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lokisprettygirl · 3 years

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Love is Selfless, It's Kind (Part 13) (Loki x female reader)

Summary: Frigga is so different than what you imagined her to be, your perfect week ends with a surprise.

Warning ⚠️ : some smut, soft subby sweet loki, cuteness overload, frigga is a great mom.

Taglist : @purplekitten30 @colifower @rinacreateart @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @asipofwineandfandoms @christineblood @delightfulheartdream @the-wounded-healer05 @lokiprompts @stitchinaride @geeky-politics-46 @sharklover927 @virtualstrawberrydinosaur

Future daughter in law ? Did she just address you as that? Did she just accept you as one of her own, as the one for loki ? Loki smiles as he hears his mother "ma, since this is your first visit in centuries, I'm gonna take you and show you some beautiful midgardian sights, and you have never been in a midgardian automobile right?"frigga nods her head in no and loki giggles "you will love it, though I'm not entirely sure about the congestion, y/n hates it" he chuckles. Once out of the tower loki takes out his car and you sit with frigga on the backseat while loki drives. "Tell me y/n, how did my aloof and bashful son managed to win your heart?" She asks the same question she asked loki "ma no, please, atleast not in front of me" he looks at you from the mirror and you give him a smile while frigga gives him the motherly look you give when your kid is being out of line "I don't know much about that, because when I met him, he was really nice and sweet and we became good friends very quickly, he is the kindest most loving man I have ever met, he didn't really have to do much to win me over" you giggle and she smiles.

"Im so joyous that you feel so y/n, I'm very proud of the man he has become since he arrived on midgard and I also know how you have helped him be the best version of himself, could never thank you enough" she squeezes your hand and you tear up, she's so kind, no wonder loki is how he is, he was raised by a woman like her. "You never have to thank me, I'm truly blessed to have him in my life, he has changed my life in ways I never could have imagined for myself" you smile and you feel Loki's eyes on you, he knows that voice, he knows that look, you're so happy it's making you all emotional. But he never likes to see tears in your eyes.

Before frigga can answer he speaks "As much as I love the appreciation I'm receiving from my most precious women, can you both kindly do it in my absence?" You chuckle as you hear him and he gives you a smile. Loki first took you both to see the empire state building because why not and then he took frigga and you somewhere he knew his mother would enjoy, a museum. Loki brought you once here before and he was so eager to know more about the history behind several midgardian artifacts, his mother shared his interests and they had a really good time together. After you're all done with enough sightseeing for the day, he takes you both for lunch and frigga enjoyed every midgardian cuisine loki ordered for her "midgardian cuisines have such variety" she mumbles as she feeds a bite of her pasta to lo and then she offered you.

All of you were almost out of the restaurant when Some people recognised loki , his face is everywhere these days because of the case, so they approached him to take pictures. "I'm such a huge fan loki, and I'm rooting for you" she says as if loki was a participant on the dancing with the stars. She asks you to take a picture of them both, and when she found out about frigga she wanted a picture with her too. Most of the times his "fans" ignored your existence and that's how you liked it. You wouldn't want them to be jealous of you or end up as the person they hate on his fanclubs or on gossip websites "Is this a norm here my child" frigga asks you and you nod.

When you three come back to the compound you are greeted by thor, he visits Asgard now n then unlike loki, he hasn't been there since new york incident. Thor decided to not bring him to the allfather as he sensed something wasn't right with him. "You two are hogging all the attention from mum" thor complains like a child and loki chuckles "are you envious brother?" He asks and thor just shruggs. "Actually I have had enough of you two and I would like to talk with y/n in private" frigga says and they both groan, they are acting like such kids , you wouldn't believe they are supposed to be gods and stuff. Your heart breaks when you think of how these loving brothers went through such rough times after loki found out about his heritage, frigga never wanted to feed him lies but ultimately it was upto Odin. You wonder if he'll be as kind to you as frigga is.

She takes you to her room and you both sit down on the Ottoman next to her window. Your nerves subsequently calmed down during the day as she's one of the nicest person you have ever met. "You want to see Loki's childhood images?" She asks and you smile "I would love it, he has never shown me " you thought she would show you photographs but she just waves her hands and you see it in front of you like a hologram " there is loki as an infant and you awwed audibly as you see him "Adorable isn't he? This is the day Odin brought him to me" you smile as she continues to showcase different pictures of him from different stages of his life. "This is thor and loki after the horse riding lessons" you smile as you look at his boyish features "he still have the same smile, so pure" you mumble and she smiles "I love both of them equally but loki always had been the one i worried about the most, not doubting his capabilities or his bravery but he stayed alot to himself even as a child, thor was always the lively one, he had his peers he hung around with while loki would just get himself engrossed in his books, away from everyone and everything, didn't help when everyone would try and pit them against each other, his father and thor casts such large shadows, that's why I shared my gift with him so he could find some sun for himself" she tears up a little and you squeeze her hand assuringly

You feel grateful that loki atleast had a mother like her in his life, the thought of him having no friends and always being under Thor's shadow wounds you deeply, you both lived such lonely lives till you found each other and now that you have him you'll never let him feel that way again "He loves you more than anything and he has evolved so much since he came here, he always was the good one, he may have lost his way somewhere but he have made redemptions for his mistakes and he is doing his absolute best, everyone is so proud of him, he's so rare and special" you tell her as you tear up too and she kisses your forehead "I see why he's so taken with you, you see through him, you see his pain and you never judge him. That's all he has ever needed, you're an amazing young woman y/n, I'm glad he chose you as his partner" she hugs you and you can't help it but sob, you have never had a motherly figure in your life and you never felt as if you missed having one until you saw her and loki together.

"Can I come in please?" You both hear a knock at the door and it's loki. He steps in and he looks at your tear stained face and starts worrying "princess you okay?" He walks upto you and you nod "never been better" you smile and it makes him feel better and he sits next to frigga "my dearest mama, what did you say to her, look at her" he asks like a child as puts his arm around her and pecks on her cheek, but his eye are glued on you. She gives a little laugh and you do too "it's confidential, it will stay between me and my daughter" she says and you could have cried right there. Your bliss doesn't last very long as you hear another knock on the door. It's thor "mum lady sif is here, you gotta get back to Asgard, king requires your presence" you see frigga rolling her eyes at that, she's leaving so soon? "Ma no you were supposed to stay for 2 days at the least" Loki's voice had sadness in it as he finds out "I know my love, I'll be back I promise, I'll be here for you on the day of the court proceedings"

She turns to you and she conjures a bracelet of sorts in her hands "I didn't get anything for you but think of it as a little welcome gift, I'll see you both soon, take care of each other will you?" You nod and all of you get back to the living room, where thor was conversing with sif , her eyes spots frigga and she bows down "all mother, king requires your utmost presence, he sent me to retrieve you safely off this planet" she speaks, and frigga nods. She is beautiful and looked very strong like a warrior. "Causing more troubles mischief?" She glares at loki and he rolls his eyes "good to see you too sif" he smirks and it was her turn to scoff. You watch them both having a staring contest, they have a chemistry, you wonder what's that about. Frigga hugs everyone before she leaves, it hasn't even been a day since she arrived but you know you're going to miss her. Once they leave, you feel Loki's hands intertwining with yours "as much as I'm gonna miss ma, I'm glad to have you all to myself" he kisses your forehead and you smile.

"What was that about? You and sif ?" You question him and he looks around "nothing at all princess, it's nothing important" he mumbles and you give him a look "we had a little thing in the past but it's way back in the past" he admits and you just knew something was there, you could always tell "I thought you never had a serious relationship" you ask him and he chuckles "it wasn't a relationship princess, we just had sex once, and then I cut her hair and she's been scorned ever since" your eyes widen at the statement "you cut her hair lo? Why would you do that baby?" You can't imagine loki being like that with a girl, it's kind of mean. You both start walking towards his room as he continued to talk "sif is one of Thor's best mates but she has always wanted thor more than just a friend, his friends never gave me the time of the day unless they wanted to mess with me, sif lost a bet against fandral, his other mate, and she had to sleep with me, so she did what she had to do and I did what I did" he chuckles and you want to laugh too but you're just hurt, you don't know how he felt about sif prior to that but its must not be a nice feeling to get used like that for a bet.

You reach his room and you both get inside "Did you like her before that?" You ask him and he nods in no "I was attracted to her but then at that age I was attracted to almost everyone who wasn't related to me, she's not important to me in case you're running your pretty little head over it" he kisses you softly and you cup his cheeks with your hands. He lifts you up and sits down on his couch with you on top of him "mmm princess" he mumbles and you know that voice, he needs affection and he needs hell alot of it "what sweet baby?" You ask him as you smile, he's just so adorable when he gets like that. "Princessss" he mumbles again and you kiss his forehead "whatttt?" You tease him, and he whines as pleads you with his eyes "mmmm missed you, touch me please, need kisses and hugs" you can never deny him when he asks you like that, you hug him tightly as you wrap your arms around his waist, and put your neck between the crook of his neck, you suck on the soft skin and he moans as throws his head back on the couch "that good sweet baby?" You mumble "so good my pretty princess, always so good to me" he caresses your hair and he kisses your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears then you feel his lips on yours as he kisses you soft and slow, so slow as if he's trying to savor you, not with lust but with love, pure love. You kiss him slowly and you unbutton his shirt, you need to feel his skin.

He moans at the contact, you're so soft and gentle with him, it makes him want to melt in your arms and stay by your side every second of his life, "princess?" He mumbles and you hum "what do you need my sweet baby, you know I'll give you everything right ?" You look him right in his big innocent eyes and he leans his head down on the couch"Can you rub me there please? Don't want to cum, just need to feel princess" he asks politely, always so polite, he hides his face between the crook of your neck "You just had to ask sweet baby" your hands proceed to unbutton him but he stops you "mmmmhm just like that princess" he keeps your palm over his hardness and you understand what he means, he just wants you to feel him like this. So you do, your hands caress over his clothed hard cock while your mouth explores his, sweet moans erupting from him whenever you squeeze him a little. The longer you pleasure him like this, the more he falls into his space "you like this sweet love? Love being felt up like this don't you babyboy?" He whines desperately at the pet name and bites your shoulder to stop himself from sobbing. You stop touching him and you pull his head back on the couch, his eyes are so glassy, his cheeks flushed, his hair unruly because of your fingers between them. You have never seen someone so beautiful, you can't believe he allows himself to be yours solely.

"Have you ever done this before lo? Ever let someone touch you so intimately that you're floating in your head?" You question and all of a sudden he's not looking at you and you hate that, shouldn't have asked. "Requested Carla once" he mumbles and god you hate the woman so much, whatever he's going to say is not going to help "what happened then babylove?" The thought of her touching him like this makes you enraged with jealousy, nobody deserves to see him like this. He squeals at the petname, each one of them makes his heart skip a beat "she ..umm..made ..fuun" he looks at you and sniffs a little as his eyes tears up more and it breaks your heart, but that would be an understatement, you're completely shattered, what kind of monster does that? Did she not feel anything at all for him? How do you hurt someone who look like this and behaves like this when he needs affection and gentleness. You cup his cheeks and kiss him softly, you want him to forget, want him to forget about that moment.

"I'm sorry baby, shouldn't have asked, you're so good so beautiful, so adorable when you get like this you know that right? I can stay like this forever with you" you mumble in between the kisses and he nods "thank you princess, so loving, so sweet to me" he sucks a mark on your neck and you hug him tightly, your hips moving involuntarily over his crotch. "All mine, love you so much princess,you love me?" He asks you, you love him so much you'd die for him "so much baby, more than anything, you're going to cum like this okay, just like this, you wanted to feel baby? Feel it" you command as you increase the pace of your hips and he nods "yess please my princess, will do everything you ask, everything you need, I'm your man, you're mine right" he mumbles, his voice so soft, so low , so far gone in his head. "You're mine my sweet little baby, god you're killing me lo, you're killing me with this, I just want to ruin you even further, cum whenever you want, make a mess in there lo" you keep your hands on the either side of his head as you pick up the speed, his hands on your hips helping you to move "yes please, I need to be ruined by my princess, gonna cum sweet y/n, wanna make a huge mess for you" he moans your name as he let go and you can't hold back anymore either, the sound of his voice, the look on his face, his grip on your hips, that's enough to drive you over the edge.

You hold him tightly as he drives through his high, his head between your neck, your fingers massaging his scalp. Once you feel his breathing come down you call for him "Lo baby you there?" You ask softly and he puts his head up to look at you "mmm here" goddamn him and his cuteness have no limits. "Let's get cleaned up Okay?" you ask him and he blushes "princess" he whines and it makes you giggle. You both get showered and change out of your clothes, you clean his boxers and your panties and hang it to dry. Then he puts you in his clothes just because he can and he loves seeing you like that. And you love wearing his clothes, it just smells so good like him. "You know when we were apart I used to sleep in your shirts" you smile at him as you see him fixing his freshly showered hair in the mirror "you did? Did it make you feel better?" He asks softly, those four months he spent away from you will always come back to haunt him, thought of you being so alone and hurt makes him want to suffocate you with so much affection that you'd forget all about it. "it always did, it felt like you were hugging me" when he's done with his hair he walks up to you and pulls you in by grabbing your shoulders "what does my princess needs now?"

You both spent the day glued to each other, and you had to work next morning so he takes you back home, during that week you felt so happy, his mother likes you, the trial is on next week. You both were just hanging out on your couch, in your usual position, your feet in his lap while you laid down the other side. You received a link from wanda and open it, shouldn't have. There was a picture of loki with some girl outside a private club of sorts, Tony took him there last week for some meeting. "We totally did it that night hashtag best sex ever" other people were commenting and squealing under the picture, calling her lucky bitch n stuff like that, more like lying bitch. However there was one comment that caught your eyes "she so didn't, he have a girlfriend, they both visit the restaurant I work at very often, he's grossly in love with her even though she ain't anything special in comparison to him" you had no idea how to feel about that comment, should you be happy she defended Lo or sad that she insulted you "Lo look at this" you pass him your phone and his eyes widened as he read the caption.

