to meet that requirement. The issue at hand for me, other than how crowded this place is, is that both Shae and Tyler ditched me to go... somewhere? I think Shae saw some of her friends and went somewhere with them, but Tyler was pretty secretive about where he was going, only telling me that he'd be back in a bit. So I've been standing here in this random corner of the house with a drink in hand, trying to make myself look busy and not awkward, which is exactly why I didn't want to go to this party in the first place!

"Jake!" A voice shouted from a ways away.

I turn my head in confusion, revealing Alex, walking towards me from across the room.

"Oh, Alex! Hey! What's up dude!" I finish the last bit of my soda, waving at him. Because this was Chris' party, there was obviously beer too, but I didn't feel like coming home drunk and my parents finding out.

"I didn't think you'd wanna come to something like this! Feeling the regret yet?"

"I like parties! It's the times like these when I'm standing in a corner by myself with nothing to do that I hate, which seems to happen every time I go to a party!" I exclaimed, pausing for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do hate parties- I've had to explain this so many times today I'm about ready to jump into Lake Ambuscade."

' "Wow, sounds like somebody needs to socialize instead of stewing in a corner for the rest of the night!"

"Socialize? Really? I know just about everybody here and just about none of them are worth talking-"

"Hang with me and Elliot, then? Justin set up some racing games in the other room, we were gonna join, but we could use a fourth... You in?" He said, his tone obviously trying to sound coercing.

"God, please, anything to get me out of this corner for the next three hours." I said, Alex returning my words with a laugh.

"Well, come on then! We'll have to hurry if we want to get one of the good controllers!" He exclaimed, motioning to follow him.

As we move through the various cliques, I recognize a few faces here and there, though not enough to actually want to talk to them. There's been music playing since we got here, and I have yet to recognize a single song, they all seem to be some form of drone-y bass-heavy music that I can't say I've heard in any normal situations. I'm doing my best to follow Alex, although he keeps weaving between the other animals faster than I can keep up, resulting in me having to shove past everyone near me in an effort to speed myself up. Luckily, it seems that no one notices me anyway.

When we arrive in the other room, it seems to just be another living room, but decorated with a galore of punk band posters, shelves holding more DVD cases than I would ever care to count, and even a mini-fridge. Maybe Chris is the type to have a 'man cave' or something? Just hearing that phrase almost makes me want to vomit, but there aren't any more accurate words that come to mind. The room isn't massive or anything, but the TV resting upon the wall across the room seems to challenge that idea, looking almost eighty inches in size. Luckily no randoms from the party were in here, sitting about ten feet away from the TV is Elliot, leaning back in a purple bean bag chair that seems almost three times bigger than him, and Justin, the cougar I'd only known slightly through Alex, laying down sideways on the couch directly in front of the gigantic screen.

"Whatttt! You took the bean bag chair? Lameee..." Alex whined.

"You're the one who wanted to go get Jake, you snooze you lose!" Elliot retorted, looking oddly proud of himself.

"Damn, wish I had a room like this at my house..." I mumbled, looking around the room.

"Are we gonna play or what?" Justin said, cutting through the momentary silence.

"Duh!" Alex claimed.

Justin sits up, taking the spot on the couch closest to Elliot. I opt for the leftmost seat, and Alex sits in-between the both of us. Elliot grabs the other three controllers and tosses them over at us, one by one. Luckily, there weren't any garbage third-party controllers, so at least none of us would have to deal with that. I will admit, it did feel kinda weird going to someone's party just to play games away from everybody, but I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer that, even though I rarely play games, if ever.

After Justin turns the console on, he goes through the menus, launching the game. I can't say I recognize the title, but it seems to be a pretty standard racing game. He goes into the custom mode, opting for a four-player split-screen match, choosing 'R1' as the category of cars to race in. As everyone chooses their cars, I scroll through the list, not really knowing what to pick. I've never been good with car stuff, so I pick an 'Aston Martin Lola' just based on the number-rating system the game ranks the cars with.

"You guys ready?" Justin asks.

"Oh yeah, get ready to eat my dust you guys!" Elliot exclaims, challengingly.

"Oddly prideful words for someone about to lose!" Alex replies, laughing.

The countdown begins, as the cameras slowly show the view of each car as it moves to the rear. When it starts, I somehow manage the fuckup of spinning my tires out, leaving me a few seconds behind the others as the car swerves back and forth. I curse under my breath as I try to regain control of the car, and swiftly pick up speed. The track seems like nothing I haven't seen before, a typical professional track, with rows and rows of audience seating to the side. Unfortunately, I'm now in last place. The next few moments of the track are a few quick corners, allowing me the chance to catch up, at least a little.

Unexpectedly, the track turns off of the main road, going into a forested area. The road is considerably more narrow at this point, so it takes a conscious effort to not drive into the trees by the asphalt. It looks like the road stretches on forever, as I still can't make out any upcoming turns. I guess the car I chose for the race had a better top speed than Justin's, as I'm quickly catching up to him, moving into third place. I'm gripping my controller to an uncomfortable degree, but I can't seem to relax the tension as I try to make my way into second place. I don't think I can pick up any more speed in this car, so me moving up is reliant on the road staying straight for just a bit longer. After what feels like a lifetime, the front of my car finally starts making it past Elliot's, then the midsection, and finally, I'm in second. The sound of all four car engines is drowning out any remnants of the video game music, and I feel the sudden urge to curse out whoever turned the TV volume up this high. My eyes are focused entirely on Alex's car as I make my final push into first place. If I were actually driving this fast in the real world, I'd be scared out of my fucking mind. Out of nowhere, Alex, and the others, begins to slow down considerably.

Oh fuck.

It's at that point I notice that there is a sharp right turn rapidly approaching. I've been pushing the top-speed of this car since the beginning of this stretch of road, and now I'm going too quickly to stop in time. What's the button to use the handbrake, again? I figure that the only way for me to not fuck up this race for myself is to try to drift around the corner. Considering I've never played this game before, it's going to prove to be a challenge. But, it's either that, or just ending up in dead-last again.

I hold down the A button, and pull the joystick as far to the right as possible. Suddenly, all I can hear from the game is the loud skidding sounds of my tires against the asphalt. To my surprise, I cut the corner a bit early, now going over the grass. I try to do a bit of directional-corrections and start heading back onto the track. Going over the grass definitely slowed me down a fair bit, but it definitely was a significantly better outcome over just crashing into the wall. And, to my surprise, the corner of my screen reads... first?!?

"How the fuck...?" Alex questions, seemingly in disbelief.

"I wish I could tell you." I replied, eyes wide at whatever the fuck just happened.

The distance I managed to gain on Alex isn't by a whole lot, but there's only about a quarter of the track left before we reach the finish line, so I have a chance at winning this. The track hurriedly changes from the forest as it reenters the main track. The long, straight roads seem to end as the road becomes a slow series of sharp turns, never giving me the opportunity to get back up to speed. It seems like the high top speed was my only advantage, because at every corner we take, I turn my camera around, revealing the other cars inching closer and closer to me.

I can see the finish line on the mini-map, just a few more turns away. I know that I'm not gonna be able to distance myself from Alex and the others at this point, so my only feasible strategy is to keep moving, cutting the corners as fast as I can, and getting to the finish line before they can pass me. Unfortunately, Alex's car seems to be getting too close for comfort now, meaning I might have to take some risks to ensure I can stay in first. As we approach the final turn, leading into the finish line, I realise I'm gonna have to try to drift this corner. I can feel my pointer finger practically cracking the plastic on the controller from the amount of pressure I'm putting on the right trigger. In a final plea to win, I push down on the A button, pulling the handbrake. The car starts to smoothly skid around the corner. Luckily, there are barriers on the sides of the road this time, preventing me from sliding onto the grass. To my surprise, the drift seems to work better than expected. That is, until, like the fucking idiot I am, make a slight overcorrection towards the left barriers as I exit the drift. I managed to avoid driving directly into the wall, but it did slow me down a bit.

Alex is immediately behind me, and I put all of my strength into accelerating towards the finish line. I'd be fucked if I broke the controller, cause I can't really afford the fifty dollars to buy a new one, but winning this race is more important to me at the moment. The finish line is only about five-hundred metres away, and Alex is slowly beginning to pass. All I can do at this point is push the gas as much as I can, and pray that I can cross the finish line before he can get back into first place. The finish line gets closer and closer, and it seems like it's gonna be too close for me to accurately tell the winner. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from how stressful this fucking game has been, and now, we're about to find out whose efforts paid off. As each car makes its way over the finish line, each of our dedicated sections of the screen turns to slow motion. When it's finally over, the text fades in on each screen, revealing our place...

...

...Second?!?

"FUCK!" I shouted, realising I had been holding my breath since the final stretch of the race.

"HA! Dude, you suck!" Alex exclaimed, playfully shoving me.

"I think that was the most effort I've put into anything in my life." I said, setting my controller on the coffee table in front of me.

"Wow, that's dramatic," Justin remarked.

"Yeah, that's the usual for Jake," Elliot replied, laughing.

"You probably woulda won if you picked a better car, dude. That track was way too close-quarters so you should've gone with a car with better acceleration." Alex said.

"Wha- do you own this game?" I questioned, looking accusatory.

"...Yeah? It came out a few months ago, pretty popular right now." He replied.

"Ugh, this is what I get for playing with a bunch of gamers." I exclaimed, applying a disgusted tone to the last word.

"Not my fault you only play like one game a month!" Alex joked.

"Even then, I was like this close to beating you anyway!" I said, gesturing a minuscule distance between my thumb and pointer finger.

A voice interrupts our argument, coming from right outside the room, "Uh huh...

...

Really? That's bullshit! Come on...

...

Dude, give me a couple of days, I'll make it right!

...

Yeah, I swear."

It seems that we all stopped talking to listen in at the same time. "That sounds like Tyler... who's he arguing with?" Elliot asked. I can't make out the voice of whoever he's talking to, it just sounds like mumbling.

They seem to pause for a moment, and the sound of a single set of footsteps can be heard.

"Fuck..." Tyler says to himself, still out of view.

"...I should probably see what's up, you guys can keep playing without me." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"Yeah, you do that! Less competition for me," Alex exclaims, laughing to himself.

"Hey, I can still beat your ass at this game, I know exactly which car to pick this time!" Elliot argued.

"Yeah, right! Guess we'll find out!"

I leave as the three start up another game, kind of glad I don't have to have another near-heart attack from playing again. When I get back into the dimly-lit hallway, Tyler is nowhere to be seen.

I look around, heading into the main room of the house to see if I can spot him. It's pretty difficult to see anything, because of how dim it is here, plus the sheer amount of animals crowding up the place. Despite that, I manage to spot the Grey Wolf a ways away, hurrying quickly into the bathroom.

As I shove my way through a few groups of teens, I almost fall over a few times, gaining confused stares from a few in the room. I lightly knock on the bathroom door, waiting for a response, "Hey, you okay Tyler?" After a few moments, I'm returned with no answer, "...Tyler-" Before I can finish my sentence, Tyler swiftly pulls open the bathroom door, pulling me in and shutting the door behind me, before sitting down on the side of the bathtub. As I'm about to say something, I hear the sound of him sniffling.

...Is he crying?

He's looking towards the floor, so I can't confirm it visually, but the sound definitely gives it away.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Did something happen?" I asked worriedly, not yet choosing to bring up the argument we overheard.

There's a few seconds of silence as he tries to bring himself together, not very successfully. "I- I... I don't- I don't think I can-"

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tried to reassure him. He raises his head for a moment to look at me, trying to find words to say, instead opting to go back to crying, head in his hands. I've never been good with situations like this, so I sit down next to him, putting my hand on his upper back, softly patting.

"I'm sorry- I'm a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Hey! I've been having fun! Don't worry about me, it seems like you're the one who shouldn't have come." I joke, in some effort to lighten the mood.

Shit, was that inconsiderate of me to say?

To my surprise, he manages to let out a light laugh, "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."

"...Do you wanna leave, then? They know I didn't want to go here in the first place, so you could just say you're being nice and walking me home." I didn't know if he would actually take up that offer, but I know some guys have a weird thing about not wanting to seem 'uncool' and leaving a party early was definitely considered that.

He thinks for a moment, still sniffling pretty noticeably. "...okay, just- give me a minute, I don't want to go out there looking like this." He mumbles, looking towards the door.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, continuing to rub around his neck area.

This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. But it was a sort of 'two-birds-with-one-stone' kind of situation. I get to help out Tyler, which is usually the other way around, I get to leave early, and hopefully Shae stops bugging me about going to parties, at least for a while.

Now that I think about it, that analogy is pretty messed up.

A few silent minutes go by as I sit next to the still-crying Tyler, waiting for him to recollect himself. Even though he hasn't actually said anything here, in the two months I've known him, this is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. When I first met him, it was pretty accurate to describe him as the kind of guy who acts like he never feels emotion. Hell, even I refuse to be open about my feelings, but most of my friends see through that nowadays. Even now, I don't really understand why I do that. I guess it's just easier to not talk about shit like that? Is that why Tyler does it?

"I think I'm good now," He said, shaking his hands as he stood up.

"Okay, let's get out of this dumpster fire." I sarcastically remarked. Tyler shot me a confused look in return. "Whatever, let's just go."

I open the bathroom door, grabbing his arm as I lead him out into the main room. Almost immediately the voice of a certain black cat perks up behind us.

"Oh? And what did you two get up to in there?" Chris remarked, laughing, "I didn't know you guys were THAT kind of friends!"

God damnit. This stupid fucking feline.

"Yeah, it's too loud out here for me, I needed a break, he came with." I explained, Tyler standing closely behind me with a confused look on his face. Just roll with it, dude, I think to myself, knowing I probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"You know, I would believe that, but normal guys actually just go outside when they need a break." He replied.

"Well, hey! That's where we're going right now, so it all checks out!" I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster.

"Heh, sure thing, Jake." He said, sounding weirdly satisfied with himself. I didn't want to spend any more time in this fucking house than I needed to, especially while talking to Chris, so I continue on, pulling Tyler by the hand towards the exit. After a few moments, we make it to the front door. I promptly open it and we both head outside.

We're immediately greeted by the light of the moon and the starry sky as we head down the walkway toward the street. One of the few benefits of living in such a backwater town was the absence of any significant light pollution. I've been to Portland a few times for school field trips and such, and seeing the sheer difference in visible stars was absolutely staggering. I could only imagine what it would be like to go stargazing in the middle of nowhere.

"At least it's a nice night out." I said.

"Yeah..." Tyler replied, his mind clearly in a completely different place.

"I should probably tell Shae where we went, so she doesn't freak out trying to find us back there." I joked, pulling out my cell phone. Texting on my flip phone was an arduous task, but I didn't want to call her, so I had not much of a choice.

I send the text, and close my phone, returning it to my pocket. As we walk down the road, we stew in the silence, the only auditory sounds coming from the party still close by, and the local crickets chirping.

I won't lie, as much as I usually appreciate quiet, this is the loudest silence I've ever been stuck in. It goes on for more than five minutes. I could tell he wanted to say something, and I was eager to find out whatever was going on that started this in the first place. But, like the coward I am, I try to lighten the mood.

"Hopefully that satisfied your quota of me going to parties with you for a while, cause I do not plan on having the energy for something like that again for at least a few months." I said, awkwardly laughing. He doesn't respond, at least for a while, as he raises his hand, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "...Uhh, are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? I mean-"

"Can I tell you something?" He interrupted, his voice still cracking like it was in the bathroom.

"...Sure?" I replied, slightly confused.

"It's just that- I don't really know- like what-"

"-to say? Just think for a minute. No rush." That's what my dad always says whenever my mind spirals. I used to be really anxious, although I've been getting better at controlling my thoughts in the past few years.

When I went to text Shae a few minutes ago, my phone's clock read 9:48 PM. I'm supposed to be home at ten and we're still at least twenty minutes away, not even including the detour we'll take to get to Tyler's place. Which brings me to the realisation that, when we get to his house, I'm gonna have to walk the rest of the way home by myself, in the dark. If I get murdered by some serial killer this late at night I'm gonna fucking haunt Shae from the afterlife-

"I think I'm gay," He quickly says, his voice holding a noticeable increase in energy compared to what I've been used to tonight.

Well... can't say that's exactly what I was expecting. Was I expecting anything in particular? I honestly don't know anymore. His words took me by surprise, my brain is kind of scrambled right now. I look over at him - he's looking back at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. I did my best to conceal any facial reaction, but it's pretty clear that my lack of a response is starting to become noticeable.

"...You... think?"

"Well, like- I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking for a while, and it makes sense... all things considered." He replied anxiously.

"That- That's great! Does anyone else know?"

"I only really realised a few weeks ago, so... no. But compared to anyone else, I probably trust you the most to not like- tell anyone?" He said, looking over at me again.

"Well, I appreciate the completely undeserved confidence you have in me," I joked, realising too late that now probably isn't the time for that, "Yeah, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," He replies, a genuine smile strewn across his face.

A few minutes go by as we walk down the road, absorbing the positive energy we created. Having only known Tyler for a little over two months, it definitely surprised me knowing that he trusted me more than anyone else to keep a secret like that... I mean, despite the short amount of time since I met him, I'm as close to him as I've been to Shaela for the past eight years. Maybe even closer? I barely even tell Shae about my actual problems, at least the non-surface level stuff. So yeah, I guess it makes sense that he would trust me with something so important, I know I would absolutely trust him if it were me in that situation.

"...So, do you think you're gonna tell your dad?"

He didn't say anything for a moment as he stared down at the ground beneath him, "I'll probably have to tell him soon, if he has to find out from some asshole that isn't me it'd make it ten times more difficult than if I just said it myself."

I agreed, and we let the conversation cut itself off as we finally approached Tyler's house. I followed him up the walkway and stood on the patio, making sure he actually got inside. He tries the doorknob eagerly, to no avail. Realising that it was locked, he reaches into his pocket for his key - again, to no avail.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Tyler mumbled under his breath, clearly done with tonight. All of the lights were off in the house, signalling that his dad was not awake.

"Maybe you'll wake him up if you knock? Then he can let you in."

"Nonono, he thinks I'm staying at your place! If he finds out I went to a party I'm in deep shit," He whispered.

