#sharp icing stick tw

[cellythefloshie]

;; Teeth

Summary: You've always wondered why Brendan has settled for wearing a flipper, and when you ask he isn't shy to show you why. Kinks & TW: oral sex (female receiving), face riding. Word Count: 1.4k

You remembered the night that it had happened, the night when a high stick took out both of Brenden’s front teeth and left them scattered on the ice. You hadn’t been dating him then. He had been nothing more than a hockey player on the television screen as you and your now ex boyfriend watched the game in a grungy New York City bar. 

While it had been years, and a few teams, since he lost them. Brendan still didn’t have them fixed. Sure, he had a flipper that created the illusion of a perfect smile, but he still had to pull them out at meal times. Yet, he still went without them more often than not. The absence of them left a broad dark space in his smirk, and while you didn’t mind it, you couldn’t help but be curious. Why didn’t he get it fixed? 

It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money for it, or the time. 

Which is why you decided to ask him one morning as the two of you began the day together in the early morning glow that filtered into your apartment. You stood at the kitchen island dressed in nothing but one of his dress shirts that had come home a little wrinkled and smelling of his collonge after a long road trip. You had rolled the sleeves up and it left your bare elbows to rest on the counter as you arched over seemingly occupied in the book you held in one hand while occasionally nursing your morning coffee with the other. 

When Brendan crossed your path, he was on his way out of the bathroom after having a hot shower. His wet curls hung low onto his forehead, and droplets of water dropped down the toned angles of his body until it dripped off the angles of him or were absorbed by the white town that hung lowly on his hips. It was then, as he crossed your path you asked him, “what’s the reason you don’t get your teeth fixed, babe?”

Peering up over the edge of your book you watched as Brendan’s steps slowed. His head cocked to the side, and then, without answering you, he smiled. 

Your eyes narrowed, suspicious of his silence as you lowered your book down to lay pages down on the counter top, “what is it?”

“I can show you.”

Your head cocked to match the angle of his as he glanced back at you, “Okay, then show me.”

“Right now?” he asked you as if you had anything else to do on a quiet morning that he got to spend at home, instead of at the rink. 

“Right now.”

Brendan abandoned what would be his path to the bedroom to get dressed and made his detour into the kitchen. He came to stand right in front of you, one hand keeping his towel at bay while the other reached out to steal your cup of coffee. A single hand had wrapped around it almost fully before lowering down to rest on the countertop. Your lips parted, ready to ask him why you couldn’t enjoy your coffee while he showed you some little trick or quirk that having no teeth allowed him to do - but before you could, his hands had found your waist and he was picking you up to carry you off to the bedroom.

It wasn't some romantic, bridal style, kind of carry either. Brendan liked to man handle you. He hoisted you up, throwing You over his shoulder in what rivaled a fireman's carry. Hanging over his one shoulder, you watched the muscles of his back flex, water traveling down over each ridge and ripple. It was your fixation, your eyes traveling the path of a single bead, your lungs vacant of even a single breath as the rush of the carry caught you completely by surprise. Air only found its way back as you were forced to take in a sharp inhale with the impact of Brendan's hand firm against the flesh of your ass. It filled your body with the familiar sting, and before you could protest what you thought would be another impact, Brendan was tossing you down into the comfort of your bed. 

“What are you-” you couldn't even finish your question before you felt his hands on you again. 

Each hand, rough and battle hardened, slipped between your legs at your knees. The scratch of the calluses on his palms against your smooth skin left you shuddering as he pushed your legs open wide. 

You swallowed hard, the draft of the air conditioner sending a chill over your bare cunt as you hadn't thought twice about needing panties with his shirt having hung so low on your legs. You hadn't risked being much of a distraction, yet, you still ended up laying back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as Brendan’s hot breath washed over the skin of your thighs.

You could feel his every exhale as he kissed his way up the inside of your legs. Oneside, then the other, leaving a wet trail of saliva that heated and cooled and heated again. The closer he got to the apex of your thighs, the better it felt, and the more you squirmed in the anticipation of feeling his mouth on your needy cunt. But the more you squirmed, the more Brendan toyed with you. 

His hands tried to hold your legs at bay first. Careful touches that settled your legs back into their place, splayed just enough to accommodate him between them, but then your hips became to quiver and buck into the air with such an impatience that it left him cursing against your flesh. 

Brendan's mouth lingered on your thigh, his mouth leaving slopping kisses so close to your cunt, you could practically feel his lips on your folds. And if he had his teeth in, you were sure he would have been nipping at your flesh then. But he proceeded without them as he drew back just far enough to bring up both hands to each side of your cunt. Brendan spread you right open with the ease of just his thumbs as they were placed on each side of your cunt. You could feel the wetness of your own arousal dripping from your needy cunt, your core flexing in the mere anticipation of feeling him. 

It was there, so close to your cunt, he muttered out words so quiet you couldn't understand him before he delved right into the sweetness of your cunt. The flat of his tongue met you without warning, so hot, so wet, as it dragged over the entrance of your core and lapped up to the very sensitivity of your clit that left you gasping. He did it once more - no, then again, a few times to get the taste of you before he was completely intoxicated by the sweetness of your cunt. 

His arms wound around your legs, keeping them wide and open for him even as you quivered at the pleasure. Brendan devoured you, so shamelessly, as his nose teased your clit while his tongue parted your folds and dipped inside your cunt. It was a deliberate, yet almost gentle action. One that left your hips bucking to grind your cunt against his tongue. 

It must have been the moment Brendan had been waiting for. Before you could get even a second rotation in, Brendan’s large hands were gripping firmly at the flesh of your ass. It pressed your cunt further into his face, and in a quick action that left you gasping, Brendan lifted you up from the bed and threw himself down onto it All without his head leaving the space between your thighs. 

You were left to straddle his face, your knees and thighs on either side of it as his tongue continued its messy work. You could feel every slick glide, and every breath as you rode his face. Every roll of your hips dragged your cunt over his eager tongue. And even as the pleasure bubbled in the depths of your stomach, sending your legs tight around his head and your toes curling, he didn't concede. He lay there, letting you ride out the waves of your pleasure on his tongue until you were left panting and still. 

It was then he eased you up with the strength of his hold, stealing one last kiss from your inner thigh, before he smiled that large, stupid toothless grin and said, matter-of-factly, “That's why.” 

TAGLIST: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

[dia-souls]

🥀 Subayui fanfic 🥀

Pairing : Subaru 🗡️ and Yui🌸

Author: Admin Ava

Genre: Romance, Cute, Fluffy, good ending

TW: Nightmare, servant abusing, childhood Nightmare

Admin's Note: I wanted to write a moment where Subaru not only shows how much he improved mentally because of Yui help also physically help him relieve some of his trauma.

🥀 A Night Just for Us 🥀

Sounds of feet pounding against leaves on the ground.

*Crunch! Crunch!*

Butler: Quickly! We must return him to the manor before Lord Karlheinz returns!

Maid: Young master Subaru, please come back here! You'll get in trouble if you don't return to the castle! ...not to mention his mother will probably go mad once she realizes he's missing... .

Young Subaru makes a sharp left turn, sliding under a sort of bramble bushes. Wincing in pain, a few needles gab into his skin.

Subaru: Leave me alone! I refuse to go back to that hellhole! My father is dammed for all I care!

Subaru picks up speed, he levitates off the group and flys into a forest of tall trees.

Maid: Damnit, we lost him! No, what do we do?! If we don't find him before Master returns, ....he'll have our heads on a pole!

Butler: Calm yourselves! There is no need for us to panic, remember he ran into the forest without thinking. He doesn't know how to navigate it unlike the two of us. It's only a matter of time before he either gets too scared or famished. All we have to do is wait for him to come to us.

Maid: Are you sure that he will come to fruition? Master Subaru is as hotheaded as he is stubborn. With a temper like his, there is no telling how long he can stay in there.

Butler: I'm positive, after all, he's a spoiled pampered brat who hasn't stepped out of the manor in years. Can't even tell the difference between day and night let alone make it too far on his own. He's naive, gullible, defiant, and incapable of keeping himself safe. It's only a matter of patience. Come, while he's looking for a way out, we'll gather the familiars to aid us in our search.

Maid: If you're sure, hopefully, that brat doesn't get us in any trouble. I'd hate to deal with the demented bitch of mother he has. Lady Christa, we'll surely bring hell upon us all if her son isn't found.

The servants leave, heading back to the castle.

*Time skip*

Subaru floats in the air as his eyes survey the surrounding area.

Subaru: Ha...it looks like I finally got rid of those guys. Good riddance, I hope that bastard gives them hell once they return. Serves them right for trying to bring me back to that place.... .

Subaru looks down, his eyes clouded with sleep and resentment as he clutches his hands into tight fists.

Subaru: ..I'll never go back...I'd rather die than put up with that place again...

Subaru floats down to the ground, landing on a pile of brown leaves. A loud breeze rushes past the young boy making him shiver. Immediately he rubbed his arms to create some friction to warm him up.

Subaru: Ahcoo! Ugh, I should've brought a jacket before I left, well it's too late to go back now. Those guys are already back at the castle gathering reinforcements. I'll be dammed if they find me, better keep moving.

Subaru continues on his way, more cold air pushing past him violently almost making him fall. His nose begins to leak like a Fossette as specks of ice try to form on his arms

Subaru: *sniff* Why is it so cold?! Tch, now even the elements are trying to piss me off. Screw them, I ain't stopping for anyone or anything. The farther am away from those lousy servants, judgmental aristocrats, assholes of a father and.....

Subaru looked down sorrowfully, his chest tightening as he stared at the wet dirty sticking against his boots.

Subaru: Mother... She'll probably lose her mind once she notices I'm not home.... who can blame her though, no one should be burdened with the sight of my hideous face. Not even her... I wonder where I'll go from here. I don't have any money, there is no one around who won't report me back to my father once they catch me. Maybe I can stay here in the forest. If I go far enough then no one will be able to find me. I'll be all alone without communication for miles. Just how I want it to be... .

Subaru continues his walk deeper into the heart of the forest.

*Time Skip*

Subaru eyes droop slightly, blinking rapidly to keep himself from falling over

Subaru: *Yawn* How long have I been walking for... It feels like it's been hours. I think I've gotten far enough from the castle, I should find a place to sleep... .

Subaru finds a spot under a tree to rest. Sitting on the ground, bundling himself up for warmth as he slowly begins to shut his eyes.

*Squeak , Squeak *

Subaru's eyes immediately shoot open as the sounds of squeaks in the distance pull him out of his tired state. Making him stand to run.

Subaru: I spoke too soon! I need to get out of here!

Subaru hightails it into the forest, turning left to right, up and down, over and under, in and out trying to get the familiars off his trail. Sweat drips from his brow as his heavy breathing leaves his lunges in cold clear puffs.

Subaru: Ha...G-Gotta keep ha...ha...moving! Can't s-stop...now!

Subaru pushes forward despite his trouble breathing, at that moment forgets he doesn't need air to breathe but is unable to think clearly as his mind tells him to just keep running.

*Crunch! Crunch!*

Butler: Over there! The familiars have found his scent by the forest river. We need to hurry before he escapes us!

Maid: Let's split up so we can cut him off! I'll head East and you take West!

The two servants nod as they take off in different directions with a familiar alongside them.

*Swish Swish*

Subaru's ears perk up once he hears the sound of water in the distance. His feet pounding against the dirt, noticing how he could barely hear the familiars anymore.

Subaru: Looks like I lost those rodents. If I can just make it to the river, I can make them lose my scent! I need to hurry before they catch up!

Subaru could hear the water more clearer making him run even faster. However as he ran, his mudded boot got caught on an uprooted branch. Tripping him harshly to the ground as he face-planted into the wet ground.

*Bam*

Subaru: Ahh! ... Ow.. shit what the... I fell over... I need to keep moving before... Ack!

Subaru winced in pain as a sharp object jabbed into his back.

Maid: Not so fast Young Master, we can't let you reach farther beyond this point.

Butler: Your behavior has been absolutely horrendous and completely unacceptable for a future prince. Your father will be hearing about this, you'll be brought back to the castle this instant. Grab his arms to make sure he doesn't try to get away.

The servant's hands start reaching down to Subaru as he struggles to break away. Their shadows clouded his vision.

Subaru: No I refuse to go back! I don't want to return back to that hell! Don't touch me! I won't go back! I won't go back! LET ME GO!!!!"

*Dream End*

Subaru: "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Subaru wakes up in a panic, his breathing heavy as his vocal cords strain from his hysteric screech. His eyes darted around the room like a bat out of hell, gathering his surroundings before realizing it was just a nightmare.

Subaru: Fuck...bnot again... no no no... why does this keep happening to me...

Subaru puts his hand over his face, his breathing still harsh but now mixed with the sounds of soft sobbing as tears trickle down his face onto his pajama pants.

In Yui's room during the first few hours before sunrise.

*Scribbles*

Yui: *Stretches* Mm! Ok, I think that's enough studying for tonight. I should start preparing to head to bed.

Yui raises herself off her chair, stretching her arms high above her head, working out the kinks in her wrist and shoulders.

Yui: Ahh~ That felt good, perhaps I should get something to drink before going to bed. It's been a while since everyone turned in for the night so I shouldn't be bothered.

*Pop*

*Time Skip*

With a smile on her face, Yui closes her workbook before placing it in her school satchel. Grabbing a pair of winter pajamas, she made her way to the bathroom to prepare for slumber.

Yui appears from the steamy bathroom with a damped towel around her neck. Her wet locks loosely stick to her face as she attempts to dry her curls.

Yui: *Yawn* Mm...I'm so sleepy, I can't believe I dosed off in the tube, hopefully, these wrinkles will go away before tomorrow night. Anyway, I should head to the kitchen pronto before someone decides they want a midnight snack...

Yui shivered to recall previous nights when she was at the receiving end of someone's meal because she decided to step out of her room without checking if the coast was clear. Not like it mattered too much since the boys liked to infiltrate her room whenever they pleased.

Yui turned into the corridor that led into the kitchen, halting her movements when she hear the tap running.

*Kitchen*

Yui: Ha...guess I spoke too soon. I wonder who could be up at this time? It's probably just Shu-san getting something to drink so he can return back to his rest. Or maybe it's Reiji, he does have a habit of staying up late to work on his experiments. He really should get some more rest.

Cautiously, Yui tipped to the Kitchen door, opening it ever so slightly to avoid alarming the person inside.

Yui's face scrunched up, cringing at the sound the door made once she opened it. Planting her back against the wall, listening out for any movement.

*Creeeaak*

Yui: (Shoot! Why did it have to be so loud, please don't come out here!)

Yui breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the tap water still-

*Woosh*

Subaru: Your not slick dumbass, I could sense your presence even before you came downstairs. Stop lurking like Weirdo and get in here already.

Yui jumped a little once she heard Subaru sleep sleep-ridden voice call out to her. Out of all people, why was he up so late she wondered as she entered the kitchen

Yui: "Subaru? What are you up at this-"

Yui ceased her speech for a second as she took in Subaru's appearance. He looked disheveled; his white locks were damped with what seemed to be sweat that had leaked down to his neck and back. Deep-seated under his bloodshot eyes were dark eye bags that resembled that of his other brother. The expression he wore was that of someone desperate for sleep but couldn't or refused to close their eyes. Immediately, Yui rushed to the youngest vamp, cupping his pale cheeks in her small hands

Yui: Subaru what happened?! You look like you just ran a marathon! Are you alright? Here sit down and I'll get you something to drink!