"I know nothing happened lo, baby you don't have to worry" you know he would never cheat on you like that, he could never hurt you that way "I'll never break your trust in me princess, I would die before I do that" he says to you and you smile "I know sweet baby but don't die please" you giggle and it makes him smile. When he read that comment that bothered you he felt upset, why would someone look at you and say that, he was taken with you ever since the first meeting, you're the most special girl in the universe for him . Midgardian people are so petty sometimes, he can't wait to take you to Asgard where you'll be respected and loved like you deserve to be. Like a princess you were born to be.

You get up to make tea for you both when he gets a call from Tony to watch the news so he turns on the tv.

"In the current news, lawyer Carla Davidson who accused Loki Odinson for domestic violence and was later charged with defamation suit is apparently missing for a week now, her mother tried to contact her while her friends and family members also tried to reach out to her but her phone was out of reach, she was last seen getting inside her apartment and then she just vanished, there are no security footage of her coming out or anyone entering her apartment, she just disappeared into thin air, when cops broke into her apartment, there were no signs of struggle, the case was supposed to be on trial on 26th but with Carla missing the date might change"

Loki looks at you as he hears the news , he can't believe this, it's been three weeks since he visited her and if she was doing fine then what happened with her? Who did this?

"What is this lo, what's happening? You ask him and he shakes his head "I have no idea princess, wait my lawyer is calling me" he picks up the call and he was called for an urgent meeting regarding the case "princess you have off tomorrow right? Can you come with me and stay in the tower? it just doesn't feel safe leaving you here alone" he asks you and you nod. You pack your necessities and he starts driving towards the tower. You can see him lost in his thoughts so you rub his shoulder assuringly. Where is she? Why would she disappear like this? There were so many questions running around in your head, you guys were so close to having justice.

When you reached the tower, you're greeted by wanda and thor, you give wanda a hug and she takes you with her as loki will have to be at the meeting "I'll see you soon princess" he kisses you and you smile "don't stress too much okay?" You mumble and he nods before you leave. He didn't leave your hands untill wanda glared at him. When you're out of sight thor pulls loki aside with him.

"it's her behind Carla's disappearance" thor says to loki in a quiet hushed tone as he looks at him.

"Don't you dare accuse her like that, she did nothing" loki defends you quickly.

"Not lady y/n, loki"

"Who are you talking about thor?" He huffs

"Mother"

#loki #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #loki x reader insert

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blu-archer · 3 years

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Sharing is Caring?

Just some more AU sickness because why not?

snz based

Sickie: Tae - mild Jimin

Caretaker: Jimin [kind of?]

m/m [squinting at Yoonmin] and mentions of what I’m poorly portraying as ace. I’ve never tried to write about it before so forgive any misrepresentation please..

anyway...

Apart of this little universe; Flower shop and Bakery au

This piece mostly felt like me rambling, but it was kind of fun so I’m posting it.. sorry for any errors

Taehyung sniffled as discretely as possible as he wondered through the isles of the large supermarket, doing his best to avoid people even though he had made sure to grab a face mask before leaving the apartment to avoid spreading his germs. Technically they could be considered Jimin’s germs… but he wasn’t one to blame his platonic soulmate.

After all, they lived together. This outcome was inevitable.

So he hovered awkwardly through the store trying to move as quickly as possible by grabbing immediate necessities rather than the usual browsing of the shelves. And after the desperate sneezes that had surprised him by the canned foods and had kicked his headache into 5th gear, he wanted nothing more than to already be at home and back in bed.

The photographer paused a bit away from the freezer holding the ready-made meals – something that had become a must-have for the pair if they wanted to survive living together – waiting for the few people there to finish before he made his own snatch. He blinked lazily at the rows of boxes that he could just barely make out. He would have to grab a few, they hadn’t done ‘grocery’ shopping for the month and it had come back to bite them. The few supplies he’d gotten days before had dwindled to nothing in a blink of an eye. He’d woken up that morning looking for food so he could take his next dose of medication and had been met with a small portion of days old take out from the noodle place down the street and what was left of the soup Jimin’s boss had dropped off for him after he’d called in sick.

And Tae was getting really tired of soup, despite only being on his second day of feeling like warm death.

So he had taken the courageous, probably mildly stupid, step to go shopping. They needed more tissues anyway, and he didn’t really know anyone in the area that well yet despite having moved a few months ago so it’s not like he could make a plea for help.

Jimin had been thoroughly knocked out in his bed with a mound of extra blankets that hadn’t moved from their place since Yoongi had put them there after bringing the smaller man home from work the day before. So Taehyung had just scribbled a brief note and pinned it onto his door so that Jimin would know where he was if the slim chance of the elder waking up did actually happen.

A gap formed as a couple broke away from the freezer and Tae swiftly slipped in front of it, muffling a cough into his arm before he made a move to slide open the glass top. Taehyung was jolted from his actions as something – a body, definitely a small body – crashed into his legs, immediately reaching out with one hand to steady the child that wobbled upon impact even though his own balance wavered drastically. Thank god for fast reflexes, if he hadn’t dropped his basket and rested his hand on the freezer then he probably would’ve fallen straight on his ass. That would have been almost as embarrassing as the canned food isle incident just minutes before. This day just wasn’t getting better.

He had just barely looked down at the small boy who had almost caused his next disaster when his foggy attention was dragged away to the next rapidly approaching figure.

“Sehjoon!” An exasperated voice snapped before the small boy was pulled from Tae’s weak grasp. “I’m so sorry, he’s wild. Did he-“The man’s eye widened a bit and then he smiled, losing some of the tension in his body. “Its Taehyung, right? Jimin’s new roommate?”

Tae blinked, nodding slowly although he couldn’t really be considered ‘new’ since a few months had already passed, and it wasn’t the first time that he’d shared a space with Jimin. The man looked familiar, and he clearly knew who he was, which meant he was probably one of Jimin’s friends from work. Taehyung tried not to feel too bad about not remembering whose name went with which face, he was often busy with his own work when Jimin would tell him about what happened during his working hours, so he couldn’t be expected to remember too many details. It was a similar situation when he tried to explain to Jimin the different editing terms while trying to perfect whatever photos he had done. He couldn’t count the numbers of times he’d just watched his best friends eyes glaze over with some familiar vague nodding.

“I’m Hoseok, we met a while back when you first moved here.”

The man seemed to ooze happiness as he picked the boy up to rest him on his hip. Taehyung shuffled on his feet. He was a little unsure of what to say next. Usually he didn’t struggle with making conversation, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton, he couldn’t be faulted for this flaw of character right now.

“Sorry,” Hoseok chuckled, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “Jimin speaks about you all the time and even Jungkook and Jin mention you every once it in a while, it kind of feels like I know you.”

“Uh…oh. Yeah. Jimin speaks about you a lot too.” Tae replied, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His voice coming out deeper and with the beginnings of the congestion he’d hoped wouldn’t come so soon in the day. He cleared his throat in hopes that it would help. “The florist, right? With Yoongi?”

It clearly didn’t help.

Hoseok’s smile faltered, turning more sympathetic. As if he had quickly pieced the obvious together.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He shifted the boy on his hip when small hands grappled to be let down. Hoseok dropped his smile for a moment to give a stern look of disapproval that seemed to work like a spell over the boy as he went silent and placid in the mans hold. “I’m sorry about Sehjoon here. My sister asked me to look after him for the day and I think she both underestimates my babysitting capabilities and overestimates her sons behaviour. I was actually sent out of work for a bit because Yoongi needed a break from this level of chaos… Hey, he didn’t hurt you or anything right?”

“Oh, no. No.” Tae gave a croaky laugh that irritated his throat. It already felt rough from the amount of coughing he’d done during the night and it appeared that he was nowhere close to being done with that. Turning away, he coughed deeply into his arm, twisting away despite wearing a mask, and winced at the spark of pain that had shot into him. God, he was so over this cold. “Sorry. He barrelled into me, but he would probably be at more risk of hurting himself than me. Has a hard head though. Definitely able to knock some people out with that.”

That brought a bubble of sudden laughter from the other man that left Tae slightly bemused and yet, it was an odd feeling watching Hoseok laugh. A warmth of sorts spread over Taehyung when the man tossed his head back and seemed to glow as his shoulders shook. It was more contagious than Jimin’s illness and Taehyung couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the man as he began to tease his nephew shamelessly about being a new weapon of destruction. The boy simply whined and curled his head into Hoseok’s neck, apparently not seeing the same humour as his uncle.

“I should get him a leash to be honest.” Hoseok joked, but Tae had a feeling the glint in the mans eyes meant he was deeply considering it.

Taehyung didn’t really know how to reply so he just nodded slowly and turned his attention back to the freezer, recollecting his basket before just grabbing a few different meals at random and tossing them in with the juice and tissues he’d already gotten. Whatever it was he and Jimin would eat it whether they liked it or not. He had been out longer than he wanted to be by now and he wasn’t wasting more time on things that they probably wouldn’t taste much of anyway considering how this cold was progressing.

“Not much of a cook?”

Tae glanced to Hoseok who seemed to be shifting his weight as he looked towards the meals casually.

Sniffing lightly, Taehyung tried to suppress the desire to rub at his nose through the mask. He shrugged, his hand moving up to brush some hair from his eyes. “Never really learned. Jimin can’t either, but this is better than living off of take out.”

“I can see Jin rolling in his figurative grave.” Hoseok chuckled. “If you want I can mention to Jungkook how I ran into you, despite you clearly not feeling well. I can guarantee that you and Jimin will get visited by Yoongi and Jin with at least a months-worth of premade meals to be frozen because they heard from Jungkook that you were both malnourished and possibly dying.”

He blushed at the call out on being sick, but to be fair, he hadn’t thought he’d run into anyone that would actually talk to him or that this store would be so busy during work hours. He also didn’t doubt Jungkook’s ability to exaggerate, Jimin had told him about some previous examples that had at the time probably caused Jin a lot of stress. It mostly seemed innocent but very few could look into Jungkook’s eyes and not believe everything he tells them. Tae had only just started speaking to him more and he already knew that.

“Please don’t. I can’t even bear to look at soup after these past few days and I have a feeling that would be a strong contender of what one would give a sick person.” Against his original will, he rubbed a finger to his nose as it twitched with an itchy irritation. “I need to get home actually; we had no food left so I should try to get back before Jimin wakes up. And I am about ready to sleep for the next week.”

“Oh wow. So you really are in need of pre-made meals filled with some love and care.” Hoseok’s voice dipped into one similar to how he had teased his nephew. “Well, I won’t keep you then. You should get home and rest, but if you want to take me up on sending the s.o.s. message for food delivery, Jimin has my number.”

Taehyung thanked the elder man shakily, and even managed to get a small wave bye from the boy, barely having time to hear the small apology for bumping into him before he abruptly turned away and buried his face into his elbow.

H’EESH..hH’HEGXSHhh..

There was a startled ‘oh’ and then deep chuckles. Taehyung winced as he gave a liquid sniff with a low groan, feeling even more congested than before.

“ ‘cuse ‘be.”

“Bless you,” Hoseok laughed with a hand instinctively holding his nephew closer. He dipped his head in a small bow. “Sorry, it’s not funny. That sounded awful, but I got a fright and now I feel dumb for jumping.”

If he had blushed before, then this was him setting himself alight. That had never happened before, he’d never scared someone with his sneeze. Jimin was never going to let him live that down.

“I’ll leave you be now,” the man grinned. “Go home and get some rest. But when you feel better we should hang out some time. Jimin speaks about you all the time and I just think it would be great to see more of you… like with everyone. Welcome you to the city properly.”

“I…yeah. Okay.” Taehyung brushed his hands through his hair and took a starting step back, trying to hold back any more sniffling. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Feel better soon, Taehyung, and get home safely.”

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

HEESHHU..H’HIESHH…snfff.. … Heh..h..hhh..HHeGXTCHh…hnnxgGTSCHew!... nghHEHHSHH!!!

Taehyung panted out hot hitchy breaths as the tissue box was set in front of him as an offering. He laid a hand on the box to take it, his other hand hovered desperately over his face as he geared up for the next sneeze. His teary eyes had barely blinked open before they were forced shut once more, his throat and head pulsed with each sneeze that ripped out of him.

“Ble-e’hh-hh-ss yo-uishhhiew.. H’ingxtshh… hih’itishhew!”

Taehyung grabbed a few tissues and let Jimin keep the box as the elder coughed and crumpled into the seat beside him, before following Tae’s example of blowing his nose tiredly.

After shopping, Taehyung had managed a slow drive back to the apartment with multiple stops to tear open one of the tissue boxes he’d bought. It hadn’t helped much, and he had felt progressively worse as the minutes ticked by until he’d made it into the house, where he had promptly collapsed onto the couch with his tissues – only having to get up again to dump the food he’d bought in the fridge and freezer before sluggishly dragging himself to the couch once more..

When he’d been coaxed awake by Jimin gently shaking his shoulder, he had been met with a dim early afternoon sun and a plate a steamy food that had definitely been nuked in the microwave for longer than necessary. And from there they hadn’t really moved much, other than Jimin having forced some medicine into them and making tea before joining Tae on the couch.

There was some drama playing softly on their tv, but neither of them really had the energy to focus on it properly and Tae could barely hear the dialogue anyway once the congestion in his sinuses began to interfere with his ears. Jimin had dragged in a blanket from his room and draped it over both of them as Tae added to the pile of used tissues that had begun to form on the floor in front of them. Nothing seemed to stop the constant tickle that plagued him, nor his noses inability to do what he wanted. Tae was considering just stuffing his nose with tissues at this point. Since the trip to the supermarket his nose had turned into a mess that was seemingly draining the life out of him. Jimin had assured him that despite what he thought, it would get better, but he was sure that his friend was just trying to be his usual hopeful self. Always ready to reassure and look out for him.