Of course. If I had to lie to my parents, why would I expect anything different from anyone else?

"Okay, uhh... maybe we can make that lie... not a lie?" I said, sounding weirder than I'd like.

Tyler looked at me, confused for a moment, eyes widening as he realised what I meant, "I can't let you do that, I've already forced you through too much shit tonight."

"Oh, come on, of course you can sleep at my place for the night! My parents think I'm at your house right now, so I can just tell them that we both went over there early in the morning. They love you anyway, so it won't be a problem!"

He didn't move at all, still looking reluctant, "Are you sure it won't be... weird? I don't want to put you in an awkward situation cause of w- what I told you."

"Dude, that couch in my room has a hide-a-bed if you don't want to share mine. Either way, we're friends, aren't we? I trust you."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "...I guess so-"

"Great, then it's settled!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder as I led him back down the walkway.

---

Once we make it to my place, walk up the creaky wooden steps of my patio as I fish the house key out of my pocket. Tyler's standing closely behind me, looking awkward as ever, clearly not knowing what to do with his hands as he switches between putting them in his pockets and clasping them together.

I turn the key on the lock and try the door, noticing that It's completely pitch black inside the house. My parents usually go to bed at 10 PM, and it was well past that at this point. I lock the door behind us as I reach for my pocket, grabbing my phone and flipping it open to use as a barely-useful flashlight. I take Tyler's wrist as I lead him through the furniture of my living room and up the stairs. The only sounds in the house come from the soft ticking of a clock in the kitchen, the sound of which has always freaked me out whenever I'd come downstairs at three in the morning. Despite my best efforts to be as quiet as possible, the old wooden boards of the stairs prove my effort to be futile as they creak with every step. I can only hope that both of my parents have fallen asleep by now, or else they'd definitely have heard us. As I take Tyler down the hallway, walls strung with various family photos and art fit for a motel, I hear no sounds coming from the master bedroom, relaxing some of my tension.

Once we make it to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn on the overhead light, hoping my mom doesn't find out and try to lecture me in the morning, "Okay, hide-a-bed or mine, your choice!"

"Hide-a-bed." He replies.

"Sure thing, lemme show you how to set it up," I say as I remove each couch cushion one by one. The couch is sitting directly under my massive bedroom window, illuminated by the glow of the moon. Under the cushions is a black folded-up contraption, bearing a metal handle. I grab the handle and start pulling the bed out from the couch. As the first section of the bed comes out, Tyler stands next to me and helps unfold the second section, and finally the third.

I move over to open the closet door, "I have some spare pillows and blankets in here."

"So, why do you have a spare bed... thingy... in your room anyway?" He asked.

"My cousins' family came to visit from the other side of the country a few years back, so my parents made the cousins stay in my room and gave me our old couch that used to be in the living room. They were here for like two weeks, it was fucking awful," I remarked, pulling a comforter out of the closet and unfolding it out on the mattress.

"That sounds miserable," Tyler sympathized.

"It was, but hey, now I got a sick as fuck couch in my room! And it works as a great place for certain friends to sleep when they wanna spend the night," I said sarcastically, looking over at Tyler as I grabbed the pillows from the closet, tossing them to one end of the bed.

He turned his head, baffled, "Was that a dig on me?" He questioned.

"Depends on how you took it I suppose," I replied, smiling cunningly.

"You're the one who offered, dude- are you sure you didn't drink at the party? You've at least doubled your usual level of sarcasm." He retorted.

"Nope, unless somebody spiked my soda!" I joked, but the realisation slowly set in, "Oh shit- maybe someone spiked my soda?!?"

"Don't freak out, I seriously doubt someone would spike your drink,"

"God, I hope so, if my parents found out I went to that party, that'd be one thing, but if I got drunk? I doubt I'd see the outside world for months," I sighed.

"Even if you were drunk, it's not like you would still be drunk in the morning for them to find out, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, letting out a yawn shortly thereafter. "Fuck, I didn't realise how tired I am." Looking at my alarm clock, it was 10:37 PM. That wasn't terribly late, I've definitely stayed up later when there was an assignment due the next day that I forgot about, but even before I met up with Alex and Elliot, that party was just wearing me down. "At least I can sleep in 'till like noon tomorrow. You sure you don't need anything before I pass out from exhaustion?"

"No, I'm okay, I think. And, thank you... Jake." He replied, smiling at me.

"No problem, dude!" I quietly exclaimed as I turned off the bedroom lights and hopped into bed. I can practically feel my muscles dissolve as I lean into the mattress, pulling the heavy blankets over me as I close my eyes.

I can't help but feel something itching in the back of my brain. I never did find out why Tyler was even crying back at the party. Was it related to what he told me after? He sounded pretty upset when he was talking to whoever it was in the hallway, too, so maybe that was why? We've already talked about so much shit tonight, though, and I definitely did not have the energy to have another huge conversation about something like that. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Soon, I feel my consciousness drift away, the only sound I can make out being the slow breathing of Tyler, across the room.

---

As I wake up, I'm blinded by the bright sun shining in through my windows, directly into my eyes. I glance over at my alarm clock, feeling incredibly groggy and sore, noticing that it's 11:13 AM. Usually, the latest I'd sleep in on weekends was only around ten, but I guess it took a lot of my energy yesterday to try to tune the party out. At least it's over.

I slowly sit up, yawning as I lean back against the bed frame. I glanced around the room, noticing that the hide-a-bed had been folded back into the couch, Tyler nowhere to be seen. I reach over to my bedside table to check my phone, finding an unread text from him, sent a few hours ago.

Tyler: hey

woke up early, figured youd want 2 sleep in.

will call u later, might have somthin big i wanna share, will see

A pair of oddly cryptic messages. Guess that confirms he isn't here anymore.

At least it was a Saturday, meaning that I had full permission to be a slob. I get out of bed, deciding to skip my usual shower until after breakfast. Other than the snacks that were out at the party, I ate practically nothing last night. I could almost feel my stomach turning itself inside out, so I hurried out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

The first thing I notice when I get downstairs is my mom, sitting on the couch with a book. I head straight to the kitchen, trying not to make myself stand out.

"Jake! Finally woken up, I see." She remarked, still looking at her book.

"Hey, mom!" There's a moment of silence as I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, as well as a box of cereal, and begin to pour.

She speaks up, "Your friend, Tyler, seemed to be in a hurry to leave this morning, anything I should know about?"

"...Not that I know of? Like what?" I questioned as I poured some milk from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Well, it's not like we didn't notice that you weren't home by ten like your father asked you to be, so obviously you must have a good excuse for why you didn't at least call to let us know you'd be late?" She replied. I could tell when she started talking all responsible-parent-like, it meant that she was gonna lecture me about something.

I sighed, thinking of the right thing to say. "...Well, Tyler was going through some things... so I was trying to help him with that, I guess. Time just kinda flew by and I wasn't able to get home 'till later."

"So he spent the night here? Weren't you at his house?" She asked as I ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah... we went out for a bit and once I noticed how late it was I offered to let him spend the night at our house since it was closer," I said. Almost entirely a lie, but definitely preferable to the truth.

"Jake..." She said, setting her book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, walking over to me, and resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're sixteen now, obviously we don't expect you to tell us everything you're up to nowadays. But we worry about you! I worry about you. Just for future reference, please let us know if you're gonna be home late or anything like that."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," I said, looking up at her.

"Great! Now, I have to go meet a friend for lunch, please try not to burn the house down while I'm out!" She said as she grabbed her purse and keys off of the counter, hurring out the door.

"No promises, love you!" I said as she closed the door behind her.

Well, I guess that went... better than expected? I doubt she believed that story I made up, but I guess as long as I don't break curfew without telling them, I should be fine.

Having the house to myself wasn't totally uncommon. Considering my dad was gone during the day five days a week, and my mom would head out to go meet friends or run errands pretty often, I got some much needed alone time often enough to not go mad.

As I finish my bowl of cereal, I realise that I probably should go shower as soon as possible, considering the night I had. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and head back upstairs. I grab a towel from my room and head into the bathroom, grabbing my various fur care products out of the cabinet for after the shower. As I turn the shower on, I hear the sound of my ringtone going off in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I sigh annoyedly, walking over and trying to figure out which pocket my phone was in. When I flip open the phone, the Caller ID reads out Tyler's name.

"Tyler! What's up?" I ask eagerly, hoping to find out what the news he cryptically texted about was.

"Jake- fuck, I messed up, I shouldn't have- what am I gonna do?" He said anxiously, sounding almost out of breath.

"Hey! Slow down, what's wrong?" I questioned.

"I'm such a fucking idiot! Why did I think this would be a good idea? Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"Tyler! Calm. Down. Just take a few deep breaths," I said. After a few moments, I can hear his breathing steadying on the other side of the call. "Okay, good. Now, what's wrong?"

There's a short pause as he tries to find the right words to say. It sounds like he's been crying. What even the fuck has been the past twenty-four hours?

"Can- do you think I could crash at y- your place for a few more nights? I don't know what to do."

#story #novel #interlude #writing #novel writing #vestige #town #coming of age #lgbtq #gay #furry #wattpad

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gwoongi · 5 years

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𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 ✰ dad hoseok

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 jung hoseok / reader genre: parent au, fluff, tiny smol angst words: 2384

“Yeah! So, go and tell the mean kids at school that Pokemon is cool and you can like it no matter who you are! Pokemon has no gender!” Well, Yeojin still didn’t like her Pokemon bedroom but she did still like Pokemon, and Hoseok pretended not to look when she rushed towards Jeongguk on Thursday evening and hugged his waist, telling him how awesome he was because he introduced her to the best show on planet earth, the show with no gender!

a/n: a short side fic for The Honey Project!! bringing back everyones favourite daddy of biology!!!! also happee easter !!! (happy easter everyone! who is it? ITS UR UNCLE....) ((this is sort of inspired by real events!! so before u say its weird...it happened ok.....it happened....kids r weirdos....and they complain about everything))

warnings: baby angst, hoseok being the best dad ever, jung yeojin is a brat

Hoseok thought he was a pretty good Dad.

Everything he had learned about parenthood was either from Seokjin, who had spent at least seventy hours in total on Google looking at websites about how to be the best Uncle- although Dad also applied- to a child that anybody could ever be, and also from his own experience with his Dad. Where his own Dad lacked in family talks and midnight cuddles, Hoseok filled in with Yeojin, a growing bundle of fluffy, curly hair that reached her chin and big doe eyes that Jeongguk claimed were genetically from him, even though that was literally impossible.

His own family, and the unreliable websites Seokjin bookmarked on his University computer, failed to mention how mentally tiring it is to raise a child. At first, neither himself or you had come to realise how hard it would be when the baby you birthed started using words, becoming more vocal about their thoughts and feelings and how it was apparently so annoying for either of you to hug them, or kiss them. You’d heard of teenage angst but not raging-three-year-old-angst. That was new, and certainly something that WikiHow had forgotten to mention.

But Hoseok loved his daughter, even when she threw temper tantrums about being fed carrots or when she screamed at four in the morning because her blanket had slipped through the gaps in her crib. It was definitely a parent thing that nobody understood unless they had mini-me’s of their own. There was nothing in the world that could stop Hoseok from loving Yeojin the way he did. He often sat there, in her bedroom on the floor by her crib with her hands wrapped around his fingers or actually inside the crib, slotted in a curled position with her head of hair on his torso; Hoseok liked to admire the bits and pieces that looked like you, the first love of his life; from the way Yeojin had your longer eyelashes and face shape, with a smile that shone the way yours had on your wedding day, or moments after Yeojin’s birth. Sure, she had features of Hoseok’s but none of those were even comparable to the gorgeous way that Hoseok now had a daughter who looked everything like the woman he fell in love with.

Yeojin, like all children and humans, got older- she grew out of teddy coats bought by Yoongi and out of the crib Hoseok remembered everybody assembling, and gradually the colours of her bedroom turned into phases of her interests. Aged three and she wanted Barbie everything, and both Hoseok and yourself were hesitant to drown the walls in sickly pink and off-whites. Because, you were that age once, and pink is a colour you grow bored of very easily. Aged four and it was her newfound obsession with Pokemon, no thanks to Jeongguk and Jimin stealing her every Friday for Uncle-Bonding-Time, and of course, there had been no complaints when purchasing oversized plushies of Pikachu or cute little outfits of random Pokemon.

Yeojin complained though, when she turned five a year later and decided that Pokemon wasn’t for girls, because some kid at school had laughed at her Pokemon lunchbox and told her she was acting like a boy.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being a boy,” Hoseok had told her, petting her hair in her bedroom and wiping away the sniffles. You came in shortly after with the sacred jar of cookies that Yeojin always tried to reach for in the kitchen, and she reluctantly took a handful. “And, a lot of girls like Pokemon. It’s definitely not just for boys!”

“Yeah! And, what about Misty and Serena, huh? They’re girls,” you offered for input. “I remember watching Pokemon too. Pokemon’s cool.”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! So, go and tell the mean kids at school that Pokemon is cool and you can like it no matter who you are! Pokemon has no gender!”

Well, Yeojin still didn’t like her Pokemon bedroom but she did still like Pokemon, and Hoseok pretended not to look when she rushed towards Jeongguk on Thursday evening and hugged his waist, telling him how awesome he was because he introduced her to the best show on planet earth, the show with no gender! Perhaps Jeongguk had teared up upon hearing those words, but Hoseok wouldn’t say anything.

“I think I like Harry Potter now,” Yeojin said, five and a half, sitting between Haseul’s legs as her Aunt’s hands threaded through her hair, parting and creating plaits.

“Oh, yeah?” Haseul said, smiling. “Harry Potter’s super cool.”

“Do you like Harry Potter?”

“Yeah. I think he’s a nice guy.”

“Mom likes Harry Potter,” Yeojin continued, playing with a slightly tattered Pikachu toy. “She told me so. And Dad does too, but I don’t think he’s as serious as Mom is. Mom had the robes! They don’t fit me, though.”

Haseul finished her plaits and wrapped her arms around Yeojin. “Well, maybe because Mom and Dad like Harry Potter, if you ask nicely we might be able to go visit Hogwarts this Summer. At Universal.”

Yeojin’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”

Haseul nodded with a grin. “Mhm. I’ll ask Mom for you.”

That’s why Yeojin swore to a secret song of Haseul being her favourite Aunt, because even though Auntie Seunghee took her to see movies and look at animals and let her use her Nintendo Switch when she went to visit, Auntie Seunghee had never offered Harry Potter.

Yeojin picked herself up off Haseul’s bed with a frown, straining to listen out into the house for Haseul’s feet when she heard the front door open, and Moms voice float through. Yeojin contained a giggle when you called up to her with a, “Honey, I’m home!” and she replied with a, “Hi, Mommy!” and nothing more. Yeojin would go downstairs when she heard Mom say she could go to Harry Potter World, because Auntie Haseul had promised it already.

“Why would you tell her that?” Yeojin heard your voice say, over the sound of the kettle boiling. Yeojin paused on the landing, listening with a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Haseul…”

“Look, I just...threw it out there,” Haseul defended, “as a suggestion. If she’s into Harry Potter...and you’ve wanted to go there for like, years….kill two birds with one stone!”

“Yeah, and are you gonna help fund this trip?”

“Of course,” Haseul replied. “Me, and Flat Eighteen! You know they’ll love to come. And, we haven’t been on holiday since first year of Uni! Portugal, super fun, but simply not enough.”

“It’s nice, what you’re trying to do for her and us, but,” you started, before sighing and at that moment, the kettle sprang to a pause, “I just don’t know if we can go there right now.”

Haseul stopped, too. “Is money bad?”

“No, not at all. We’re so financially secure it’s actually scary,” you assured. “There are...other reasons. Preventing us from going, I mean. You know why.”

Yeojin didn’t stop to listen. She had heard enough.

“She’s been sad all day?”

Hoseok came home at four thirty, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up whilst tossing his bag into the cupboard under the stairs. You stood in the doorway leading out into the kitchen with your arms folded, rubbing up and down with a frown on your lips.

“Yeah, I don’t know why,” you frowned, happily accepting Hoseok’s warm hug as he stepped towards you. You extended your arms out and wrapped them around his neck, squishing your cheek against him as his lips kissed at your hair, and then his head tilted down to kiss the space between your earlobe and jaw. “She seemed happy when I got to Haseul’s. Then, she was all...grumpy.”

“It’s not your fault, before you even say it,” Hoseok muttered, twirling you slightly. He pulled away slightly after a few minutes, smiling the best he could before quickly bringing your lips to his in a kiss. “I love you. I’ll talk to her, okay?”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Hoseok turned to head towards and up the stairs, in the direction of Yeojin’s bedroom. Her door was closed shut, the colour of the sky-light spreading underneath the door and Hoseok quietly stepped forward and knocked, the noise loud enough yet still quiet. From behind the wood, Yeojin had moved off her bed and he could faintly hear her feet moving across the carpet.

“Yeojin, baby, it’s Dad. Can you let me in for a second?” Hoseok called gently, his hand on the door-handle, ready. “Please?”

Yeojin grumbled something, stubbornly, and pulled open the door, leaving Hoseok’s hand stinging with surprise. His brows raised with the expectancy of an apology but nothing came, only the sight of Yeojin retreating back towards her bed where she lay down and pulled the covers up over her head.

“Go away,” Yeojin groaned.

Hoseok let himself in. “Yeojin, your room is filthy.”

“Don’t shout at me!-”

“I haven’t shouted,” Hoseok replied quickly. God, he didn’t remember being this difficult aged four, especially when the sun was shining outside. Although he didn’t remember much about being four, really. He moved to sit on the bottom of her bed, playfully grabbing at her ankle under the sheets. Yeojin squirmed with a noise of surprise. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“No.”

“I’ll tickle you.”

There was a beat of silence, and Hoseok half wondered whether or not Yeojin would climb out of her protective shield of blankets, but she did, sitting up with crazed curls and looking at her Dad with watery eyes. At once, Hoseok felt his body crushing with anxiety, and without even thinking about it, he opened his arms invitingly for a hug and she crawled towards him, her bottom lip trembling, then her chin on his shoulder and hands stuffed in his jumper.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Yeojin sniffled into Hoseok’s shoulder. “Mom said no to Harry Potter World.”