Subaru slapped Yui's hand away with force, a purple bruise beginning to form on the skin. Yui looked up at Subaru shocked and a little frightened from his sudden actions. He turned his face away, refusing to look at her, but Yui could clearly see the crazed look in his eyes as he gripped his hand

Subaru: Don't...Don't touch me...I'm fine alright. Grab your water and head back upstairs, before Reiji wakes up and yells at the both of us... .

Yui face soured into a hurt expression. Her mind ran with pessimistic thoughts of what could be going on with Subaru. Her instincts act without thought as Yui gets closer to Subaru.

Yui: Subaru...are you alright? Y-You seem frantic and distraught. I know you said not to touch you and head off to bed but...I can't leave you in the state you're in.

Subaru: And just what the hell do you know about the state I'm in huh?!

Yui: W-What? Well I just assumed that-

Subaru: Ha, there you go assuming everything you know because you think you know every little thing going on in my fucking head don't you?!

Yui: Wait, no that's not what I meant! What I was trying to say is that you look a little sickle and I wanted to know if everything was ok.

Subaru: Didn't I just tell you I was fine?! I'm ok so there's nothing to get your panties in a twist about. Just had a rough night's sleep that's all! Now stop pestering me and go back to sleep! Or do I have to personally tuck you in by shoving your comforter up your neck?!"

Yui stepped back as Subaru shouted at her. Her heart wrenched a little at the harshness of his words. Still, she could see that something was very much wrong with him. Despite his threats, she stood her ground

Yui: Maybe you're right Subaru... .

Subaru: Hmph, finally you realized that.

Subaru stayed silent.

Yui: I'm not finished. Maybe you are right about me assuming everything about you. Sometimes I think I know you better than you actually do because of all the time we spent together. I consistently wonder what goes on in that mind of yours. Some days I can figure you out to a T, others, it's like I don't know who you are. It's frustrating not understanding how a person feels because then I don't know if I'm able to help or if they even want my help in the first place... .

Yui: However, when it comes to you, I want to know everything. I want to know every thought running through your head no matter how important or minor they are. I want to know your emotions to understand you better as a person. For you to believe in me to tell me how you feel even when you think it doesn't matter. To share your pain and burdens with me so you no longer have to bear all that weight on your own. I can tell that right now something happened to make you this frenzy. I won't force you to talk to me if you don't want to. Just, please, reassure me that you're ok.

Subaru looked down as Yui spoke, only looking up when she backed away to give him some space. He still remains silent. Yui gave him a sad smile

Yui took a glass of water, chugging it down before turning around to head back upstairs

Yui: You must be tired so I won't keep you from rest. I should probably head off to bed as well. I hope you have a nice sleep Subaru. Sweet dreams.

Subaru: Wait, don't...don't leave. Look, I'm sorry for hitting you, I didn't mean to hurt you I was just... on edge about being touched... .

*Clasp*

Yui turned back to him.

Yui: Do you mind if I ask why? I know you are not comfortable with too much physical affection but what made you so antsy tonight?

Subaru: ... I had a nightmare. I know it probably sounds childish, but honestly, the whole thing in itself was full of childish behavior.

Yui: What was the nightmare about?

Subaru: It was...back a long time ago. I was a young child, maybe around 10. I was running away from the Castle, probably fed up with the place, and wanted to get the hell out of there. Two servants were chasing me, trying to bring me back to that prison. I was able to evade them in the forest if only for a while, until familiars started to track me down which made me start running again. I kept running until I heard a stream of water in the distance. I thought maybe if I went there I would be able to finally escape. I was wrong, my dumbass tripped over a damn branch that sent me flying onto my stomach. I tried to get up those two were able to catch up and restrain me. The dream ended with them trying to bring me back and me, desperately wishing they would get their hands off of me... .

Yui listened attentively, her face trying its best to keep face but slowly, it morphed into a sad frown with small tears welling in the corner of her eyes. Once he finished, Yui stepped closer, raising her arms insinuating if she could hug him.

Subaru: Go ahead.

Without thought, Yui pulled Subaru into a tight embrace, pulling his body close to hers as her hands cascaded up and down the small of his back

Yui: I'm so sorry you had to go through something that horrific. I can't imagine what it was like for a young child to be on the run, fearing for their life wanted that small sliver of freedom. It must've been so hard on you...What did they do once they caught you?

Subaru let himself sink into Yui's embrace, breathing in the cherry blossom scent in her hair, letting him calm down just a little as he nuzzled his face in her blonde tresses

Subaru: I don't remember much, what I do is my mother being absolutely hysterical about my disappearance. She gave me a good slap in the face after shouting at me. I don't even think I felt pain when she did it. I was used to her outbursts so it shouldn't have been anything, but... when I was sent to my room... I remember slumping on the floor and just crying like a baby.

Subaru closed his eyes, his ears filled with sorrowful cries of the girl in his arms. He knew the moment he told her she would ball out of sadness for him. Despite of depressing it was, it made him feel less alone. It felt good to have someone who couldn't share in his pain but also make him feel less of it.

Subaru: Hey...look I'm ok. Back then all I wanted to do was escape the hell I was unfortunately birthed in. I was surrounded by people who either hated my guts or just wanted to use me for their gain. Fucking bastards, sucking up to my father all the time that they forget about their dignity. I'd always thought that during that time, I'd have no one who'd stand up or look out for me. I never choose loneliness. It chose me, and I thought it would stick with me for the longest time. Then you showed up, listen to my problems, and annoyed the crap out of me while also making me feel like the most important person in the world. Even now when I'm being a brat not wanting to share how I feel, you still stick with me. I can't thank you enough for that Yui.

Hot tears streamed down her face as she looked at Subaru. He chuckled wiping them as he pressed his forehead against her

Yui: *sniff* I-I'm so sorry for crying b-but, I'm so proud of you. I remember back when we first met, how you would keep all your emotions inside and refuse to let yourself feel anything but anger. But now, you've grown so much! The transformation is amazing to witness, I couldn't be any more prouder of you. I'm glad I could help you appreciate yourself more. I'll always be there whenever you need me Subaru. You know how much I love you right?"

Subaru grinned softly at Yui, pressing a peck on the top of her cupid's bow.

Subaru: You practically tell me every day. Not that I mind of course. I wouldn't be able to make it this far without you constantly being by my side. I'm not religious and still think the concept of God is stupid, but I pray that we are always together. After all, a King needs his Queen, doesn't he?

Yui nodded her head vigorously, tightly embracing Subaru again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Yui: Of course he does, just as much as she needs her King.

The two of them spent a couple of minutes, enjoying the silence of the early morning night in each other embraces.

Subaru: Come on, it's about to be morning and I'd rather not burn to a crisp in the sunlight. Let's head off to bed.

Yui: *Yawn* Yeah not to mention we have school too. Would you like to sleep with me tonight?

Subaru smirked, grabbing Yui from under her legs, carrying her to her bedroom

Subaru: As if you had to ask.

Subaru placed Yui in her bed, soon following along, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. As Yui silently breathed in his chest, Subaru whispered in her ear.

*Yui Room*

Subaru: Goodnight my beautiful Queen, see you in our dreams.

*Smooch*

[sammy8d257]

Learned Behavior - AvA/M

An AvA/M Oneshot Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 1.7k words

TW/CW: - SPOILERS FOR AVM SHORT EP. 29 - Noteblock Universe - ANGST/Minimal Comfort but with a Hopeful Ending,  - Descriptions of Physical and Verbal Parental Abuse towards a Child, - Parental Illness and Death (Purple’s Mom), - Negative Self-Worth Issues (Purple, in general, has garbage mental health)

Summary: Growing up, Purple learned many things. Like how to cook, how to clean, and how to block a punch to the head so you don’t get a concussion. All valuable skills in their own humble opinion. Though, the most important lesson Purple ever learned was that they weren’t good enough.

- - - 

When Purple was 3, their mom told them the day they were born was the happiest day of their parents’ lives. It happened on one quiet afternoon when Purple tottled to their mom with tears pooling in their eyes. Clutched in one hand was a big golden star and, in the other, a colorful “#1 place” trophy base. Through hiccupy sobs, the little stick figure explained how their ball hit their dad’s display cabinet and knocked the trophy to the ground, breaking it on impact. Their mom knelt and wrapped her child into a hug, promising that she nor her partner would be mad at Purple. She told them how the trophies didn’t matter because Purple was the best thing in their lives and how they would always love them.

9 years later, Purple learned that was a lie.

-

When Purple was 4, they had a nightmare that had them screaming awake. In their panic, they fled to the only place they knew was safe, their parents’ arms. If their dad was surprised by the impact of a crying toddler, he didn’t let it show. With a firm but comforting hand, their dad hoisted his child onto his lap and asked what was wrong. With shaking breath, Purple explained how a huge monster with sharp teeth and glowing eyes was trying to eat them. To that, their dad laughed, hearty and full, while he rubbed a comforting circle on the top of their head. A monster could never get them, their dad explained, because he was the greatest fighter to have ever lived. Purple giggled as their dad as he flexed his muscles for emphasis. The rest of the night was spent by their dad sharing stories of his past fights and old adventures. And Purple fell asleep, knowing they’d be protected from anything that wanted to hurt them.

4 years later, Purple learned they couldn’t be protected from every nightmare.

-

When Purple was 6, a child, a kid, old enough, their dad started to train them. Purple always thought their dad was so cool for knowing how to fight. They grew up on stories of the old stick fights their dad participated in. Fights that left both fighters bloody and bruised, with only the strongest surviving. To the little stick, it sounded so exciting. They wanted to be strong and powerful like him. It started out small. Their dad taught them how to stand when facing an opponent. How to keep their thumb outside their fist when punching. How to block their face if someone tries to attack them. When it came time for their first sparring match, Purple lost. And lost. And lost and lost and lost. Despite their sore muscles and bruised skin, their dad kept going until Purple finally landed one hit. And then he said to do it again. 

2 years later, Purple learned how to effectively roll into a landing that didn’t leave their shoulders aching. The whole family went out for ice cream that day.

-

When Purple was 9, their mom first said something to their dad. On that day, Purple had twisted their ankle during training. Their dad angrier than they've seen him yet, berated them for allowing themself to get hurt. They fled the scene with barely concealed tears and Purple hobbled their way to their mom. There in her arms, they began to cry. Regular training was postponed for 3 days while their ankle healed.

5 hours later, Purple learned how to keep their crying silent as they listened to their parents argue in the dead of night.

-

When Purple was 10, they found training with their father was easier when they didn’t react as much. Don’t whine and don’t cry. Don’t show your opponent any weakness, or you will fail. The world did not need someone as sad and emotional as Purple. So they tried. They took every punch, kick, and shove to the ground through gritted teeth. They hide their emotions behind a blank or snarling face. Their father was always there to remind them of what could happen if they didn’t. 

2 hours later, Purple learned they could get praise this way when their father complimented them during the break. Good Focus. They relished the feeling of their father’s hand patting their back.

-

When Purple was 12, they couldn’t get back up. Their father was angry. He demanded they stand up and fight. He demanded they finally prove that they were good enough by getting up. And Purple couldn’t. They were tired. They were so tired. On the floor, all they could do was watch as their father grew angrier and angrier. Pathetic. Weak. A disgrace. They barely registered when their mom ran to their side. Purple could hear them yelling, shouting, deep hurtful words, but they couldn’t understand anything. Curled on the ground, they watched their father step closer to their mother, and then walk past her. Purple was confused. Purple was scared. And at that moment, they just wanted their dad. They wanted his hugs and pats on the back. They wanted his protection. They wanted him to tell them everything was alright and that he loved them. So on shaking knees, Purple got back up and reached for him. They watched their father turn; for a brief moment, they thought he would come back. But as his father took one last look at them, he turned away and walked out the door. 

5 minutes later, Purple learned what his mom’s face looked like when she cried.

-

When Purple was 14, they apologized for ruining their family. They said it while their mom was preparing dinner. Their home had been quiet for the past few years, but at that moment, its silence was deafening. They watched as their mom lowered the stove temperature and placed the lid on the stew pot. Carefully, as if they were made of porcelain, their mom knelt and took their hands into hers. It’s not your fault, she said; it would never be your fault. Purple refused to meet her eyes. Even as she wrapped them in a warm desperate hug, all Purple could say was, Okay.

2 hours later, Purple learned comforting words could be as meaningless as lies when they caught their mom looking longingly at an old family photo. 

-

When Purple was 15, their mom taught them how to cook and take care of the home. They were getting older. It only seemed fitting that Purple started to pull their own weight in the household. And like it or not, they were starting to notice how their mom’s hands would shake and how tired she looked. She tried to hide it from them through kind smiles and dismissive hand waves, but Purple could see it. Purple would do anything if it meant they could stop being a burden to her. So they watched and memorized their mom’s recipes. They began cleaning the home early in the morning before she woke up. And they carefully threw away the ceramic shards from the floor when the mug slipped through their mom’s weakened grip. And when their mom would give them a tired smile and a quiet thank you, Purple knew it was all worth it.

6 months later, Purple learned their mom was ill after she collapsed while vacuuming the floor.

-

When Purple was 18, their mom apologized to them. It happened while Purple was helping her eat her food. Over the past years, her condition had deteriorated, and Purple was the one who took care of her. Her voice was quiet, and her grip on their arm was weak, but Purple held on to it with the desperation of a scared child. She apologized. She said she was sorry for making Purple spend all their time looking after her. She said she was sorry for not stopping their father sooner and for even marrying him to begin with. She said she was sorry for how she wasn’t there for them when they needed her, how she couldn’t be there for them now, and how she won’t be able to be there for them in the future. She loved them, and she’s sorry. And Purple, Purple could only hold her in their arms and whisper comforting words as she cried. It's okay. I forgive you. You’re alright. I’m alright. I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you. I love you.

3 weeks later, Purple learned what it's like to bury a parent.

-

When Purple was 20, they met other stick figures. After their mother died, Purple gathered what was left of their belongings and left their home house. They never looked back. That was a few years ago, now, they sit atop a throne overseeing a town of villagers in a game where the player decides the story. They tried so hard to make something to be proud of. It wasn’t fair that these outsiders were celebrated almost immediately. Perhaps something special or unique that showed how good you were at the game, a trophy, would reaffirm Purple’s place in the village.

18 minutes later, Purple relearned the feeling of failure as their the villagers carried them through the destroyed village. 

-

(Months later, Purple learned what it’s like to fail but still be smiled at afterwards at the hand of the same people who caused their last failure. They expected a beatdown but got a hug instead. Purple didn’t know what to feel but they decided they liked it.)

-

When Purple was 22, they met the second most powerful stick figure. The King was regal in name and appearance. He towered over Purple and displayed his power through the masterful use of his staff. When the King offered them a place by his side in exchange for their servitude help, Purple couldn’t refuse. 

Weeks later, Purple learned that the King wasn’t as perfect as they originally thought as they watched him coldly berate and attack his piglin brutes. But when he would pat their head or give them praise (Good job, You did well, Your effort is appreciated), Purple found it easier to ignore the King’s flaws.