At least they were suffering together. That was an upside. Jimin claimed to be feeling a lot better than the day before and it seemed to be mostly true, he was definitely being more active than Tae wanted to be. Although that could also have just a factor of the smaller man sleeping like the dead for almost 20 hours and Taehyung thinking it was wise to leave the apartment earlier. He was just deeply glad that he wasn’t alone again.

Tae hated being alone. Even when he was well, he’d tried living by himself before and it had eaten at him mentally. It’s a big reason why he had convinced Jimin to find a new apartment that they could share when he switched towns, instead of just finding a cheap single flat somewhere. Thankfully his Soulmate had been searching for something already, so he didn’t feel like too much of an inconvenience. Jimin had always teased him relentlessly for needing people but never wanting relationships, always just content with a friend to cuddle up to or hang out with. Yet watching Jimin and others grow into bonds and commitments always made him doubt. Jimin meant well with his chirps and edgy teasing, but it always made Taehyung worry about his future.

What would he do when Jimin finally moved on in life? It’s not like anyone would want to invest in a person that would never give themselves entirely to a partner... He would never fall into the trap of letting someone take what he didn’t want to give again, yet that was all everyone seemed to want from him. … Maybe he’d start up a cuddle site, or a hug program, he’ll think of a way to get the skin ship he needed without being a bother or a hazard to himself.

“You’re thinking too loud again…” Jimin whined hoarsely and sunk into Tae’s side, rubbing his cheek into the other shoulder as he curled into him. “Your brainwaves are hurting mine.”

“You’d need a brain to have brainwaves, you’ll be fine.” Tae mumbled as he ran a tissue under his nose with a sniff and yelped out a weary laugh when Jimin pinched at his ribs.

“Asshole.” The elder snipped, but the smile in his voice was evident.

It took no prompt for Jimin to snuggle even deeper into Taehyung’s embrace, relishing in the warmth despite the dampness that had begun to seep through Tae’s shirt. It would probably be wise for them both to get in the shower – at the very least to rinse off their sweat and germs – but they were far too comfortable to move. Tae felt as if his body had become moulded into the seat and the heat that was created between himself, Jimin and their blanket; paired with the medication he’d taken, only made him dozier. Even as his mind raced through various what-ifs of the future, his eyes gradually drifted shut up before jerking open with any sound or movement. Soft hands brushed soothingly up his side, edging him closer to sleep with low humming, and just as his eyes closed again there was a sharp knock at the door that caused both of them to groan.

“If we ignore it, they might think we’re not here.” Jimin whispered.

Ah…H’ERSHH! ..

“Never-“

HE’ETCHSHH!!

“… Never mind. Thank you Taetae.”

“Sorry..”

Another softer, more hesitant knock sounded through the apartment as Jimin pushed himself to his feet and handed control of the tissue box to Tae solemnly. He accepted it more desperately than he would have liked, but Jimin wasn’t going to judge him considering he’d been in the same situation just the day before.

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin tried not to shiver against the loss of heat. “I’ll go see who it is then.”

The photographer pushed himself up to sit cross legged instead off slouched down in the seat while Jimin left the room, so he could blow his nose as productively as he possible. Although his nose ached after so much blowing and he had immediately tumbled into a bout of coughing that had left him gasping and spitting into a tissue with a grimace, so he couldn’t really call it all that productive when it ultimately made him feel worse. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a yawn before considering just going to sleep anyway. From the front door he could vaguely make out Jimin’s voice – deeper and scratchier than usual – as he spoke with familiarity.

Hopefully it wasn’t their neighbour. She had been hounding them about tidying up their balcony that, quite frankly, wasn’t that bad. Sure, it had way too many dead and dying plants and the chair out there had definitely seen better days, but if she didn’t like seeing it, she didn’t have to go out of her way to look. It wasn’t like they shared it.

He leaned his head back to rest on the back of the couch and shut his eyes once more, trying to force himself to sink into sleep, yet it was now low grumbling and airy giggles kept him from rest. Irritated, he shifted so that he lay curled up on his side, tossing his heavy limbs around until he’d managed to get the soft, fluffy blanket over his body completely and tucked under his chin. Now if Jimin could get back so that he could at least have someone to cling onto, then he’d be ecstatic.

Muffled coughing grew closer until Taehyung heard Jimin call out to him just loud enough to not disturb his penetrating, consistent headache.

“Look,” Jimin practically collapsed on top of the photographer holding a small bouquet. He slid off quickly when the force of the landing set off Taehyung’s own thicker and hoarser coughs. “Sorry but look what Yoongi brought.”

Ah… so there was a definite hold on the ‘cuddle’ part planned in their day. Once he didn’t think his throat was going to rip to pieces, Taehyung blinked heavily at the various bright flowers that had probably been put together with more thought and precision than he could possibly imagine in that moment. Clearly Yoongi had decided to call in a delivery, he wasn’t really surprised. Jimin’s eyes shone as if he truly hadn’t expected the florist to stop by, and Taehyung didn’t think the elder really cared what he thought about it, he had merely fallen into an instinctive habit. Although, Tae would have preferred not to be assaulted with things that would possibly trigger his sinuses.

He scrunched his nose and pushed away the hand that held the glorified weapons. There were quiet steps and a gentle murmur from behind them that he would have brushed off as him hearing things, if only Jimin didn’t glance up with such a warm, wide smile.

“Beau’iful Chim.” Tae sniffed and rolled so that the blankets rolled higher to hide his face.

His cheeks were heated and Jimin turned his smile to him knowingly – albeit apologetic for letting Yoongi inside when Tae clearly just wanted Soulmate time. Jimin pressed a quick kiss to the small visible section of Tae’s damp forehead before getting to his feet with a stifled cough.

“I’ll put these in water... You really didn’t have to come and check on me, you know.” Jimin said softly as he walked towards their kitchen. “Probably safer to just call.”

“I’m not scared of getting sick, Jimin.” A low voice that could only be Yoongi, reassured as he followed the other. – So more than a delivery then.- “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday. Hobi said he ran into Taehyung earlier… Although from the looks of things he should have probably stayed home, poor guy sounds worse than you did – than you do.”

Jimin hummed, and Taehyung shifted to cover his head entirely beneath the blanket, trying not to listen to the couples conversation. Maybe he should just move somewhere else and let them have some space without having to hide in the kitchen. Of course Yoongi would have to accept the fact that he was entering an area of disease, but he seemed more than willing considering he was already in their home.

Tae gave a sigh and then a deep sniffle. He plucked a fresh tissue to wipe at the tender skin under his nose. It took a moment to work up the energy but eventually he was able to twist so that he practically rolled off of the couch. His knees and hand connecting a lot harder than he’d predicted to the floor, while trying to keep the blanket as steady as possible on his hunched frame. With sluggish motions, he tried to sweep most of the used tissues up with his hands and dumped them into the wastepaper bin kicked under the table, then after achingly persistent hitch started up that had left him feeling frustrated at the lack of relief – he considered the area clean enough before standing unsteadily. Making sure the blanket was wrapped tightly over his shoulders, he grabbed the tissue box to take with him – Jimin could find something else, he felt he needed them more. Then he had almost tripped on the way to his room and had muttered half-hearted curses at the blanket for betraying him and getting caught up in his steps, until finally he was able to collapse onto his bed.

Sure it was cold and probably smelt of sweat but it was at least more comfortable than where he had been lying and it had pillows that he could hug in replacement of Jimin. He buried his face into his arm almost immediately, sneezing harshly twice before he was able to bring a tissue to his nose and smother three more, breaking off into an exhausted, thick cough that left him feeling miserable and wanting nothing more to recollect the bottle of medicine he’d taken earlier and take the rest of it.

God, he really was so over this stupid cold.

#bts sickfic #snzfic #platonic soulmates #established yoonmin #jhope appeared #Tae suffers #im sorry #only a bit tho #alternate universe #photographer taehyung #florist yoongi #florist jhope #friendship?

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jaejena · 4 years

Text

dream glow. — h, renjun.

My dream is to stay I won’t give up You’ll glow.

— now playing : dream glow by bts and charli xcx.

— genre : angst, fluff heavily relying on undertones. — warning(s) : y/n’s heart was played (not by renjun), swearing. wrote this while sleep deprived, weeeee. — word count : 1.2 k.

You wanted the ground to collapse beneath you. You wanted to do so many things. Scream, cry out, thrash everything in your way.

But you darted off with your tail between your legs instead, a horrified Renjun by your side. He’d seen it all happen in front of him too.

So here you were, back at your home and buried underneath the comforter you’ve pulled over yourself. A stupid child hiding away from the world, their naïveté looked down upon.

You’re trying to hold it together.

You can feel Renjun’s weight hold the mattress down right beside you. He hasn’t left your side since.

You feel numb as you attempt to block everything out.

This comforter can’t shield you from your humiliation.

Renjun speaks for the first time, his voice as gentle you have ever heard, “Are you okay?”

That damned question.

An involuntary scoff escaped from you.

“Okay?” Your voice cracks. You strain to talk, a flurry of words rushing out, “Are you kidding me, Renjun? Am I okay—”

You’re cracking.

You stifle a pathetic sob. “For once..” You began, trying so hard not to wail out. “For once I thought somebody out there genuinely liked me.” You were sorely mistaken.

“I’m not fucking okay.” You irritably snap, struggling to keep your chest from heaving. You bite down on your lip. All that you were suppressing is coming out.

You were a toy to be hidden in fear of the shame you may bring him. One to be tossed away when you knew too much.

Renjun doesn’t say anything.

You feel like a hindrance, but all you can do is choke on your tears.

You’re lashing out on him too.

You didn’t know what else to say. You shut your eyes tight, clamping out the sting of your tears. They’re going everywhere.

You barely sputter out your congested words, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Gentle but assertive.

He doesn’t say anything else, but you can sense him start looking around your room. It’s not long before you feel his weight pull away from beside you.

“Remember when we went to the dollar store months ago?”

You hear one of your cabinets get pulled out. Renjun shuffles about until you hear him pry an item out. His weight returns on the mattress once again, sitting next to you.

You don’t answer, feeling the hot tears sting everywhere on your face. But you do remember.

That day, the two of you brought home a bag of cheap art supplies to ruin. You riddled each other’s faces with smudged, clashing colours of face paint.

You always had fun in the simplest things.

“I’ve wanted to give it another try lately.” You hear his fingers tap against the plastic case, “I want to give it another whirl on you, if that’s okay.”

But you clutch onto the blanket, ready to bury yourself further down. Your whole face is a swollen mess. You croak out, “I look ugly right now.”

“Please, Y/N?”

You pause. He’s pleading you.

You realize he’s doing his best too, in the way that he’s able to. He’s trying to help.

Then you sigh. You pull the blanket away from you. The cool air hits all over your face against the hot tears clinging to your skin.

Renjun says nothing as he lays his eyes on you, then shifting his attention to the face paint in his hands. He pops the lid off, taking out the accommodated brushes out of the box.

You sniff as you attempt to breathe steadily, closing your eyes expectantly. The frown hasn’t been wiped off your face, nor has the tension.

You look absolutely crestfallen. He didn’t know how much he despised seeing you like this and being this helpless by your side.

In spite of that, he forces a smile. More for himself, rather than for you. “Thank you.” He murmurs.

Renjun ignores the bitter fury burning in him, scooping a navy blue glob onto the bristles of the brush. When he glides it across your cheek, he notes the slip that your tears have given. A streak of blue against your blotched skin has taken place.

His eyes scan your features, carefully mapping out the work to be painted. Yet his mind brings him to places unwanted.

Your head hanging low flashes in his head. The shattered, defeated look you had was burned into his memory. The sight of you holding yourself from breaking down and taking shallow breaths weighs heavy on his heart. You couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Crazy how a person so fleeting in both your lives can easily crush someone he’s loved for so long. He’s never seen you like this.

Renjun wasn’t going to forget what he did to you, nor forgive.

There are so many things he wants to say. For someone he treasures, there are so many things he wants to say.

But they don’t come out.

He’s frustrated in himself.

Renjun is at a loss and the paintbrush in his hand is the only thing that’s keeping both of you grounded.

You don’t hear Renjun’s shaky breath, nor do you feel how his chest constricts as he swallows a lump forming in his throat. You don’t see the frown on his face that mirrors yours.

He has to stay strong.

He sees that you are now taking steady breaths, soothed by the soft brushstrokes and the cool paint against your skin.

That’s good, he thought.

He lets you slip into slumber, humming quiet melodies to let your exhaustion take you away.

His hands hold you with kindness.

───────────────────────────────

You wake, but your eyes don’t open just yet.

You breathe deeply. In and out.

As you stir, you recall what had lulled you to sleep. Your swollen eyelids crack open, heavy from fatigue.

Renjun isn’t beside you.

Heaving yourself up, you’re alone in your bedroom in the dark. It must be past midnight.

He’d left to go back home.

Throwing the blanket off you, you swing yourself out of your bed and ignore how much you immediately yearn to go back for warmth. You slowly make your way to the door. You tread into the hallway and to your bathroom, conscious to make light steps.

When you open the door to the bathroom, you reach for the lights.

Then you see it.

You see yourself. You see art. A sculpture in which part of its face had cracked off, revealing the universe within it. A proud sculpture in spite of its physical, human flaws.

Staring into the mirror, the night sky spans across the right side of your face. The stars have made its home in you.

White dots against the dark blue have been carefully stippled across the eyelid, temple, and down to your cheek. Little coloured spheres float among the stars. Renjun decorated you with foreign planets of his imagining.

The stars spill out beyond the dark sky, dusted onto your natural skin.

You feel a weight lift off your chest as you step closer to the mirror, turning your head to behold his universe on you.

An epiphany in the guise of your friend’s work of art.

Renjun painted a piece of himself onto you before he left your side.

This is how he sees you, the one who’s seen you at your best and at your worst. You’d always known Renjun to veil his affections with banter.

This time, all the things he had left unsaid has been poured and blended into the pigment.

You are loved. You are cherished.

Always have been.