Hoseok paused, looking at his daughter- “Harry Potter World?”

Yeojin nodded. “Yeah. Haseul said we could go in Summer, but Mom said no.”

“She said that?” Hoseok asked, not really believing it. “Did she say that to you?”

“Well, I heard her say it in the kitchen at Haseul’s house,” Yeojin explained. “Haseul asked and Mom said something about being scared and so that means no. I’m nearly six- I know!”

Hoseok’s eyebrows raised as he stared at Yeojin, trying not to laugh. Of course, as a parent, he knew the reasons why other parents said no. He thinks that if Yeojin had asked him, too, he would have said the same thing. Money was definitely not an issue for Universal studios this summer, but considering Yeojin’s birthday was close coming, alongside the giant fact that they had already planned a Summer vacation to Japan with Uncle Yoongi and Jimin, who was still on the quest for Professor Min’s heart, and the surprise of a sibling, hopefully, if everything went well, Hoseok knew that Universal Studios was possibly a long lost distant dream. Unless Uncle Yoongi and Jimin caved in and said, “Sure!” to an unexpected day trip to Japan’s own Universal.

“Hey, if Mom didn’t say that to you, then you don’t know what she said,” Hoseok frowned, reaching for her to look at him. “Not knowing for sure causes trouble.”

Yeojin scrunched up her face. “Mom hates me having fun.”

“Hey!” Hoseok scolded. He never raised his voice at Yeojin, not ever and not even now, but the hardness of his tone made Yeojin shrink with her head dipped towards her chest with shame. “Your Mom loves you more than anything in the world, and you should know that! Mom wouldn’t do anything to make you upset.”

Between Hoseok’s armpit, Yeojin huffed. “I know…”

“And,” Hoseok continued, hugging her tight, “I’m sure Mom will love to take you to Harry Potter World. Mom loves Harry Potter! It’s a bit too soon to go this year, though.”

Even when Yeojin huffed indignantly, she knew her Dad was right. Hoseok had hugged her tighter and pressed little kisses to her cheeks and temples, telling her how much he loved before before she climbed out of his arms, downstairs and into the kitchen where she clung to your leg, saying nothing. She didn’t really have to say anything, and it was Hoseok’s turn to lean in the doorway at the sight of you crouched with your arms around her, the sun looking golden on your skin and hair, golden dust in her eyes.

Like all kids, Yeojin got over it extremely quickly.

Hoseok discovered that all Yeojin really needed to keep her happy and occupied was a sibling, and then you finally- after months of trying- crawled on top of him with a giant smile that could blind at five fifteen in the morning, the words, “We’re having a baby again,” whispered into his mouth. The temptation to scream and tell Yeojin right away was shoved away until Yeojin came back from Uncle Seokjin and Namjoon’s house a little while later, once everything was certain, with both man on her arm, walking into the kitchen decorated with one sparkly balloon and a little envelope on the counter.

“Is it my birthday already?” Yeojin asked confusedly. She turned to Namjoon, “You said it was next month.”

“It is, honey,” you said, leaning on the counter with Hoseok next to you, his fingers knotted around your own. “This is an early surprise, okay?”

She nodded, taking the envelope from you when you pushed it towards her.

Like deja-vu, Seokjin and Namjoon shared teary laughs and hugs when Yeojin tore open the envelope and saw the writing screaming that she was going to be an older sister. Suddenly, she had forgotten all about the grudge against Harry Potter World and was transfixed on the words and then her Mommy’s belly.

“Really?” she squealed excitedly. “Really?!”

“Yes!” you told her with a smile. “You’re gonna be a big sister!”

“You kept this one quiet,” Seokjin scolded, smacking Hoseok’s shoulder half-heartedly.

Hoseok shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, well. At least we planned this one.”

“What does that mean?” Yeojin asked.

“Nothing, honey.”

(“Can we call them Harry? Like Harry Potter?” Yeojin asked, her lips against your stomach.

You immediately stared at Hoseok and then back at Yeojin.

“Absolutely not.”)

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today-only-happens-once · 6 years

Text

Tight Spaces and Brave Faces

Title: Tight Spaces and Brave Faces

Word Count: 5141

Summary: For as long as they’ve all known him, Patton Foster has had crippling claustrophobia. One night at a cast party brings that all bubbling back to the surface, and Virgil can’t get the door open. College AU. Platonic Moxiety, platonic LAMP/CALM.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst, claustrophobia, being trapped in a small space, descriptions of crowds and tight spaces (specifically closets), alcohol mention, panic attack (mostly off-screen), cursing, spoilers for Heathers the Musical, feelings of guilt, a bit of fluff towards the end, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Been a while, yeah? Thank you to everyone who was so kind and patient with me during my writing hiatus. The hiatus was… needed and helpful, although I only hope this fic makes up for the lack of writing content the past few weeks. I’ve never written a focus on the Moxiety dynamic for a one-shot before. The rough draft was extra rough and this had to go through some major revisions… I hope this turned out okay. Nervous to post, but when am I not? <3

…

The lobby of the performing arts center is packed as the theater spills out into the tiled space. Excited voices bounce off the marble pillars with words of congratulations and greetings. Virgil Shea stands at the far outskirts of the thickening crowd, pressing against the wall to create as much space from the sea of bodies as he can. His roommate, Patton Foster, is already pressed flat against the wall.

His smile is a bit stiff as his gaze scans the crowd for their roommate, Roman Prince. Their fourth roommate, Logan Sanders, stands with his arms crossed on the other side of Patton. Virgil frowns at the way Patton seems to be trying to melt into the wall, even though he understands. For as long as Virgil has known him, Patton has struggled with debilitating claustrophobia. It was worse when it was small, cramped spaces, but crowds could sometimes be hard for him to handle too.

Virgil spots the spiral staircase, noting that the swarm of people that had been working their way down it after the curtain had mostly thinned out by now. He nudges Patton beside him. “I’m gonna head over there. See if I can’t spot Roman from further up.”

Patton follows his gaze, and a note of relief floods his eyes at the lack of a crowd in that part of the room. “I’ll come too!”

At Logan’s quizzical look, Virgil jerks his head towards the stairs, and the three of them skirt the outside of the crowd and make their way through the lobby. The red carpeting does little to absorb the sound of cast members chatting excitedly with their friends and family that had attended the opening night production of Heathers The Musical!

As the three of them head up the steps—stopping about half-way to lean over the railing and scan the crowd for their roommate—Virgil hears Patton take in a deep breath.

“I may not entirely understand theatre,” Logan says suddenly, “but seeing Roman perform a role so unlike his usual demeanor was certainly interesting.”

Virgil watches the people milling around below them. Some of the girls in the cast are handed flower bouquets. People are exchanging hugs, cast members laugh loudly with eyes bright from the flood of post-show adrenaline. Virgil may have stopped getting involved in theater after high school, but he’s glad that Roman didn’t. Though he’d never tell his roommate, Virgil knows that Roman is talented and works hard at it.

“He was so good!” Patton adds, nodding in agreement. “His whole performance was just… J-D-lightful.” He laughs as Logan groans.

Virgil smirks at the pun. “Always knew Princey had a dark side.”

“Don’t worry,” chimes a new, familiar voice coming up the stairs behind them. “You’re still the Emo Nightmare of the group.”

All three of them turn as Roman jogs up the stairs towards them. The dark clothes and slicked back hair looks suddenly odd on the young actor, if only because the brightness of his smile and revitalized energy in his eyes has turned him back into Roman, not J.D anymore. His stage make-up that had looked edgy and dangerous on him while on stage looks thick and dramatic up close. He’s got a fake blood streak down his temple starting somewhere up in his hairline.

“Roman!” Patton gushes, giving is roommate a hug. “You were amazing! I was actually a little scared of you when you killed Kurt. It felt so real.”

Roman grabs hold of the railing on the stairs to keep his balance as he hugs his roommate back. When they separate, Roman gives a dramatic bow. “You’re too kind, Patton.”

“I don’t know about that, Patton,” Virgil quips. “Roman Prince being straight? Unrealistic.”

Roman holds a hand to his chest. “I’ll admit, ‘Dead Girl Walking’ is always an exercise of my greatest acting ability…” Roman trails off, then smiles with a note of uncertainty. “But really. Did you guys like it?”

Logan inclines his head. “The performance was adequate.” Roman rolls his eyes with a sense of affection.

“Not that you need the ego boost,” Virgil says when Roman looks at him, “but yeah. It was really good, Roman.”

Roman beams.

“Actually,” Logan says, adjusting the frame of his glasses, “I was hoping to ask you about the technical design of—“

“Roman?”

Roman turns at the sound of his name being accompanied by someone ascending the staircase. The girl that Virgil recognizes as having played opposite Roman as Veronica stops a few steps below the four of them. She’s got a soft, warm smile that—not unlike Roman’s transformation—seems somehow to be such a stark contrast to her character they’d just seen on stage. Her dark hair is mussed, her own stage blood streaking her left cheek. She smiles brightly.

She offers Roman a hug, and the young actor accepts it warmly. “Nicole, you were exquisite as always.”

She smiles. “You kidding? You brought the house to its feet when you came out at the end!”

“Funny,” Roman says, “I got a very different reaction when I came out in high school.” Virgil snorts.

Nicole rolls her eyes before her gaze falls on the three of them standing on the stairs behind Roman. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Patton jumps in. “You were amazing!” Nicole seems briefly startled at the enthusiasm, but her smile is sincere and Virgil swears he sees a faint blush underneath her thick layer of makeup.

Roman laughs and sweeps an arm up the staircase in a grand gesture. “Nicole, these are my roommates. Patton, Logan, and Virgil.”

Virgil nods a greeting as Logan chimes, “Salutations.”

“It’s great to meet you guys,” Nicole replies. A second later, her face lights up with an idea. “You all should come to the cast party tonight! Alex is hosting it at the music frat house. It’s supposed to be a ton of fun. I don’t know everyone who will be there, but the more the merrier, right?”

“We’ll be there,” Roman answers immediately for the four of them. Virgil shoots an exasperated look at the back of his head. Did Romano really just sign us up for a party?

“Great! I’ll see you guys there, then!” Nicole waves and hurries back down the spiral staircase.

When Roman turns back around and sees the dry look Virgil is giving him, he waves a hand. “Don’t give me that, Sweeney Toddler. It’ll be fun!”

…

The music frat house is jammed with people.

Virgil shoulders his way through the bodies pressing against one another in the living room as a rap song blares from the big speakers in the corner. Colored lights are projected in changing patterns on the walls and ceiling of the room. The air is hot and thick with the scent of sweat and beer. When the song hits the bass drop, Virgil feels the floor beneath his feet vibrate.

The whole thing sets his nerves on edge. It doesn’t help that he has this weird feeling in his stomach that something is distinctly wrong. A part of him wants to leave, and given how crowded the house is, he wonders if maybe Patton would want to come with him. Their apartment building was only a few blocks away anyway.

Virgil makes his way to the far end of the room, doing his best to avoid the drinks sloshing over the rim of the solo cups as they jumped and danced to the music. He sees Roman sitting on the sofa, chatting with a member of the tech crew. Virgil recognizes them as someone he’d had freshman year history with; Elliot, Virgil thinks the name is. Roman’s face brightens when Virgil breaks through the crowd in front of him.

“Hey, Virge!” he shouts, either still running off the post-show high or simply to be heard over all the noise. The graphic design major isn’t sure which.

“Have you seen Patton?” Virgil asks, unable to ignore the squirming in his gut.

Roman seems to see it in his face, too, because his brows pull together in concern. He straightens up slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd of people. He shakes his head as he looks back at Virgil. “I just saw him like, ten minutes ago. He said something about finding the bathroom.” He looks back at Elliot. “Hang on,” he says to them. “I’ll be right back.”

Roman gracefully jumps up from his perch on the arm of the sofa and starts making his way through the house. He ducks into the small dining room that had—intentionally or not—been turned into an overflow space of dancers. Couples lined the walls, heads ducked towards one another in flirty conversation. Two girls giggle as one kisses the other’s nose. Another couple is kissing sloppily in the corner and Virgil quickly averts his gaze.

He follows Roman through the entryway at the far end of the room, down the tight hallway, to the staircase that led up to the second floor of the house. Logan stands at the foot of it by the railing, chatting idly with some people that Virgil distantly recognized as being part of the pit orchestra and production team.

“Hey. Specs.” Roman claps a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he comes up from behind him. Logan’s cool brown gaze flashes up in annoyance before turning to confusion at seeing Roman and Virgil.

The sense of urgency is ballooning slowly in Virgil’s chest, getting harder for him to ignore even though he can’t exactly pinpoint why. “Have you seen Patton?” he asks before Logan can respond.

Logan meets Virgil’s gaze. “I did see him go upstairs, although that was several minutes ago. A few other students are up there as well.”

Something doesn’t feel right. It’s a vague weight over his head that Virgil can’t shake for the life of him. He brushes past Logan and takes the stairs two at a time. He hears Roman say his name before two sets of footsteps following up the stairs behind him.

The hallway at the top of the stairs is tight and dark and the floor creaks beneath him. All of the doors are closed except for the one just slightly to the right of the staircase. The door is open, the light is on; it’s the bathroom. Patton is nowhere to be found.

There are a few guys further down the hall crowded around a door on the left. It’s a slightly smaller door, probably to a closet of some sort. One of them jiggles the handle before snorting in laughter. He slaps his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, dude, dude,” he says between laughter, “I think he jammed it. Guess he’s not getting out now.”

Roman reaches the top of the stairs as Virgil’s mind starts racing. “Hey, man,” Roman calls out to them, oblivious to their conversation or the way Virgil pales beside him. “You didn’t see my roommate come up here, did you?”

“Who’s your roommate?” one of them asks. “Wait, the weird guy in the blue polo?”

Virgil’s hands twitch into fists at his sides. “Tell me you didn’t…”

The one closest to Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Learn to take a joke, man—“

“Is he in there?” Virgil demands, his sharp gaze startling the other three into silence. When the one in the middle glances at the door and says nothing, Virgil sees red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Roman demands, crossing the short length of hallway to stand almost nose-to-nose with the one in the middle. Virgil pushes past all of them to get at the door, trying the handle.

It won’t turn. It’s locked, or jammed or… Virgil knocks softly on the door. “Patton?” He doesn’t hear anything on the other side and he feels his stomach drop. He tries the handle again, but he can’t turn it. Blindly, Virgil shoves his shoulder into the door with a small thud. “Patton? Can you open the door?”

There’s still no answer. It’s hard to tell whether the heavy beat vibrating the floor from the music below or Virgil’s heart is faster. He jiggles the handle again and shakes the door slightly, trying to force it open. It doesn’t budge.

“Maybe he’s enjoying the seven minutes in heaven by himself,” one of them jokes. Virgil doesn’t turn around, but he’s pretty sure he can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I suggest,” Roman says in a low, dangerous voice, “that you either find a way to get that door open or you don’t let the front one hit you on the way out.” His voice reminds Virgil suddenly of when he’d been J.D from earlier that night.

“Whoa, calm down, man,” one of them says. “Look, we didn’t mean to actually jam the door. That was your guy. He like, totally freaked out when we closed the door on him. We were just messing with him.”

“Evidence suggests that you did more than simply close the door on him,” Logan cuts in. His voice is a lethal, savage calm. “If the door is jammed because our roommate pulled on it, then you likely where holding the door closed on him. Otherwise, opening it would have been no problem. Now, there’s a chance I may be mistaken, but I’ve found that I am rarely incorrect.”

Virgil knocks on the door again. He can feel his heart in his throat. “Patton, can you please try to open the door?” He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation behind him as he grabs the handle and jiggles the door again. He presses his ear against it, listening for a moment. “Pat, we’re trying to get you out, okay?” The music and crowd noise from downstairs make it hard to tell, but Virgil swears he hears a quiet whimper come from the other side of the door.

He hears rapid footsteps behind him that recede down the stairs. When he glances over his shoulder, only Logan and Roman are left in the hallway.

“I can’t get it open,” he says in a tight voice. He backs up from the door, then throws his weight into it with his shoulder. The impact is jarring, but the door doesn’t budge. “Come on,” he growls under his breath. Can he kick in the door? No, he doesn’t know how to do that. And even if he did, it could easily end up hurting Patton.

“Virgil.”

He pulls back from the door and is about to throw his weight into it again—he has to get through that door—but feels a firm hand grab his shoulder.

“Stop,” Logan says softly but firmly from behind him. “You are more likely to dislocate your shoulder doing that than you are to open the door.”

Virgil roughly shrugs out of Logan’s grip. “Then what do you suggest, Logan?” he snaps. “Patton is in there and I can’t get the door open—“

“Keep him calm,” Logan tells him. “I will find a way to get the door open, but right now you and Roman focus on helping Patton stay calm.”

Virgil looks up into Logan’s steady gaze and takes a breath before nodding. “Okay.” The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly before he nods back and hurries down the stairs.

The graphic design major turns back towards the door and leans his head against it softly. “Patton, if you can hear me, I need you to breathe.” The party downstairs is still too loud for him to really hear if he gets a response. He just hopes that Patton can hear him and is listening. “We’re gonna breathe in for four seconds, okay? Here we go. In…” Virgil counts out loud to four. “Hold for seven seconds.” He counts again. “Now let it out for eight seconds.” When he counts to eight, Virgil swallows and pauses. “Good. We’re gonna do it a few more times, okay? Breathe in for four seconds…”

The dark, cramped hallway creaks as Roman takes a step closer. Virgil walks through the exercise once or twice more. He doesn’t know if it’s actually helping, if Patton can actually hear him, and it kills him a little that he doesn’t know. He feels Roman place a hand on his arm as he steps closer.

“Hey, Patton,” Roman says in an unusually soft voice. “Did I ever tell you about the field behind my house back home?”

Virgil’s glances at Roman, confused. What? He mouths. Roman holds up a hand and mouths back, Trust me. He hesitates a moment, then takes a step back to let Roman get closer to the door.