-

When Purple was 6, 12, 18, 20, 22, now, they learned they were nothing but wasted potential. An expectation left unfulfilled because they were too slow, too dumb, too weak, too useless to ever match up. Lie after lie was told in order to ignore it all, but Purple knew the truth. From the fights, and the tears, and the failures, and the betrayals, Purple learned that they would never be good enough.

But now, many years from the beginning, they stand on a snowy mountain surrounded by warm, green arms, and Purple learns that maybe, they were wrong.

[undonerhapsodize]

Patience, Just for You

Part 2

BlueLock Kunigami Rensuke x g/n!reader TW: swearing, fluff, casual conversation, reader is a little odd, nice and considerate Kunigami Word Count: 7.8K

Summary: You meet Kunigami once more by chance, getting more acquainted with him in the process. His normalcy and friendliness makes you wonder, are the vibes you're getting warranted? Or are you making something from nothing at all.

Side Note: FINALLY. After A WHOLE YEAR- part 2 arrives. I’m SO sorry for how stupidly behind this is- it’s kind of ridiculous. But please stick around!! I plan to make updates on this fic more regular. Another note: I just wanna say I’m making the reader have a messy head on purpose. This could be interpreted as on the neurodivergent spectrum and/or as  mental illness. While I don’t think I could ever fully capture how it is to be not neurotypical into exact words from my own experience, hopefully the characteristics displayed will add more substance to the story while giving representation to those who experience the same unorganized headspace and spiritic thoughts the reader does. Any constructive criticism to how I portray this in writing is very welcome :) ENJOY

Previous Part

The grass beneath your feet was more stiff than before. The cold made it so: it’s moisture semi-frozen because of the lowered temperature. Crunching with each step, it collapsed under the weight of you. Routinely making your way up the slope of your eating spot, the hard ground of the incline leads up to its highest point: the top of the hill. The green seemed to make hissing sounds in objection to your intrusion, in a display of distaste to your arrival. 

The protesting sounds stopped when you did. Reusing the same motion as the day before, you patted the ground with your hand, checking for any unwanted moisture. Once again, there wasn’t any to be found. You placed your bag down, flat side parallel to how your back is soon to be. Crouching first, you ease into sitting on the cold grass, relaxing your back and leaning against the bag in order to provide at least some level of comfort that the iced hill definitely did not provide.

The weather hadn’t changed much from the previous day. The cold stayed put like a stubborn mule unwilling, unable to concede. You didn’t expect it to. Autumn had just begun. Day after day after day the chill would remain. From now until time took its course, it would stay, growing in strength with each passing week or so.

And this time, you planned. The jacket you wore now was thicker than yesterday’s. Layers of padding kept you from much of the chill’s bitterness. Though some parts endured the cold in its fullest, going unguarded against it. Your hands were one of those. Some of their feeling was lost to you, mostly numb and stiff from going unprotected against the weather. Whatever sensation they had left was not a pleasant one. It made you want to stuff your hands as deep into your pockets as possible, wanting to bring back the normality of warmth.

But you couldn’t do that. They were currently preoccupied with holding a familiar styrofoam container. The same from the day before.

Setting it into your lap, you allowed your arms to rise up and cross over your chest, your hands wedging themselves into the space in between the inside of your forearms and your sides. The temperature difference caused a shiver to erupt from your spine, the heated area not used to the new sensation. You hugged yourself tighter, willing the sharpness of your fingers to stop affecting you so.

After a short minute, you start to feel some of the life flow back into the extremities. Unfolding yourself, you reach for the container sitting in your lap. Hand clasping the lid and opening the tray, the smell of the warm food easily flowed through the air and to your nose. The stench of each article mixed together, creating the perfect storm of pleasantry. At least in your not-so-picky opinion. You would take what you could get. Without much hesitation or thought, you dug in, lifting whatever you chose into your mouth, the warmth of your lunch doing its part in warming you on this gray, autumn day.

Savoring the flavor, you shifted your gaze to the field in front of you. Observing from afar as you chewed, it was easily determined that the game going on before you was similar to what had been played before. Figures positioned in a recognizable pattern, the signature look was a giveaway. Football, once again. Focusing a little more, the imprecise features of the players vaguely matched those of yesterday. Only a few were mismatched. Other than that, every player was recurring.

Speaking of.

Instinctively, your eyes hopped from one body for another, quickly scanning each player for a particular set of looks. The forms went through a mental check off list, each failing in their own distinct way. That was until your eyes fell upon one in particular.

The familiar head of orange hair soon came into view: it wasn’t hard to find among the others. He wore a similar outfit as he did the day before, though with the addition of a hoodie of some kind. Looks like he had the same idea you did.

There he is.

Darting back and forth on the field he played, constantly giving chase to whomever was in possession of the ball. His eyes, from what you could see, were open and focused, always keeping track of where the object was, as well as keeping a mental note of where his teammates and opponents were at any given moment. His posture constantly switched from offense to defense, guarding whichever opposing member he was meant to be covering. 

You shouldn't be surprised, really. It fits. ‘Well known school football player playing football in school.’ Duh. Yet, it catches you anyway. Your mouth forms a tight line.

You were almost afraid of this. Though ‘afraid’ is probably not the word you would use to describe how you feel. More like- ‘hesitant’.

The mental image of encountering Kunigami again after yesterday’s incident made you cringe. You noticed that now you knew of his presence, the atmosphere changed in some nuanced, indistinguishable way due to your first encounter with him. It’s almost like the air itself shifted. You felt a brush of chilly air against your skin. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body in reaction. 

You thought about not coming back to this hillside for the sake of not wanting to be or feel awkward. It did take too much reasoning with yourself to decide not to. You’re not a coward. Most times. Besides, Kunigami never gave you a reason to avoid him. Not once. Who would you be to do so to him after he had been so… nice? Normal?

You were too stubborn to move spots, but too awkward to play things off as normal. Lord, can you get a break?

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet him again, it's just that… you would rather not. The chance alone put you sort-of on edge, changing the kind of headspace you were in. The feeling of the frigid air that was kept at bay with your jumbled thoughts was released, now once again a grating sensation of slight annoyance.

‘Weary’ should just be your middle name at this point.

You took a bite of your food, intentionally keeping your eyes mostly trained on the ground. However, you felt brave enough to peak up in certain instances, looking on to the commotion of the field when a sound would catch your attention. Honestly, it was intriguing, the way they all played together. You could tell there was a system there, somewhere. A structure to what Kunigami and his allies were shouting to each other at what looked to be at random. A method to the madness if you will. Not one you immediately recognized of course. Yet it was apparent by the way the players moved, where they moved, how they moved, and even how fast they moved, that there was some sort of plan.

You remained in your thoughts as you chewed. The blanket of hushed awareness you had hoped would come had not arrived. This usually happened. But the regularity of the moment didn’t make the experience any more enjoyable.

You wanted to find tranquility in your mind but struggled to truly find it. True tranquility, not what you told yourself was peace. To distract yourself, you took another bite of the plain-tasting food, focusing on the taste of whatever you had in your mouth. It worked for a second. You almost got it. Only a moment later to be taken right away with an intrusive thought. As another diversion, you attempted to watch in on the game before you, straining your ears to listen to the talking of the other students to find a score. That too, failed in its goal. Try and try as you might, you wouldn't settle. Worries from the everyday to the long term reverberated, keeping each one afloat with the strength of each other. Your thoughts kept buzzing around your head, like an annoying fly just waiting to be smacked from the sky. If only you had a fly swatter. Yet, sadly, you are, and have been, unarmed for a while now. 

Oh well. You sigh. I’ll cope.

And that you did. If you had to guess, you’d probably say you’re actually pretty decent at it all this point. 

You checked your phone a few times for the clock, even choosing to scroll mindlessly for a few minutes before slipping the device right back into your pocket from whence it came. You made an effort to not be on your phone during this time, you could be on twitter all you want later. No, when you were outside for this break, you wanted exactly that: a break. So you choose to take it, simple as that.

There wasn't much to think about as time ticked away. Not much to say as the game played on, and on. You ate in silence, alone. The seconds blurred to minutes as you finished your food, setting the tray aside when you thought you were satisfied. It only felt like a few moments outside on the prickly graying grass as the clock crept closer and closer. However, it dragged on noticeably longer this time. You could safely assume Kunigami was the reason. You would be a liar if you told someone you didn’t pay attention to him, specifically while on the field. You could recognize his voice by now without even looking at him by how he shouted to his teammates. You also noticed how he was on the field- like he was center stage. Like the game revolved around him as he controlled the ball for almost half of it. It was weird, how your eyes caught him on occasion while disregarding the other players. It was easy to chalk the phenomena up to circumstance. He was the only motherfucker you knew here, much less talk to. Also, he had the ball. Of course you would focus on him.

Before you knew it, the bell rang. Knowing the routine, you gathered your things, picking up your backpack first to sling onto your back, then your tray, holding it with a relaxed hand. You looked back at the field, just to see the game quickly stop, teams dissolving as the students made their way back into the school.

You felt odd leaving so soon. Out of place even, to move on. A weird feeling settled in your chest, like someone dropped a weight there and had forgotten it. You pondered the feeling for a moment, before shrugging it off to begin walking, knowing there’s not much to be done or explained. You know by now that questioning your feelings never leads to a straight answer, as weird as that is to think about.

Your descent down the hill was as per usual. Your steps were careful as they made their way down, watching for any slippery spots in the greenery. Your head was empty as you went, head cast downward, not needing to really look where you were going as your own muscle memory dragged you along. You subconsciously ran through a checklist of what you needed to do before going to class. The space around you grew louder as you approached the building, now in greater proximity to the students who were outside.

“Hey! Y/N!”

A shout from your side brings you back to the world around you, urging your head to face whatever, or whoever had hollered your name. Not expecting to be called, you’d imagine you were probably wearing a comically caught off-guard face, eyes blown out in shock. They searched the blacktop of widely strung-out, moving people, scanning for anyone who had already had their attention on you. 

That voice sounded familiar.

Seeing a commotion, you were automatically drawn to that, almost forgetting what you were doing. Though it all comes full circle when you recognize a face amongst the crowd.

About twenty feet away from you, Kunigami stood closely accompanied by what you would assume was one of his football buddies. From what you could see, his hand was raised high in an effort to wave at you, a clear effort to grab your attention. On his face, he wore a subtle deadpanning scowl. It was obvious he was trying to conceal it with a more pacified expression, but it really wasn’t working. It made you confused for a millisecond as to what he could be so blatantly displeased at before you noticed the grip the other student had on his arm. Kunigami strained slightly against the hold his friend had on him as the stranger visibly smiled and boyishly laughed aloud at something unknown to you. It wasn’t until Kunigami saw you were looking at him before he changed his look to something more pleasant, trying to ease the growing tension he was probably aware he was showing. His hand relaxed as well- lowering from above his head.

You didn’t have any time to think to wave back yourself before the jock clinging to the red-head started pulling hard on his arm. Kunigami seemingly decides to compromise, giving in to the excitement of the other. Turning and stumbling over his feet, Kunigami stepped into a walk with the other players. Before you knew it, the player in question started gaining some distance away from your form, shaking his arm out of the grip of the one who had his hold on him. He walked to another door that led inside the school with some of the other football players, turning to give one last look to you before permanently stepping in line with the other students.

You are left where you were standing: a halted figure amongst the ever moving crowd. Seemingly miraculously, the weight held in your gut disappeared, yet not an ounce of your bewilderment chose to leave in any way, shape, or form. It seemed to congeal in your mind, even as you took the memorized path back to your locker, stepping in time to be one with the crowd. It subsided over time, but never truly went away. Rather, it hid, ready and willing to rear its ugly head whenever the next opportunity arrived. You wanted to think it would never get the chance.

The air was stuffy.

It would be, with this many students packed into one gymnasium. The already poor circulation mixed with the massive amounts of teenagers’ and young adults’ body odor proved to be an unpleasant combination, because of course it was. And the space, obviously, certainly did not help, it being far too small to comfortably hold as many bodies as the school staff wanted it to hold.

It was also loud. Very loud. The vast majority of the voices in the gym did not give a single shit about staying moderately tame, much less even a little quiet. Hundreds of students lining the stands all around you, the open ceiling reverberated with the clamor, serving as the most annoying white noise in existence. The sounds of laughter, scolding, yelling, offense, and gossip, along with other noises you couldn’t even decipher, all morphed into one amalgamation of a racket that roared on, and on, wholly chaotic, and definitely grating. You swore you couldn’t even hear yourself think in this mess of an assembly.

Thankfully, you got a little lucky. You ended up sitting in an obscure corner of the auditorium: a place not as crowded as the rest of the large room. On the second set of stands from the ground, you hunched over, keen on making yourself somewhat small amongst the rowdy bunches of trade school students behind you.

As you scanned the auditorium, you were able to distinguish a couple things. One, this was an athletic event of some kind. It was clear by the congregation of generally fit and popular people on the gym floor, right in the center of attention for everyone to see. They separated in groups, supposedly by the sport they played. You wouldn’t be able to tell which were which if it weren’t for the rudimentary signs that the taller individuals waved above their heads. Two, it was going to be boring. That was apparent from the moment several older men in suits showed up. You slumped further down in your set at the realization, robotically taking out your phone to see how else you could fiddle with it today.

It's not that you legitimately disliked sports or those who played them. You would never judge anyone for putting their effort into something they cared about. And while you definitely did not fit in with the crowd, and a good portion of the athletes were not raised right and you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, they’re students all the same. Egotistical, maybe. With a dash of narcissism, duh. But they were people all the same.

It’s these recognition assemblies you really didn’t care for. They’re the most performative things in the world, and they serve no purpose other than to boost some egos and make content for the local newspaper. They were dumb, through and through. And it seemed the majority of the audience watching knew that, as the staff visibly struggled to calm the erratic students.

It didn’t take long for the assembly to finally start. Somehow, the organizers were able to get all the athletes together and calm, just enough for the guest speakers to introduce themselves, and begin their speeches of unending boredom. They spoke of the various teams’ accomplishments throughout the year, expressing how proud they were in their performance, effectively getting the sentimental portion out of the way. As you could assume, they went onto specifying titles, going over each groups’ success in detail.

It would be an accurate statement to say that you were uninterested. From where you sat, you could barely see the stage, your vision obscured by the surrounding students. Not to mention your natural gravitation to the exit, which definitely did not help, given the distance from the podium where the speakers planned on hanging out for the next forty minutes or so. You found yourself zoning out, almost in record time too. Not that you cared to listen. The quicker this goes, the faster you’re out of this sweaty auditorium. 

You feel a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey… Y/N?”

Nearly jumping out of your own skin, you whip your head around, hair thrashing with the shear force of the movement. You look toward the one who had called your name.

Though you truly didn’t know what to expect, you definitely did not expect a mop of tangerine-colored hair, along with a matching set of eyes that seemed awfully familiar.

With a hand raised, Kunigami stood from the edge of the bleachers from where you sat. Blinking a few times, his eyes darted to the podium from where the guest continued to speak, only to look back at you, opening his mouth to say simply and plainly…

“Hey uh, could I sit here?” He pointed to the empty spot beside you, the last available space from the edge, and closest to him.

You didn’t give much thought into your answer, having no real reason to decline his request. “Uh yea! Sure.”