#nct dream #nct #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renjun imagines #renjun reactions #renjun scenarios #nct renjun #renjun

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annhellsing · 4 years

Text

Best of Dark and Bright

notes: i disappeared for over a week and come back with...... yet more a3! oh my god. anyway shrugs, it’s more azuma angst!! rating: explicit tbh. it’s not super detailed but i mean?? yeee pairing: azuma yukishiro / reader word count: 2,317

He has curled up before, like a cat in the arms of a lover. This is a poor imitation.

Azuma holds his knees to his chest, the blanket thrown over most of him and his hair spread out against the disorganized pillows. He feels small like this, but not safe. No, he’s helpless, choking back hard sobs in an attempt to quiet himself.

He’s never liked sleeping alone, some things never change. Even when he was a child, he would wake missing his brother’s snoring in the bed next to him. Of course, it’s more than discomfort that keeps him from finding rest now.

There are screams every night when there is no sound of another’s beating heart to drown it out. There is a crash, three sickening thuds of skulls against glass and rubber and metal. Sirens. Then, silence.

He has not tried to go to sleep, not after slumping heavily in bed with his clothes still dotting the bare floor. He tried not to cry in front of his almost-bedfellow as the man departed, that would have been a sorry sight indeed.

Azuma can’t say this is the first time it's happened. It serves him right for assuming, he supposes, that everyone looks forward to a cuddle after a roll in the hay. Not this man. He rose like he cared very little for who he just made love to and tugged his suit back on.

Work in the morning, he said. Thanks for understanding.

There is nothing to be understood. Azuma lets hot tears come now, the feeling of hollow emptiness settling in with the fullest force. He likes sex, of course, and has never once regretted it. But to watch the back of a lover as they decide he is not worth staying for--- nothing on earth stings quite like it.

He drops his head, leaning forward until he can’t distinguish the dark of the room for the warm black of his folded arms. He closes his eyes, trying to slow his breathing to a human pace. It is a difficult task.

---

The salaryman tips his head towards you as you walk by. The hallway is otherwise quiet, still lit up so soon after dark on a weekend night. You watch him go, trying to guess which room he came from.

Sakyo seems unlikely, more the type to arrange motel visits if he wanted to bring someone home. Homare-- maybe, but the man looks a little plain for his tastes. As you brush by the otherwise dull-seeming man, you catch a whiff of a familiar shampoo and the faintest trace of lilac.

The salaryman says nothing, he offers only the cocksure smirk of a man who’s gotten some. It doesn’t set your mind at ease, most of Azuma’s lovers leave just a bit before sunrise. You’ve almost never seen them up close.

A feeling rises in you, not necessarily one of fear but instead that things might not all be right. You turn back to the hallway, walking faster now and heading towards the stairs. You’ll check on him first and work your way down the floors in more detail when you know he’s all right.

Azuma’s a good judge of character, you're sure he could take care of himself. It’s likely nothing’s happened, you’ll hear the sound of his soft breathing when you open his door. You’ll find him sleeping, nearly purring.

But his door doesn’t need to be opened very much. It’s partially ajar, showing the dark beyond and the faint outline of a figure slumped on the bed. You grip the handle and push it open fully.

“Az?” you ask, “Honey, are you okay?”

The shape on the bed moves, his breathing is far from peaceful. It sounds ragged, too similar to sobbing for you to hover for very long. You close the door and realize that the bathroom light to the left is still on, too.

“Azuma, it’s just me. What happened?”

A silver head lifts from the mattress, though his hair is half in his face you can see that he’s been crying. Before you even make it to the bed, he’s reaching for you. You sit behind him, careful to give him space. Azuma wholly discards that, shifting and twisting as much as he can until his head is safe in your lap.

“Sweetheart,” you try again, even though he’s done little else but cry since you came in. Your voice turns cold, something you don’t recognize, “Did he force you?”

“No,” Azuma sighs, sounding congested and exhausted in the same breath. He turns, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You find his golden stare unnerving, you’ve never seen him look so upset. “But he left me, he wouldn’t stay. I begged him to, but--”

“Oh, Az,” you sigh, relieved and yet still pained to see him so sad. “I should’ve kicked him in the shin, I knew he was no good.”

Azuma doesn’t say anything. He drops his head, closes his eyes. He looks tired, it’s getting late. Your lap is comfortable, he thinks.

“How about some water, okay?” you start, “I can make the bed while you put your pyjamas on and I’ll stay the night.”

“You will?” he sniffles. You nod.

“I know you--- you’re working on sleeping alone. But it’s not your fault he was a jerk,” you say.

“I thought I was a better judge of character,” he admits. You shake your head.

“No, come on,” you say, your fingers find his hair. You brush it back from his face, revealing high cheekbones and soft skin. “None of that, we all make mistakes.”

He huffs, half in an agreement and half in relaxation. Your hand feels good in his hair, cool and gentle. Azuma sighs, but rears up when your hand leaves and you start to shift.

“Don’t move,” he exclaims, reaching out again when you turn your knees and try to stand up. “Don’t leave.”

“But--” you start, “Az, I’m just going to turn the bathroom light off so you can sleep. I’m not leaving.”

He huffs again, but this one edges towards a whine. You bite your lip and go still. You can hold him a little while longer.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. His cheeks are wet, you notice. Despite your promise, he’s still crying. “So he just-- he just left.”

“As soon as I was done, yes,” Azuma admits, “I wonder if he even liked me.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, concerned at how easily doubt creeps into his mind. “If an ass like that did like you, it would be an insult. You deserve better.”

“I deserve you,” he sighs. You, to his unending surprise, nod.

“You have me, honey,” you say, “I’ll stay all night, don’t worry. But you should get cleaned up.”

“I barely want to move,” Azuma counters. You smile, just a bit.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “let me up, I’ll get a cloth. Let me take care of you.”

And the sigh that leaves him is like the last of his stress has gone up in smoke. Azuma goes almost limp in your lap for a moment, before stiffening up and rising enough for you to stand.

“Good boy,” you whisper, giving his head a pat before slouching off to the bathroom.

The bathroom looks orderly, even with bottles of product lined up on the shelves around the mirror. You find a face cloth and run the tap until warm water pours out. Then, you turn it cold and fill a glass. On your way out, you turn out the light with your shoulder.

The curtains flutter in the breeze, there’s enough moonlight to guide you back to the bed. Setting the glass on the side table, you turn to look at your new bedfellow. He’s still curled up, but less stiff than before.

“Can I turn on the light, sweetheart?” you ask. He rolls his shoulders and you see him nod.

You flick the lamp on and sit down on the bed again. This time you’re somewhere else, reaching for the edge of the blanket and guiding it gently down.

“Can I see?” you ask this time. Azuma pauses and then, after a moment, he unfurls.

He’s unmarked, it seems. Not even a love bite adorns his pale neck. His chest looks soft and his breathing seems to have slowed a bit. He stares at you, all the while, while you look. It feels strange to be the cast-off, but it isn’t the first time he’s been that.

But it is the first time, he can admit, that someone was there to want him in spite of that.

“That’s it,” you whisper, your tone turning breathy and sweet. Before you reach anywhere intimate, your hand finds his cheek. You wipe the tears from his red face with your thumb. “You can cry if you need to, but you’re not alone any more. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replies after a short breath.

“Come on,” you say, your tone is still languid and careful-- even as you pull the blanket down farther.

It’s as you expected, his cock is soft against his stomach and Azuma’s a terrible mess. He’s not shy, at least, about the way you look at him. Nor does he resist when you carefully part his legs.

You take a moment, admiring how long and pretty they are. He has legs some people would die for. Others, like you, might even kill for them. But you shake that thought from your head.

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” you say, deciding to start between his spread thighs.

He lets out a soft whimper when the warm cloth touches his skin. You start to wipe away evidence of his departed lover from the backs of his legs, moving inward and going slow.

“Too much?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Okay.”

You continue, Azuma stares at the ceiling. This is nice, nicer still that he knows it's your hand doing the work. He slumps back on the bed, wiping at his own cheeks and hoping he isn’t too puffy. He’s so tired, but he supposes an eye mask is in order.

Any thoughts of skincare falter, however, when he thinks for even a second about how good you are to him. He looks down, between his legs to you cleaning his most intimate parts like you were the one to put him in such a state. The thought makes him oddly warm.

Azuma stiffens up again when that warm, unassuming cloth and your hand moves over his dick.

The result is instantaneous. Even exhausted and spent, his body reacts to your gentle attention. He supposes he shouldn’t be ashamed of that, out of everything you’ve seen tonight. But it bothers him, oddly enough, that you might be disgusted by such a shift in his mood.

You might stop if you notice, but his cock gives another twitch. It’s useless to try and dismiss something he’s never bothered to control. It feels good, the way you’re taking care of him. Azuma closes his eyes, waiting for inevitable embarrassment on your part.

But you move on, cleaning traces of his own orgasm from his stomach. The cloth has mostly grown tepid by then and you toss it towards the bathroom without a second glance.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “you’re all tense again. It’s fine. It’s normal to react like that. Did the cloth feel good?”

He imagines someone bashful might close their legs. Your pointed, downward look tells him any hope he had of you not noticing was foolish from the start. He nods, almost absently.

“Actually, your hand did,” he says. Honesty is the only thing that sits right with him. He can see your face, lit up by the lamp on the bedside table. You’re smiling.

“How flattering,” you say, “do you want me to--”

“What?” he exclaims, his eyes go wide. As lazy as he is at the moment, Azuma sits up and props his elbow underneath him.

“Look at you, now you're blushing,” you smile a little wider. “Don’t tell me you’re so used to rejection. That’ll make me sad.”

“I’m not,” he replies, “but I thought--”

“I said I’d take care of you, honey, do you want me to?” you ask.

His cock twitches again. Azuma nods.

“Good, then let me get comfortable,” you say.

He’s not sure why that makes his stomach twist. His cock, pretty and thin as he is gives a pleasant throb. But when he moves to reach down and relieve himself, you guide his hand away.

“Give me a second, my goodness,” you sigh, rising quickly to turn off the light. You kick off your shoes and crawl over him into the bed.

You tug the covers over you, pulling your bedmate against your chest like this is a time-honoured tradition. Azuma’s slack-jawed, stunned speechless while you move him to where he’ll be most comfortable.

Across your chest is warmer and safer than in your lap, he finds. Your hand moves down his stomach, taking his now half-hard cock against your palm.

“Be good,” you kiss the end of his nose, “it’s late, so you have to be quiet.”

He nods dully, his eyes flutter shut when you begin to stroke.

Azuma is proud of himself for keeping his senses. You have one hand in his hair and the other idly works over his shaft. It’s surreal, how differently you behave under the cover of dark. But it isn’t unnatural or odd. It feels as if you might’ve always offered this to him, quietly, in your own way. He only needed to ask.

“More,” he sighs, now. Because you’ve proven that it’s never too late to do so. The end of his request is turned up like a question, in spite of himself.

You kiss his nose again. Your hand moves faster.

#azuma yukishiro #azuma yukishiro x reader #azuma #azuma x reader #yukishiro azuma #a3!#a3! azuma #nsft #anniewrites #shrugs

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supersickies · 4 years

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Summary: “It went without saying that getting bitten by a radioactive spider had its perks.

But apparently a cure for the common cold wasn’t one of them.”

College final exam season leaves Peter sick with a nasty cold, and on his wonderful girlfriend Michelle's first day of her summer internship too. Now it's up to mama Pepper and little sis Morgan to nurse their favorite spiderling back to health.

A/N: This was intended to be a little drabble based on a post I saw (I can’t find it for the life of me but once I do I’ll reblog it asap) but it ended up being a 5k+ fic of sweet sick Peter and his mess of a family. I couldn’t help it I love them all too much. You can read it on Ao3 or under the cut! Whatever what works for you!

Spider-Man can, in fact, catch a cold. This was something that Peter was surprised, yet annoyed to discover. Before the bite, Peter was a sickly, asthmatic, all around fragile kid, and while it wasn’t something that he was exactly confident about he never let it crush his spirit. However, that didn’t mean that as soon as the spider bite rid his body of all his past ailments Peter wasn’t overjoyed. He could finally run a mile without having to stop a quarter of the way through or eat a PB&J without having to instantly call an ambulance. It went without saying that getting bitten by a radioactive spider had its perks.

But apparently a cure for the common cold wasn’t one of them.

He and Mr. Stark discovered this about a year after he was bitten when he had come down with a nasty case of bronchitis that had him hacking all over the compound for four days. Since then Peter was bound to catch a bug here and there, much like he used to before the bite just less severe. It was harder for him to catch things as well, his immune system was usually a force to be reckoned with, unless for any reason Peter was not at “peak Spidey performance” as Mr. Stark would say.

Which leads us to now, a mere 24 hours after the last final exam of his junior year at Columbia, Peter was laid in bed suffering through what he would consider the nastiest cold he’d ever had.

It was barely after sunrise, the clock reading a taunting 5:30, and Peter doing everything he could not to sneeze. With deep, even, wheezy, breaths, the spider-boy was using all his strength to keep the sneeze at bay for one reason. MJ. His lovely, wonderful, amazing Michelle who was starting her first day of her summer internship at nine and would massacre Peter if he woke her up before her alarm. The girl loved her sleep, and Peter would be damned if he deprived her of it.

Think of anything else Peter, literally anything. Remember that big biker guy you helped on patrol the other week? He was pretty nice…oh god it iiihhtches…no, enough Peter, biker guy. Right he had that cool jacket with the patches, I bet I could pull off a leather jacket. Maybe put a spidey patch on the back? Fun…cool…really gotta sneeze. Ugh, FUCK! Okay, okay maybe if you just do that pinch-y sneeze, like Ned and Natasha do…heh imagine Ned knowing he had the same sneeze as Black Widow, he’d flip. Ehh..fuhhhhuck okay thats it, pinch-y sneeze please don’t fail me.

With a shaky hand Peter pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, the motion instantly making his nose tickle more and within seconds Peter was attempting, and failing, to stifle his sneeze.

And it failed hard.