“It was this huge grass field. In the far distance, you could just barely make out the trees silhouetted on the horizon line. Wildflowers in the spring and summer would coat the field in yellows, reds, and blues that matched the sky above. And the sky out there…” Roman has his eyes closed, looking lost in his own world. “It goes on for miles on a clear day. The brightest sky you’ve ever seen. Don’t even get me started on the sunsets out there. The reds and golds and violets would bleed into one another and reflect off the clouds, endless colors filling the vast sky above you. And since we kind of lived in the middle of nowhere, the night sky was just full of stars. I used to think you could see the farthest corners of the universe out there.”

Roman’s voice is smooth and effortless. Virgil can feel the tension in his shoulders easing just a little bit, and he realizes what Roman is doing. He’s painting a picture of wide, open, colorful spaces as a way to combat the tight, dark one Patton is trapped in. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in the actor’s eyes as he opens them and looks at Virgil. He isn’t sure if it’s working. Virgil doesn’t know either.

Roman opens his mouth and takes a breath to continue when the rapid but methodical sound of footsteps coming up the stairs signals Logan’s reappearance. Virgil straightens up and looks at him expectantly.

Logan holds up a butter knife. “It was the best I could do.” He squeezes past Roman to kneel on the thin carpeting and wedge the knife by the lock in the door. It takes him a couple of seconds before they hear a quiet click, nearly drowned out by the thumping bass from below. Logan tosses the knife to the floor and twists the handle, the door swinging open effortlessly. Virgil squeezes past Roman and through the door into the closet as soon as there’s enough of a crack for his body to slip through.

The walls of the closet are lined with shelves full of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and toiletries, and on the floor in the middle of it all is Patton. His knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his arms. Trembling.

Virgil unzips his hoodie and shrugs out of it as he kneels in front of him. “Patton,” he says in a soft voice. “Hey.” He knows the trembling isn’t really because Patton is cold but he drapes his sweatshirt around Patton’s shoulders anyway.

Patton’s breath hiccups as he pulls his head out of his arms. Virgil feels his heart constrict at the tear tracks that mark his cheeks. He hears movement behind him and when he glances over his shoulder, he sees that Logan has a hand on Roman’s shoulder as if keeping him from coming into the closet too. He whispers something in the actor’s ear. Roman nods and takes a small step back.

Virgil looks back at Patton. “You’re safe now,” he says. “What do you say we get out of here?”

He offers a hand, but he sees the way Patton’s shoulders tense and he pulls back. He doesn’t take it personally. Patton needs as much space as he can get right now. The vacuum in the corner is tipped over and shoved into a pile of toilet paper under the bottom shelf. Virgil wonders in the back of his mind if that might have been Patton’s doing.

“Patton,” Logan says from the hallway, his voice softer than Virgil can ever remember it being, “Can you stand up?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, so quietly that Virgil almost misses it: “Y-yeah.”

Patton uncurls himself, scrubs a hand against his tear-stained cheeks, and stands on shaky legs. Virgil stands with him, slipping his hands into the back pocket of his jeans and moving out of the way of the door. Instinct is telling Virgil to grab his arm, to steady him, protect him like you failed to do in the first place, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm or overstimulate him. So Virgil hovers in the corner, follows Patton out the door, and pulls the door shut behind him.

Logan offers Patton his hand with a gentle, reassuring look. Patton swallows and glances up at him before slipping his arms through the sleeves of Virgil’s hoodie and quietly placing his hand in Logan’s outstretched one.

“Let’s go home,” Logan says softly.

…

The moment they are out of the house and the door has closed behind them, the world becomes immediately quieter. The brisk autumn air tugs at the strands of hair falling into Virgil’s eyes. Roman rushes down the steps of the porch towards the sidewalk with his arms spread out.

“You wanna know what song I feel like singing tonight, Logan?” Roman announces as he grabs hold of the nearby streetlamp and spins around it.

The chemical engineering student adjusts the frame of his glasses as he follows Roman down the sidewalk, his other hand still entwined with Patton’s. “What would that be, Roman?”

“All we see is sky for forever!” Roman belts out, a show tune that Virgil immediately recognizes from Dear Evan Hansen. The young actor isn’t exactly being subtle. The out-stretched arms, spinning around, walking ahead of them, singing a song not from the beginning of the tune but from that particular line… he’s emphasizing all of the open space around them as much as possible.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks upwards in an almost-smile. He glances at Patton out of the corner of his eye and notices that he seems steadier now as he smiles warmly at Roman’s antics. He seems to be breathing normally.

It’s something, at least.

Virgil can’t quite shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at his stomach even as he crosses his arms over his chest to brace against the cold air, keeping stride a few steps behind the other three. He doesn’t know what to do. Not really, anyway. He’d been useless to get Patton out of the closet. Useless to prevent him getting trapped in it in the first place. He’d always been the one who focused on keeping the others’ safe, but he’d failed. Where did that leave him?

Patton is safe now. That should be all that matters. But the weight sits heavy and uncomfortable in his chest anyway. He wants to ask Patton if he’s okay—just to make sure, to actually hear him confirm it so maybe his gut will stop twisting—but Patton smiles and laughs at something Roman says and the words die in Virgil’s throat. Maybe bringing it up is a mistake. Patton probably just needs a distraction right now.

Virgil could do that.

Patton glances over his shoulder at him, his brow pulling together in sudden concern. “Holy smokes, kiddo,” he says and starts shrugging out of the hoodie, “I wasn’t even thinking. You must be freezing.”

Virgil’s eyes widen and he grabs Patton’s arms to stop him before he twists out of the sweatshirt. No, Patton,” he insists. “Really. It’s fine. Keep it until we get back to the apartment.”

Patton stops, but looks at him doubtfully. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

Virgil dismissively rolls his eyes. “I won’t, dad. Leave the hoodie on, will you?”

Patton purses his lips. “If you’re sure…” He shrugs it back over his shoulders and slips his hands into the pockets. Virgil gives him a small smile. He feels some of the tension loosen in his chest at the warm look in his friend’s eyes. “Thank you,” Patton adds, a weight to his words that Virgil pretends he doesn’t notice.

Instead, he shakes his head teasingly and bumps his shoulder into his roommate’s. “Don’t mention it.”

…

When they get back to the apartment ten minutes later, Roman dramatically stretches and announces that he needs his “beauty rest” before the matinee tomorrow. Virgil doesn’t miss the soft, uncertain look he gives Patton—the brief crack in Roman’s normality checking that Patton is okay—and Patton gives him a sincere smile and tells him to not let the bed bugs bite. Roman says something about “vanquishing such vile creatures in my sleep!” before he heads into his and Patton’s shared room and closes the door.

Logan stifles a yawn. “Patton, if you’re certain that you don’t require assistance or companionship, I think I may retire for the night as well.”

“You’re sweet for offering, Logan, but you don’t need to worry about me!” Patton flashes him a bright smile but there’s something just a little off about it to Virgil.

The exhausted chemical engineering student glances at Virgil as if to assure himself that someone would be staying up with Patton a little while longer. Virgil nods subtly, and Logan inclines his head to Patton, bids them goodnight, and heads into his and Virgil’s shared room.

There’s a quiet moment after the door clicks shut behind him when neither of them says anything. The quiet living room separated from the kitchen by a wall and short hallway feels small and noticeably silent given the party they had just come from. The heating unit kicks on with a quiet rumble. The thin carpet and mismatching furniture feels like home.

He hears Patton take in a deep, slow breath. He’s still wearing Virgil’s hoodie, but Virgil doesn’t mind. He looks like he feels safe, even as the warm light of the lamp in the corner shows just how much the sweatshirt engulfs his frame. It’s a comforting sight that helps the lingering tightness in Virgil’s stomach, the one that twists a little more each time he thinks about Patton crying on the floor of the storage closet…

“You don’t have to stay up,” Patton says softly, breaking the quiet air around them. “It’s pretty late, kiddo.”

“I’d probably just be scrolling through Tumblr for an hour anyway,” Virgil replies with a tone that is lighter than the weight in his gaze. He looks at his friend a moment longer; Patton looks almost normal, really, if it isn’t for the way he won’t meet Virgil’s eyes. “D’ya want some tea, Patton?”

Patton blinks in surprise. “Oh. Uh, sure. That’d be great.”

“Cool. One sec.”

Virgil takes his time in the kitchen, grabbing a mug with a cat pun for Patton and a black and purple one for himself as he heats the water. He doesn’t rush the process. He has a feeling that Patton could use a moment by himself, to be alone and recognize that he is safe. To not feel like he has to put up a front for anyone else.

Patton had been getting better about not hiding his negative emotions—he really had—but old habits die hard. And Virgil knows all too intimately what it is like to feel exposed and need those tried and true defense mechanisms.

After he drops the tea bags into the mugs of steaming water a few minutes later, Virgil heads back to the living room around the corner. Patton is already sitting on the couch, his shoes discarded by the leg of the coffee table in front of him and his feet tucked up underneath him. Virgil hands him the cat mug and sits beside him, setting his own cup on one of the coasters Logan had bought for the apartment.

Patton gives him a faint, appreciative smile and curls his hands around the cup. He inhales the steam and scent of lavender and cinnamon. He relaxes back into the cushions of the couch a bit.

“Thanks, Virge.”

“Any time, Patton.”

Patton shakes his head and looks down at the floating tea bag in his mug. “No,” he insists quietly. “I don’t just mean the tea. I mean… for tonight. For coming to find me and… helping me get out.”

Virgil nudges the lid of his laptop—which had been sitting on the corner of the coffee table from before they’d left for Roman’s performance—up as he glances at Patton over his shoulder. “I know,” he says. “But we’re here for you as much as you’re here for us.”

Patton swallows and nods. His eyes flicker up to meet Virgil’s before averting them again. Virgil busies himself by quickly logging into his laptop. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his tone light and casual. He doesn’t want Patton to feel like he has to. Virgil figures he’s felt trapped enough tonight; he doesn’t want to add to that.

“Not… not tonight,” Patton admits quietly.

Virgil nods, and pulls up the Netflix tab on his browser. He can’t say the answer surprises him. That’s okay. Patton knows that they’re there for him, and when he wants to talk about it? Virgil and the others will be there.

“Do you want to watch some Parks and Rec instead?”

He doesn’t miss the relieved smile that pulls across his friend’s face. “Sounds perfect, kiddo.”

...

Tags:

@helloisthisusernametaken @ren-allen @lizaelsparrow @princelogical @random-pianist @ravenclawicecream @erlenmeyertrash @milomeepit @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes @rileyfirstname @pinkeasteregg @sassy-in-glasses @vigilantvirgil @generalfandomfabulousness @lacrimosathedark @thepoolofthedead @monikastec @heir-of-the-founders @yourworstnightmare999 @artistictaurean @kanejandkruge @cdragontogacotar @candiukas @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl @angst-patton @savingshae @noneed4thistbh @awesomelissawho @unikornavenger @bopthesnoz @spiralofsilencetheory@finger-gunsss @crownswriter123 @swlotakulady34

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety #moxiety fanfiction #platonic moxiety #angst #claustrophobia #tight spaces #heathers spoilers #yeets this onto tumblr and then runs far away because idk how i feel about this fic #aaaaa why is posting scary every time #also sorry mobile users its a longer fic this time #long post #just in case

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cncobby · 6 years

Text

What superhero CNCO would be pt 1

soo this is a bit different(?? kinda not really??) than my usual headcannons but i hope you guys like it!!

basically what i’m doing is starting a little mini series of cnco as superheroes/what superhero cnco remind me of! (fun fact im a big marvel nerd) kinda like a little au about their lives as said superhero. this is an AU headcannon(aka alternate universe) so they aren’t like famous singers here if that makes sense...theyre more or less “normal people (or as normal as superheroes can get)

i’m going to be posting seperately for each member bc they turned out to be way longer than i anticipated jlsdkfjs but pls let me know if u like it!! i got inspired bc me and @cncocubanita went to go see the new animated spiderman and it was SO. GOOD.

JOEL

spiderman/peter parker

uh disclaimer im mixing all spidey boys in this one meaning its a combo of original, amazing spiderman, spidey tom holland, and the spideyverse one

joel DEFINITELY fits the role of spidey boy

lowkey a dweeb

lowkey cute as fuck

also he’s a gen z kid and has the same humor as peter

(that one scene where he’s like ‘oh nooo you’ve found my biggest weaknes...small knives...’)

ya thats joel 100%

super dorky and awkward around girls like peter too

he’s a student at your local college and attempts to flirt with you but ultimately fails

like all the time

u know that one scene in spiderman: homecoming where peter has the mask on and is pretending to talk to liz?

yeah joel does that

eventually u do find out he’s spiderman

listen it was an accident but also he sucks at keeping secrets???

so it wasnt ... that hard to figure out

he’s trying to flirt with u one day when he accidentally shoots out webs

his eyes widens and he starts laughing nervously and fumbling over his words (more than usual)

“haHAHAAHA WOW DID YOU SEE THE WEATHER TODAY??? SO NICE HUH”

“...i mean its raining but i guess”

“oH yEah i mEan who doESn’t love sOMe rAIN???”

literally his voice is cracking HELL throughout this conversation

he wants to: big die bc god damn it why does he have to look dumb in front of you

after deciding to ignore how weird he’s acting you were ilke “well i love getting coffee on rainy days, wanna come?”

(bc u obvi had a crush on him too i mean who wouldnt look at the cute dork) (he obviously didnt know this)

he was like YES so fast

him to himself: “goddamn joel can u RELAX don’t scare her”

so u guys spend hours talking over copious amounts of coffee

this becomes a routine thing eventually

you guys going to your fave coffeeshop and doing hw and lowkey (highkey!!) flirting

becoming bff’s that arent really just bff’s if u know what i mean

u start piecing things together when he starts leaving randomly after hearing sirens outside

or when he shows up to school the next day looking a bit more worn out and bruised than usual

so naturally being the nosy person u are

u go over to his house and sweet aunt may believes you when you say you have a project

so ur sitting there just waiting

and sure enough there’s spidey boy climbing thru the window

nearly screams when he see’s you curiously staring at him from his bed

“so... this is what you’ve been up to”

“hahaHAHAHA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???”

attempting to cover up the spiderman costume

which obviously fails bc he’s literally covered head to toe

eventually he just sighs and flops down next to you on the bed

“do you hate me?”

“how could i hate you i love spiderman”

well that caught his attention

“oh really now”

trying to act all cocky but u just shove him like

“ya dont get excited dummy i CANT BELIEVE YOU DIDNT TELL ME”

“whoops?”

u guys stay up the whole night just talking about his spidey adventures with u yelling at him in between stories bc yOU CANT BELIEVE HE’D PUT HIMSELF IN DANGER LIKE THAT

aunt may finds you two cuddled up the next morning<3

pls let me know what you guys think!! spoiler if these first headcannons does well i’m thinking about expanding the series ... stay tuned to see ;))))

#cnco #cncowners #cncowner #cnco imagines #cnco fanfic #cnco headcannon #marvel #avengers #spiderman #avengers headcannon #joel pimentel #christopher velez #richard camacho #erick brian colon #zabdiel de jesus

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sweetpeachjones · 6 years

Text

You Made Ur Bed 8

Episode 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6 , 7

A/N: excuse the typos and grammer, and curse me out later for making you wait so long

After the ceremony at Davida House

OMG Sean, you should have been there.Y/N was there being a total slut damn near sucking this nigga dick-

She stopped in her tracks when Sean jerked up wiping his nose. Davida looked behind him, and all she could see was a mirror with two white powder lines and a playing card.

"Sean, I KNOW you aren't doing what I think your doing, I thought you quit that." "I did but I just don't it recreational, plus I'm bored as fuck." "Well, how but getting a job." "You know how hard it is for a felon to get one, they see that on my app and its, don't call us we'll call you' type bullshit." "But bae you can keep you from trying I'm mean I got my ticket, she exclaimed rubbing her stomach, you need to get yours, I don't need some sorry nigga eating off my plate." "The fuck you say, I wasn't any sorry nigga when I had you in the diamonds n furs, dripping sauce. Nigga gon for some time and bitches want to get amnesia. "Yeah well times have changed, she said getting up taking off her jewelry, you need to get it together and clean that shit up now!"

Sean angrily cleaned the mess up and walked out of the room slamming the door hard.

One week after the pool incident at Eriks house

You sprained your ankle and fractured your elbow and a laceration above your right eye. You had a cast on your ankle and the sling on right arm and stitches for your cut. Against your wishes, Erik insisted you stay to get better and even took off to nurse you. He has been waiting on hand and foot and doing the sweet thing like washing n oiling your hair and make sure your cast was dry as he gave you luxurious bubble baths and even carried you to the bathroom. But you knew Erik this is his whole game to get you to stay.

You sat in the bedroom on the bed fluff high on pillows while Erik was in the other room. You needed something on the dresser but you didn't want to bother Erik, plus he was smothering so you were going to take advantage of his absence. As you reached, you fell out bed with a loud thud. You never felt so helpless and began to weep. Erik ran upstairs to see you on the floor as he picked you up you start to get angry.

"Get the fuck away from me," you sobbed as tried your best to hit him in the chest.

"Girl wtf is wrong you!" "YOU, YOU THE FUCKING CAUSE FOR THIS!", pointing to the cast and moving the sling. "This is your fault because of your fucked up ego." "Well, I did think you would jump." You looked at him, and before you blew a gasket, you calmed down, "You know what, you said coolly if I didn't make it it would have been a lot better than to married to you." Erik looked you in the eyes hoping to see the humor, but you were dead serious. "You don't mean that Y/N." "Oh yes I do, this marriage has gone to hell. I don't know why I stayed this long with your cheating ass and constant lying. You think Davida was the only one, I knew about the others, I know when you were out fucking them hoes ERIK!. I'd find hints: the perfume, lipstick, the missing earring in your car. I noticed the way you shower, or you were smelling like a different, soap I don't even buy. I just let you do your thing as long as they never had the guts to step out place I was cool, cause at the end of the day you are going to do what you want to do and you were home every night mainly. But you started to get reckless and shit with Davida, so I figured you weren't giving a fuck anymore. And had the bitch calling the house and your fucking student at that! The fuck was you thinking; you were about to risk it all for some broad? Really?!

Erik looks away, before answering.

"She reminded me of you before you lost the baby. She had that happiness, that joy, that light you once had. We clicked like me, and you used to."