Kunigami's lip curled up in a half-smile. It was genuine from what you could tell. 

Breathing out a thank you, he took a large step off of the floor, hoisting himself into the open seat with less clumsiness than you could ever manage. Scooting over, you made plenty of room for him to adjust and get comfortable, squeezing into yourself even more than before to make that happen.

Looking again at the event, Kunigami asked another, but slightly out of place question, “We’ve uh- started right?”

You rubbed your hands together, processing what he said before answering him clearly, “Yea, I think about like, five minutes ago?”

Kunigami nodded his head in approval, pulling out his phone to quickly check the time, only to put the device right back in the pocket from which it came. “Ah okay.” You could’ve sworn the ginger let out a puff of air, his shoulders deflating at the action. As odd as it was, you dropped it, but made note. 

The player was… imposing. He took up space, metaphorically and in actuality. Not through any fault of his of course. It was your mind that did this to you with its tendency to turn nothing into something.  Try as you might, its pattern of overthinking was persistent as the source of your downfall. As dramatic as that sounds. You force your attention away from your guest and to the speaker. He wasn’t entertaining by any means, certainly not. The old geizer drawled on and on about… something? You weren’t really paying attention, for Kunigami’s mere presence distracted you immensely.

The sound of countless clapping hands reeled you back to the present. Your fellow peers had erupted into a boystrosious applause, followed by a few hoots and hollers from the rowtier ones in the back. Zeroing back in on the podium, you knew it was brought on by the speaker, who had joined the audience in the clapping and was now turned to a group of male students. 

While you didn’t have much reason to care, something caught your eye anyway. You recognized the faces of the students. Just vaguely. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You wracked your brain for the answer as you recalled what you had subconsciously remembered by the man’s speech spoken just moments ago. I saw them from the field that day, didn’t I?

And with that, you put it together: it was the soccer team. Yet, that discovery had only brought up another question.

If the soccer team was there, then why is the star player sitting next to you?

You turn your head to look at him, confusion plastered all over. He was looking at the stage as well, with an expression you couldn’t read. If you had to take a guess, it was a rather calmer one, yet his brow was a little stressed. It threw you off. Deciding to be a little bold, you speak. 

“Um,” You begin. “Isn’t that the football team?”

Kunigami starts, turning his head to look at you. A moment passes before he responds. “Yeah that’s them.”

You continue, gesturing with your own double take at the group. They were receiving some sort of plaque, presented by the same old man as before, a showy smile displayed for all to see. “Shouldn’t you,” You pause to find the resolve to state the obvious. “Be with them?”

Kunigami’s eyes widened a fraction. They glance at the team, then back at you. Then to the team, then back at you. “Uh.” He says eloquently. “Yes?”

The carrot-top’s answer only confuses you more. “You’re on the team?” You ask it as a question, like you were searching for clarity in something that's already crystal. When he only stares back, you ask another. “Aren’t you… the guy?”

Kunigami blinked at that, expression morphing from what looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, to flat out perplexed. “The guy?” He parrots back, emphasizing the ‘the’ just as you said it. It’s not mocking in the slightest. It's very honest, almost innocently so.

Your mind scrambles for a better way to explain, not that you had one. “I mean…” You try, “Like,” Your hands rise from your lap, coming to rescue you from your stumbling. They move strangely, trying to form what you mean without the use of words. Ultimately, they fail. “I mean, the guy.”

Kunigami only looks. Thinking, still confused. His own hands come together, clasping one another as he leans over, hunching his back and supporting himself by resting his forearms on his legs. He speaks with raised brows. “You’re gonna have to help me here.”

You resist the urge to groan aloud. What really comes out is an agitated huff. You rack your brain for a synonym, coming up with one a second later. “The star?” You ask, kind of happy you found a substitute for your thoughts. “You’re the star of the team.”

At that, Kunigami’s eyes grow bigger. This time with a new emotion. It takes him darting his eyes away from you to decipher it. Flattery. The same he had shown before when he had paid for your lunch.

Is he embarrassed? Isn’t it the truth?

The one in question shakes his head. “No.” It’s soft how he says it, not very firm, yet still in a disagreeing tone. “I am not the star of the team.”

“So, what are you?” You go on to elaborate. “Like what it is called.”

What could barely be considered a smile makes its way on Kunigami’s face slowly, yet surely. His eyes show some amusement, though not the kind that makes someone feel as if they were being made fun of. Rather, he was enjoying himself. Sincerely. He looks back at you, blankly, with that hint of delight.

“I’m a forward.” He says plainly, though the face betrays his tone as he mentions the source of his joy. “That’s the position I play.”

You think for a moment. The label he named doesn’t sound familiar. “I mean… you’re called something else.” You pause to rearticulate your thoughts again, wringing your hands in your lap absentmindedly. “There’s another word for it.”

It doesn’t even take a full second before he replies. “Striker?”

“Yeah.” You say, recalling the term from how many times you’ve heard it over the intercom. 

“Then yeah, I guess.” He says, shrugging. “Though it's not a term actually used in the game.”

You hum, though more to yourself than anyone else. Oh okay. The new piece of knowledge doesn’t slip from you so easily. As trivial as it is, you thought it was an interesting fact. So you plan to remember it. Besides, it might become relevant later.

The crowd rang out in applause once more, for seemingly no reason at all. It barely registered; you had no clue what they were on about. Instead, your focus grows, fixating itself on Kunigami, as so does your confusion. Your question has yet to be answered. You ask again, the sentence slipping from your lips before you had a chance to reconsider. “So why aren’t you up there?”

Kunigami shifts, just a little, just to get more comfortable. He just blinks some more, showing absolutely no sign of any negative emotion at your question. He looks to the team, then back to you, again. Yet, because he doesn’t respond right away, and because of his movement, you automatically think of it as discomfort. You’re backtracking before you know it. Your mind begins to spiral, thinking, oh god I fucked up even though, clearly, you didn’t. You avert your eyes, and apologize. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. I-”

“I just don’t want to be up there.”

You stop, and look at him again. He’s calm, not rattled in the slightest by anything you’ve said in the past fifteen seconds. He wrings his hands a bit, and looks at his fingernails for a second, but otherwise, he just sits. 

He’s no fool. Kunigami can see how you were beginning to work yourself up, even if he can only view it from an outside perspective. He takes it in stride, and with a small smile and firm shake of his head, he addresses it. Simply.

“No need to apologize. It's a valid question.”

Now, it's your turn to blink. The sound of his voice sticks with you, his point driving itself home in the opening your insecurity created.  “Oh.” You say. You didn’t expect that response. You expected something more akin to being brushed off, or even ignored. Instead, he just, answered. Huh. “Okay.”

He chooses to continue. He brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “I’m not a fan of this kinda stuff.” The clapping starts up once more. You look to the stage, wondering, what is it this time, only to see the football team begin to file off its steps. One student grasped the award tightly in his hand as he descended. He looked to be laughing with his friends, those of which you remember from before: when they had pulled Kunigami away from waving to you earlier in the week.

The redhead in question speaks again. You assume he’s aware he has your attention, even if you're not looking at him. “I don’t really see a purpose for it. It’s all for show anyway.”

You turn back to him. He’s already looking at you. For some reason, you notice something you hadn’t before. His eyes, though they were mostly an orange color, very similar to his hair, also had some brown in them. Just around the outer rim, where the shade of chocolate met the white of his pupil. You’re not sure why you can see it.

Instead of questioning it, you decide to reply to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He says. His eyes don’t leave yours. “It’s a load of crap.”

You’re still curious. You decide to pry some more, just a little bit. “Do you not like crowds?”

“Crowds?” He repeats, eyes widening a bit at your surprise question. He answers after he takes a second to think. “Uh, not really? I mean, I tolerate them. I guess I like them as much as anyone else.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner after he finishes speaking.  “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” You dismissed, shaking your head. “I was just wondering.”

Kunigami hums, content to move on. He turns his head away and back toward the stage. By now, a new group of students had ascended it, perhaps for an award of their own.

A flicker of his own curiosity makes Kunigami want to ask the same back. So, he does. “Do you not like crowds?”

You’re not as caught off-guard this time. His statement gives you the confidence to laugh shortly. “Ha. No.” You tug your hands closer into your body, crossing your arms over your chest so you're hugging your torso. “I don’t.” 

Observing the movement, the striker can’t tell if you’ve done it consciously or not, since you don’t acknowledge it. A part of his brain connects your body language to what you’re saying. It's a part not connected to his inner monologue, so he doesn’t realize it, but he recognizes it nonetheless. Just internally. While it finds permanence, he continues as if he never made the observation. Which he sort of didn’t. Not truely.

Kunigami can’t help the twitch of his lip that compels its edge to go up. Otherwise, he responds, simply, plainly. With a hint of something neither he nor you realize is there. “Really?”

You’re oblivious to it. “Yeah.”

It’s silent after that. There’s no other reason to speak. The two of you continue to half-heartedly watch the assembly, now with a new understanding revealed: that you both don’t want to be here.

The solitude gives you a moment to process your conversation with the redhead. You didn’t expect it to go so, normal. Maybe you were the weird one here, but in all honesty, Kunigami was a jock. You’re not friends with jocks, at least not in any meaningful capacity. You’re not the kind of person who resonates with those kinds of people, at least the ones you knew of. It was foreign to you: how someone like him could act so, different in comparison to his peers. How he could just be a regular person.

You outwardly make a face. You want to slap yourself. “How could he just be a regular person?” What the hell are you talking about? Of course he’s a regular person. He’s a person, on the football team or not. It doesn’t matter if he’s quiet or a party animal. He didn’t appear to be away. His agreeable nature from your first meeting seemed to stem more from politeness than as a facet of his personality. Instead, he seemed on the calmer side, and is generally more internal.

But even if he wasn’t, it was none of your business. You have no idea why he keeps the company he does, nor why he’s even on the football team. You don’t know him, and that’s fine. As long as he’s not an asshole, that should be enough of a reason to be friendly back, just as he’s done to you.

A realization comes over you suddenly, and without warning. Unbeknownst to you, it's always been there. From the moment you met the player during that frigid recess. It was just waiting for the moment, the perfect moment where you would finally pull back the curtain to reveal its presence. It makes you stop your train of thought in its tracks. Not that it was going anywhere anyway.

Why is Kunigami so friendly to you, for no reason at all?

There’s a change of pace of commotion on the stage. A woman takes up a microphone. Her voice projects through the speakers built into the gymnasium. A dismissal is taking place quicker than you thought it would.

Quickly, she gives instructions on how to exit, delegating that those on the lower levels of the bleachers are to leave first, then those on the higher levels. This is to reduce the amount of chaos that will surely ensue after she gives the order, seeing as the gym was congested with as many people as the fucking titanic.

Even as she speaks, you know where this is going. As annoying as some of the staff can be, in instances like these, you feel bad for them. You watch it happen in slow-mo: she gives the “ok” and immediately, hundreds of students jump from their seats. Many around you rise too and begin to shuffle around. You stay put. So does Kunigami. The room rattles with the vibrations of countless shoes on the plastic of the bleachers. It’s a rumbling irritation, yet the sound is the least of your worries.

Try as she might, she cannot stop the hurricane of students who disregard their warnings and jump from their seats, their heads set on getting out of the packed auditorium. Her shouts of command fall on deaf ears as people descend, and walk casually past her. It's a funny sight: her beginning to fume as she continues to not be taken seriously as hundreds of students pass her by, and exit the gym. Surely by the next assembly you all will get another lecture on this.

You have two options, as you do every time you’re part of a massive crowd such as this, and everyone in it is trying to go to one place all at once. Either stay here, seated, watch the masses of people dissipate and risk being late for class, or you brave the congestion and suck it up to dive headfirst into the sea of sweaty, loud people. Neither option was appealing. It was usually a coin toss on which you picked. Sometimes it depends on your mood. Though you were not in a particularly bad one, you didn’t exactly want it to dampen over something as pointless as this.

While in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that the striker beside you had begun to stand up. It was the ‘pop’ of his knee that snapped you from your reverie. He looked at you with a curious expression as he straightened himself, wondering to himself why you hadn’t made the move to leave as well. “Are you… staying here?”

It takes you a second to find a response casual enough to appear neurotypical. “Haha, nah. I'm just a bit slow.” You brush him off as you make to gather your things and stand, giving into the peer pressure the movement of clamoring bodies put onto you the moment they start to move toward the exit.

Though even as you begin to stand yourself, you couldn’t help but notice that Kunigami had not yet left. Instead he just stood there by your side, looking out into the sea of people at nobody in particular. It doesn’t take much for you to ask him why with a hint of your own assumption. “Are you waiting on me?”

“Yes.” He says, like it's obvious. He turns his head to see you properly and quirks a brow. “Why? You don’t mind, do you?”

You rush to straighten up at his confirmation. “A-ah no.” You’re frazzled. Just a little. “I-I mean, no. I don’t mind.” You slide your backpack onto your back, and adjust the straps. You find yourself doing the same: absentmindedly looking out into the crowd of peers from the slightly-elevated position you had on the bleachers, which has been steadily decreasing ever since the initial rush. “It’s just that,” you wonder, “I figured you’d already have gone off to class.”

Kunigami shaked his head at that. His semi-spiky head of hair jerks with it. “Nah, I’m in no rush.” He digs his hand into his pocket and fishes for his phone. Once again, he checks the time and puts the device right but where he found it. “Besides,” he says, blinking stoically. “You said you didn’t like crowds.”

Oh. “Oh.” 

You’re not so caught up in your thoughts this time to have him wait for a response. “Uh- yeah I, I guess you’re right.” What? For real? You’re certainly surprised that the football player beside you had remembered what you said, even if it was only from a matter of minutes ago. You’re even more surprised he had thought about it enough to take some sort of action: to consciously let it dictate his choice of staying behind with you, even if it influenced his decision only a little bit. It was strange to say the least. He was strange.

You see Kunigami turning to the side toward the opening in the bleachers from which he had stepped up from. He craned his head to look back at you. “Here.” He said, motioning with his head to the exit you would guess he already designated. “Just follow me, and I’ll take the lead.”

You nod, and with an ‘okay’ from you, Kunigami fully turns around to the edge of the bleachers, and you mentally prepare yourself to go through whatever task this was about to become.

Your red-headed acquaintance swiftly takes a big step down from the height in a matter of seconds. He never stumbles as he does it, almost gracefully letting gravity carry his weight, falling from the elevated platform. He takes another step forward, kind of forming a rhythm. He turns around right after, watching for you to follow with that same thoughtful expression.

And you do, albeit less organized as he did it. You jump from the bleachers in a similar fashion, yet instead of moving in a stride, your shoes ‘thunk’ against the wooden floor. Kunigami sees you land, and an apology is already falling from his lips. “Sorry- we probably should’ve gone down the stairs.”

You chuckle at his effort. “No it's alright.” You say, waving him off with a vague hand motion. “No worries.”

Kunigami breathes out. “Ha, good.” And with that he turns once more. “Let's go. I think the bell is about to ring.”