The sneeze was stronger than it seemed and instead of being held back and becoming a noiseless stifle, it came out louder than it should have as it scraped the back of his throat, causing barking coughs to escape as well.

Well everyone, bid him farewell, this will be the day that Peter Parker meets his untimely demise. He instantly feels MJ stir against him with a groan. She was up, oh god sound the alarm she was awake.

“P’ter? That you?” She slurs, sleep lacing her voice.

“Umb, yeah. Sorry embjay I didn’d mbean to sndeeze.” God how he wished his could blow his nose, but he was not going to poke the bear any further.

It was quiet for a moment, Peter knew that he was in danger. MJ was plotting how she was going to murder him and it was only a matter of time before she-

“You feeling okay, baby?” Her angelic voice rings as she turns to face him on the bed. “You sound terrible.”

It was like music to Peter’s ears. He would live to see another day! He was almost shocked, she didn’t even pepper in the classic “loser” nickname. She was concerned. Wait, did he really sound that bad? Should he be concerned?

Peter clears his throat before responding. “I-I thingk I’mb combing down with sombthing. I’mb sorry I’ll try to be quieter.” A wet sniffle concludes his sentence. Damn it he really wants a tissue.

Almost as if MJ could read minds, she places a soft white Kleenex into his hand. “Blow your nose, Pete. I’m gonna go get the humidifier, you’re way too congested.”

“O-Oh, okay. Thangk you Emmby.” He uses her absence to sit up a little and expel the nasty gunk from his sinuses. He still can’t completely breathe, but it’s better than it was before. MJ comes back into the room moments later, carrying the chunky machine. The water inside of it sloshes a bit as she set’s it on Peter’s bedside table but as soon as she plugs it into the wall, a warm soft mist starts flowing from its lid. Peter can’t tell a difference now, but he knows it’ll make a difference the longer it runs.

Satisfied with how the humidifier is working, Michelle sits beside Peter on the bed and looks at him quizzically. “How’d you get so sick?” She questions, her fingertips reaching to brush Peter’s bed head away from his eyes. His forehead moderately warm, but it doesn’t feel like anything that provokes worry.

He hums at her soft touch but shrugs his shoulders at her question. “Don’t kdnow,” He presses the tissue to his nose as it starts running, the humidifier must be working. “I felt fidne yesterday. Mbaybe kinda tired but ndot sick.”

“You know what it probably is?” Michelle says. “All those nights up late studying, not to mention all that trash food you ate-“

“What is this, mbake fun of your poor sick boyfriend day?” He gives a wet coughs for emphasis, and because he really needed to cough.

“Sorry sicky,” She giggled. “what I’m saying is that you had a long hard week and you weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself. No shame in it, I mean, it happens to everyone but I think your body is so used to you eating well and exercising often that as soon as you stopped your immune system freaked out.

Clearing his throat, Peter nods. “I guess that mbakes sense.” He looks down with a sigh, thinking of all the things he was scheduled to do today. “I better call Todny and tell him I can’t combe in to the lab.” He sighs and reaches for his phone but MJ intercepts.

“First you’re going to go back to sleep until a reasonable hour. It’s almost 6 a.m. Parker, and my alarm goes off at 8, so I’d like a few more hours of rest.” She jabs, pulling the covers up to his chin and kissing him softly on the cheek. “And you definitely need the beauty sleep.”

Peter chuckles at that, which only lead to more hacking coughs. MJ softly pats his back until the coughs subside. With a tsk she tucks him into bed once more before rounding the bed to lay back down on her side. “Rest, I’ll let you know when I’m about to head to work.”

With his eyes closed and his breathing only slightly less congested, thank you humidifier, he smiles contently. “Thank you Emmby, love you.”

“Love you too, snotty.”

Peter wakes again to a kiss on the forehead and the scent of strong perfume making his nose tickle. Before he even opens his eyes, he curls in on himself and muffles three sneezes into his pillow. Ugh, gross. He opens his bleary eyes to see MJ smoothing out her work outfit in their full length mirror. She looks amazing as usual, Peter notes, but her perfume is strong. Or maybe he’s just way too sensitive, a super cold and super senses probably don’t mix well. Without warning, two more sneezes barrel out and he barely has time to cover them. With a groan he sniffles thickly and reaches for the tissue box conveniently placed on his bedside table. He get a warm and fuzzy feeling as he realizes MJ had put them there for him, as they weren't there when he had woken up earlier. It’s the little things. He blows his nose, which get’s MJ’s attention.

She glances over to him with a smile. “Good morning, again.”

“Good mbornding, you look ambazindg.” He rasps, a goofy smile painting his face.

MJ breathes out a laugh at her dopey boyfriend. “Thank you, dork. How’re you feeling?”

He snuggles deeper into the bed, closing his eyes again and coughing weakly. “Call a physiciand,” Peter jokes in a congested and bad British accent. He throws a hand over his forehead for good measure. “I believe it mbay be the plague.”

MJ snorts a laugh at her boy’s dramatics. “Okay, you sickly child king.”

Her heels clack against the hardwood floor of the bedroom as she steps over to where he lies in their bed. As she sits on the bed, her soft hand cups his forehead and then his cheek. “You’re soft.” He mumbles, leaning into her touch.

“And you are running a bit of a fever.” She rubs her thumb sweetly over his cheek before standing back up. She tells him to sit tight and goes to the bathroom to grab a digital thermometer. She returns to find him dozing so she gently brushes his hair back to get his attention. He lifts his eyes to see the thermometer in her hand and opens his mouth just wide enough that she can slip the device under his tongue. “Give that a minute.”

MJ walks out of the room a moment later and Peter hears running water from the kitchen. The thermometer beeps right before she reenters, ice water with a straw in hand. Peter didn’t realize until he saw it just how thirsty he was. He stares at her lovingly as she takes the thermometer from between his lips. “Are you a mbind reader?” He asks, only semi-joking as he sits up slightly to sip the water.

Michelle scoffs lightly. “You bet your ass I am.” She jokes looking down at the medical tool. “Hm, 100.8. Not horrendous but I don’t love it.” Once again she’s gone, this time to the bathroom where Peter hears more water running, making him want to take another sip of his water. He sighs as the cool drink soothes his dry throat. MJ strides back to the bed with a damp face towel folded in half. When she starts to dab Peter’s forehead with the cool cloth he can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes him. She stops. “You alright?”

Her boyfriend just nods, opening his eyes to look up at her with a small smile. “Feels good. Cold.” He explains. She smiles back at him, taking the cup of water from his hands so he can lay back down. She continues to wipe his brow with the towel and doesn’t stop until a snore leaves his mouth. MJ can’t help the giggle that bubbles up, but to be fair she’s never heard Peter snore before and right now he was quite a sight to see. His hair was sticking up at all angles, even in his reclined position, his nose nearing a shade of bright red, and his mouth open just wide enough that the tiny snores were heard.

She couldn’t help but snap a quick picture to send to Tony.

MJ:

your favorite little mentee won’t be in today…Spidey caught the sniffles : /

Old Man Stark:

Wow he looks rough, you have your internship today?

MJ:

yep first day

dont wanna leave him like this tho

Old Man Stark:

Don’t stress, this is a big day for you. I have meetings all day but Pep would be more than happy to stop by and make sure all is well.

Morgan too

She’s in her “wanting to be a doctor” phase

MJ:

you trying to say she cant be a doctor, stark?

Old Man Stark:

Good lord of course not

The kid is smarter than me and she’s barely 11

I’m just saying wasn’t there a point in your life when you wanted to be a doctor too?

MJ:

yeah of course

Old Man Stark:

And you’re now getting a degree in…?

MJ:

journalism

Old Man Stark:

so…

MJ:

i could be a doctor if i wanted to

Old Man Stark:

I know

And thats why you terrify me

MJ:

>:-)

Old Man Stark:

Go to work!

Let us take care of Peter and we’ll keep you updated as you break into the great big world of being a working adult.

MJ:

:P thanks T-Star

Old Man Stark:

Don’t call me T-Star.

Michelle pockets her phone and grabs her computer bag that’s packed and ready in the living room. Quickly she takes out a stray piece of paper and jots down a quick note for her boy just incase he wakes up alone.

Petey,

Had to get to the office (wish me luck lol) but Pepper and Morgan should be by soon. Please don’t die while I’m gone. I’ll be pissed if you do that. Wash your hands, blow your nose, and don’t leave used tissues on the bed that’s gross. Love you. Feel better.

-M

Satisfied, she leaves the note under the tissue box, gives him one last kiss on the forehead, and makes her way out the door. But not before sending Morgan that goofy picture of Peter.

MJ:

here

use this as blackmail

tell him you’ll post it on insta next time he says he won’t take you to mcdonalds

Mo Mo Stark:

HAHAHAHAHAHA

Peter wakes to his front door closing and whispering coming from the living room. He panics for a moment before realizing that the voices belonged to Pepper and Morgan. As the fan blows above him, he hears a piece of paper flutter next to him. With a shaky hand he grabs it and reads over the note that MJ had left for him. He cant help but blush, just at the thought of his girlfriend. He wonders how her first day is going. He misses her a lot. Then he realizes his fever must of gone up, as he definitely wasn’t this emotionally fragile when he had gone to sleep.

With a yawn, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed and grabs the quilt at the end and wraps it around his around his shoulders. With a huff he slides off the bed and makes his way to the living room. He finds Pepper setting grocery bags down on the kitchen island and Morgan already situated in front of the TV, some YouTube vlog video playing over the speakers.

“Morgan Hope, turn that down before you wake your broth-“ Pepper stops when she notices Peter standing in the doorway. “Oh, afternoon sweetheart! Did Morgan wake you? I’m so sorry I told her to quiet down-“

“Pep, it’s okay, I actually woke up whend you guys walked ind.” He rasps, congestion still heavy in his horse voice.

“Oh honey you sound awful, come on now, on the couch. You shouldn’t be up.” Pepper says, guiding him with a hand on his back to the couch. Morgan scoots a bit to make room for her big brother.

“Hi, Dr. Mborgand, you brindg any of the good drugs today?” Peter jokes, making the girl roll her eyes.

“Mom, Peter says he on drugs. He needs to detox stat. Get me an IV with glutathione, vitamin C, and vitamin B.” The youngest Stark states.

Her mother sighs as she returns to the kitchen. “Alright, that’s enough Discovery Life for you. Why can’t you just watch Disney Channel like a normal eleven year old.” Pepper mumbles as she starts taking items out of the grocery bags.

Peter and Morgan just giggle, which leads to a coughing fit from Peter. Morgan’s tiny hand pats his back as he hacks into his elbow, he murmurs an apology as the coughs taper off.

“You need to lay down Petey, and you need tissues.” Morgan articulates as she stands and looks around the apartment.

Clearing his throat, Peter points to the bedroom. “There should be sombe tissues by mby bed…if you could grab those that’d be ndice.”

Morgan nods confidently and makes her way to the bedroom. Seconds later she reemerges with the tissue box in hand and places them in the crook of Peter’s arm.

“Thangk you doctor.” Peter smiles, causing Morgan to smile in return.

“You’re welcome!” The girl returns to her spot on the couch and presses play on the video she was watching. It was vlog about makeup, Peter assumed, as the YouTuber was covered in a very impressive, glossy, look and was showing off makeup pallettes. Peter watches as the video cuts and suddenly the makeup artist is bare faced and begins to work on the look they had previewed in the intro.

Pepper chuckles as she approaches the couch, mug of hot tea with lemon and honey in hand. She hands the cup to Peter, who is drowsily watching the makeup being applied. “You don’t have to watch this you know.” Pepper whispers to him. “This is your apartment and you’re sick, turn on whatever you want.”

Taking a sip of the tea, humming as it soothes his sore-ish throat, Peter shakes his head. “Ndo, this is awesombe, look at how precise he is with the brush. Oh, thangks for the tea…also.” Pepper chuckles more, kissing the boy on the top of the head, and leaving him with Morgan to watch some internet celebrity do a perfect line with their liquid eyeliner.

Pepper had called May in the morning after hearing from Tony that Peter wasn't feeling well, knowing the boys aunt would have all the inside knowledge on how to care for a sick Peter. It wasn’t as if Pepper had never seen Peter sick, though. Since Tony had introduced them to each other way back before Morgan was even a thought, Peter had spent some sick days in the tower, the compound, and even one or two in the lake house. Yes, Pepper had seen a sick Peter Parker in her lifetime, however this was the first time she was his sole caretaker. However, after the quick call to the boy’s aunt, Pepper had a pretty good idea of how to care for the sick Spiderling.

“Oh for a cold?” May had responded. “Simple, grilled cheese and tomato soup for every meal, he’ll probably want to watch Parks and Rec all day, oh and he has Tony’s old MIT hoodie in his closet and he always wears it when he’s not feeling well.”

Pepper smiled at that. When Peter decided to stay in New York for college, for family and spider-y reasons, it was no secret that Tony had been a little disappointed. No, Tony hadn’t done anything special to get Peter into MIT, honestly because he didn’t have too. Peter’s grades and test scores were good enough on their own, but he still would have loved to have seen the kid at his alma mater. When Peter had told him of his college decision, scared out of his mind might he add, Tony just hugged and told him he was proud of him. Tony reassured the kid that where ever he went to school was fine by him and that he’d support him the whole way through. “I am going to need that MIT sweatshirt back” Tony had joked, waiting to be met by a “shut up Tony” or an eye roll, but instead he was met with tears— big fat ones that welled up in Peter’s eyes. Tony was quick to see he had messed up and it took about twenty minutes to reassure the boy that he didn't want the sweatshirt back and that “of course I still love you Peter”. Since then Peter has kept the garment close to him at all times, just incase Tony ever thought about taking it.

Pepper goes to Peter’s closet, instantly spotting the faded maroon hoodie and taking it off of the hanger. Both he and Morgan are still mesmerized by the YouTube video, but they glance up when Pepper walks over again. Peter’s eyes light up at the sight of the hoodie in her hands. He’s close to making grabby hands for it but she hands it to him first. He puts it on and settles back down onto the couch. “Thangk you Pep.”