You rolled your eyes at his last statement. He continued.

"After the incident, you became bitter and once you started drinking you was like a shell. Like I understand she went, and nothing will bring her back, but you got to move on. It was never my intentions to get her pregnant we stopped after a few times then she tells me. I love you more than anything; I'll do whatever I can to right my wrongs. But I will be a father to my child."

"You wanna right your wrongs, grant me a divorce. Well split everything down the middle and keep control of our organizations."

"You sure you want that"

"Yes I can't keep going on like this, I love you, but I can't be in a marriage with you."

Erik looked deep in thought. He sighed, "Okay if that's what you want. I won't hold you back."

Next day at Davida's House

"So how far are you now?" Erik asked. I'm 35 weeks so our Lil boy will be here soon," Davida answered excitedly.

"Cool well when you are going on your next appointment I'll be there. I'll be over later to help set the crib and baby stuff."

"I need you to set up something in my bedroom," Davida answered back seductively.

Erik catching the hint but didn't feed into it, "yeah like I said I'll be over to put the BABY stuff up."

"Mhmm, well see you soon boo." "Don't call me that," and he hung up quickly.

Davida just laughed as she put her phone in the car seat as she pulled up her driveway. She parked the car and remembered she had to set a date in the phone at the same time entering her front door. She didn't notice the five large men sitting on her furniture. She looked up from her phone and grabbed her chest as fear and shock took over her whole body.

"Who are you and why the fuck are you in my house?!"

"Be cool sweetheart," the smaller of the five spoke. He physically fit but wasn't as buff as the others." I'm Mike Love and we just looking for ya boy Sean that's all."

"I don't know a Sean." "See, I'm trying to be a gentleman here but you're lying is going to turn this into an UGLY situation, and you don't want that." Mike said coolly as he walked towards her stroking Davida's cheek. "Now I'll never hit a lady especially a pregnant one, but I can't say the same for my guys. They weren't born with sense." "I don't know where he is I swear, I go to school and work part-time," he goes where he wants to, tears streaming down her face. "Shhhh it's okay love I believe you. But you tell Sean to get at me asap; I'd hate to come back here again and next it is not going to be as pleasant."

Mike turned to his goons and told them to leave and just like that they were gone. Davida ran to lock the door behind them and sunk to the floor a blubbering mess.

Four weeks later at the lawyer's office.

Well, I have to say this was the smoothest divorce ever an easy way to make my paycheck." Erik lawyer comments as he finalized the paperwork.

Erik and Y/N sat across from each other. Neither of them looked up as it was too sad to look each other in the eyes. Erik was the most hurt, he felt betrayed, he felt like he was trying and Y/n was giving up months of progress screwed up by two days. He couldn't fathom life without y/n she had been with him since day one, she believed in his projects, his dreams and wished he could have given her whatever she wanted. So he cheated little fuck up compare to the husband his friends were. Even in the pants suit, she was wearing she looked like a goddess and all he wanted to do to take her away forget all this drama and start over.

Y/n could feel Erik staring. After all these years he could still make her blood rush just by one look. She always loved Erik deeply but how many times can he spit in her face. Plus being careless enough to get someone pregnant, the audacity of it.

She felt a nudge pulling her out of her deep thoughts.

"What's that." "I said do you, and Mr. Stevens agree to the terms of the divorce?" My lawyer repeated. "Oh yeah, I'm good are you?", Y/n said finally looking up at Erik. He nodded, and we both signed the papers.

"Well that's it you two are no longer hitched. Haha, I must say I've done sooner if only my wife wouldn't take everything. Women right." He playfully nudged Erik and Erik only stared at him.

The lawyers began to leave the room and Erik, and y/n lingered in the room.

Well this is it, Erik said

Y/n leaned against the table arms folded

"I guess so huh." "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a goodbye hug?" "No, it wouldn't."

Erik walked over in two strides stood in front of y/n and hugged her. He head protectively rested on top of hers as y/n slowly wrapped her arms around his chest. They stood like that for a minute until Erik kissed her forehead. Y/n leaned her head back some allowing Erik to kiss her nose; she leaned back until Erik pecked her lips. He pecked them again seeing as she didn't protest the first time. The third time he let his lips lingered as she kissed back. That's all he needed for confirmation. He gently grabbed her hair pulling her head back some allowing access to her neck. He kissed and sucked on her neck as if he was a vamp on his victim. They were too busy to hear the conversation of one the lawyers doubling back to find something. Once the door flew open, they immediately stop while Y/N's lawyer just stared as if they crazy, while Erik's lawyer smirk and closed the door.

Regaining common sense and more so embarrassed y/n pushed Erik back and fixed her shirt chastising herself while doing so. Erik just looked more frustrated as he fixed his coat. No words being said to each other as they head out of the office when they got to the elevators and stood on the opposite corners. Erik spoke first.

"Well, I hope we can friends after all this." "I don t know about that." "Aww come on y/n," he said walking towards her, "we have known each other for too long just to stop being each friend." "But u sneaky tho." Erik feined shock, "Me no," and he flashed those golden slugs and mischievous smile the y/n knew all too well. She laughed knowing this could be nice. "Yea whatever"

At Davida house two weeks back

Sean pulls in the driveway days after disappearing. Davida was waiting on him. Sean thought he could sneak through the patio. As soon he turned on the lights a glass cup was hurled at him, but he dodged it quickly.

"What the fuck." : What the fuck is right where have you been?!" Davida mocked furiously.

"I had some moves to do." "Liar u smell clean as fuck, so been u at somebody house, but I don't care who is Mike love and why the FUCK was he in MY house.

Sean's hearts stop. That's one name he did not want hear.

What did you say Nigga you heard me who is Mike Davida listens, Sean grabbed hold of her shoulders. I pissed off some significant and dangerous people, and for your safety and mine, I should not be here. Damn right u shouldn't, niggas come up in here seven deep, just what the fuck did you do? You remember Physco from our old neighborhood? You mean walk around with a machete in broad daylight Physco, him?! Yea well I had an opportunity to blame something on his baby brother in jail. I didnt know they were related, but word got around and by that time I was long gone.

Feeling like an ass, Davida felt more sympathy for Sean. All this time she was hard, and he had a deathwish looming. She knew what he was up against and Physco was the type he wasn't gonna stop til there was blood.

Well, here I got some money n take my car. Take your car?! Yes, take it, ill tell Erik it was stolen n ill get another besides your safety is important to me. Ok but id have to go tonight. Tonight?! Yeah Davida sucked her teeth fine She went upstairs to her safe, put the code in pulled out 30,000 her women intuition was screaming "heffa are you crazy," but her heart wanted him to be safe. She wanted to travel with him, but the dangers that followed were enough to keep her back. She put the money in a crown royal bag along with the keys to her car and the passport and falsified documents that he asked him to do a while back when he was job hunting. She ran back down and gave it to Sean. He looked apologetically as he was taking away from a pregnant woman, sensing his hesitation she spoke. Please take it and when you get to a safe place ill come.

They embrace in what seems like the worlds longest kiss. Sean rushed out to the garage. Once he cranked the car and sped down the block, he never noticed the black Lambo following him. As the road twist and turned the car behind never missed a beat, and since they were the only two on the road, it was hard to lose them on a one-way street. Sean knew exactly who it was and turned off into the woods. Once he got deep enough, he turned the car off and lit a cigarette. Now or never he thought. As the Lambo neared the headlights nearly blinded him in the rearview mirror. He took his last drag as the passenger door to the Lambo opened up. Out stood Mike and Sean opened his door. The two men walked to each other and embraced in a lovers kiss! The tongue kiss was so explicit that the guard in the car started to get a little uncomfortable.

Omg bae I missed you, Mike said So have I, Sean replied So did u get the documents, Mike asked Of course, plus she gave me the car, you must scare the crap out of her. Well, I had to sell it. Breaking into her house, in that neighborhood, with five niggas was hard as hell. But worth it now that got my baby back. Let's go Paris awaits. Well what can we do car Either take it with us or better yet torch it, makes it more believable something happens to you. But she gave me this car Mike was getting slightly jealous, "And!?" Well I just don't want to torch it "Fuck that I'll take care of it," Mike walked towards the guard in his car mumbling, "Nigga act like he still loves the bitch or something!" "Hey!" motioning towards the guard. " I want to get rid of this car I don't care what you do I don't want to see it my sight again. SEAN!! let's go!"

The guard got out, and Mike and Sean got in the Lambo and drove off. The guard was left by himself in the car.

"Shit nigga crazy as hell baby mama bout to get a new whip!"

Present Day (After the Erik's and Y/N divorce agreement)

So your car was stolen?" Erik asked in disbelief as he works putting up the baby's crib and other items as Davida told her story sitting in a rocking chair. Erik made sure she didnt lift a finger, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

Yes, would you believe, right in my friend's neighborhood, I had to take an Uber home? I knew I should have stayed my ass home, told that girl to move out the projects.

Well, luckily you and the baby are safe. Ill hook you up I got a cousin who works for Honda.

Honda? The fuck! Do you want your baby mother and your heir riding around in some raggedy Honda? Because if I pulled child support, I can afford more.

It will be a current year! he pleaded. She stared at him motherfuckerly.

Alright, what you want? he asked

Momma wants a Benz!

Momma gonna have to clap them cheeks and suck a mean dick, and I mean to make that shit disappear for a Benz.

Aint like I done it before, Davida laughed, so how your wife anyway

Don't worry about her; he said what quick attitude.

Damn alright, I got to go to the bathroom, help me up these damn cramps killing me.

Cramps! What do you mean you in labor?

Not till the water breaks

As soon as she stood up she felt another cramp not so intense but bad enough to double over, Erik kept her steady.

I think we should go, do you have your things packed?

Yea in the downstairs closet in the foyer

Erik went to retrieve the bag as Davida wobbled to the restroom. She felt pressure and pushed thinking it was #2 when she got up she almost fainted at sight.

ERIK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@curls-and-crosses @killmoncoochie @killmongersgurl @pupyluv247 @kreolemami @dumbchick @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandan-aesthetic @errin261 @lunaerly @muse-of-mbaku @royallyprincesslilly @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @nemesispawn @imgabbyrae @hausofgucci @inxan-ity@wakandalivesforever @killmvnger@whorderofthepheonix@goddessofthejungle @chaneajoyyy

@imaginewhoever @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@bezzywazhere @wakanda-inspired

#Erik Stevens Erik Killmonger erik x reader erik killmonger smut erik killmonger fanfic black panther fanfiction #Erik Stevens #Erik Killmonger #erik x reader #erik killmonger fanfic #black panther fanfiction

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donnarider · 6 years

Text

!!DISCONTINUED!! Klance - soulmate au (part 4)

Author’s notes:

update 12th July 2019: This story is unfortunately discontinued. There will not be a next part. I’m really sorry.

Read part 1

Read part 2

Read part 3

“Bold” texts are from Keith, “italic” texts are from Lance

„Wow, that’s… rough?“

„Yes it is! I mean… I meant what I said. I just thought he would...”

“Say that he wants to be more than friends?”

“Yeah…” Lance put his head on the table they were studying at. The library was quiet and Lance had a hard time keeping his voice down while telling Hunk about his horrible not-date date.

“So how did the rest of the da…what happened after that?”

“Well, I was dying on the inside and pretended everything was fine on the outside. So, the usual.”

“Lance!”

Lance sighed and leaned back on his chair. The library’s ceiling suddenly seemed very fascinating to him. “We talked about stuff like favourite movies and such. I asked him about his bike. I had to leave for my seminar and he said he’d text me.”

“Well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Hunk decided and squeezed Lance’s shoulder supportively. “Maybe he just needs some time?”

“And what do I do if he doesn’t? I thought I’d be fine with being just friends but-,” he waved his hands around in a helpless motion. “I was basically doomed when he told me to be nice to my coffee in Spanish. I can’t just NOT crush on him now, you know. And that sucks… big time.”

Hunk smiled sympathetically at him and continued to flip through the book in front of him. “Just take it slow. Take a break for a few days and then invite him to do something and see what it feels like then. He’ll either change his mind or you could just bring me and Pidge along to make the friends thing easier. Maybe that’ll help?”

“Hmm. Yeah, maybe.”

Hunk closed his book and got up. “You up for visiting Pidge and Matt? I don’t think we’re gonna get anything done here right now. Also I think Matt finally got that video game you wanted to play so badly.”

“Nooo, Hunk. You wanted to study. I didn’t mean to distract you, I’m just gonna-“

“It’s fine, Lance. I can’t concentrate anyways. And you helped me so much with my last essay, I think I can go a day without studying.”

Lance smiled at him and got to his feet as well. “Okay. But I swear I’ll be back to normal tomorrow and then we’re gonna take a look at the stuff from Iverson’s physics lecture.” Hunk groaned loudly and made Lance laugh with his desperate expression. “I know, I know. But we both have to get better at that stuff.” He stood behind Hunk and made a gesture over his shoulder like he wanted to show Hunk a beautiful landscape.

“NASA, dude. NASA.”

“Ugh, you’re right. But Matt and Pidge now. My brain needs a break.”

Lance swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe I get one of Pidge’s hugs. I love Pidge’s hugs.”

Hunk beside him nodded. “Everyone does, man. They’re the best.”

Wednesday

(3:15am): WTF DUDE? ???

(3:17am): I KNOW SORRY! Its our stupid neighbors having a party…

(3:18am): AT T HIS HOU R???

(3:18am): pls kill them for me

(3:20am): I would but prison isnt as appealing to me as you might think

(3:21am): So ur bad boy attitude knows boundaries? ;)

(3:22am): Dont mock me Im too tired for this

(3:24am): Yeh I can feel that

(3:24am): u really dont deal well without ur beauty sleep

(3:25am): Sorry :( And no, I really dont

(3:31am): KEEEEEEITHH do smth!!!!

(3:32am): I have a test tomorrow !!

(3:34am): OM G IT STOPPED

(3:35am): Keith?

(3:35am): did u kill them?

(3:36am): maybe

(3:36am): KE ITH!

(3:37am): I slipped an anonymous note under their door that I would kill their cat if they didnt turn off the music immediately…

(3:38am): O M G thats cruel

(3:38am): u dont threaten peoples pets

(3:38am): NOT COOL!

(3:39am): chill, I was joking. It said Id call the cops on them

(3:40am): Oh okay good hope ur not just saying that

(3:40am): Also thankk

(3:41am): no problem. Good night, Lance

(3:43am): Lance?

(7:36am): SORRY FELL ASLEEP!

(7:37am): Have fun at work today :)

Friday

(4:12pm): why

(4:25pm): what? u dont like it? ;)

(4:28pm): no

(4:29pm): oh come on! The queen is my best study motivation!

(4:30pm): please just stop

(4:32pm): KEITH! YOU INSULT BEYONCÉ YOU INSULT ME

(4:33pm): Can’t you study to something normal

(4:35pm): Normal normal or you normal?

(4:36pm): I dont care. Just no more beyoncé please. It’s been hours

(4:39pm): Lance?

(4:42pm): really?

(4:42pm): Evanescence? That’s mature…

(4:43pm): WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(4:43pm): WAKE ME UP INSIIIDE

(4:45pm): I hate you

(4:46pm): No u dont :)

(4:47pm): STOP THIS MADNESS!

(4:48pm): Hunk says if you come to a college thing with us tomorrow, he’ll stop me for you

(4:50pm): What kind of thing?

(4:51pm): dunno, Hunk wont say, but its really good apparently

(4:53pm): OKAY DEAL NOW PLEASE STOP

(4:54pm): Party-pooper

(4:56pm): Tell Hunk I love him

Keith got off his bike, took off his helmet and unzipped his leather jacket. He headed towards the university building with mixed feelings about what awaited him. He had fought with himself about coming today but eventually the curious side of him had won. Keith wanted to see what Hunk had planned for them and also even if it scared him to admit it…he missed Lance.

Logically he knew that it did not make any sense. They hardly knew each other. But emotionally he just… missed him. He sighed and blinked against the bright sunlight. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes against it and bumped into someone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t sweat it. All good here.” A friendly voice interrupted him. The tall boy in front of him looked him over and tilted his head to the side. „Hey, are you Keith by any chance?”

Keith nodded. “The one and only.”

“Oh, great! I’m Hunk.“ Keith took the big hand he was offered and returned the welcoming smile. When Hunk gestured for them to move out of the sun and stand in the tall building’s shadow Keith followed him thankfully.

“Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving me yesterday by the way.”

“Oh, no problem. Lance can get like that sometimes when he’s stressed. He didn’t mean anything by it. You know… finals and all. He’s a bit on edge around this time of the year.”

“No, I get it. NASA is a big thing, who wouldn’t freak out, right?”

Hunk gave a nervous laugh. “Yah, I guess. So umm, Lance had to pick up our friend Pidge, they should be here-“

“Exactly now.” Lance’s voice interrupted them. He stopped next to Hunk and let Pidge whom he had been carrying just now slip off his back.

“Hey, Keith. This is Pidge. They use they pronouns. I guess you already know Hunk by now.” Lance smiled at him and clapped Hunk on the back.

Keith nodded and raised his hand in greeting at Pidge. Immediately he regretted the awkward gesture and lowered his hand quickly.

“What’s up butter cup.” Pidge replied with a grin completely ignoring Keith’s weird behavior, who in return just raised an eyebrow at their choice of words.

“Lance, why did you carry Pidge here? Did you take ‘pick them up’ literally again?” Hunk asked with his hands on his hips.

“They paid me two dollars.”

Pidge shrugged. “I didn’t want to walk. It’s too early.”

“It’s almost noon, Pidge.” Hunk said while shaking his head but there was a visible smile on his lips.

“Exactly. Way too early.”

“I feel you, Pidge.” Keith threw in. “I had three coffees before I got here.”

Pidge yawned and stretched their arms over their head. “Good thinking. I only had one and I feel dead inside.”

“So, Hunk. What is this thing? Why are we here?” Lance asked and absently patted Pidge’s head while they leaned against him, eyes closed and repeatedly yawning.

“We are here, because today…” Hunk made a dramatic pause, “They are having a lecture about space for family and friends of students and-“

“AHHH STAR CEILING?” Lance interrupted Hunk excited while bouncing up and down, Hunk just smiled and nodded.