You agree, and step in line behind him as he makes his way towards the set of double doors that separated you all from the rest of the school. At first the journey was smooth, but as the two of you got closer to the narrow passage, the area became more and more congested with students who were, conveniently, also trying to make their way towards the same set of doors. You creep closer to Kunigami as the bodies from all around close in. Though none made any solid contact, occasionally one or two would brush against your arm or leg. Accidental, probably, but it didn’t make you happy nonetheless. But don’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t ‘scared’ uncomfortable, just ‘annoyed’ uncomfortable.

As your duo passed through the worst of it, right on the threshold of the metal doors, Kunigami looked back at you over his shoulder. He said nothing, though his apricot eyes asked a silent question with the look he gave, eyebrows raised upward in a way that made them wider, more open: ‘you good?’

The sentiment didn’t pass you by. You give a tight-lipped smile at his once again confusing concern. ‘Yeah’

He seems satisfied with that, choosing to turn back around so he can look where he is going. The edge of his lip curls as he does. Just a little bit.

By facing forward, he unintentionally left your eyes to naturally fall upon whatever took the place of his own, which just so happened to be his back. From where you were, your gaze rested on the expanse of the back of his shoulder, and further up to the nape of his neck. You had never paid much attention to this part of him before. You didn’t have a reason to. Yet now, due to circumstance, you can’t help but look a little closer.

He was built. You already knew that part- it wasn’t hard to tell. But now, you were closer than normal. Meaning, you could see more than normal. You could see where the muscle that wrapped around the back of his shoulder blade- where it rounded off the edge of it to a degree you hadn’t seen so close on anyone before. You could see where his shirt strained because of it. Though not much, his clothes fit him well, the fabric would once and a while become taunt while he moved his arms in ways that went against its limits. You could see where that same muscle crept up with back and to the tops of his shoulders, once again rounding and defining the hump. You could see the skin of his nape, tanned probably due to the countless hours of football training done outside. It was smooth and undisturbed by any scars or blemishes. You could see where the tissue connected with the tendon of his neck, and where that then traveled up to his… undercut? You hadn’t yet noticed that either. WOW. He looks good with that. It really complements his-

You force yourself to stop your own untamed thought midway. You blink rapidly. Your eyes widened at the sentence you were just about to let be completed. What the FUCK?

You’re appalled at yourself. And a little ashamed. What was that shit?? Get a damn GRIP. You don’t even know this guy. You blink some more, and shake your head the smallest bit. It wouldn’t even matter if you did!! I mean SURE he’s not bad looking, and his back his build like a brick shithouse, and maybe the buzz underneath only adds to the icing on the cak-

“You alright?”

The voice of the motherfucker in question makes you want to dig a hole right where you stood and perish. You’d fear he had somehow heard you if he wasn’t looking at you like you hadn’t said anything at all.

“You look a little dazed. I didn’t know you had such a hard time with large numbers of people.” He says it easily in his tenor, and without a hint of judgment. You caught onto his nicety, mentally grasping it as a lifeline to pull yourself from whatever spiral you were about to go down.

You let out a laugh that has to seem out of place. “Haha- Nono I’m okay. It didn’t bother me that much, I was err- uh thinking about something else.” The last part comes out somewhat stiff and quiet, and you choose to look away from the redhead to find something else to occupy your frontal lobe.

You soon discover that the two of you have covered a lot more ground than you originally thought. You were now in the commons, a little ways away from the main exit of the auditorium, around the main seating area. Across the way was the closed-up concession stand the two of you visited not so long ago. Most of your peers in the auditorium had already moved in the hallway and through the school, save for a few stragglers.

Kunigami hums, then shrugs. “If you say so.” For the third time that day, he pulls out his phone to check something. Probably the time. Again. He seems like the kinda guy who’d want to be punctual. Internally you’re thankful he had dropped his concern as quickly as he did. You did NOT wanna talk about it.

He looks up from the device to offer a easy-going grin to you, and slips it back into his pocket. “Well I’d better get going.” He starts, “Don’t wanna be late for class.”

You nod back and reply eloquently. “Uh yeah. Definitely.” 

At that, Kunigami nods to himself, and starts to turn on his heel, but not before bringing a hand up to give you a short wave. The same kind he had tried greeting you with early that week. His eyes shine with a serenity you can see clearly as he gives his departing words, again, a constant from your first meeting. “See ya later then, Y/N.”

And with that, and before you can say much at all aside from your own short little wave, he fully turns around to take long strides down the same hallway he had left from before, soon after pivoting down another hallway out of sight. One, if you were paying closer attention, you would recognize as the same secondary hallway as before, once again.

You watched him as he did, right from where you stood in the commons of the school. You remained like that for a few seconds before forcing your own legs to guide you down the opposite way, in the direction of your locker.

As you walk you’re preoccupied. Your fellow students are oblivious to your mental space as you keep to the right-hand side of the hallway, your head down as you mulled. Not that you’d ever want them to know. Many thoughts rattled around in your head as you approached your destination. Thoughts your second meeting, thoughts of your first, thoughts of him and his stupid back and his stupid concern, thoughts of how absurd this is all becoming-

Thoughts of how your patience was beginning to run out.

Taglist: @yuujiisann​  Its been so long so I didn’t know if you still wanted tagged but HERE YOU GO ANYWAY LOL

[squishablesunbeam]

The Palette Pt. 27: A Small Scar

Just a little thing for Whumptober no. 15: new scars (I'm not tagging for the event properly! Just playing!)

Prev. Next

TW: dehumanization, whumpee as an object, it pronouns, ptsd, disassociation/panic attack, scars, blood, it's a tiny scar, small cut was an accident, very minor self harm

Jesse gasped in a sharp breath, watching as red blood welled up on the side of its finger.

The blood was shockingly red, bright and thinner than it thought it should be. Jesse pressed its thumb just beneath the fresh cut, pushing more blood out the small gash. It was a clean cut. Smooth. Not jagged like the lines all up and down its back.

A whine escaped Jesse's throat as old pain washed its way up its back, burning at the old cuts until they felt new again. It set the knife down next to the vegetables it was supposed to be chopping and stepped away from the kitchen counter.

Jesse's tensed its shoulders as its back throbbed in time with each desperate pull of breath, the air quickly becoming far too thin, dragging through its lungs like sand. Blood dripped down its finger and Jesse watched its hand start to shake. It swallowed hard as it swiped its thumb through the blood, painting its fingertips red.

This is wrong.

There isn't supposed to be blood here.

Jesse was home.

It squeezed it eyes shut as blood pumped in its ears, loud and heavy, so much thicker than the thin stream that was trickling down into Jesse's palm and over its wrist.

The palette squeezed its hand closed tight and opened it again, the familiar rusty scent of copper filling its nostrils.

It felt its body sway just as a hand landed firmly on its shoulder.

“Jesse?”

Jesse blinked its eyes open, pulling in the first full breath in what felt like a very long time, dropping its mouth open in a silent start.

Oh.

“There's blood,” Jesse whispered. The world curled around its vision, like it was seeing everything through a glass lens and it felt its body sway against something solid.

“It's okay. I'm right here. We'll clean it up, okay,” Mark rubbed his hand down Jesse's arm. It watched absently as his fingers made their way down to the palette's wrist, just under the slowly dripping lines of blood.

Please don't touch the blood. Its blood shouldn't be on Mark's hands.

The palette's blood.

Jesse's blood.

It closed its eyes again and swallowed back the nausea that burned at the back of its throat.

The sound of the faucet turning on wrapped the palette up in cotton. Roaring water pounded mutely against its ears. It tried to concentrate on the warm fingers wrapped gently around its wrist, tugging Jesse forward. It tried to hear Mark's words but they were too far away.

It couldn't move.

Suddenly, the fingers were gone, and the palette was lost.

A wave of dizziness rocked it back onto its heals and it longed for the ropes that held it in place. It reached for the edge of the counter it knew was there just moments ago, its fingers catching nothing but air. It pressed its eyes shut even tighter. It could see the reds and blues and greens behind its eyelids. The paint was thick and heavy, dripping down its legs. Swirling with its own blood down the drain.

It didn't want to see the blood anymore.

That never mattered before.

It could feel the bright red drying dark and heavy, cracking in the creases of its skin. It hated the way the paint itched when it started to dry. It hurt so much worse when they had to scrub it away.

It didn't want to be cleaned.

It didn't want to go back there again.

It wanted to come home.

Jesse sucked in a sharp breath and shot its eyes open at the feel of a freezing cold weight against its chest. Its hand came up instinctively and caught the thing that pressed against its sternum. It looked down, taking in the hand under Jesse's own and a blue ice pack sticking to its thin shirt.

The sound of water filled its ears, washing away the cotton, and Jesse's eyes landed firmly on Mark's.

“You with me, Jesse?”

Jesse closed its eyes as Mark's other hand brushed the hair away from its face, the backs of his fingers pressing against its cheek. The skin against Mark's fingers felt clammy and cold. Jesse leaned into the touch, squeezing its fingers around the hand over the ice pack. Those two hands held the palette up on its feet. Without them, it knew it would have fallen a long time ago.

Jesse breathed, slow and even, listening to the water stream from the faucet and feeling the burn of the cold against its skin.

It helped.

Jesse sucked in a deep breath, “It's okay. I'm here.”

“Just go slow. Breathe.”

Jesse nodded and looked down at the cut on its finger. The blood was mostly dry now. It twitched the joint, just slightly, making the small wound bend just enough to start bleeding sluggishly again.

“He used my blood.”

The fingers moved to grip the back of Jesse's neck, strong and solid.

“I know.”

Jesse felt a wave of anger burn swiftly through its gut. It swiped its thumb through the blood again, pressing hard into the wound.

"I don't think he should have."

Jesse didn't feel Mark move but it saw his hand over Jesse's now, easing its thumb away from the cut. Whatever words Mark was saying washed over Jesse like a balm. It didn't know what he was saying but its body started to calm at the sound of his voice. It felt the stitch in its chest release its hold completely now and breathing came much easier.

It wanted the blood gone.

Jesse leaned them forward slightly, towards the flowing water. Mark was holding Jesse around its shoulder's now, his hand encircling its wrist once more. They moved together, closer to the water, until the sharp sting of pain made Jesse hiss and they both tensed. They held the cut under the stream.

They both watched as Mark's thumb swiped across the red streaks on Jesse's palm and over its fingertips. Jesse cringed at seeing its blood touch Mark's fingers. He didn't seem to mind and it was gone so fast. His thumb kept brushing through Jesse's blood, erasing the red away and washing it down the drain. Jesse shivered and leaned heavily against Mark's chest.

It felt Mark's lips press gently against its hair.

“Never again, Jesse. I promise.”

Taglist: @whumpsday, @hold-him-down, @maracujatangerine, @pigeonwhumps, @boxboysandotherwhump, @darkthingshappen, @octopus-reactivated, @whumpzone, @unicornscotty, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @keep-beach-city-werid, @whumpthisway, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump , @onlybadendings, @canislycaon24, @joeywhumpsitup, @thebirdsofgay, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @whumper-soot, @whumpworld, @haro-whumps, @whumpcereal, @scp-1296

[trashsause]

Tripping and Falling. In Love? Or in the Rink?: 8 AM, Sharp.

TW/CW | implied sexual content

(Btw, sticks are just a creative name I came up for hockey players!)

Johnny continued attending lessons with his coach and his friends. Every day, he just got better. It's like he had the ability to take hopeful words and turn them into a true statement. One day, after a particularly hard lesson where he had worked up a sweat, he continued on until he saw the hockey boys. He gave a smile and a wave before doing a finisher move. To the sticks who had never done figure skating before, this would have been impressive.

He was proud of what he did until he got to the locker room, where Price, his coach, chewed his ass out for staying on the ice until the sticks came. Johnny rolled his eyes, he didn't care.

Didn't care... until Simon came up to him while Johnny was removing his shirt that was so full of sweat that it clung onto every muscle and curve. He struck up a conversation.

"What the fuck was that move you did on the ice? Like... how the fuck do you do that? You manage to be an acrobat and a fucking skater simultaneously? How do you not fall flat on your ass?" Simon bombarded the poor boy with a lot of questions, questions Johnny didn't care to answer.

"You want me to teach you, dumbass?" Johnny teased, now becoming suddenly aware that he was shirtless, guessing by the stare that saw into his soul from behind him. Kyle was probably making sure he remembered to get changed before he dropped him off. He excused himself to put on another shirt.

"No, MacTavish, I want you to teach me about the birds and the fucking bees, YES, I want you to teach me how you do that shit without falling on your ass!" Simon whisper-yelled, not wanting his teammates to realize he was speaking to someone. He was called Silent Simon for a reason... MacTavish was probably the only person he ever spoke to, especially in a tone above a whisper that wasn't entirely mocking. Riley was always thankful that the locker rooms were loud, so he was able to be heard by only one person.

Johnny rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll only teach you on the days we don't have practice. Unless you're busy." That required a time commitment of every...

"I don't do anything Sundays, we can do it." Simon somewhat lied, crossing his arms. If he were to tell the complete and honest truth, he was going to have to free his schedule, Sundays were personal days... but who doesn't want to impress their teammates?

Johnny shrugged, noting the way Simons eyes light up at his next sentence, "Meet me at 8 am, sharp."

[haunting-hari]

😢 ice

nightmare: piercing cold- parallel to your mother

[tws: gore, suicidal ideation]

This was new.

His blackened fingers shook. In his shoulder, almost neck- an icicle, straight through him.

He could feel his battered, dry, cold skin sticking to the sharp ice. he could feel it attach and be torn away, ripped off as he tried to move what had impaled him.

Wasn't it funny?

Ten years ago. Ten years ago, he had stabbed his mother right there, he could have sworn. As she choked his six-year-old self out, it was that knife that saved him.

It didn't matter. He died anyways.

And.. Was he dying again?

After all that... After all of what he desperately pieced back together, from his rebirth to possessing his old body, to the point where he doesn't even know what he is anymore, it's always the ice.

It's always the eternal cold driven into his skin. It will never go away. He has tried so hard to make it go away, to keep it together, but he will forever have to suffer.

He slowly sunk to his knees. How would he die again? His mother didn't die, unfortunately. She was found by a hospital. But Hari didn't get that privilege.

There was no way anyone else would care to pick him up in his weakness. They certainly could give his mother another chance, but not him. He wasn't perfect. He would never be perfect.

...Was he dying again?

He hoped so.

He really hoped so.

Then he would be perfect.

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 10 - Killing in Self-Defense

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 870

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

As soon as Icyhot enters the agency locker room, Katsuki can tell something is wrong. 

“Oi, what are you doing back from patrol so early, idiot?” He cranes his neck to peer around the bastard’s back, “Did Deku put himself in the hospital again or what?”

There’s an odd glaze over the fucker’s eyes, and Katsuki can tell he’s not fully there. 

At first, he considers a panic attack, but he’s seen Icyhot have those before, and this doesn’t seem quite right. “Hey, don’t ignore me, bastard.”

Todoroki continues walking forward, head tilting like a stupid dog. Katsuki wants to punch him.

Katsuki takes a half step forward, prepared to charge at the guy if he keeps ignoring him. 

He growls, palms sparking, “You little-”

“KachAAAN!” Someone (definitely Deku) screams from down the hall. Uneven thumping footsteps echo off the walls, “KACCHAN GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Deku comes careening into the room, Katsuki’s gaze shifts to the door when his black whip-wrapped body becomes visible behind Icyhot. 