“Keep it safe, can’t have Tony snatching it.” She jabs as she walks back to the kitchen to start the grilled cheese.

Peter, though thoroughly invested in the new makeup video Morgan put on, can’t help but doze off as the ambient sounds of his apartment lull him to sleep. He hears a shuffling on the couch next to him and opens one of his eyes, seeing Morgan giggling at him. “Can I braid your hair Petey?” She whispers. In true college kid fashion, Peter had let his hair grow out a little bit, and while it wasn’t long enough to braid it all together, Morgan liked to do tiny braids with tufts of his hair for fun.

Turning onto his side away from Morgan, giving her better access to his hair, Peter chuckles at his little sister. “Go for it Mborgie, mbake mbe beautiful.”

With a squeal of delight, the eleven year old Stark pulls tiny hair-ties out of her pocket and gets to work. Peter, who had always loved having his hair played with, lets the braiding put him right to sleep after only a few tiny braids were done.

If Morgan laughed at the snores that came from Peter moments later, she didn't tell him. He did let her braid half his head, anyway.

The rest of the day passes in a sleepy haze for Peter. He remembers waking up a few moments after falling asleep on the couch. Pepper helping him sit up and setting a tray of his favorite sick day meal in his lap. He had to hand it to Pepper, she made a mean grilled cheese soup combo. He finishes the sandwich and about half of the soup before he feels his eyes grow heavy again and the tray is taken from his lap.

“Go back to sleep, hon. Morgan and I are here if you need us.” Pepper reassures the boy, so Peter does.

The next time he wakes was when Morgan and Pepper we’re on their way out. He vaguely remembers sluggishly thanking them for staying with him and Pepper saying something about MJ being home in just a few minutes, but as soon as the apartment door closes Peter was out once more.

The final time he wakes up is to Michelle gently shaking his shoulder, attempting to wake him from his short slumber. His eyes open, but quickly close again as he stretches his whole body, somehow exhausted and sore from his long day of sleeping.

“Emmby, you back?” He asks, not yet opening his eyes again.

He hears her adorable laugh and his heart soars. “Yes, dork, it’s me. Wanna open those pretty eyes for me, Tiger?”

Obviously wanting to see his beautiful girlfriend, he opens his eyes again. MJ looks tired from her first day but extremely happy.

“Was it ambazing? Everythindg you could have hoped for?” He asks, nuzzling closer to her thigh, much like a cat.

She hums an affirmation, bringing her hand up to trace random shapes along his arm. “It was everything and more. Honestly I can see myself working there forever. It was…it was perfect.”

Peter smiles at that. MJ deserved the perfect job and more. “Babe, that fandtastic. I’m so happy for you.” He says horsely but sincerely. He moves closer to her, raising his head a bit to lay it on her lap. With the motion, one of Morgan’s many little braids in his hair make themselves apparent and Michelle can help but burst with laughter.

It causes Peter to jolt up in a sleepy state of panic. “What, what happended?” He asks sitting up slightly, eyes half closed but alert.

She reaches up to ruffle the tiny braids that cover the right side of his head. “What is this? Did Morgan just learn how to fishtail braid because these are honestly kinda good.” She inspects the braids as Peter’s cheeks blush.

He smiles, coughing slightly and gently shaking his head so the braids flop around. That gets another laugh from MJ. “Mby sisters pretty talendted, huh?”

MJ nods, very amused. “An interesting look…but I’ll give it points for creativity.”

As the couple laughs again, Peter brings two fingers up to massage his temple as he feels a dull ache in his head.

“Headache?” Michelle frowns.

“Mhmm,” Peter confirms. “I thingk Mborgan made the braids a little too tight.”

“That’s no good.” MJ sympathizes, lowering her boy’s head back down onto her lap, braid side up so she can work on undoing the little knots. She makes quick work of it and within minutes, Peter’s hair is braid-less and the throbbing in head head dies down. In thanks, Peter snuggles his face closer Michelle’s middle, wrapping his arms around it as well.

“You thingk you can use a vacationd day tomborrow? I mbissed you today.” Peter whines, partly joking but sorta kinda being serious.

“From what I heard, your eyes were open for about thirty minutes today. Too busy sleeping to miss me that much.” MJ giggles at the sniffly boy with his head in her lap. He just shrugs in response, and she can feel his body relaxing and congested breaths evening out. “You going back to sleep on me already, Parker? Not even gonna let me tell you about my day?” She jokes again.

Peter snorts involuntarily as he turns his head to look up at her, eyes glossed with fever and sleepy but apologetic. “I’mb up I’mb up, tell mbe everything.”

She grabs the sides of his face sweetly, slightly squishing his cheeks while she kisses his forehead and then his nose. “I’m kidding, Peter. God your brain must be frying, come on let's go to bed.” She pats his cheek lightly and helps him sit up.

He yawns with his whole body, his hands stretching into the air and his back arching. “But it’s only like six, arend’t you hungry for dinnder?” He coughs into his fists while Michelle takes his other hand, helping him lift off the couch.

“Let me rephrase. You’re going to shower, put new pajamas on, and get in bed while I make us grilled cheeses, your second one today I'm assuming. How does that sound?” MJ asks, leading him to their bathroom.

Peter clears his throat as he sits on the closed toilet. “And…umb…and the tombato soup?”

The shower roars to life as MJ turns the handle. “You think I’d forget the most important part?” She scoffs, feigning hurt. Peter just smiled, the dopey smile he gets when he thinks about how in love he is with this girl. With two more quick forehead kisses she leaves him to shower.

Peter exits the shower feeling refreshed, less stuffy, and hungry once more. Thanks to the shower stream he can faintly smell the toasty cheesy smell from the kitchen and it gives him a nostalgic feeling.

As he grabs pajama pants and the MIT hoodie, Peter thinks of the first time he got sick after going to live with Ben and May. It was the first day of what was considered flu season and the sickly kid had contracted the virus at the drop of a hat. He was miserable the whole day, crying and wallowing in the aches and pains of the illness. The biggest issue, however, was that he refused to eat anything, that is until Ben decided to make himself a grilled cheese for dinner.

The older Parker noticed Peter looking the sandwich with feverish eyes. “Look tasty, bud?” Ben questioned, raising an eyebrow. Little Peter just nodded and Ben smiled, extremely relieved that his nephew was finally going to eat.

Sticking his pointer and middle finger in his mouth, Peter watches as his uncle stands from the couch and starts on another sandwich. “Uncle Ben?” Peter asks in a small voice. Ben looks back over to the kid and nods. “Do you have any of the-the red soup? Mommy always made grilled cheese with red soup.” Peter nearly whispered.

Ben thinks for a minute, not completely sure what the boy meant by red soup, but then it clicks. “Oh! Tomato soup?” He smiles as Peter nods. Ben open the cupboard to him and pulls out a can of tomato soup, flipping it in the air once to see Peter smile. “Tomato soup and grilled cheese coming right up monsieur Parker.” Ben says in a horrible French accent which makes the six year old giggle, as sound that was music to Ben’s ears after all tears. From then on, Peter would only insist on eating that particular meal anytime he had so much as a headache.

The door creaking open as MJ pushes it with her hip brings Peter out of his thoughts. She has the tray of grilled cheeses and soups in her hands and an amused look on her face. “You okay? Need help with something?”

Peter blinks and remembers that he’s sitting in the edge of their bed, in a towel, pajamas in hand. “Oh…no I’mb okay. Just thinking ‘bout stuff.”

MJ sets the tray down on her bedside table. “You already sound less stuffy. Maybe you should sleep in the shower.” She quips, not missing Peter's sweet tiny giggle as she grabs the water tank from the humidifier and takes it to the bathroom with her.

Peter gets dressed and settles into bed. He notices that Pepper has changed the sheets and his heart clinches, nearly overwhelmed by the love he feels from his family. He takes out his phone to text her a thank you but is intercepted by a string of texts from Tony.

Tony Stank:

Morgs is showing me pictures of the wonderful makeover she gave you

Honestly thought you pulled it off really well

…but you need a haircut

Please kiddo let me get you in with my hair guy

You’ll love him

Spider-Tot:

sorry pops but I am fully committing to this college hair thing

mj says she wants me in a man bun by graduation so

cant let my girl down

Tony Stank:

I swear you two are conspiring against me

Oh well

How you feeling bud?

Spider-Tot:

still kinda gross

snotty

but i think my fevers kinda lower

so thats something

tell pep thank you so so much for today

i was barely awake when they left

i feel bad I didn't get to say anything

Tony Stank:

I gotcha Pete don’t worry

If you need more company tomorrow let me know I’m free all day

Spider-Tot:

wdym ill just come in to the lab tomorrow

Tony Stank:

That’s a negative Petey Pie

As your gracious boss i’m giving you the next three days off

I want all this crap out of your system before you’re back in the lab

Spider-Tot:

three days ??

boooo

u stink old man

Tony Stank:

Good lord

You’re the only person I know that complains about getting days off from work

Get a good nights sleep and maybe ill bring you a circuit board to mess with tomorrow

Good enough?

Spider-Tot:

hmmm

fine

Tony Stank:

Good

Now go rest

Don’t bother your girlfriend too much

She complains to me when you do

Spider-Tot:

now I think its you two conspiring against me

night tony

love u

Tony Stank:

Love you too bambino

Michelle returns from the bathroom, makeup off, hair down, and humidifier tank full of water. She sets the tank back in and turns the machine on, steam filling the air. After quickly putting on her own set of pajamas, MJ takes her and Peter’s dinner from the side table and places it on the bed between them. Peter wastes no time digging in, groaning in admiration for the food. He mumbles a thanks with his mouth full and MJ laughs, wiping a bit of soup off of his lip with her thumb.

“You’re welcome, loser.” She teases, beginning to eat her own meal. After a few bites she take the TV remote by her side and flips on Peter’s favorite sick day show.

As the Parks and Recreation theme song begins to play, Peter looks up at his girlfriend with appreciative eyes. “You’re too good to mbe.”

“You remember that next time I make you vacuum and you get pissy about it.” Michelle deadpans, but Peter knew she was messing around.

“I’m not messing around.” She clarifies, turning to look at his with one eyebrow raised.

“You really are a mbind reader.” Peter whispers with feverish wonder.

Throwing a paper towel at him playfully, MJ laughs and Peter joins her. They finish their food as the TV continues to play in the background, Peter yawning and coughing quietly as soon as he swallows his last bite. Without a word, MJ takes the empty plates and tray back to the kitchen. She turns off the bedroom lights as she reenters and tucks herself back under the covers. It's barely after 7 p.m. and the sun it only just starting to set, making the room glow a with dark blues and purples.

Peter is cuddled into her side as soon as she's back in bed, head resting on her chest and arm around her waist. “What am I gonna do with you Peter Parker?” She sighs, twirling her fingers through his already messy hair.

“Love mbe, no matter what? Even if I’mb yucky like this?” He pulls out the puppy dog eyes for this one. MJ may be stoic on the outside but not even she can resist the sweet sparkling glare.

“If I must.” She agrees, holding him tighter and resting her head on top of his.

But she’s happy to do it. Loving Peter Parker is an extremely easy thing, MJ thinks.

#sick peter parker #spideychelle #petermj #irondad #spideychelle fic #pepper and morgan are the best #little sister morgan #domestic fluff #college au #peter and mj are like 22 #and morgan is 11 #and already a genius of course

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jenuminous · 6 years

Text

Howl Your Love to Me | njm

na jaemin | 8.5k | “you’re not supposed to be here.” It wasn’t what Jaemin planned from the beginning for you — a normal part-timer — to know what kind of blood was flowing under his skin.

genre angst, fluff | werewolf! jaemin x fem! reader | mentions of blood, biting, quick time warp, etc.

messages happy belated halloween!! uh... I lowkey think this doesn’t make sense or even think it’s werewolf! jaemin!

June 1st, and the year 2056.

It wasn’t long when the town had decided to build a mechanic wall layering outside. In order to go outside you either needed a working pass or something more complicated than just a form. They really meant for people to stay stuck in here and be like a sheep inside the fence, shaking from unknown fear. Glancing through the peek of nailed wooden planks, it wasn’t a surprise to see only wooden fences instead of picturesque buildings, enveloping around houses for protection, though some were made of rotten woods that smelled a little. The city used to be colored under the gloomy sky, but now it was morose with the autumn sun.

[And maybe there are possibilities of spies who opened up the town gate for the wolves……]

Passing by your father’s unbelievable utters, you silently hoped someone would turn off that damn television by now. The floor creaked as you tiptoed silently towards the front door. “Get me some liquor when you come back,” you rolled your eyes as you stuffed your feet in the worn—out Adidas shoes, keep on pushing your feet in until it slipped into the end like Cinderella’s glass slippers.

“Mom’s coming back at dinner though, doesn’t she hate the liquor smell?” I know, your dad shoots back in his hushed tone. “Your mom is gonna need some rest, isn’t she?” Your father finally lifted himself up from the couch, kissing your forehead before letting you head out to the caged city.

“Good luck with your first job,”

“Thanks, dad. See you back at night.” Your hands were empty, your right shoulder pressed down from the eco bag that had nothing more than your phone, a wallet from your last year’s birthday present, and a notebook with a pen. Simple, hoping you could drop by a cafe before arriving at your destination.

The outside scenery was duller than what it seems. You weren’t sure if this was really the technology future the ones before you wished and worked for. Not that you could relate the many changes of the past and present. Dusty roads, buildings you saw in the textbook (they say they developed the whole thing, but you doubt that), robots were still unable to help in certain aspects, humans being humans (or worse).

Was this all included in the blueprint? Maybe the rebellion of wild lives wasn’t in their calculations. Wolves were a big issue these days. Humanity was strong enough to protect themselves against wolves last time, but this time it wasn’t their turn to hold the victory trophy. Wolves have gotten smarter, and stronger than one’s imagination, connecting to theories of werewolves that came out of the dusty ancient textbooks, suspecting a ‘spy’ within this city. You weren’t that into fantasies, unlikely to be agreeing with their statement.