“Yep, Star ceiling.”

“What exactly is star ceiling?” Keith asked confused. Judging from Lance’s reaction this had to be the best thing in the entire universe.

“It’s only the best thing ever, dude,” Lance started to explain while taking Keith’s arm and pulling him in the direction of a big building.

“They only do this once or twice a year when they have family day for the freshmen and around finals for the really stressed out students so they don’t go all homicidal and stuff.” They entered the lecture hall and Lance directed them to a row in the back. “It’s basically just a short lecture about space and planets and what we do here at college but at the end they turn off the lights and project stars on the ceiling and walls. Dude…it’s the most beautiful thing ever. It will change you!” He gestured for Keith to sit down in one of the empty seats and sat next to him.

Hunk took the seat on Keith’s other side and Pidge sat next to Lance. It seemed like they were just in time because a man holding a mic entered the small stage. From the corner of his eyes Keith saw Pidge leaning over to Lance and whispering something into his ear. A moment later Lance bent forward so that Hunk and Keith could both hear him.

“Sorry guys, we’re gonna get Pidge more coffee. They are literally about to murder someone. We’ll be back in a minute.” With that they both left the room and Keith was alone with Hunk, which he didn’t mind that much. They had only exchanged a few sentences but Keith already liked the guy.

The man on the stage started talking about the importance of astronomy and explained the different subjects they were teaching. Unfortunately he had a really boring and monotone voice and Keith immediately zoned out. Thank God Hunk was there to keep him entertained.

“I know this stuff isn’t really interesting, especially not when he’s talking,” Hunk pointed in the direction of the stage. “But it’s really worth it. Lance didn’t exaggerate…well maybe a little… but it actually is crazy beautiful.”

“So you three all study astronomy?” Keith asked. This was his opportunity to learn a bit more about Lance and his friends without this nervous feeling he got around his soulmate. Hunk somehow managed to create an atmosphere around him that immediately made Keith feel comfortable.

“Yeah. It was actually Lance who got me into this stuff when we were younger. We met Pidge here on our first day. They are this crazy genius and got into college early. They are only sixteen but way ahead of most of the students here. Turned out they and their brother Matt live in the same building as me and Lance so we hung with them a couple of times and now we’re all basically besties for life.”

“Space nerds unite,” Keith said with a smile.

“Haha, yeah. Basically.”

“So… do you and Pidge wanna get into NASA too or is that only Lance?” Keith checked the stage for a second but the guy was still talking about boring stuff and Keith noticed that a few other people in the audience had started quiet conversations.

“Well Pidge is as good as in, let’s be real. Me… well. Of course NASA is the dream for almost everyone at this university and I would be thrilled… but I’m not as set as Lance if that makes sense. I feel like I could work anywhere as long as I’m close to my friends.” Hunk shrugged and knitted his brows in deep thought before he cleared his throat.

“Lance is working really hard for it though. You have no idea how many scholarships he had to apply for before he finally got a foot in. Didn’t stop him though.” He smiled and Keith could feel how proud he was of his friend. “You know, the first year was rough. He failed an important test two times and was sure they were gonna kick his ass but he studied harder than all of us and now he’s always in the top 5.”

“Wow. That’s really impressive,” Keith heard himself say and immediately wanted to slap himself. Way to sound like a high school fangirl, Kogane. Can we please think before we speak, brain?!

“Yeah it is.” Hunk sighed, unfazed by Keith’s inner distress. “It’s also really hard to watch sometimes though…”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not the part where he’s top of the class, no. I mean how he gets there. You can’t imagine how many all-nighters the boy pulls during finals and he always pushes himself to get better. I mean it’s great that he’s improving but sometimes I wish he would allow himself a break.” He stiffened and gave a quick laugh. “I’m talking too much again, aren’t I. Sorry, this must be a weird first impression.”

Keith didn’t say anything for a while and chewed on his lower lip. “Is it really that bad? I mean… I haven’t noticed anything and finals are just around the corner right?” He thought back to the few times he’d seen Lance. He had always looked cheery and well… relaxed.

Hunk seemed to be pondering over his answer for a while. That’s when they heard the door behind them open slowly and Lance and Pidge slipped back into the room, Pidge holding a coffee cup in each hand. Hunk leaned over a bit and whispered just before the other two sat down. “Look at his eyes, he thinks we don’t notice…”

Keith had no idea what he meant by that and was staring at a spot on the floor absently when Lance waved his hand in front of his face to get him out of his trance. “Keith, buddy, my man. They’re about to start, don’t pass out on me now!”

Keith blushed a little and sat up straighter. “Yeah, sorry. Not passing out. Now, let’s see your space magic thing. Hope it’s as good as you made it sound.”

The boy next to him grinned from ear to ear. “Better.”

The crowd around them applauded loudly. Apparently the speech part was over and somebody dimmed the lights, making everyone go silent. It was now completely dark in the hall. Keith could feel his palms getting sweaty. Why was this taking so long? He swallowed hard.

He whispered, almost inaudible “Lance?” but in this exact moment they turned on the projectors and surprised ahhhhs and ohhhs could be heard through the entire room.

Keith threw his head back so quickly he almost hit it on his seat’s backrest.

Lance’s words hadn’t prepared him for what he was seeing now at all. It was truly just… beautiful. Thousands of little stars were dancing on the ceiling and the floor and just everywhere. He knew he was sitting in a boring lecture hall and he felt incredibly stupid for even thinking so but for a moment he really felt like he was in space. His heartbeat sped up and his eyes wander around the entire room so quickly he was almost getting sick.

Keith was trying to take it all in before it stopped. The stars danced around his fingertips as he raised his hand in front of his face and watched. He wasn’t even questioning how the whole thing worked it was just too… too everything. In a good way.

“Sooo, did I promise too much?” Lance suddenly whispered next to his ear.

Keith just shook his head and then turned it to smile at him. “No, you didn’t. This is great! Thanks for inviting me to this.” Lance smiled at him and then quickly turned his head to the ceiling again. Neither of them mentioned that it had actually been Hunk who invited Keith.

Keith was still staring at Lance’s face from the corner of his eyes, watching the stars being projected onto his skin and their reflections in his eyes. He looked so beautiful like this, it made Keith’s head spin. He wanted to say something, to tell Lance how pretty he was but he bit his tongue instead. Just friends he reminded himself.

That’s when he remembered Hunk’s words from earlier and looked at Lance’s eyes more closely. What was he supposed to see? The long eyelashes? The small freckles underneath them? The well blended but thick layer of… concealer? Something clicked in his brain. Hunk had mentioned that Lance wasn’t sleeping enough and pushing too hard. Of course he and many others were unable to tell if they didn’t know what to look for. Lance had covered up his dark circles almost perfectly. Almost… Keith turned his gaze to the ceiling again and frowned. Why was he pretending to be fine? It was normal to be tired around finals wasn’t it? Why was he trying to hide it?

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid we have to end this now since our time is up,” a voice sounded from the front of the room. “Thank you all for coming and enjoy the rest of your day on campus.” They turned off the projectors and disappointment could be heard all around. Some classical song started to play and people started to shift but the lights were still out. Keith dug his nails into his palm and tried to breathe evenly. It’s fine, he tried to tell himself. They’re gonna turn them back on every second. Only they didn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we’re having some trouble back here. We’re sure everything will be fixed soon,” the voice echoed again. “Always a bit hard to find the light switch in the dark.” The voice said and gave a fake laugh. Some parents laughed as well. Keith didn’t. He gulped and pressed deeper into his seat.

He could feel Lance stir in the dark next to him and a hand touching his shoulder. “Keith? Are you okay?” Before Keith could even think of something to respond with the lights were finally turned back on. Keith let out a very deep breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding until now. He quickly unclenched his hands and turned his head to give Lance a small smile.

“All good, yes. I’m a bit sad it was over so quickly though.”

Lance looked at him questioningly for a second longer before he returned the smile. “Right? I wish they would do this more often!”

The group got up and headed out before the mass of people in the hall could block the aisles. The bright sunlight blinded Keith for a moment when they walked outside and he held up his helmet to shield his eyes. Someone walked into him from behind and he quickly turned around to apologize for stopping in the doorway but it was Lance he was looking at. An elderly woman complained about them being in her way and they stepped aside and walked a few feet to get away from the mass.

“Sorry for bumping into you,” Lance started, “It’s just,” he pointed at the helmet in Keith’s hand. “I didn’t notice before because I was so excited about the star thing but… did you bring your bike?” Hunk listened to their conversation and laughed looking at Lance now. Keith didn’t exactly understand what he thought was so funny and turned to Pidge for help but they were just quietly smiling at the whole scene.

“Ummm, yes? It’s how I got here. I don’t have a car, soo…” Keith shrugged a little lost.

“Awesome! I mean great. I mean...,” Lance scratched his head. “Can I see it?”

“Uhh, sure. I parked right over there.” Keith pointed over his shoulder. Lance didn’t even wait for the others. He was already on his way to the parking lot, almost running. When the others caught up with him he was inspecting Keith’s bike and admiring the details of the machine by almost touching it with his nose.

Hunk and Pidge seemed kind of impressed too and Hunk slapped Keith’s shoulder. “Sweet ride, Keith!” He joined Lance in walking around the bike to get a better look. “Lance mentioned you work at a workshop. Did you build this yourself?”

Keith nodded and then realised that Hunk wasn’t looking at him so he couldn’t see. “Yah, I did. It was the first project I did without Shiro’s help. Took me a while to find all the parts. I could get a better bike if I wanted but I’m kind of sentimental I guess.”

Lance nodded. “No I get it. It’s a bit like it’s your child, right? I mean… you made her.”

Keith smiled. “Yeah. I guess.”

Pidge gave a fake cough to get everyone’s attention and pointed at the bike. “If you’re finished drooling over that can we go get some food please?”

“That?” Keith repeated in a fake hurt tone.

“They’re secretly loving this more than Lance and me. You should see the stuff they build. We should visit you at your shop and just leave Pidge there for a few hours. They’d have the time of their life.” Hunk chuckled at the expression on Pidge’s face after his revelation.

“Speaking of food though,” Lance looked at Keith and tilted his head, “We thought about grabbing a bite at Planet Altea. You in?”

Keith considered for a moment. He could spend some more time with them and get to know them better. He probably should. Shiro would tell him to… but he also really wanted to go home. The light incident had seriously freaked him out even if he didn’t want to show it. He’d rather calm down at home, alone, where he could stop pretending and no one would see what a mess he really was after such a small thing.

“Sorry, I need to leave. Shiro wants to visit an old friend of his and he’s dragging me along.” Lie. Shiro never dragged him anywhere Keith didn’t want to go. Apart of from that Shiro wasn’t even home right now.

Lance chewed his lower lip. “Ohh. Okay. We’ll text then?” The disappointed look on his face made Keith feel bad instantly.

“Yes definitely. It was really great. Thank you all for taking me.” Let me leave let me go.

Pidge and Hunk said goodbye and they watched Keith take off quickly. Lance waved one last time before he was out of sight, but Keith didn’t turn around to see it.

Usually driving calmed him down but he felt himself get more anxious with every mile. He was glad he could finally take off the helmet when he arrived at his and Shiro’s place because he could breathe more freely instantly. He put the bike in the garage, unlocked the front door and took the elevator up to their floor. After hastily unlocking the front door and locking it after himself again, he immediately kicked off his boots and headed for his bedroom.

He’d learned a few breathing techniques during his never ending counseling sessions and was really glad about that right now. After some minutes of leaning against his door he got his breathing under control. His thoughts however where still spinning, so he put his favourite playlist on shuffle and flopped down on his bed.

After a couple of songs Keith took out his phone to ask Shiro when he would be home and noticed he had gotten a few messages.

(2:17pm): Hey, u ok?

(2:18pm): Getting kind of an anxious vibe over here?!

(2:20): Also thats an awful lot of emo music for someone who insists hes not emo ;)

Shit. Sometimes he forgot the soulmate connection was a thing.

(2:33pm): Sorry! Yes I’m good

There was an immediate response.

(2:33pm): U sure? Doesnt feel like it

(2:35pm): Idk

(2:36pm): Maybe not

(2:36pm): do you wanna talk? I can call u

Keith’s whole body tensed. Was he ready for that? Should he lie, maybe say he was tired and wanted to nap or something? Should he tell the truth? He frowned.

(2:37pm): I’m not… good at phone calls

(2:37pm): Np u can just listen and I’ll do the talkin

(2:39pm): that’d be ok?

Keith swallowed. Shiro probably wouldn’t be home for a while and he really needed to talk to someone. The question was if Lance was safe to talk to? Would it overstep the friendship line? Why could things never be easy…

(2:42pm): yes, ok

[Incoming call: Lance McClain]

More author’s notes:

This fic on AO3

Yeah after 500 years I finally updated. I could explain at length why it took my so long but it comes down to this: I was stressed, I was depressed, I’m sorry but now it’s finally here! Hooray!

As always a big THANK YOU to @alteanmoonchild for being my beta and for reading every new draft and honestly telling me when what I wrote isn’t good so I can improve and grow. I love us working together on this <3

Thank you to all of you for reading! If you have any questions or feedback send me an ask or dm me <3

Me an my friends finally cosplayed Voltron so if you wanna see me as Shiro and my awesome friends as Keith, Lance and Coran head over to my instagram.

Do you know what keeps me motivated when I so often doubt my writing and don’t know how to continue? Getting feedback! So please reblog, like, comment or even draw fanart. Whenever I read an “I love this” comment it makes me incredible happy! Also one of my goals is to someday have someone draw fanart for something wrote soo... if you wanna do that I’ll love you. Also please tag me if you do.

If you want me to tag you in the next part when I post it, just send me an ask saying so and I’ll add you to the taglist.

taglist: @alyy--caticus @princealektheorange @an-important-nobody @teddyorionpotter @spookyscaryshitstorm @ladythugs @positevelybakerstreet @meganmoo02 @atomicengineerdetective @jishwadun-is-jishwafun @anemoee

215 notes · View notes

hmhteen · 6 years

Text

HMH Teen Teasers: NOT EVEN BONES by Rebecca Schaeffer!

If you like your books a little bloody, prepare to devour this killer YA debut: NOT EVEN BONES by Rebecca Schaeffer is about a girl who dissects dead bodies for the magical black market...but soon enough finds herself the one in danger of being sold for parts. To save herself, she must unleash the monster within.

Keep scrolling to read the first FOUR chapters of NOT EVEN BONES!

***

ONE

Nita stared at the dead body lying on the kitchen table. Middle-aged, and in the place between pudgy and overweight, he wore a casual business suit and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with silver handles that blended into the gray at his temples. He was indistinguishable on the outside from any other human — the inside, of course, was a different matter.

“Another zannie?” Nita scowled at her mother and crossed her arms as she examined the body. “That’s not even Latin American. I thought we moved to Peru to hunt South and Central American unnaturals? Chupacabras and pishtacos and whatever.”

It wasn’t that zannies were common, but Nita had dis- sected plenty during the months she and her mother spent in Southeast Asia last year. She’d been looking forward to dissecting something new. If she’d wanted to cut up the same unnaturals as usual, she would have asked to stay with her dad in the States and work on unicorns.

Her mother shrugged, draping her jacket over a chair. “I saw a zannie, so I killed it. I mean, it was right in front of me. How could I resist?” Her black-and-red-striped bangs fell for- ward as she dipped her head and half smiled.

Nita shifted her feet, looking at the corpse again. She sighed. “I suppose you’ll want me to dissect and package it for sale?”

“Good girl.” Her mother grinned.

Nita went around to the other side of the dead body. “Care to help me move it to the workroom?”

Her mother rolled up her sleeves, and together they heaved the round, deceptively heavy body down the hall and onto a smooth metal table in the other room. White walls and fluorescent lights made it look like a hospital surgery room. Scalpels and bone saws lay in neat lines on the shelves, and a scale for weighing organs rested in front of a box of jars. In the corner, a tub of formaldehyde caused everything to reek of death. The smell kept sneaking out of the room and making its way into Nita’s clothes. She found it strangely comforting. That was probably a bad sign.

But, if Nita was being honest with herself, most of her habits and life choices were bad signs.

Her mother winked at Nita. “All ready for you.”

Nita looked down at her watch. “It’s nearly midnight.” “And?”

“And I want to sleep sometime.”

“So do it later.” Her mother waved it aside. “It’s not like you have anything to get up for.”

Nita paused, then bowed her head in acceptance. Even though it had been years since her mother had decided to illegally take Nita out of school, she still had some leftover instinct telling her not to go to bed too late. Which was silly, because even if she’d had school, she’d gladly have skipped it for a dissection. Dissections were fun.

Nita pulled on a white lab coat. She always liked wearing it— it made her feel like a real scientist at a prestigious university or laboratory somewhere. Sometimes she put the goggles on even when she didn’t need to just so she could complete the look.

“When are you heading out again?”

Her mother washed her hands in the sink. “Tonight. I got a tip when I was bringing this beauty back. I’m flying to Buenos Aires.”

“Pishtacos?” asked Nita, trying to hold in her excitement. She’d never had a chance to dissect a pishtaco. How would their bodies be modified for a diet made completely of human body fat? The promise of a pishtaco dissection was the only thing that had convinced Nita moving to Peru was a good idea. Her mother always knew how to tempt her.

Nita frowned. “Wait, there are no pishtacos in Argentina.” Her mother laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s something even better.”

“Not another zannie.” “No.”

Her mother dried her hands and headed back toward the kitchen, calling out as she went, “I’m going to head to the airport now. If all goes well, I should be back in two days.”

Nita followed and found her sitting, booted feet on the kitchen table as she unscrewed the top of the pisco bottle from the fridge and took a swig. Not cocktail-drink pisco, or mixed-with-soda pisco, just straight. Nita had tried it once when she was home alone, thinking it would be a good celebration drink to ring in her seventeenth birthday. It didn’t burn as much as whisky or vodka, or even sake, but it kicked in fast, and it kicked in hard. Her mother had found her with her face squished against the wall, crying because it wouldn’t move for her. Then Mom had laughed and left her there to suffer. She showed Nita the pictures afterward — there was an awful lot of drool on that wall.