He looks like hell on legs, torn strips of uniform fraying from his body, coated in dust and debris. It looks to be singed in some parts near his neck. His face is covered in fresh cuts, bleeding down his neck and soaking his suit. 

“Wh- Deku? What the hell happened to you?” Momentarily letting his guard down, Katsuki regrets it immediately when Todoroki lobs a fireball right at his face. 

He barely ducks in time, the flame hissing by his head before scorching the wall behind him. 

“GET OUT OF HIM!” Deku screams, propelling himself up and tilting to kick Todoroki in the side. 

The man grunts, stumbling to the side. He reaches out behind him and lets his ice attack Deku freely. 

“The fuck-” Katsuki dodges a blast of ice, blasting at Icyhot’s shoulder to knock him off balance, “Deku what’s going on?”

Deku grimaces, punching his leg out of the ice block encasing it, “He’s possessed or something. I don’t know the reason exactly, but he’s not himself. I’ve tried everything I can think of to snap him out of it.”

Bakugo nods and aims a blast directly at the fucker’s face, at the very least they can get him contained and sort this out when he wakes up.

He holds it back, just powerful enough to send him crashing to the wall. 

Todoroki’s head flies back with the force, bouncing off the metal locker next to him with a loud slam . 

Deku grimaces, stepping forward with blackwhip ready to tie him up while he’s out. 

Katsuki watches Todoroki’s back, relieved when his breathing remains steady. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t kill him, but it’s not every day he has to knock someone out while giving a shit about their life. 

“This is what fuckin’ happens when I don’t go on patrol with you, huh?” Katsuki frowns, watching blackwhip curl around the hero’s wrists and legs. 

There’s a splatter of blood on the gray metal, sliding down to where Todoroki’s head rests against it. 

“He was normal until he wasn’t, I don’t even know when he was affected!” Deku whines, crouching next to his friend. 

The air in the room stills unnaturally, and Katsuki is tempted to make a joke about Deku’s shitty observational skills when he notices the sharp tip of ice sticking out from the nerd’s back. 

“Ghk-” 

Shouto’s head turns unnaturally fast, and he stands without issue. Katsuki catches a glimpse of where his temple had split open on the metal. Blood trails down his cheek, and he’s not sure if the white shine is a reflection from the lights or bone. 

“Deku! Holy shit!” Katsuki shouts, blasting Todoroki again and grabbing Deku by the hood of his costume to pull him out of the way. “Radio Endeavor, I’m taking this motherfucker out.” 

“Kacch’n- Todoroki…” He gasps, one hand gripping his thigh and the other the jagged end of the ice sword sticking out of his stomach. 

Katsuki sneers, cracking his neck as he closes in on the villain, “Not anymore it’s fuckin’ not. I hit him too hard, he should be down.” 

Todoroki sends a massive wave of fire over his shoulder, firing blindly and carelessly. 

It’s so unlike Icyhot that Katsuki can separate them. 

An ice wall comes in between him and Icyhot just as he fires another shot, and he ends up blowing up a bomb of sharp ice shards right in his face. 

They cut into his neck and hands, causing him to flinch just enough for Icyhot to get in a good shot of fire to his face. 

He can feel it burn his eyebrows and bangs, much too close to his eyes for comfort. The heat stings and the bright light is just as disruptive to his attack. 

Katsuki turns away from the attack, and looking back at Deku, sees the guy slumped down against the wall. Motionless. 

Fuck, if he runs he could finish the nerd off. 

If he stays they could both die. 

He charges up his palms, the heat of his incoming blast tingling the nerves in his hands. 

There’s a blinding light and a loud bang.

This time, when he fires, Todoroki doesn’t get back up. 

[avatar0ftheeye]

Tw for described violence, abuse

Wow

y’all really liked my silly little campaign

My players and I geeked out over y’all last night we were so exited that people LIKED our story!

so without further ado, here’s part 2 of Dungeons and Teenagers!

the players begin their walk toward the town of Phandalin. 4 human teenagers, a Half-goblin, and a goose. As they walk, the kids try and press Jim for questions. He is VERY secretive, only giving vague answers.

once they reach the town it isn’t as deserted as they thought. Mostly humanoid looking animal people, all walking around doing their daily tasks.

Jim, getting straight to the point, says they should get some weapons. The players are suspicious of Jim, what is this lanky teenager doing acting like he’s the boss of them? However, they fail their insight checks so they won’t know for another like 4 sessions.

They find a closed down weapons shop, several weapons and armor line the walls of it. the party suggests they rob it, and Jim doesn’t refute

They lock pick the door and have 5 minutes to gather anything they need.

Maisie, with an unnatural 20, find 16 god damned daggers underneath the table. 10 are rusted, only one good use, 3 are new, and 3 are slightly used. Good enough, it’s 16 GOD DAMNED DAGGERS

Damien, being the rouge he is, just grabs anything and everything he can find. Beautiful bows, cases of arrows, swords, daggers, etc. life is great when the DM uses minecraft inventory mechanics

Goose goes straight for a giant ax. That’s it. The biggest ass ax he could find that is about 5x his size. Jim is fearful for his life.

Thomas just wanders around the shop, gawking at everything. He’s was a sheltered kid, doesn’t even have a phone. The most he was allowed out was going to school, so the sight of all this weaponry was a shock to him.

Alex began eyeing the armor. Large pieces of leather, iron, chain mail, and a material he can’t quite place. Though he knows nothing of magic in this world, the armor is glowing a bright neon blue and, when he got closer, emitted ice cold air.

he reached out to touch the armor, enamored by it. Yet once his hand reached the glowing chest plate, it disappeared. A sharp, ice cold pain shot through his arm and through his entire body. His blood felt like it was freezing, yet all at once, it stopped

“oi, Morekai!” The players hear from outside, “Theres some people in yer shop! Call the guards or ey dunno, get em!”

They’ve been spotted through the window! They really need new dice! They keep failing their stealth checks! Seriously guys! Please get new dice! (/directed)

They begin to scramble out the door, Goose and Damien dropping everything they had on the way out

Thomas, in his panicked state, trips over his own two feet and face plants into the floor. The glass shards from the window dug deeper into his skin and he let out a small whimper of pain, just as the door opens

in the doorway stands a tall, humanoid blue jay. He had thin stick like legs, blue feathers, and the face of a man who works in retail

he begins to comfort Thomas, offering to take him downstairs and remove the shards from his skin. Thomas, failing yet another insight check, agrees and follows him down

outside the shop, the players catch their breath. After a quick headcount, they realize they’ve lost Thomas. They must go back inside to get him, much to the dismay of damien.

You can’t blame Damien though. born to a neglectful father and a mother who would die a week into his life, he doesn’t understand why these people care about others. Damien has long scars across his face, old and faded with time. These scars were caused by his father, an abusive man who cared about nothing other than himself and who he was sleeping with that day. Damien was raised as a solider, who knows how long it would take to undo that damage.

back inside the shop, Thomas and morekai descend the stairs to the basement

“so,” started morekai, “what’s your diet like?”

“????? Excuse me????” Asked Thomas, “who???? Asks that??,, kind of question??,, what’s your diet like then man?”

“Fish and gum! It’s not an unusual question, It’s just small talk, jesus!” Replied Morekai, annoyed and seemingly offended

“fine, I guess normal???”

“would you consider your self poisonous?”

The party breaks back into the building and rushes into the stairwell to the basement. It is long and winding, seemingly going on forever. They descend slowly, trying to not be spotted by Morekai (they finally succeeded their rolls!).

as they reach the bottom, a low, hungry growl is heard. A kind of hungry growl that you only hear from a stomach that hasn’t eaten in days. A growl of pure feral hunger.

Morekai grips the back of Thomas’ shirt “you seriously thought I would be HELPING you?? After you broke into my shop and stole who knows what?” Morekai mocked, “seriously man, get less gullible”

morekai shoved Thomas into the room, and that’s when Goose took his strike

Goose leapt off the top of the staircase and began freefalling downwards. Unbeknownst to him, Maisie had tripped and fallen at the same time, taking Jim and Damien with it. now, 70% of the party was freefalling down yo the bottom of a cavern. Alex, being the only sensible one, just kept running down the stairs.

Jim reached into his bag and grabbed a pair of boots. He slipped them on and began to fall slower, leaving Damien and Maisie to continue freefalling. Realizing this, he turned upside down and began falling FASTER

Damien reached out to him and latched onto his arm, but due to the way physics work idk they begin to spin in the air, faster and faster until they’re just a circular blur

goose flies over to Maisie. Maisie reaches up and grabs his legs as they begin to slowly descend to the ground. Maisie and Goose Are fine

Damien and Jim, on the other hand, are violently still freefalling toward the floor. With a final roll of dexterity, Jim grabs onto Damien and flips him on top of him. When they crash to the ground, Jim took most of the damage instead of Damien, leaving a cartoonish hole in the floor

A surprised morekai screamed at them. Goose saw this as a challenge and, after a quick argument and a Google search, started biting his legs with his teeth that he apparently has. He gnaws and gnaws on his leg until the thin ass stick snaps in half

morekai falls to the ground, bleeding profusely. Maisie takes the opportunity as well, and begins stabbing at morekai with the stolen daggers

Thomas, witnessing his friends murdering his captor, beings to cry. He just kinda does that

the sound of his cries alerts something

something big

something hungry

out from the shadows emerges an enormous raccoon named Rigabus

he glared down at the party and begins his slow, predatorial walk towards them

the party must think fast

Jim, being the idiot he is, grabs Damien from on top of him, sits up

and throws him over Rigabus

With a strength check from Jim and a nat 20 performance check from Damien

Damien backflips over rigabus, Doing a triple twirl in the air, and spiderman poses onto the ground, causing Rigabus to be so enamored better just stares at damien

the rest of the party takes their chance and begins to sprint up the stairs. They make it about a 1/3 of the way before they realize

oh yeah

Damien’s down there

Damien screams at them as he begins to run, breaking the trance with rigabus

Now, picture this dear readers

a goose, a 6’0 goblin, 4 teenagers, and a giant raccoon I plagiarized from Regular Show, all running up a giant staircase to freedom

I couldn’t believe it either, and I was there

the players run as fast as they can. Jim manages to grab Damien like a cat and begins to run faster

With a final jump, the players make it through the door, trapping Rigabus in the doorway. They sprint out of the shop into the street, running and running as fast as they can

finally, once they stop, they realize they had run to the edge of town, and are standing in front of a giant coliseum

inside, as seen through the glass ceiling, a woman stands trapped inside a cage. She is tall, beautiful,

and Calluna Grace, Maisies Mother

[garmadude]

Garmadon Headcanons

tw for bullying, smoking and mention of homophobia

Despite how Garmadon says he's nothing like the fsm, they definitely got their flare for dramatics from him

His first name is Katsutoshi, meaning clever victory

They have surprisingly messy handwriting for a demigod, only Wu and Lloyd can read it

Example:

Had a mullet way before it was popular

did a stupid amount of self piercings with just some ice and a needle when they were younger and miraculously didn't get an infection (probably dragon/oni blood ngl)

also did a few stick and poke tattoos on himself, though most of them got laser removed later in life

is most definitely responsible for some of histories greatest mysteries and legends but they'll never admit it

despite having many, many lovers in their past, they didn't marry anyone until Misako. Either due to the time period not allowing same sex relationships or he was too nervous to ask. They only plucked up the courage to ask her when he was drunk and happened to have a ring pop in his pocket

he's trans (ftm) and came out when he was 14, they go by he/they pronouns

Garmadon was still very much in the public eye when Lloyd was born, but he kept Lloyd out of the spotlight for his privacy, and intended to wait until Lloyd was older to ask him if he wanted to be seen in the public. In fact, for a while most people didn't know that Garmadon had a child until he was reformed

Despite this, Garm has Lloyd's birthdate tattooed on their wrist

has very sharp/regal facial features

so good at cooking for literally no reason (meanwhile any food wu makes tastes like toxic waste /hj)

they're very intelligent, but a complete himbo at the same time-

loves cheap boba tea

sleeps with way too many pillows and blankets

ridiculously vain (aka they're v handsome and he knows it)

he smokes but says that he'll "kill" Wu and Lloyd if they start smoking

got bullied a lot as a child because he didn't look like a human, and it only got worse after he was bitten by the great devourer

the venoms urges typically manifested as voices and hallucinations, though sometimes they could appear as intrusive thoughts

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Alec: Whumper's Soiree

My piece for the @the-whumpers-soiree event! TW for noncon drugging and mild suggestive themes involving masochism.

Here's Alec's outfit, for anyone curious!

Alec wandered the party awkwardly, fiddling with the blue glow stick around his wrist and gazing at the lavish attire of the other guests. It was a bad idea to come without Dorian, he realized. He was awkward and tense and trembling for fucks’ sake. 

He needed a drink. 

He strode towards the bar, his ankles already twinging uncomfortably from each step in the red platformed, heeled boots he’d chosen to wear. He knew he shouldn’t have chosen those shoes when his leg already throbbed more furiously than on most days, but they were the only shoes he had that matched his outfit. 

Still, he leaned on his cane a bit more than usual. He hoped it’d fit in with the stately look of the party— maybe people would assume it was nothing but a prop— yet he still felt stares burning into him as he limped across the room. 

The bar was already spread with an array of drinks for the taking, which was a relief because Alec felt he’d implode if forced to draw a decision from thin air at the moment. He grabbed a glass of translucent red liquid garnished with a spiral of lemon peel, taking a tentative sip. The drink had the sharp burn of vodka, and flavors of pomegranate and citrus to take from the bitterness. 

He threw back a shot of something deep blue, shuddering slightly and poorly stifling a cough. 

“You alright?” The stranger behind him asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Alec flinched hard at the touch, the glass slipping from his fingers and clattering back onto the bar. 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, whirling around to look at who’d addressed him. They wore a shiny sapphire blazer over a dress of the same color, and a red glow stick was looped around their wrist. 

“It’s a nice party, hm?” they replied. “Just wanted to make sure nothing’s wrong. Can I show you something real quick?” 

Dorian would tell me to go, Alec told himself. They seemed nice enough, and there were plenty of people around— it wasn’t as if anything bad would happen with so many witnesses. He needed to stop being such a coward and just…

“Sure,” he relented. Sure? What kind of fucking idiot—

“I mean, that’d be great,” he tried again, his head beginning to spin pleasantly. “It’s been a bit awkward since I don’t know anyone else here, I don’t like going out alone anyway… it’s been a while. I’ve been, uh…” Kidnapped, tortured, locked in some freak’s basement— “I’ve been working from home for a while and don’t even remember how to socialize, so sorry about that.” 

The stranger just took his hand and led him away from the bar, across the large space, and into a smaller, tucked-away room. Their fingers were like ice against his skin. “I figure you want to be somewhere more quiet, then? So what’s your name, darling?” 

He faltered, freezing in place for a moment as his heart began to pound. His vision swam from a sudden rush of terror— that, or it was the alcohol kicking in. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh, do you not like pet names?” they asked, running a finger over one of Alec’s rings. “Sorry, it’s become a habit of mine to use them platonically. I meant nothing by it.” 

He shrugged, tugging his hand away and making his way to an armchair in the corner of the room. He sighed softly in relief when he could finally take his weight off his bad leg, sinking back into the cushions. “Don’t worry about it, I just— uh, bad memories. I’m Alec.” He stuck out his hand awkwardly. 