[...there is a high possibility of wolves to be attacking with the full moon...]

Executing to brainwash everyone, the morning news was only congested with the continuous onslaught from the menace, wild wolves of unknown species. You’ve heard there was an extra show of ‘How To Survive from the Wolves’ which was hitting the highest rating. Not to your interest, there were currently about 50 people (concluded they were mostly farmers) and half of the population chickens were gobbled up known by the news, reporting daily injuries and farm panoramas. Thanks to the news, you had to rip off the canvas sized wolf poster you’ve gotten for your 7th birthday (just for your baby cousin’s sake).

The chicken price increased about twice again (at least you’ve feasted on them for the whole entire week before the incident), and so did the wheat — the main food substance of the livestock. The smartest solution the government thought was to cut down the chickens, which would lead to less attraction of wolves to strike down from the hills. The town has gotten hushed; it could’ve been renamed as a ghost city if it weren’t the running students and some elderlies out for a walk (not that you were attached to this place before). By the blowing winds by your face, it was hard to multitask — brushing your hair to the side while reading off the map. “Excuse me!” The push made you jump, the several adolescents who seemed your age — maybe not their height — were giggling with each other after the apology, when they seemed to be late for class. Dusting off your shirt, you study their backs as they shrink within seconds.

A sudden thought of regret goes through your mind, but you shrug it off. “At least I’m earning some money,” you mutter, and perhaps the dog might’ve given you a pitiful gaze as you continued your journey. You didn’t feel left out. You were just, oh well, homeschooled.

Your body stuttered a little as the door slid opened sideways when it coded your presence in. The outer seemed to be just a renovated house from the 80s, but appearances didn’t matter when it came to healing. At least the inner interior was a lot simpler and neater than your thought. From the ceiling to the furniture, everything was dipped into the same shade of whiteness; just by a touch, you’ll get to see a culprit’s fingerprint on everywhere. Thanks to that, the colorful shades of medicines caught your eyes quickly; helping to differentiate the medicines stacked and waiting neatly in the squared shelves.

The pharmacy, well, was part of a house for a family of 3. Three, yes. At least that was what you saw from the picture frame hanged during the interview. You could see it through the rectangular shape cut out from the wall, the view filled with stairs heading upstairs, and from there on the floor was cherry brown, with green painted wallpapers. While in the opposite rectangle was the way to the kitchen — you remembered having a seat last week — where a sweet smell rising from the oven and to your nostrils. You recognized the scent right away: roses.

The sudden open of door startled you (you knew it was going to take you time to get used to the sound), and you turned around to see no other than a neat man. He had golden framed round glasses, hair neatly parted with wax, he sure had some wrinkles but that didn’t make him seem aged at all. “Oh, Mr. Na—” as you stood up straightly after the recognition, instead of a greeting back, you see him walk past you and put down several boxes stacked on top on the white counter with a clipboard beside.

“So, if I remember it correctly, you’re Y/N, right?” Though there didn’t seem that many of resumes on top of his counter when you came to apply for the job, you were surprised he remembered your name. Sure: pharmacy, good memory. He seemed to have a lot to say, but he was simplifying it down in his mind (probably) noticing from his deeply thinking position. “Well, welcome to the family, Y/N! Happy to have you working with us,” instead his output was a simple, welcome—yet—warm comment, whistling as he headed to the kitchen.

“Rose apple pies?” By the sudden kindness you were not used to, your head automatically nods and Mr. Na smiles as he takes out the culprit of the sugary aroma. Not that you had completely lost hope from humanities, but it was new to see someone opened up for once. Placing the hot, steaming piece on a rosy plate, he pushed it towards you. Thank you, you mumble, as you take the first bite after Mr. Na did. The soft ripen apple strongly traveled your mouth, followed by the fresh, herb of roses.

The conversation didn’t last for that long, you pulled up the sleeves of your beige hoodie, with a clipboard Mr. Na assigned to you. Excluding the medical terms, the simplified names were easy to be recognized, though it was hard to tell which went to which category. There were many medicines you wondered if people would ever need, but the illness was unknown to everyone, wasn’t it? The clock was ticking to 3 already when you haven’t done much work. Perhaps the taste of that rose apple pie took a good 20—minutes.

“My son usually comes late from practice,” That was what you heard from the kind pharmacist who has willed to hire you for the job before he went upstairs for some research (you guess). ‘My son’ who you never seemed to have a chance to meet — ever — during your shifts. He — ‘My Son’ — apparently dyed his hair back to brown, he added. Born with a sprinkle of athletic talent, his six senses all sharply activated (as a con, it disturbed him from going to sleep), always trying and gets the best results, all the girls willing to go on a date with him.

He sounded very robotic; a munchkin, too perfect for the world. Well, all parents would talk about their child like that, don’t they? But what practice did he have, though? Questions were never answered inside your brains, neither did you really wish to get it answered.

The fact that you were unable to meet him in real life didn’t disappoint you that much. After all, you were just a part-time worker who might quit tomorrow morning, and additionally, weren’t even interested in someone who you only heard verbally.

🌕

The summer night wind was colder and sharper than your thought, maybe it was true that the city would be visited by a thunderstorm during the late night time. You tightly hold the collar of your hoodie as you speed-walk the dead road, up to the hills you walked this morning. You never knew you would make such a dumb mistake in your life. How could you not realize a bottle of pills has fallen into your bag? It was midnight with a full moon faint; howlings were echoing, but your steps didn’t stop by them.

What could possibly go wrong? Maybe you getting bitten or perhaps tore by a pack of wolves. Nothing less or more than that. It would’ve been a better idea if you left your death letter on your desk before your journey.

You should’ve noted you weren’t some sort guide to memorize the whole path within 10 minutes. Since when did the pharmacy lead to a deep pine tree forest? Soring in pain, your legs were wobbling and pretty sure your whole body was too. The old flashlight seemed to be getting out of battery, lucky that you had extras in your hoodie pocket though. Swearing beneath your breath, you kneel down as you carefully dismembered the flashlight, the clicking sounds of hesitation ringing with the moans of wind.

The battery slips out your fingers and to the ground, as you hear a howl. Impatiently you swear once more, grabbing the soggy dirt to find the battery, quickly fitting it in and complete the circuit. You didn’t need a source of light to see what was coming next. Click. The flashlight finally turns on, this time with a much brighter light. The wolves seemed more ravenous than usual.

No weapons, or anyone near. You couldn’t have felt more helpless than right now, legs shivering and tears were automatically formed (even though you tried not to). You couldn’t just end your 18 years of life for this. The alpha wolf seemed to be taking his moves, slowly getting into its ready position to leap — probably targeting your head first.

Would ducking your head down help? You researched all the survival methods in your head, but it couldn’t think straight from the sudden fear. Automatically your arms shot up in a guard position until you hear a defeated wimp of a wolf’s, and not yours.

“What in the…... ”

The crouched feature straightened itself, your hands feeling the terror as the size of it got bigger than what it seemed like. The sudden shift of the shadow seemed to be startling the wolves too, as you hear their whimpers as they backed up. It was neither a wolf nor a human, but a werewolf. You didn’t dare to blink an eye, or else it would be gone the moment before you realize. The posture of it was majestic, tender looking brown fur, with a scar across its cheek. You guessed that was left during its jump in front of you.

The creature — or the werewolf — growled lowly in a threatening manner back to the pack of wolves, and in sudden seconds no fur of wolves was left on the ground, all gone for their lives. “This is a disaster,” you mumble, biting down your shaking lips as your eyes meet.

“...Hi,” your greeting was hesitant. What if it bit off your hand? Not that it wasn’t a possibility. It seemed like it wanted to say something to you. But instead, it backed away slowly and with a sharp turn, it hid into the bushes.

You shaped your hands into a fist — hard — until it shook hard, pinched yourself several times, and closed your eyes for a good second and opened them again. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t close from being one, time was ticking on your watch, the sudden bright light scorching your eyes.

“What am I doing,” you monologue, dusting off the dirt on your loose trousers, hurrying until dawn came up.

Standing in front of the pharmacy, You swear under your breath once more at the sudden immerse of an ominous feeling, as you found the door easily opening up for you.

Was it a robber? Or a wolf?

Not another one, you wished. Biting down the swollen lower lips, you slightly tasted a bitter taste of metallic blood. With shaking hands, you lifted your flashlight. Carefully, as if you were in a ghost house, your body shifted with the flashlight.

“Please don’t say this was all my fault,”

Pill containers were all over the ground; some had their lids opened up, crunched beneath someone or thing’s pressure. The flashlight seemed to have caught something in its radar: converse shoes with untied shoelaces. Directly, your eyes shot up to a shadowed, frozen statue: a boy.

Squinting his eyes from the sudden light you flashed at him, you weren’t too sure what shade his hair was dyed in, but the light illuminated on his eyes sure portrayed a wolf’s. His chest constantly rose up and down with heavy panting, he shot both his hands up in the air.

“I, I can explain.” His voice was deep, yet rushed by the danger alarm. Was it his voice? The sudden suspicious soothes away as he comes closer, his hands raised towards you as a signal to calm you down, “Trust me, I’m not what you’re thinking right now,”

The assuring gaze from the sweet, honey-dipped eyes. Your heart started beating fast, the thumping sounds ringing loudly enough to make you dizzy. With no doubt, you knew who he was: the pharmacist’s son.

“I—” your voice — as soon as you use it — rapidly chained inside your throat, heart sinking down in a second, swirling with the sudden heart thumps. The boy had a smile bloomed on his face, “your hand, is it okay?” To your notice, there was a small cut on the back of your hand, blood dried up already. Perhaps it happened while bumping into a thorn bush somewhere in the woods.

“Here, let me see.” The pharmacist's son took your hand gratefully, but no one knew the consequence held in your hand: the orange container you came to return.

You thought it was human nature that people were able to change their facial expressions quickly, whatever mood they were in beforehand. In this case was a dramatic change: a smile to a cold, deadly stare.

“Why do you have this?” Roughly he snatched it from you, as he flips it around until the medicine tag showed up. It seemed like your wound was no longer an interest in his eyes; the sudden change of his atmosphere confused you, snapping you back to reality. Locking your eyes once more, you noticed fear in his eyes. You could hear his hands were shaking than yours, how the pills inside were shaking tremendously, fragile than ever. After skimming down the list of chemistry terms, he lets out a heavy breath — he must’ve kept it in for a while — shoving them hurriedly in his sling bag. Now that, was clearly what a robber would do. Not a pharmacist's son. It made you quite hesitant whether you should call the cops or not, but technically you were not different from him at this point.

In the silence your eyes did its job, as usual, scanning the one up and down, left to right seeing what flaw he might have. Your head tilted sideways, eyes narrowing as his headshot to his left, making sure his parents were asleep.

“Hey, you’ve got a scar—”

He had a great sense of argute, you had to admit. His head sharply turned back to you, backing up even when your reach wasn’t even close to touching him. The boy then seemed to realize it, quickly touching over his dried up scar that was skidded horizontally on his cheek, with some brown fur surrounded by it.

Brown fur.

“That looks kinda bad. Here, I have some alcohol, you can use it—” As your steps enclosed the gap, the boy’s eyes widened even more, scurrying upstairs; perhaps he tripped on one of the steps as if he had seen a wolf behind you.

Luckily, there were none until you tuck yourself under your bed.

🌕

Several days have passed from that night. You could’ve believed everything was a dream, but so far it wasn’t. Flipping over the electronic magazines you hummed the tune from your earphones. They were the only fun that would get you away from the boredom that easily came to the pharmacy on the hill, where customers seemed to have stopped their visits. The other choice was you to clear and reorganize the shelves of categorized medicines, always filling and crossing out numbers beside the medicine names. You sometimes challenged yourself to read out the medical name caged in the brackets, where it looked like a foreign language when you spoke it.

Chemistry, they say. Well, you would like to skip that for now.

Your index finger slid across the white shelves, flicking off the dust layered on top of your finger with your thumb as you moved along. Your body stops in a certain position stiffly, as you stop at the very left of the collection, reading off the name tag in your mind. Feeling the grip of the container, you skim through the sticker with concentrated eyes. Orange tinted container with ivory capsules held inside, there was a caption [anti] written as the very first word.

It was the one you took that night. By accident. The one that boy was so desperate about.

What exactly was this used for? As if there was a quote “eat me” written on it, magically your hands were already grabbing it, ready to open up the lid and see what will happen next. It was a jeopardy, for sure.

Just then, the door slid open with waves of laughter, automatically letting your body spring up before your eyes, hands not clear where to be kept. The best solution you came was to hide them behind your back (maybe too obviously). Hands rolled into a fist, they were shaking hard as if they were about to crush the container in your hands.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” your eyes stopped at a certain target. It wasn’t your fault, he was just too obvious and the only one you knew among the crowd. His eyes were widened too, almost ready to pop out.

The boy from the night.

“Jaemin, who’s this?”

With a soft hit from a black—haired boy, the other boy with the name ‘Jaemin’ lowered his eyes, slowly blinking his blank eyes of confusion. The sudden release of fast fluttering butterflies bothered you as your eyes met within a shot, realizing swallowing your own saliva was a tougher job than you thought.

“Oh,” he took a second to retrieve himself. “She’s the new apprentice of my dad’s.”

With the access of bright sunlight, you had a better view of his physical features than the night. His hair dyed hazel brown with split ends, eyes twinkling by the golden brown galaxy of its own, his spectacular long lashes curled up perfectly upright, and his cherry red lips didn’t seem to be smiling when the ends were curled up slightly. His eyes had depth in them, how his eyes stared deeply and calmly at the one who was talking, the shift of his eyes unpredictable. There were heavy sweat beads dripping down his slim, sharp jawline, his cheekbones lifted up soon with a smile.

“But it’s also my first time meeting her.”