Nita hadn’t sampled anything in the liquor cabinet since.

“Oh, and Nita?” Her mother put the pisco on the table. “Yeah?”

“Don’t touch the head. It has a million-dollar bounty. I plan to claim it.”

Nita looked down the hall, toward the room with the dead body. “I’m pretty sure the whole wanted-dead-or-alive thing ended in the Old West. If you just turn this guy’s head over, you’ll be arrested for murder.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Why, thank you, Nita, for teaching me such an important lesson. Whatever would I do without you?”

Nita winced. “Um.”

“The zannie is wanted for war crimes by the Peruvian government. He was a member of the secret police under the Fujimori administration.”

No surprise there. Pretty much every zannie in the world was wanted for some type of war crime. When your biological imperative was to torture people and eat their pain, there were only so many career paths open to you.

That reminded Nita — there was an article in the latest issue of Nature on zannies that she wanted to read. Someone who had clearly dissected fewer zannies than Nita, but with access to better equipment, had written a detailed analysis of how zannies consumed pain. There were all sorts of theo- ries about how pain was relative, and the same injury on two people could be perceived completely differently. The scientists had been researching zannies — was it the severity of the injury that fed them, or the person’s perception of how much it hurt?

They’d also managed to prove that while zannies could consume emotional pain, as well as physical, the effect was significantly less. Emotional and physical pain receptors over- lapped in the brain center, so the big question was, why did causing other people severe physical pain feed zannies, while causing severe emotional pain had less effect? Nita privately thought it was because physical pain had the added signals from nociceptors, but she was curious to see what others thought.

Her mother continued, oblivious to Nita’s wandering mind. “A number of interested parties have offered very large bounties for his head. They, unlike the government, don’t care if he’s alive to face trial.” There was a sharp flash of teeth. “And I’m happy to oblige them.”

She rose, put the pisco away, and pulled on her burgundy leather jacket. “Can you have him all packed up by the time I get back?”

Nita nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

Her mother came over and kissed the top of her head. “What would I ever do without you, Anita?”

Before Nita could formulate a response, her mother was out the door. There was a creak and then a bang, and the house was silent. When her mother departed, sometimes Nita felt like she took more than just noise. She had a presence, a tangible energy to her that filled the house. Without her, it felt hollow. Like the life had left, and there was only a dead zannie in its place.

Which, really, there was. Nita turned back to her newest project and allowed herself a small smile. A pishtaco or a chupacabra would have been better, but she’d still enjoy a zannie.

The first thing she did was empty its pockets. An old- fashioned timepiece, some Brazilian reais (no Peruvian soles though, which was odd), and a wallet. Nita gazed at it a long time before putting it on the tray, unopened. Her mother would have already taken the credit cards and used them to get as much cash as possible before ditching them. The only other things left in the wallet would be identity cards, club memberships — things that would tell her about the person she was dissecting.

Nita had learned a long time ago — you don’t want to know anything about the person whose body you’re taking apart.

Better to think that it wasn’t a person at all. And really — it wasn’t. This was a zannie.

Nita took an elastic and tied her hair back in a puffy attempt at a ponytail. Her hair tended to grow sideways in frizzy kinks instead of down. In the glow of the fluorescent lights, its normally medium-brown color took on an orange tint. No one else thought it looked orange, but Nita insisted— she liked orange.

She put a surgical mask over her mouth, just below her freckle-spattered cheekbones, before putting the goggles on. After snapping on a pair of latex gloves, she rolled her tool set over to the metal slab where the body rested. She slipped her earbuds in and flicked on her Disney playlist.

It was time to begin.

Nita couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been fascinated by dead things — perhaps because her home was always full of them. As far back as she could remember, her parents had acquired the bodies of unnaturals and sold the pieces on the internet. The darknet, to be specific. Black market body part sellers didn’t just post their items on eBay. That was how you ended up with a short visit from the International Non- Human Police — INHUP — and a long stint in jail.

When Nita was younger, she used to run around the room, bringing her parents empty jars. Big glass ones for the heart, small vials and bags for the blood. Afterward, she’d label them and line them up on the shelf. Sometimes she’d stare at them, pieces of people she’d never met. There was something calm- ing about the still hearts, floating in formaldehyde. Something peaceful. No more beating, no more thumping rhythm and noise. Just silence.

Sometimes, she would look at the eyes, and they would stare back. Direct, open gazes. Not like living people, who flicked their eyes here and there while they lied, who could cram an entire conversation into a single gaze. The problem was, Nita could never understand what they were saying. It was better after people were dead. The eyes weren’t so tricky anymore.

It took Nita all night and the better part of the next day to finish with the zannie, put everything in jars of formaldehyde or freezer containers, and clean the dissection room until it sparkled.

The sun was up, and she didn’t feel tired, so she went to her favorite park on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Tropical trees with large, bell-shaped flowers covered the benches like a canopy, and blue and white mosaics patterned the wall that prevented people from tumbling over the side of the cliff and into the sparkling waters below. Newspapers sat abandoned on the benches, from tabloids announcing Penelope Alvarez looks twenty at age forty-five. Good skin care or something more “unnatural”? to official news sources with headlines like Should Peru sign into INHUP? The advantages and disadvantages to an extraterritorial police force for unnatural-related incidents.

Peru was one of the only South American countries left that wasn’t a part of INHUP. There were always a few countries on every continent that stayed out so that black market dealers had somewhere to flee when INHUP finally nailed them. Certain people paid politicians handsomely to ensure it stayed that way.

Nita took a seat far away from the other people in the park. Under the shade of a floripondio tree, she cracked open her medical journals on unnaturals.

Sometimes it was frustrating reading them and knowing they were wrong about certain things. While lots of unnaturals were “out” and recognized by the world, most still hid, afraid of public backlash. So when the journals talked about zannies being the only species of unnatural that consumed nontangible things, like pain, Nita wished she could point out that there were creatures who consumed memories, strong emotions, and even dreams. INHUP just hadn’t officially recognized them yet. INHUP was big on doing damage control, and part of trying to decrease racism and discrimination against unnaturals was not telling people just how many types there were.

It also kept people like Nita’s mother from finding out about them. Sometimes.

Nita whiled the afternoon away in the shade of the tree, devouring medical research like candy, until the sun dipped so low there wasn’t enough light to read by.

When Nita got home, she was greeted by a string of exple- tives.

She crept into the hall, shoulders tight with tension. Her mother could be unpredictable when angry. Nita had been on the receiving end before and wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

But ignoring her mother was more dangerous, so Nita padded into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Nita gaped, staring at the mess.

Her mother tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave Nita a wry smile. Around her, empty shipping crates littered the floor, along with packing materials like bubble wrap and Styrofoam worms. A gun sat on the kitchen table, and Nita briefly wondered what it was doing out.

“I want to have the zannie parts shipped out tomorrow.

We’ve got something new, and to be frank, this apartment isn’t big enough to hold all the parts.” Her mother flashed her another smile.

Nita was inclined to agree. Her dissection room was already at capacity, and they’d only dissected one zannie. There really wasn’t room for a second body.

“Something new, huh? I take it everything went well, then?” Nita’s mother laughed. “Do things ever go well with unnaturals that aren’t on the list?”

Among the unnaturals that were public knowledge, there was a list of “dangerous unnaturals” — unnaturals whose continued existence depended on them murdering other people. It wasn’t a crime to kill them in INHUP member countries, it was “preemptive self-defense.” But anything not on the list, the harmless unnaturals (which was most of them, in Nita’s experience), it was very much a crime to kill.

Her mom mostly brought Nita unnaturals on the list. Mostly.

Nita knew her mother had probably killed a lot of not-evil, not-dangerous people and sold them. She tried not to think about it too much, because really, there wasn’t much she could do about it, was there?

Besides, they were always dead by the time they got to Nita. And if they were already dead, it would be a shame to let their bodies go undissected.

Speaking of . . .

“What did you bring back?” Nita asked, weaving through the crates to the fridge, where she took out last night’s leftovers and shoved them into the microwave.

“Something special. I put it in the dissection room.”

Nita felt her fingers twitch, the imaginary scalpel in her hand making a sliding cut through the air, like a Y incision. She couldn’t wait for the slow, relaxing evening, just her and the body. The straight autopsy lines, the jars full of organs watching over her, like her own weird guardian angel.

She shivered with anticipation. Sometimes she scared herself.

Her mother looked at Nita out of the corner of her eyes. “I have to say, this one was tricky to get.”

Nita removed her food from the microwave and sat down at the kitchen table. “Oh, do tell?”

Her mother smiled, and Nita settled in for a good story. “Well, it wasn’t hard at the beginning. Buenos Aires was lovely, and hunting down my tip was easy. Even acquiring our new . . . I don’t even know what to call him.”

Nita raised her eyebrows. Her mother knew every unnatural. It was her job. This one must be something really rare.

“Well, anyway.” Her mother sat down beside her. “It wasn’t even so bad getting him. Security wasn’t too much of an issue, easily dealt with. The problem was getting him back.”

Nita nodded. Airlines usually frowned on stuffing dead bodies into overhead bins.

Her mother gave her a conspiratorial wink. “But then I thought, well, why don’t I just pretend he’s a traveler? So I put him in a wheelchair, and the airline never even guessed.”

“Wait, a wheelchair?” Nita scowled. “But wouldn’t they notice that he didn’t, well, move or breathe or anything when they were helping him to his seat?”

She laughed. “Oh, he’s not dead. I just drugged the hell out of him.”

Nita’s fingers twitched, then froze. Not dead.

She gave her mother a sickly smile. “You said you put him in my room?”

“Yes, I spent the morning installing the cage. Bugger of a thing. You know they don’t make human-size cages anymore? And I had to get the handcuffs at a sex shop.”

Nita sat there for a long moment, smile frozen like a rictus on her face. Then she rose and began making her way through the crates to her dissection room.

Her mother followed. “This one’s a little different. He’s quite valuable, so I’d really like to milk him a bit for blood and such before we harvest the organs.”

But Nita wasn’t listening. She had opened the door to see with her own eyes.

Part of her beautiful, sterile white room was now taken up by a large cage, which had been bolted to the wall. Her mother had put a padlock and chain around the door. Inside the cage, a boy with dark brown hair lay unconscious in the fetal position. Given the size of the cage, it was probably the only way he could lie down.

“What is he?” Nita waited for her mother to list off the heinous things he did to survive. Maybe he ate newborn babies and was actually five hundred years old instead of the eighteen or nineteen he looked.

Her mother shrugged. “I don’t know if there’s a name for what he is.”

“But what kind of unnatural is he? Explain it.” Nita felt her voice rising and forced it to calm down. “I mean, you know what he does, right?”

Her mother laughed. “He doesn’t do much of anything. He’s an unnatural, that much I’m sure of, but I don’t think you’ll find any external signs of it. He was being kept by a col- lector in Buenos Aires.”

“So . . . why do we want him?” Nita pushed, surprised at how much she needed an answer, a reason to justify the cage in her room and the small, curled-up form of the boy. His jeans and T-shirt looked like they were spattered with something, and Nita wondered if it was blood.

“Ah. Well, he’s supposedly quite delicious, you know. Something about him. That collector had been selling vials of his blood — vials, not bags, mind you — for nearly ten thousand each. US dollars, not soles or pesos. Dollars. One of his toes went up for auction online last year, and the price was six dig- its. For a toe.”

Her mother had a wide, toothy grin, and her eyes were alight at the prospect of how much money an entire body could make. Nita wondered how soon the boy’s time would be up. Her mother preferred cash in hand to cash in the future, so Nita doubted the boy would be prisoner for long.

“I already put him up online, and we have a buyer for another toe. So I took the liberty of cutting it off and mailing it while we were in Argentina.”

It took a few moments for Nita to register her mother’s words. Then she looked down, and sure enough, the boy’s feet were bare and bloody. One foot had been hastily wrapped in bandages, but they’d turned red as the blood soaked through.

Her mother tapped her finger to her chin. “The only problem is, his pieces need to be fresh — well, as fresh as we can get them. So we’ll sell all the extremities first, as they’re ordered. He should be able to survive without those, and we can bottle the blood when we remove them and sell it as well. We’ll do the internal organs and such later, once we’ve spread the word. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Nita’s mind spun in circles, not quite processing what her mother was saying. “You want to keep him here and cut pieces off him while he’s still alive?”

“Exactly.”

Nita didn’t even know what to say to that. She didn’t deal with live people. Her subjects were dead.

“He’s not . . . dangerous?” Nita asked, unable to tear her eyes off the bandages around the missing toes.

Her mother snorted. “Hardly. He got unlucky in the genetic draw. As far as I can tell, everyone wants to eat him, and he has no more defenses than an ordinary human.”

The boy stirred in the cage and tried to twist himself around to look at them. Nita’s heart clenched. It was pathetic.

Her mother clapped her on the shoulder before turning around. “We’re going to make good money off him.”

Nita nodded, eyes never straying from the cage. Her mother left the room, calling for Nita to help her organize the crates in the kitchen so they could start packing the zannie parts.

The boy lifted his head and met Nita’s eyes. His eyes were gray-blue and wide with fear. He reached a hand up, but it stopped short, the handcuffs pulling it back down toward the bottom of the cage.

He swallowed, eyes never leaving Nita’s. “Ayúdame,” he whispered.

Help me.

TWO

Nita was not a heartless, murdering, body-part thief.

That was her mother.

Nita had never killed anyone. Her plan was to keep it that way.

Why couldn’t Mom have killed him before she came back? If she’d killed him before coming home, Nita wouldn’t have had to see him like this. She could have just pretended he died naturally. Or blamed her mother and chalked it up to another of those well, too late to do anything now cases. But now he was alive, and in her apartment, and she actually had to think about this.

About the living, breathing person her mother planned to kill.

And have Nita dissect. Alive.

What would it be like to cut someone up while they were screaming at you to stop?

“Nita?” Mom came around the corner from the kitchen, and Nita realized she’d been standing in the hall staring off into space for the past few minutes. “Something wrong?”

Nita hesitated. “He’s alive.”

“Yes. And?” Mom’s eyes were as tight as her voice. Nita had a sudden feeling she was treading on very dangerous ground.

“He talks.” She shifted her shoulders in unease, more so from her mother’s look than anything else.

Her mother’s face relaxed. “Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetheart. He won’t be around for long. He’ll be on your table shortly, and no one talks back to you there, do they?”

Nita nodded, appreciating her mother’s efforts to quell her anxiety even as her nausea rose. “Yeah.”

Her mother gave her an appraising look. “You know, if you want, I can go cut his tongue out now. I have some pliers — I can pull it right out. Then you won’t have to worry about him talking.”

“That’s okay, Mom.” Nita forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure . . .” Her mother gave her another searching look before sighing. “All right. Shall we start packing some of those zannie parts?”

Nita nodded, glad for the change in subject.

They spent the rest of the afternoon filling up crates. Her mother had arranged the bribes to get them back to the family warehouse in the States. Her father would handle them from there. He dealt with the online sales, storage, and shipping of the body parts, while her mother dealt with the retrieval. Her father was also their major cover, if INHUP ever came sniffing. Nita was sure her mother had a record a mile long — her stack of foreign passports, driver’s licenses, and credit cards was probably two feet high. That sort of thing usually came with a record, in Nita’s opinion.

Her father, though, was squeaky clean as far as Nita knew.

By day, he worked as a legal consultant in Chicago, and by night, he sold body parts on the internet. Nita missed him, and their home, and their shitty Chicago suburb that was actually a two-hour drive from Chicago. She hadn’t been home since she was fourteen.

She wondered what her father would say about this situation. Would he be unhappy her mother had brought a live unnatural home? And moreover, a harmless one?

It was one thing when her mother dumped a zannie or a unicorn on Nita’s table. For one, they were monsters who couldn’t continue to live without killing other people. And the world agreed — that was why there was a Dangerous Unnaturals List. It wasn’t even a crime to kill them. You were saving lives.

But someone like the boy in the other room? How could she justify that?

Sighing, Nita wiped the sweat off her forehead as they closed another crate. No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t find a way to justify murdering that boy.

Well, except money.

“It looks like we’re going to need a few more shipping crates.” Her mother ran a hand through her hair. Her manicure caught the light, black and red and yellow, like someone had tried to cover a fire with a blackout curtain.

Nita poured a glass of juice. “Probably.”

“I think we deserve pizza now. How about you?” Nita heartily agreed.

After dinner, they realized they were low on bottled water.

Tap water wasn’t drinkable unless boiled, and Nita’s mother didn’t like the taste. She’d been promising they were going to get a UV light for purifying water since they arrived a few weeks ago, but it hadn’t happened yet.

Her mother sighed and got up, dusting pizza crumbs off her lap. “I’ll go down to the store and get a seven-liter bottle. I’ll start on the boy when I come back.”

“Start what?”

Her mother grinned. “I sold his ear an hour ago.” Nita stiffened. “You’re going to cut it off tonight?” “Of course.”

Nita swallowed, looking away. “But you can’t mail it until tomorrow morning. It makes more sense to cut it off tomorrow. If freshness is important, like you said.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. Nita tried to resist the urge to shift in place, but failed.

Finally, in a small voice, Nita whispered, “I don’t want to hear him screaming all night. I won’t get any sleep.”

Her mother laughed, throwing her head back, then came over and clapped Nita on the back. It was just a little harder than it should have been, and Nita stumbled forward a step.

“You’re absolutely right, Anita.” Her mother grinned as she walked back to the door. “We’ll do it tomorrow morning.”

Nita stood there, trembling, as the door closed with a thud and a click. She remained in place for a few minutes, calming her breathing before picking up a slice of pizza and walking back to the dissection room.

When she opened the door, she found the boy sitting cross-legged in the cage, watching her. She approached with caution, and as she got closer, she was able to discern that yes, those stains on his clothes were definitely dried blood.

She put the pizza close enough to the bars that he could wiggle his fingers through and pull pieces off. She skittered back, afraid if she got too close he would leap at her. Not that he could do much, chained to the cage, which was chained to the wall. But she was careful anyway.