They shook his hand without missing a beat. “I’m Vei,” they replied. “You look gorgeous, where’d you get that shirt?” 

Alec shrugged. “It’s from…. an ex, actually,” he said, twisting one of his rings nervously. There were too many questions, and he hated the way the stranger scrutinized him, as if every movement was being measured. “I’m uh, gonna get another drink…” 

He stumbled up from his chair, beginning to limp towards the doorway. Yet before he even took a second step, Vei kicked out and swept his cane from the ground, and he fell forward as his leg buckled with the sudden agony of bearing his full weight. They caught him by his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck to force him upright. He thrashed against their grip, crying out pitifully as he threw out desperate blows, hoping one of them would hit his attacker. 

“Hey now, Alec, be good for me,” Vei murmured, reaching into their pocket to tug out a syringe already full of liquid. “I wouldn’t want to have to use this.”

He stilled, his eyes widening as his heart began to pound. “Nhh— no— please—“ he choked out, forcing himself still despite his every instinct screaming at him to fight back. “I’ll— I’ll be good.” He’d be dragged off to some fresh hell soon enough, he could at least keep a scrap of dignity about him. 

“You’re either smart, then, or used to this?” Vei smirked, loosening their hold around his throat. After all, he wouldn’t be as fun while unconscious. “Well, in any case, it’d be a pity to let this go to waste.” They snapped the safety on the syringe and stabbed deep into Alec’s neck, pushing the plunger in one quick motion. 

Alec bit back a whimper, barely able to keep himself from shoving Vei off of him while he was still able. The drug had been delivered, he was too late anyway. He’d been doomed the moment he stepped into the room with them. He felt his hold on his body weaken, his limbs grew heavier and heavier with every passing second, and he fell limp into Vei’s grip. 

“Aww, you’re adorable, all sweet and pathetic like this,” they praised, hefting him into a bridal hold and plucking his cane from the ground. “Whoever—“ they paused, lifting Alec’s left hand to examine the scars running across the back of it. They ran a finger over the brand marks, tracing the letters carefully. 

“Raina must have been very lucky to get a hold on someone like you.” 

They strode from the room and across the large hall of guests— notably emptier than before— and carried him through another doorway. 

Nononono not again please someone care for once please— He begged wordlessly. 

He glimpsed a guard nodding at Vei as the two of them passed. They know about it. Alec realized. They know and they don’t fucking care. And somehow that was worse than no one noticing at all. 

Vei continued their maze-like path until they came to a room that they unlocked with a keycard. 

“No one should bother us here,” they said nonchalantly as they set Alec’s limp form on the couch. He noticed a warm glow near the wall and squinted, trying to make out what it was through his doubling, swimming vision. A fireplace, he realized. And something was sticking out of it 

His captor smirked. “I don’t want you to forget me just ‘cause we only have a short while together,” they said condescendingly, approaching Alec where he lay. They tugged at the tie on his shirt until it slipped open, then pulled the blouse over his head. He flinched at the touch, twitching as he attempted to recoil from them. 

“So many scars,” they observed. “Someone’s been bad… no wonder you were abandoned.” 

“She didn’ abandon me… I shot her,” Alec muttered, the words rolling heavily from his mouth. “Killed another of ‘em… don’ know about her, but he’s super fucking dead… an’ I‘m more than happy to carry on the trend with you…” 

Vei shook their head and simply put a hand over Alec’s mouth. “You’re cuter when you’re quiet,” they said distastefully. They turned to rummage through a drawer, plucking an object out and turning back towards Alec. “Open up,” they ordered. 

His eyes widened when he saw the ball gag in their hands, yet he didn’t have the energy to fight what he knew was a losing battle. He cracked his mouth open tentatively, and Vei seized the moment to shove the ball between his teeth, buckling it tight behind his head as he choked from the pressure. 

“Much better,” they remarked. “Now, will you hold still for me, or do I need to help you?” 

Alec gestured at the gag, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe ask me before you gag me, genius. 

“Aww, I guess I just have to decide for you. I won’t make it hard, I’ll help you out, pretty boy,” Vei cooed. They scooted a wooden chair close to the couch, then heaved Alec off the couch and onto the chair, twisting his arms behind his back and then looking in the same drawer for something to restrain him. 

Moments later, his wrists were bound tightly with zip ties and secured to the back of the chair, then Vei knelt to restrain his ankles to the chair legs.

“Where do you want the brand? Shoulder? Chest? Back? Maybe I could do your other hand, so it’ll be even. If I did your face, I doubt your other owner would forgive me, but it’d be so fun…”

They plucked the branding iron from the fire, its tip flat and red-hot, and used a finger to trace the left area of his upper chest— barely below his clavicle. It would be a nice spot— only hidden under carefully chosen garments, guaranteed to remind him of them every day, but not overtly conspicuous. Not enough that his other captor would likely seek Vei out. He’d probably been sent to the party as a punishment, anyway, and they were more than happy to help with that. 

They held the brand over his skin for a split second, and Alec whimpered at the already-painful heat radiating into his chest. Desperate, fearful tears burned at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch.

The agony that split through his chest was all-consuming. He screamed around the gag, his stomach lurching, and his tears began to fall. He sobbed between the pained cries that escaped his lips, thrashing weakly against the restraints. 

“Please—“ he tried to beg. The word came out as nothing but a strangled groan. 

Vei smirked, pressing the brand deeper into his skin. The mark it left needed to be perfect, and they didn’t want to have to repeat the process in another spot. 

Alec’s screams grew sharper and more desperate as the pain intensified, white-hot and searing. When Vei plucked the iron off his chest and set it aside, he dissolved into sobs once more, gasping for breath around the gag. 

“Good boy,” they said condescendingly, carding a hand through his hair and leaning down to peer at the brand, fresh and red and glistening with blood. “Just one more thing, then I’ll let someone else have a turn.” 

Vei pulled a butterfly knife from their pocket and flipped it open, twirling it through their fingers before pressing the tip to Alec’s sternum. “Hmm… where to begin?” they mused. 

They carved a shallow line down his torso, bright and sharp and wonderful. Alec shivered, but this time in pleasure. It was a nice kind of pain, and it distracted from the throbbing in his legs and the searing ache of the brand. It was familiar. 

The next cut was deeper, trailing a neat line of blood down his bicep, and he barely choked back a moan. The fear, the drugs, the burning— the bite of the knife was a balm to it all. Vei mirrored the cut on his other side, making the cut with a practiced efficiency, and he didn’t bother holding back a little gasp of pleasure. It sounded the same as one of fear, after all. 

The tip of the blade was held to the hollow of his throat, and Alec squeezed his eyes shut. Yet they only ghosted the knife over his neck, his chest, his shoulders, letting the blade painlessly brush his skin ever-so-often so he wouldn’t forget the power his captor held. The blade slipped, sudden pain bloomed over his shoulder as the point parted skin effortlessly. 

“Nnh—” Alec moaned around the gag, leaning ever-so-slightly into the blade. The prick wasn’t enough, the tiny cuts weren’t enough, he needed to escape. He needed the fear and helplessness drowned out, forgotten in the midst of the knife and the pain and the delight he gleaned from it all. 

Vei pulled the knife away. “Dirty little slut,” they scoffed, setting the blade aside. “Let’s see if you enjoy this quite as much.” 

They plucked an electric baton from the pile of weapons beside them, turning it on with the flick of a switch, and Alec’s eyes widened. His captor raised it without hesitation, grinning at the sight of their victim’s fear.  And when Alec’s body seized with the searing shock of the baton, his scream was one of agony.

[n0-eyedtaissa]

Song of the Summer (OBX OC x Rafe Cameron): Bad Decisions

A/N: Trying my best to give Rafe some nuance and explore his ‘downfall’. Phoebe’s too. Nothing brings imminent downfall like parties, rivalries and insecurities. Featuring Hogan Bailey, King of the Kooks and Rafe’s sworn enemy. 

TW: drinking, smoking, drugs, illusions to hooking up...oop!

Like all bad decisions, it started at a party. 

Or, that’s what they would say when they got caught. It started a long time ago, if you knew where to look. It happened at a party. 

Rafe Cameron was on one that night. 

It was the middle of summer, the nights were long and the air was hot and inescapable. Everyone was drunk and dehydrated, too temperamental. The party at the Glisson’s house had thinned out after a fight broke out between Rafe’s friends and another group of fully-cooked Kooks with nothing to lose. 

“Can you believe that guy? Comin’ at me like that?” Rafe mumbles out despite the slit in his lower lip and the alcohol that made him feel like it took extra work to string his thoughts and words together. 

“You threw the first punch, Rafe, what did you expect?” Sarah responds, sounding exasperated. 

“That’s not helping” Rafe’s girlfriend, Phoebe Deluca, sighs as she holds the bag of half-melted ice up to the bruise forming under Rafe’s eye. 

“You’re taking his side?” Sarah’s tone gets sharp. “He’s being an absolute drunk asshole” 

Phoebe couldn’t disagree with that. She had been cast aside by Rafe and all of his friends hours ago, so she watched the whole fight brewing from the sidelines. The two groups of guys put a friendly wager on a game of BP that got too competitive once money got involved. 

That was one thing that Phoebe had learned from her time camouflaging amongst the ranks of Kooks: 

Money made everybody act a little bit uglier. 

“I’m on nobody’s side, alright, calm down. It’s not fuckin’ worth arguing over anymore; Rafe’s face is all kinds of fucked and I think Top broke that kid’s nose…” Phoebe rolls her eyes and grabs Rafe’s wrist to lead him away from the big group and thankfully he doesn’t resist. 

“My sister, man…little miss drama queen” Rafe mumbles. There’s a still-sealed bottle of some tequila that was discarded by the row of chaise lounges he and Phoebe sat down at. Rafe pulls the plastic off with his teeth and takes a hearty gulp, barely even wincing at the sting of the alcohol hitting his split lip. 

Phoebe laughs and takes the bottle from him, wincing through a mouthful of the liquid. “You two are just too similar.” 

“No we fucking aren’t” Rafe argues, sounding combative like a child. 

The backs of Phoebe’s bare legs stick to the lounge chair as she tries to scoot closer to Rafe to keep ice on his eye so that the bruise wouldn’t get a chance to darken. “Yes you are. You’re both some of the most hard-headed people I’ve ever met, and you hate being wrong...” 

Phoebe laughs again as she pushes Rafe’s sweaty hair away from his eyes. “And you always go for what you want, even if you do it in a really annoying way” She catches Rafe’s gaze and smiles, letting her cold fingertips linger on his flushed face. 

“That’s how I got you” Rafe nods, leaning into her touch. 

Something uncertain tugs at Phoebe’s stomach. She can’t bring herself to agree or disagree with him. She extends him a shaky, closed-mouth smile that Rafe wasn’t attuned enough to know was fake. 

Their relationship was new but only the formalities: technically she’d known Rafe for almost a year because Phoebe worked as a cart girl at the golf course that all of the Kooks played at. He flirted with her aimlessly, but he also made sure than none of the greasy older men who had never been told ‘No’ had the chance to harass her. It wasn’t that she needed any saving, it was more about Rafe saying something and defending her to people like him, men he still could grow up to be. Judgmental Kooks. 

He’d worn her down over a period of months, slipping twenty dollar bills into her tip jar with messily scrawled notes asking her for her number, or to take her out on a date. Much to Phoebe’s surprise, when she (repeatedly) turned him down, Rafe didn’t get angry, nor was he deterred. Maybe that’s what made him all the more appealing; He seemed to have an all-knowing sense of confidence, like he knew that if he pushed the issue long enough, Phoebe would be worn down with time. And she was. One day she made the snap-decision to say yeah, what the hell and take Rafe up on his offer. He was so taken aback that he asked Phoebe again, just to be sure. Their first date was good, much better than Phoebe had ever experienced with the few boys from the Cut who had the courage to ask her out. Rafe showed up with flowers, a tender formality, a gesture that made Phoebe’s mother say, “Baby girl, if you end up with a boy like that, you’d be set for life…” 

Rafe opened doors for Phoebe, pushed in her chair for her, walked on the part of the sidewalk that was closest to the street and kept a protective hand around her waist. When he dropped Phoebe off at home, he’d idle at the end of her driveway and wait until she got inside safely. He waited until the third date to kiss her.  Phoebe and Rafe had only been dating for four months, but he already said that he loves her. Phoebe didn’t know if she could love anyone or anything that fast, but somehow she knew that Rafe thought what he was saying was true. She’d give him that. 

The two of them sit there in silence watching the moonlight reflect off of the ripples in the pristine blue pool water. Rafe rests his heavy-feeling head in the crook of Phoebe’s neck and she tries to ignore the smell of his salty sweat. Rafe’s hand finds Phoebe’s bare thigh and he squeezes her knee. 

“Do you still have my shit in your purse?” 

There’s a beat of silence. Phoebe jerks her body away from Rafe. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” 

He scoffs. “I think it’s a very good idea” 

Instinctively, Phoebe tightens her grip around the strap of her bag. “This party’s basically dead now any ways, why can’t we just go home?” She moves Rafe’s hand further up her thigh in hopes to further entice him to leave. 

She hopes it works but she knows that it won’t. Phoebe doesn’t like the person that Rafe became when he was doing coke. It made him irrational and angry, which he was when he was sober but the drugs gave him an excuse to act on it and something to blame his behavior on. But she doesn’t say anything — she can’t — Phoebe can admit that she’s enabled Rafe more than she ever should have. She was the one who introduced Rafe and Barry, the first person who convinced Barry to sell her the coke on Rafe’s behalf. Phoebe knows deep down that it’s probably the reason that Rafe has kept her around for so long. She doesn’t think she’s particularly smart, or particularly interesting, just quiet in a way that makes other people think that she’s more mysterious than she actually is. Phoebe never really says much, but that’s because she wasn’t asked a lot of questions. She was an introvert by nature and Rafe saw that as something he could work with. Maybe all he thought about Phoebe was that she was pretty, blonde, and quiet; someone who could help him achieve the power and control that Rafe craved so desperately. 

“We can’t go home because I don’t wanna  go home” Rafe laughs, low and mean in his throat. 

“Right, cause it’s all about what Rafe wants” Phoebe rolls her eyes and stands up to sit on a different lounger. 

“You’re damn right it is, and what I want right now is my shit” Rafe’s tone is tight and emotional, like a toddler who was tiptoeing through the beginning stages of a tantrum. “It’s mine! I bought it, right? With my money — not that you’d have any idea what that was like…” Rafe tacks on the last part just to be mean and make sure that his words pack a punch. 

And they do. 

Phoebe doesn’t say anything, because she knew that if she did she would run the risk of saying something she couldn’t come back from. Because despite everything, her best efforts, however much self-awareness she had about Rafe being bad news, Phoebe knew that in a sick way she really did need him. Girls like her didn’t get out of the Cut without a little bit of help. And yeah Phoebe was smart, but she wasn’t that smart. Not smart enough for it to mean something, or clever enough, or athletic, creative, or pretty enough. And sure her mom ran the old bar out by the docks, The Watering Hole, but that lost more money than it made so the Deluca family really broke even. And Rafe’s family had more money than they knew what to do with, plus they knew how to use people…Phoebe just wanted to take a page out of their book. It wasn’t like she was fully using Rafe, just a little bit. She can’t lie and say she didn’t like reaping the benefits of being around the Cameron family, when the wealth and the status are extended to you by proxy. And it made her feel good sometimes, being able to hold her head up just a little bit higher when she was around certain people. But they called it privilege because that’s what it was. It was something that was granted to you, which means it could be taken away at any time. Phoebe couldn’t risk that. 