He looked down at the pizza and licked his lips. “Gracias.” “De nada.” Nita was surprised at how hoarse her voice was. She stood there for a long moment, awkward, not sure

what to do next. Logically, she knew better than to talk to him. She didn’t want to know anything about him if — when — she had to dissect him. But she also felt weird just giving him food and leaving.

This was the part where she could really have used more social skills practice. Was there etiquette for this kind of situation?

Probably not.

He wormed his fingers through the bars and ripped off the tip of the pizza. His hands wouldn’t reach to his mouth because of the handcuffs, so he had to bend his head over to eat. He chewed slowly, and after one bite, just sat, looking at the pizza but not eating. She wondered if he didn’t like pep- peroni.

“Cómo te llamas?” he asked, still not looking up. His accent was clearly Argentinian, his y sounds blurring into sh, so it sounded like “cómo te shamas?”

His accent wasn’t too hard to understand, unlike Nita’s.

Her father was from Chile, and she’d lived in Madrid until she was six, so Nita’s Spanish was a hopeless tangle of the two accents. Sometimes the Peruvians in the grocery store couldn’t understand her at all.

“Nita.” She hesitated. “Y tu?”

“Fabricio.” His voice was soft. “Fabricio Tácunan.” “Fabricio?” Nita couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her

voice. “Is that from Shakespeare or something?”

He looked up at her then, and frowned. “Pardon?”

Nita repeated slowly, trying to make her accent less pro- nounced.

This time he understood. He raised his eyebrows, voice pitched slightly differently. More curious, less sad, his Spanish soft and barely audible. “Who is Shakespeare?”

“Umm.” Nita paused. Did they teach Shakespeare in Latin American schools? If the boy — don’t think of him by name, you’ll get too attached and then where will you be? — had been a captive of a collector, had he even gone to school? “He’s an English writer from the fifteen hundreds. One of his characters was named Fabrizio, I think. It’s . . . I guess I thought it was kinda an old name.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s fairly common where I’m from. One of my father’s employees has the same name. But he spells it with a z, Fabrizio. The Italian way.”

Fabricio looked down at his shirt, crusted with dried blood and swallowed. “He spelled it with a z.”

Oh.

Nope, too much information. Nita didn’t want to hear about this.

Why did you even talk to him, then? she scolded herself. This was going to make everything worse later.

Nita turned to leave, but he called her back. “Nita.”

She paused, wavering, before glancing over her shoulder at him. “Yes?”

“What’s going to happen to me?”

She watched how he strained against the handcuffs, leaning forward in the cage. His face was tense, fear shining through in the angle of his head, the crease on his forehead, and the wide blue eyes.

She turned away. “I don’t know.”

But that was a lie. She just didn’t want to admit it to him.

THREE

Heading back into the kitchen, Nita found her mother waiting for her.

There was no water.

Nita paused when she entered the room, uncomfortable. Her mother was watching her with cold eyes, hand resting near her gun. Casually, not on purpose. Not that her mother had ever needed a gun. She preferred poison.

“You weren’t talking with him, were you, Nita?”

Nita shook her head, looking at the floor. Her shoulders hunched as her body instinctively tried to curl into itself. Nita’s mother had an aura around her, an unspoken sense of coiled menace when she was angry. Nita would never admit it to either of her parents, but she was secretly terrified of her mother. She’d only stood up to her once in her life.

When Nita was twelve and they’d been living and operating near Chicago, her mother had tried to get into the dact fur business. Dacts, small fluffy balls of adorableness people kept as pets, were totally harmless. Her mother would come home with groups of them in cages, never saying where they were from. And every night, after her parents went to bed, Nita would sneak down to the basement and take the cages to the twenty-four-hour emergency vet clinic and ask them to give the dacts to the SPCA or shelter. A few times they’d scanned the dacts for microchips and found they’d been stolen from someone’s backyard.

Nita’s mother had not been impressed. She’d come home one day with a cage of dead dacts instead of live ones, and Nita had responded by flushing five pounds of pure powdered uni- corn bone down the toilet (that stuff sold better than cocaine and was more addictive by far). She took the dead dacts’ bodies to the emergency vet clinic anyway.

Nita’s mother hadn’t appreciated Nita’s discovery of morals. After her father calmed everyone down and ended the plan to sell dact fur, Nita’s mother still hadn’t been satisfied. So she’d poisoned the dact food in the pet store, and every single dact in their suburb had died. Her mother, knowing Nita’s pro-pensity for ignoring things that weren’t right in front of her nose, took to putting the corpses in Nita’s bed for a week.

It had only ended when Nita broke down crying on the front step, begging her mother to stop. Her father had agreed and told her mother it was affecting their profit margin — by that time Nita was dissecting most of the bodies coming through, and she was such an emotional wreck she hadn’t worked in a week. Money convinced her mother to stop when nothing else had.

But there was an unspoken promise: if Nita ever disobeyed her mother again, the punishment would be far, far worse.

Nita swallowed and tried to push away the memories. “Why would I talk to him? What would I even talk about?”

“Of course you weren’t talking to him, you’re socially incompetent.” Her mother took a step forward, and Nita nearly flinched. She kept herself in check. Barely. “Because, if you were trying to talk to the boy, you might develop sympathy. I don’t need that. And I can promise you” — a sharp, mean smile— “you don’t want that.”

Nita shrugged, trying to play it nonchalant when every nerve screamed at her to run, run far and fast and never ever look back. “I gave him his food. He said thanks. I said you’re welcome. Then I left.”

Her mother gave Nita a long, searching look before bestowing a condescending smile on her. “That’s good. It’s always appropriate to be polite.”

Nita tried to force a smile, but it wouldn’t come. “I’m tired. I kinda want to go to bed. If you don’t mind?”

Her mother waved her away. “After you pick up some water. I decided I didn’t want to go myself after all.”

So her mother didn’t trust her. She’d just sat there, eaves- dropping, and knew Nita had lied to her.

Great. “Okay.”

It was always best to obey her mother.

Nita grabbed her sweater and a bag on her way out, making sure to lock the door behind her. She took a deep breath, leaning her head on the door and closing her eyes. She felt like she was walking a tightrope. One wrong step, and she could fall to either side. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what exactly she’d be falling into, except that it would be bad.

Would her mother kill Fabricio while she was out so Nita couldn’t interfere?

No. Of course not. But she might start cutting off pieces. Nita swallowed, hands clenched at her side. Would that be

so terrible? It wouldn’t be Nita’s fault then — she wouldn’t be here; she couldn’t do anything about it. She could just brush it aside.

But she’d still have to dissect him when it was all over. Scoop out those scared blue eyes and put them in a jar.

Nita let out the breath she’d been holding. It would be a waste to start cutting pieces off Fabricio now.

She walked down the hall and to the stairwell, heading for the store.

Outside, it was dark and hazy, but the streetlights kept things moderately well lit. Nita lived in a nice part of Lima, right in the heart of Miraflores district, and she wasn’t too concerned about safety at night.

The heat of the evening settled comfortably on her skin, and a gentle breeze brought her the scent of something spicy in a nearby restaurant. She’d only been in Lima a month, but she liked it a lot so far. It was one of the nicer places they’d set up shop.

Nita and her mother moved around a lot. They would move to a central location on a continent, and her mother would tar- get all the nearby countries, hunting for unnaturals she could kill and sell. They’d spent years doing this in the US before they’d moved on to Vietnam, Germany, and now Peru.

She passed by the open door of a restaurant and saw a pair of American tourists snapping at a waiter. The woman was snarling something in English, and the waiter just stared at her, smile frozen on his face while shaking his head and try- ing to tell her, in a mix of broken English and Spanish, that he didn’t understand.

“Well, find me someone who does!” snapped the woman, and then she turned to her husband. “You’d think they could hire people that speak English.”

Nita rolled her eyes as she passed. Why was there this obsession Americans had that others should learn their language to accommodate them? They were in Peru. Why didn’t those American people learn Spanish?

She saw it everywhere, the weird entitlement. Tourists who stole pieces of pottery and coins from German castles because they could. Rich men who flew in to Ho Chi Minh thinking they could buy anyone they wanted for a night and do anything they wanted to them, laws of the country be damned.

Nita kept walking past the restaurant and down the street. Her footsteps slowed just beneath a plaque commemorating a battle against the Spanish. She thought about the Spanish conquistadores five hundred years before, who’d swept through South America and painted the whole continent red in their hunt for gold.

Something uncomfortable and squiggly shifted in her chest. The plaque was talking about Pizarro, the man who’d carved a bloody swathe through Peru. He’d taken the Inca — the ruler of the Incan people — hostage, and then ransomed him for a room full of gold. When the Incan people gave him the gold, he killed the Inca anyway.

Pizarro wasn’t even the worst of the conquistadores. Christopher Columbus used to cut the hands off indigenous people who didn’t dig enough gold for him each month.

Like her mother cut off Fabricio’s toes. Nope.

Nita really didn’t want to think about that.

So she ignored the niggling little voice that told her she had no right to claim the tourists were being entitled jerks when her mother felt entitled to take these people’s lives and sell their body parts for profit.

She went to the local bodega instead of the giant grocery store. She didn’t like how crowded the grocery store was. People were always talking to her and breathing near her, and some- times they brushed by her, and she found it uncomfortable.

The bodega was smaller, and she actually had to talk to the person at the cashier sometimes, but it was worth it to not feel the press of so many bodies around her. Also, the bodega never had a line.

As she was paying, Nita’s eyes were drawn to the television sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, a stack of toilet paper and Kleenex packages on top. It was an old, boxy unit, and someone had put on the news.

“The debate over whether to add unicorns to the Dangerous Unnaturals List continues, as INHUP starts its third day of discussions over the proposal.”

Nita smiled as a memory surfaced, one of the few she had where she really felt her mother cared. A man with blond hair and swirly black thorn tattoos had reached to ruffle her hair at a store, and her mother had nearly shot him right then and there. Nita had been swept away before the man could get too close, and while her mother never said, Nita knew that particular soul-eating unicorn was dead now. He would never again target virgins. She’d seen the new powdered unicorn bone stock.

Letting out a breath, Nita shook her head. Her mother might be many things, but she loved Nita. It was a scary kind of love, but it was there. That was important. Sometimes it was easy to forget, given her mother’s suspicious nature and obsession with money.

A reporter was interviewing a scientist about unnatural genetics.

“Unicorns are another type of unnatural linked to reces- sive genes. This means these creatures can reproduce with humans, and the genetic makeup can lie dormant for generations before the right circumstances combine and two per- fectly normal parents give birth to a monster.

“It’s not only unicornism that’s hereditary,” the man on the screen ranted. “But other creatures. Zannies. Kappa. Ghouls. Even vampires, to some extent.”

Nita thought of the pieces of zannie in her apartment. She wondered how many people it had tortured in its life to feed its hunger for pain. It was a good thought, because she had no guilt about cutting up a monster like that, and even admired her mother for killing it.

“Could you describe the proposal you’ve submitted to INHUP, Dr. Rodón?”

“Genetic manipulation. It’s a very select series of genes unique to each species, so once fully mapped, it should be easy to screen for and eliminate them. If we catch it before they’re born, we can eradicate all dangerous human-born unnatu- rals.”

The clerk gave Nita her water with a smile, and she nearly ripped it out of his hand as she stormed out of the shop, unable to listen to another minute of that drivel.

Nita hated people.

While Nita agreed it might be an effective, even humane way to reduce the monster population, she knew people would take it too far. People always took it too far. How long before people started isolating genes from harmless unnaturals and eliminating them too? Aurs, who were just bioluminescent people? Or mermaids? Or whatever Fabricio was?

Or even Nita and her mother?

FOUR

The next morning, Nita woke to screaming.

She yanked the covers off and reached for the scalpel she kept on her nightstand. Her feet tangled in the sheets as she stumbled out of bed and fell on her knees with a thud.

The screaming rose in pitch, sharpening into a long, horrible shriek.

Breathing fast, Nita freed herself and climbed to her feet. She crept out of her room, scalpel first, toward the source of the noise. The screams were punctuated by the rattle of metal against metal, the scraping squeak of something heavy on the linoleum floor, and her mother’s vicious swearing. Nita’s heartbeat stuttered.

Her mother hadn’t been testing her when she mentioned cutting off Fabricio’s ear. She was actually doing it. Right now.

Nita opened the door to the dissection room and saw blood. It had spattered her clean white walls and floor. Droplets clung to her mother’s angry face, and streaks of red tears patterned Fabricio’s cheeks. He’d scooted his head as far into the cage as he could and had bunched his legs so his feet were pressed to the front of the cage. He rocked it from side to side, trying to prevent her mother from getting a grip. The padlock was on the floor, but the cage door had swung shut, and Fabricio was holding it closed by wrapping his remaining toes around the door and tugging.

Her mother was holding a syringe, probably something to sedate Fabricio. He knocked it out of her hand with his shoulder, and it clattered to the bottom of the cage. He used an elbow to smash it, spilling the contents and chunks of broken glass across the ground.

Both of them turned as Nita entered, and Nita flinched when she saw Fabricio’s face straight on. Her mother had clearly tried to cut off his ear while he slept, and he’d woken up mid cut. His ear had been partly severed, and then the knife had slipped, slicing a deep red line across his cheek.

Nita took an involuntary step forward to stop this, to do something. Her mouth opened to protest. Then it closed.

You can’t stop this, Nita. You can’t save him.

If you show sympathy, your mother will make sure you regret it. She wouldn’t hurt me, Nita protested. But that didn’t mean

there weren’t worse things her mother could do. The memory of small broken bodies stuffed between her sheets surfaced, but she shoved it away.

She let her hands fall to her sides as she talked herself out of action and looked away. She was no stranger to blood and carnage, but she hated that shard of hope shining from Fabricio’s eyes. She didn’t want to see it replaced by betrayal.

“Nita.” Her mother rose, flicking blood off her fingers. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Nita paused. “Are you trying to get the ear?”

“Yes. He’s not cooperating.” Her mother beckoned her. “Give me a hand.”

Nita hesitated only a split second before approaching. “How can I help?”

The hope in Fabricio’s eyes cracked, and then melted into terror and anger. Nita tried not to look.

Her mother took out another syringe, presumably full of sedatives. “I’m going to try and hold him still. I want you to sedate him.”

Nita took the syringe with trembling fingers, not letting herself look at Fabricio. It was better this way, wasn’t it? This way he wouldn’t feel the pain when his ear came off.

Nita wouldn’t have to hear him scream.

“Why didn’t you sedate him before you started?” Nita asked, hiding her shaking hand from her mother.

Her mother shrugged, nonchalant. “I thought I could cut it off fast enough.”

No, Nita realized, looking at the half smile twitching across her mother’s face. You thought no such thing. You wanted this to hap- pen, so I would wake up and be forced to help you.

Nita was being tested. She didn’t know what the conse- quences of failure were, but she knew they weren’t good.

You shouldn’t have talked to Fabricio and then lied about it to her. Nita had been stupid. She should have known better. Clenching her jaw, she put the syringe down. “I don’t see how it’ll be any easier to sedate him than it would be to just get the rest of the ear off.” She showed her mother her scalpel.

“There’s only a strip of flesh left. It won’t take much to finish the job.”

Her mother’s smile widened until it seemed to consume her face. “If you think so, I’m happy to try.”

“Nita.” Fabricio spoke for the first time. “Nita, por favor.” Nita’s mother laughed. “Oh, it figured out your name.” Nita clenched the scalpel in her sweaty palm and focused

on the ear, ignoring Fabricio’s crying and continued whispers of her name like a prayer.

Just get this over with. Then she could figure out where to go from there. But if she failed this, bad things would happen. She didn’t want a repeat of the dact incident with parts of Fabricio in her bed each morning.

She tried not to look at his face as she pushed the scalpel through the cage bars, but she couldn’t escape his sobs and cries. Her hand was shaking, and her palm was so sweaty that when Fabricio shook the cage again, the scalpel was knocked right out of Nita’s fingers, leaving a deep, bloody gash across her palm along the way.

Nita yanked her hand back, swearing as the blood dripped down her arm.

Her mother gave her a tired look. “Well, heal it already, and we’ll try again.”

Nita turned away so her mother wouldn’t see the flash of anger in her expression. Then she let out a breath and focused her body. She increased blood clotting factor in the affected area to speed up the scabbing process. She didn’t want to do too much repairing until she had some disinfectant, though— while she could stimulate her body’s natural defenses against the microbes, it was just easier to wash the wound in soap.

Nita wasn’t sure how old she’d been when she discovered that other people couldn’t control their bodies the same way she could. Her mother did it all the time — enhanced her own muscles so she could run faster, hit harder, heal quicker.

The more Nita understood about her body, the more she could control it. But it was dangerous — there was a reason for swelling, and if you took away the symptom without dealing with the underlying cause, it could make things worse. She’d discovered that the hard way when she was seven and her father had to take her to a hospital because she’d accidentally paralyzed herself trying to make her bicycle-butt bruise go away. Only after the x-rays and scans, and the doctor’s detailed explanation of the precise issue, had Nita been able to fix it.

After that, she’d been very cautious about how she altered herself.

“Are you done yet?” Her mother’s voice was cold.

Nita nodded and turned back to her mother. “For now. But it’ll take time to fully heal. I severed a tendon — I don’t think I’ll be able to hold a scalpel for a day or so.”

Her mother scowled, clearly displeased. Nita made no comment and kept her face blank. It wouldn’t do for her mother to see how relieved this injury made Nita feel, or for her mother to realize she was stalling and could, if she wanted, finish healing the wound much sooner than tomorrow. Now she had at least a day where she didn’t personally have to do the slicing. That was something.

“Fine.” Her mother picked up the bloody scalpel, gave it a quick rinse in the sink, and then, before either Nita or Fabricio had a chance to react, spun with near superhuman speed and threw it. It neatly sliced through the last piece of cartilage connecting Fabricio’s ear to his body, and he screamed as the sev-ered piece of flesh tumbled to the ground. He tried to clap his hands over his ear, but they were still chained to the bottom of the cage, and he couldn’t reach. Instead, he wept as blood coated the side of his face.

Her mother scooped up the scalpel and speared the ear like a piece of steak. She showed it to Nita with a grin. “You know, I think my aim could have been better.”

Nita resisted the urge to throw up.

***

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