She stands up again and doesn’t bother to look at Rafe as she walks away from the pool, back towards the big deck filled with partygoers she had to weed through just to reach the front door. When she breaks through the amoeba of bodies Phoebe pauses in the shadows of the seven-car driveway and finally takes a breath. Fuckin’ Rafe…

Phoebe doesn’t particularly care about the fact that there were a bunch of Kook’s cars around, she hikes herself up onto the hood of the nicest-looking of the bunch and doesn’t care if she scratches or dents it. She rifles through her bottomless tote bag to find the dented-up Altoids tin that held her emergency stash of joints and the little ziplock baggie filled with Rafe’s leftover coke. It’s tempting, but she’s too sober and pissed off to think it’s a good idea, so she chooses to go with the organic stuff instead.  Phoebe lights up and inhales until she can’t anymore and leans her back against the windshield of the stranger’s car, exhaling the last of her worries. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” A deep voice calls out from the hedge line, not sounding upset as much as amused. He steps out of the shadows and Phoebe recognizes his familiar face and tall stature. 

“I know you!” Phoebe replies, unsure if her outburst was a stoned recollection or a preemptive deescalation tactic. But she did know him. He was Hogan Bailey, one of oldest sons of one of the richest families in the Outer Banks. Hell, his family made the Camerons look like a bunch of Pogues. “You punched my boyfriend in the face tonight” 

Which was true; It was Hogan and his friends were the ones butting heads with Rafe and the rest of his pastel army. Phoebe couldn’t even remember what started the fight that evening, maybe something about someone playing beer pong against regulation rules.

“Rafe’s your boyfriend?” Hogan’s eyebrow quirks up, clearly impressed. 

“Usually,” Phoebe rolls her eyes and sighs out a lungful of smoke, stubbing out the joint on the hood of Hogan’s jeep despite the paint job. “Right now he’s on my shit list” 

This makes Hogan laugh. He looks at Phoebe relaxing on the hood of his car, his gaze slow and calculated. “Yeah, you and me both” 

“I don’t know if you remember, but I’ve met you before” Phoebe smirks. She cranes her neck to look over at Hogan and has to pretend that she’s not gawking at his toned arms as on display as he cradles his head in his hands. “Rafe took me to one of the parties over at your guys’ house. I guess its true what they say, you know, out of all the Kooks the Bailey’s do throw the  best parties”

“I literally have no recollection of that” Hogan admits, sounding confused. “I feel like I would’ve remembered a face like yours.” 

Suddenly Phoebe is aware of how close the two of them are sitting and it makes her stomach lurch. On the off-chance that Rafe came out looking for her, seeing Phoebe with Hogan Bailey of all people would be the nail in the coffin. She’d be fucking done for. 

A concept that scared an excited her all in one. 

The rivalry between the Cameron’s and the Bailey’s was something of Kook legends, Phoebe learned. Ward Cameron raised through the ranks of the working class and broke that ceiling only to have to compete against men like Bill Bailey, Hogan’s dad, who hadn’t had to work hard to earn much in this life. Real Kook shit was having old-school money. Real Great Gatsby shit. The Bailey family had come from three generations of wealthy bankers and had a hand in building up the five-star hotels that lined both sides of Beach and Main. Everybody in Kildere County deposited tie money in a branch of Bailey Bank & Trust, everyone had sat through story time at the Lucy Bailey Children’s Library,  or sat on the Grant Bailey Remembrance Bench while they waited for the shuttle bus to the beach. The Bailey family name was woven so deep into the fabric of the Outer Banks that no one ever thought to challenge that until Ward Cameron did. Now, if Bill Bailey was Tom Buchanan, that meant Rafe’s dad was the Jay Gatsby…and everyone who’s read the book (or watched the movie) knows that story didn’t end  well for him. 

The Cameron family came from pretty humble beginnings, and after some pretty lucrative investments Ward made with an unexpectedly large sum of money that an estranged uncle left him, he actually started to bring in some good money. By 25 he founded Cameron Development and by 35 Ward had begun to leave his stamp on the island. And by 40, Ward was a pretty big deal. He became an even bigger deal when he bought Tannyhill and acquired all of the historical materials and artifacts that were left on the property — items he promptly donated to Chapel Hill to preemptively guarantee college admission for both Rafe and for Sarah. It wouldn’t matter much, though. A third generation of Camerons going to UNC Chapel Hill didn’t hold much weight to all four of the Bailey boys getting into Duke on a football scholarship, joining the four generations of Bailey men to attend before them. 

Touchdown. 

It was like no matter what happened, the Bailey’s and the Cameron’s always seemed to be neck and neck. If they weren’t competing to see who could buy the biggest house, or the best boat, they were competing to see who could be the biggest showboat in all of Kildere County. Phoebe knew that both Rafe and Hogan played into the whole family rivalry schtick. She also knows how easy teenage boys got jealous and territorial, Rafe especially. But she’s too fucked up to be thinking with the rational part of her brain so she decides to ignore the raised red flags. Because although she hates to admit it, but Hogan was handsome. He was tall, broad, and strong, his presence was more commanding than Rafe (who just expected to have things handed to him). Hogan was close enough where Phoebe can feel the warmth radiating from his body. He’s handsome and he smells good and Phoebe’s too drunk to care about this being a bad idea. 

Phoebe stays put, though. “You don’t remember?” She raises her eyebrow at Hogan, her head resting of the warm glass of his windshield. “We had a whole conversation, it was honestly quite the introduction. Rafe and I brought you guys a little, uh, party favor to liven up the rancid vibe at your house and it ended up with the two of you and your pals with the pastel shorts all comparing who has the best shit…like any of you really have any idea what you’re talking about.” Phoebe’s too drunk to hide the bite behind her words but for some reason she can’t help but think that Hogan doesn’t mind. 

“Oh, fuck you!” Hogan smirks as he starts to connect the dots. “I remember now. You guys were sayin’ that shit was from fuckin’ Guadalajara or some shit when we all knew it was from Barry the Basehead cause no offense, but you dont look like the type of girl to be able to get your hands on anything better.” He laughs, deep and low in his throat. 

“It was Yucatan” Phoebe corrects, even though it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Fuck you” Hogan laughs again, but somewhat quieter and more fond. He looks over at Phoebe and lets his gaze linger. He thinks she’s pretty in a homegrown, regular kind of way. He likes her salty beach hair and the fact that she didn’t wear much makeup. And he likes that she has a sharp tongue and was quick witted in a way that Rafe Cameron probably couldn’t understand, let alone appreciate. And he’s drunk enough to be thoroughly entertained by sitting shoulder to shoulder with the girlfriend of the only person he’d consider a rival. 

“Did you want more?” 

The question surprises Hogan. “Huh?” He has to clarify, his mind in the gutter. He thinks that right now he wouldn’t mind some more of her, though.

Phoebe smiles like a sly cat as she reaches down into her tote bag to root around for the plastic bag of white powder that Rafe had left with her earlier that evening (that she refused to give back to him, knowing that he’d keep overindulging). “We can take a trip to Yucatan” 

Both of them know that it’s a bad, idea but it’s part of the appeal. 

Hogan smiles back at her and it’s a silent agreement that whatever was gonna happen would be kept a secret. He slides off of the hood of the jeep and pulls his keys out of his front pocket to unlock the doors. He opens the door for Phoebe to crawl in the backseat. 

‘Quite the choice, Hogan Bailey’ Phoebe thinks, though she doesn’t protest. 

When Hogan closes the car door behind himself, it’s like the two of them are encapsulated in their own little bubble. They can’t really hear the noise from the party, Phoebe can’t hear the noise inside her head that’s telling her this is a bad idea. She knows that Rafe is somewhere inside a few yards away, but he was too fucked up and pissed off to even wonder when Phoebe was right now. Hogan Bailey was there. He was only a few inches away from Phoebe’s face, she can feel his breath fanning over her collar bones. He was twisting a long lock of Phoebe’s blonde hair around his finger, grabbing an old Vampire Weekend cd case from the center console so he could dump out some of the white powder and clean it up into two messily cut lines. 

“Ladies first” Hogan mumbles, his face getting closer to the curve of Phoebe’s neck, pulling her hair out of the way. 

She takes the cd case and the rolled up dollar bill in hand and sniffs up the bigger of the two lines (something she does on purpose because she knows Hogan set that up for himself). The effects are quick and warm and suddenly Phoebe’s heartbeat feels fast and erratic like the rest of her did. Of course she’d done this before, mainly with Rafe, and Phoebe was aware of how much she liked it. It made her feel less nervous, like awkward, more compelled to say whats on her mind, made her not give a fuck about the consequences. And this? There would definitely be consequences. Phoebe knew that if Rafe saw her even saw her cast a second glance in Hogan’s direction, he would be white-hot angry and jealous. And for once, Phoebe thinks, ‘Let him’. Let Rafe be jealous. Let Rafe be hurt the way he’s hurt her plenty of times before this. Maybe right now she was hurt enough to be okay with being the bad guy. 

“You know nothing good’s gonna come of this, right?” 

Hogan snorts up the line of white powder and lets out a throaty groan as the chemical sludge drips down the back of his throat. 

“I don’t know about you, Deluca, but that kinda seems like the point” 

[min-yunki-agustd]

Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy it!

Sickie: poor Jiminie

Caretaker: Jin

Tw: graphic description of scat, emeto, etc

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Jimin, Jungkook, and tae went out of the dorm to get ice cream. They were walking from the shop. All three of them with ice cream in hand. Jimin usually stays away from dairy but it was very hot out and he and the others really wanted something cold and sweet. The person selling the ice cream was even kind enough to let them sample flavors before deciding. Tae chose vanilla, and Jk chose banana milk swirl. Jimin decided on chocolate with marshmallows on top. It tasted delicious, as they walked in the blazing summer heat. Halfway to their walk to the dorm tae and jungkook are told they need at Bg Hit to recond some background vocals for yoongi. Tae and jungkook decide to stay where they are and wait for the van to pick them up. Jimin told the others that he's gonna head home to the dorm. They part ways. Jimin still licking his ice cream. It wasn't long before he had finished it off. His stomach grew more and more bloated as he walked down the path. Looking around at familiar buildings and shops.

Everything was relatively fine until he felt a rumble in his tummy 1 half of a block away from the dorm. He could see the building. he knew what it met when his stomach felt this way just after having ice cream. He put an arm on his stomach as it began to hurt. He felt pressure on his lower abdomen. He started walking a little faster. He's kind of glad the other members left. They would have picked at him for having to use the bathroom so soon. His stomach worsened to the point of him slowing down to ease the jostling he felt from speed walking. Once he felt his stomach calm a bit as he walked he picked it right back up. He was only 6 feet away from the dorm when he felt a sharp cramp that made him stop in his track and curl in on himself. Both hands on his stomach. He was sweating from the sun beating down and the pain. He felt movement in his stomach and he quickly got up and ran to the door. He unlooked it. He walked inside the lobby and went straight for the open elevator. The was one other person in the elevator. He had to desperately hold in flatulence only causing his stomach to hurt worse. As soon as the elevator reached his door he hopped out. He went straight to their dorm.

His body was practically screaming at him to hurry as he unlocked the door. Bullets of sweat feel down his face. He was beginning to fear that he might not make it in time if he didn't hurry. He managed to get the door open. He slammed it closed and went straight for the guest bathroom. He almost didn't make it. At least it felt that way. he opened the door to the bathroom. He turned on the light and closed the door. He knew he wouldn't be able to go without privacy. As fast as he could he pulled down his pants. His stomach gurgled as he sat down. He was waiting for a rush of pain and the flood gates to open but as he sat there, nothing happened. He was still burning hot as if he was still in the sun. He sat there his stomach causing a lot of pain. Nothing came out. His stomach flips upside down. Nausea hits him full force. He had no time to notice and definitely no time to stop it.

He retches. Milky, stick sick hits his knees. He pukes again. A big surge of sickness hit his front and slid down his body, ruining his clothes with chunky vomit. The smell alone made him gag. He weakly stands up pulling up his pants and resting his body in front of the toilet. With his head dangling over the water. He feels another surge of sick. he throws up in the toilet this time. He threw up again. This time so hard that He felt pressure on his bottom. He was going to switch back and sit down but his stomach wouldn't let up he was still puking. His stomach cramped and he felt something warm side down his pants. He had no control over himself. The only thing he could do is cry out in pain. There was no point in trying to move now. He doesn't think he could. His stomach was in far too much pain.

He felt disgusted with himself. He wanted to jump out of his skin and die with the way he could feel mush build in his pants. Nausea tormented him. the smell of the filthy room only making it worse. causing his stomach to bring up more of the ice cream. Felt weak the more he brought up. He couldn't stop nausea or his bowels. He sat there until he was eventually sent back over the toilet to puke. After hours of being alone in the bathroom, his stomach finally began to let up. he still felt too weak to move, he was also extremely tired now. He almost drifted to sleep but he shot up when he heard the dorm door open. Someone was finally home. He felt embarrassed about the state he was in. He began to cry softly

Jin was home. He was recording some vocals for the album they were working on. He had been working with yoongi since morning so he was let out earlier than the other members. He could hear soft crying in the guest bathroom. He walked up to it and put his ear up to the door. It was Jimin who was crying. he must not feel very well. At the same moment, a smell emerged from the bathroom. He backed up a bit from the door. Jimin definitely wasn't alright. He knocks on the door. " Jiminie? you ok in there?" Jin waited for a sound, he put his ear back on the door. " Jiminie ?" if you don't open up I'm coming in.." Jin twists the door hand, and he opens the door. " no!" Jimin says weakly. Jin's jaw dropped to the floor once he saw inside. The floor was covered in sludge and sick. Jimin was incredibly dirty and he'd had been sick everywhere. It even splashed onto the walls. Jin closes his mouth once's he hit by the smell only it ten times worse than from behind the door. He doesn't react to it. He watches as Jimin cries in his arm.

Jin walks out of a large puddle of sickness and rubs Jimins back. He was sweating threw his tank top. Jin could feel it on his hand. something on the back of Jimin caught Jin's eye Jin looked away once he realized what it was. He walked over to the tub and turned it on. As the water was running Jin helped Jimin take off his soaked clothes. He threw them to the floor and helped him into the bath. Jin decides to completely dispose of the clothes when Jimin wasn't looking. As Jimin took a bath Jin cleans the bathroom. Jin finished cleaning before Jimin. The bathroom was a million times better. It smelt much better as well. Jimin was slumped over in the bath covered in bubbles. His eyes were now red from crying. He didn't stop crying. Jin told him that everything was alright. Once Jimin was finishing he got dressed and changed into cleaner clothes.

Even though Jimin was feeling much better JIn still made him rest on the couch. His body was quite sore so he didn't argue. Jin even lay down beside him on the huge couch and offered to rub the younger sore belly. Jin rubbed Jimins belly as they watch a movie Jin picked out.

THE END-