You almost dropped the container from your hands, sweating by the awe of his presence. Your heart seemed to be unable to function, how it was jammed by the sudden attack by his eye contact. It was the first time you ever encountered the pharmacist’s son, in fact. And yes, he was perfectly drawn out; just like how he was always described by people. How he would flash his smile like he was getting an award, being the most athletic person in the whole entire universe. You can see it just by the basketball swirling quickly at the tip of his fingertips. It felt like the world was revolving on it.

You couldn’t believe yourself blushing just by an eye-contact.

“I’m Na Jaemin.”

“Y/N.” your voice slipped faster than your hand to shake Jaemin’s hands, only embarrassing yourself more. Wiping your hand slightly by the hem of your shirt, you feel Jaemin’s hand embracing yours gently as he shook them down then up. “Wow, I’ve never seen Jaemin this awkward with girls,” a cheeky laugh was followed after a brown—haired boy’s statement, and you watched Jaemin roll his eyes as he shook the hand he let go. There seemed to be not much more to be spoken in-between the two of you.

“Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

After a smile, he followed the rest of his friends upstairs without looking behind for you. Maybe you were wrong; how could that ethereal-looking boy be the boy from the night? The vibe, the voice, the ‘everything’ he was giving off was so different. Before returning back to your place, you slightly glimpse at the container still gripped tightly in your hand: [anti—wolf].

Maybe it was all a dream or your exaggerated imagination. How could there be werewolves in this world?

🌕

You made sure that no corners were sticking out from the pile of papers. It was almost dinner time, which meant it was time for you to go back home, and at the same time smell the delicious smell of roasted beef. Mrs. Na has offered you several times to join the dinner table with them, but politely you declined it every time and you were surely regretting your past choices.

Grabbing your grumbling stomach, you slid your arms into the denim jacket, which weren’t warm at all. “y/n!” Your head was lost to find the trail of voice you heard from upstairs. To your surprise, it was Jaemin, hurrying as he tucked himself into the white hoodie. “Oh,” you added in silently, and perhaps Jaemin was too busy with his task to point it out. His hair still seemed wet from a shower, quickly shaking his head only adding droplets of water on the well-cleaned floor. You could only stand awkwardly and watch every move he made; it was surely hard for you to react around him, especially when you met him today for the first time. Your body swiveled around the direction Jaemin was walking towards, footsteps stopped but his didn’t. With your hesitance, Jaemin sighs, and pulls you closer to him, reaching his arm to your shoulder.

“Hey, what are you—!”

“Just let me.” Grabbing your bag for you, softly Jaemin whispers directly beside your ears. He surely didn’t want something to leak out. Dumbfounded by his action, you couldn’t do anything but nod slowly at his words with confused eyes, and cheeks blushing with a tint of cherry red. He had an aura in his voice you couldn’t tell, but something more powerful than your imagines.

“Mom! I’ll be right back after taking Y/N back home!” He seemed to be in a hurried mode, and a clip of deja vu flashed across your mind. He pulled you quickly out of the door, and out to the cold, starry night.

The night air was chilly, how street lights only helped with guidance and not providing warmth. Warm breath against your hands, you could only catch snippets of Jaemin beside you. He was walking at a slow pace to match yours, and surely he wasn’t in the mood to be talking about something.

“Right, here.” It took a second to realize what Jaemin was talking about until your eyes fell on the bag displayed on his hand. You realize how much it looked better with Jaemin, the simple combination of beige and black letterings suited him well.

“Oh, thanks.” Even shouldering your bag seemed to be awkward beside him, the unused to silence kept even after getting your bag gifted back.

“What school do you go to?” Jaemin asked finally. He coughed several times, even when his voice was smooth as ever. He seemed to be expecting a specific answer, but your reply was rather disappointing: “I’m homeschooled.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Sorry,”

“No need to be,” Jaemin cracked a smile slightly but even the slightest movement on his lips had your heart shaking like an earthquake. Would you be able to meet a boy like Jaemin if you went to school too? Perhaps you could’ve been best friends; if you had a chance. Oh, your footsteps stopped with disappointment, already realizing the familiar door of yours. Voice locked tightly in your throat, pointing a finger was only you could do, and Jaemin’s footstep stopped with a short realization too.

“Thanks for walking me back home.” You hurriedly wanted to get into your room and throw yourself into your fluffy bed with a thick, soft blanket waiting for you, as you would groan in embarrassment. His silence made you timid, grasping the hem your shirt in trying to act normal.

“Y/N,”

“Yes?” A sudden instinct told you should tuck your hair as you turned around by his call. Maybe you’d have to examine yourself from Mr. Na tomorrow. There would be no reason why your heart would be beating this fast when you’ve only heard your name for 18 years pronounced by a boy you’ve met today. You blinked your eyes twice, hoping that was way more attractive than you thought.

“Nothing much.” Jaemin hesitated, his eyes instantly dropping down to the cold, hard ground. He seemed to be having some troubles with his words, “Can you keep everything as a secret?” Jaemin blurted out quickly, his voice was ringing the streets even though his voice was quiet. His words were confusing, taking time for you to translate.

“Keep what?”

“That night where we met.”

That night where you met him.

“Oh.” Silence followed after you, and you could see Jaemin biting his lips, eyes with regret. A sudden sink of your heart made your body cold.

“Jaemin, that—” seeing a finger pulled to his lips, you gulp.

“Good night,” he smiled weakly, as he got himself ready to run back. “Does anybody know?” You had to shout it out to him, stopping Jaemin with a bitter smile. He didn’t have to explain it more.

🌕

October 1st.

Time has flown by faster than your thought. It has been four months since your acceptance to the pharmacy, and still, there were things that you couldn’t seem to be able to handle: Jaemin, yes, Na Jaemin.

The peculiar boy, who always lifted your lips into a smile, and sometimes the boy who he’d lean onto whenever he needed support.

It wasn’t long until you found your lips pronouncing his name over and over again, how his name sounded so peculiar even after numerous times, his soft giggles ringing in your ears every time. You’ve gotten closer with him easier — way easier — than you thought, even though you could never read his intention behind his deep brown eyes.

Na Jaemin, the boy who you now draw and describe every time on your diary, always picking up the brown colored pencil crayon (which is almost gone) to color his hair and eyes. Na Jaemin, who’d always be the first you’d wish to call during the late nights when clearly he was awake too. Your lips curled up as your memories recalled a clip of the tip of Jaemin’s ears blushing when you visited his school with his forgotten gym strip, how he awkwardly stood still in front of you. Maybe his cheeks were blushing too, but you didn’t know if it was because you encountered him right after a basketball game.

It seems like it was yesterday when Jaemin kept on coming up to you and pleading you to keep the secret, half-threatening, you could say. You’ve come close enough with him, where at one point Jaemin would just show up in front with both his ears and tail out, sipping his morning coffee on a Saturday afternoon, his eyes still closed with his uncontrollable amount of exhaustion. His sudden reveal as a werewolf only startled you, always finding your heart thumping at his confidence. You’d then mumble to yourself: right, he was a werewolf.

Jaemin — unlike any others — being a werewolf came to you as a fear, but also something special. It was a secret only the two of you shared (well, according to Jaemin, he is famous in school) and also something you could hold onto whenever asking Jaemin to do certain tasks, such as baking you another pie. You knew why Jaemin was so athletic, so sensitive that he needed to have his head patted when he willed to take a nap.

“Jaemin, this isn’t funny.” Jaemin hummed as he opened his eyes slowly, “sure, it is. Come on, my ears are waiting for its scratch.” It was your responsibility from there on to tell him to take the pills (he’d refuse to drink it with water, he’d slip it with his coffee which you quite disgusted), though something didn’t feel right.

The pill. Yes, the ones you accidentally brought back home. The pill — that started this whole messy, unknown friendship between you and Jaemin, or maybe the werewolf. You didn’t know the exact detail of how the pill worked, or ever did you wanted to know. You just knew it helped Jaemin — or the werewolf — to maintain his human form, lessen the pain of his another ego’s rebellion, especially during the full moon. That was it. That was the briefly told explanation from Jaemin, and you didn’t ask furthermore.

“Lee Donghyuck that was totally cheating!”

“The real world’s full of cheating, what do you mean?”

Your head snaps as your eyes blurred out the memories, coughing dryly in embarrassment. You encountered him every day, at the exact same time, 3:30 PM and the door would open with waves of laughter and you’d see 7 boys drenched in sweats, someone always shouting “I win” (you didn’t really know what the deal was). “Hi, y/n!” Chenle, giggled as he elbowed Jaemin (who then raised his eyebrows to him), waving out the biggest hi with his arms.

“Hi, Chenle.” Waving back, Jaemin caught your eyes but quickly retrieved as he awkwardly called out Chenle’s name, making him whine. You’ve gotten closer to the other 6 boys too — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung — boy, there were a lot. They high fived you as they headed straight to the kitchen, your hands awkwardly folding back to your side when it was Jaemin’s turn. There wasn’t much conversation rather than ‘hi’ or ‘hello’s, maybe there were some ‘good afternoon’s.

“How was school?” You tried to twist things up, but it was a pretty dumb question to start off with: even you admitted. But not to your surprise, Jaemin still replied kindly. “No more basketball practices. The season’s over, a good thing I guess.” Jaemin always smiled so naively that you almost forgot who he really was the full moon you saw him.

“y/n, aren’t you eating lemon pies with us?”

At Jeno’s call, you quickly let go of the cloth you were using to wipe the counters, making sure your hands were clean with the hand sanitizer as you headed to the kitchen. The energy created from the 7 boys were amazing — it was like handling 7 elementary school kids, but maybe more immature. By the time you cheerfully arrived, you notice (and hated) that the only available seat was beside Jaemin’s, which was the center of the table; it made you feel like a birthday girl. Jaemin coughed dryly as he shifted his place, pulling the chair out slightly for you.

“Hey,” despite both of you shared your afternoon greetings, your lips had to spit it out once more, only causing more giggles from his friends. “You like greeting people, don’t you?” Jaemin’s question fanned the fire in your heart, and you wanted to hide behind the counters if you could, but there was already a piece of lemon pie placed neatly in front of you.

And there was Jaemin.

“Is Jaemin giving up his last pie for y/n?”

“I swear, Lee Donghyuck.”

You weren’t so used to having 7 boys talking loudly on top of each other, but at least they made you laugh. “I’ll do the dishes,” as you get up with the gathered plates, Jaemin quickly stops you, realizing then his hands were overlapping yours. The kitchen fell silent until Donghyuck led the astonishments.

“No, I’ll do. You’ve got work to do, and Donghyuck would help me.” Seeing Donghyuck’s confused expression, surely this wasn’t something discussed beforehand. There were small chuckles followed, shut as soon as Donghyuck snapped his head around.

“Good luck, Donghyuck. We’d be upstairs!” Jeno exclaims as he waves a goodbye hand, the rush of the others spun your head around a little. You smiled a little, helping Jaemin until he had to put a hand out to signal you.

🌕

The sudden gale of wind was enough to scare the entire village away. It was sure a windy afternoon, though the sun was down earlier before the moon started rising. You couldn’t believe you were walking down the same path of darkness, and how the storage felt further than usual distance. The box wasn’t heavy or too big to distract your sight of the path, though you had to adjust it a couple of times due to its smooth surface slipping down your hands.

Snap. It was then when your ears twitched sensitively in a beat late of the snapping, followed by a held breath somewhere. Your breath hitched, the filthy feeling of creeps crawling onto your skin. No weapons, no nothing. Nice, you think.

“Who’s there?” You call out but the only reply was your echo against the cold wind. Before your head snapped back to the path — not to your notice — a sudden force tugged your arm. A sound of startle was caught beside your ears, both you and the person tangling together by your resistance, tumbling down the hard ground. Or was it soft?

“Are-are you okay?” Opening your eyes, you realize how you were suffocating the one under you, quickly picking yourself up as you flushed with embarrassment. The person coughed out as if he was choking on hair, and you recognize the face under the sudden moment of dim moonlight amongst the clouds: Na Jaemin. He hadn’t got a scar on his face, but surely he seemed to be in pain by the fall.

“I was only trying to help.” Jaemin ran his fingers through his hair, wincing from the sudden pain that stabbed his back, rubbing it carefully as you helped him sit up. It was weird seeing Jaemin like this. He would’ve caught you in his arms and avoid the fall if it were the usual, perfect Jaemin. He had a plain white t-shirt with a black leather jacket, with ripped denim jeans which were stunning, even his hair that was messy from the blowing winds. You never knew these style of fashions were your taste until today.

“I-I’m sorry, truly.” Jaemin shrugged at your apologies with a chuckle that only made your heart skip another beat.

“Delivery?” He asks, picking up the box that was ditched on the floor due to distraction. He flipped it over as if he was treating it like a basketball, turning his head around instead of the box to read off the sticker, which contained the information of the resources within.

“Kind of. But it’s to the storage.” He hummed with a nod, followed by his eyebrows twitching, his eyes willing to open the box by ripping. Nervously you stared at his cold tension, silencing your questions. You knew it by now too well, that the medicines inside were the ones he was searching for — the ones he got mad at for you having them — but he didn’t comment about it.

“You always seemed to hold my pills, I guess it’s a good coincidence.”

“Excuse me?” You asked him with a playful chuckle, but Jaemin’s grip tightened at the edges of the boxes slightly, and you knew it was something sensitive. “Good that it’s you though,” his words were bitter yet sweet in some corner around, your eyes filling up with sympathy, which he didn’t seem to be willing to meet.

“Am I that trustable now?”

“Don’t get your hopes that high,” Jaemin chuckles. You loved his soft smile, it eases everything. You wondered if he thought the same way whenever he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The color of the night sky was darker than usual, and it only grew uncertainty of safety. “My dad used to take me here, we also had picnics if the weather was nice.” Jaemin, as always, was the one who opened up the conversation, “we could, well, maybe watch some stars on the way back.” It was weird that even though the dim moonlight that dulled all the colors, you could see the tip of Jaemin’s ears tinted in redness, which only raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“If you don’t want to—”

“Hey, I’d love to.” You cut him off this time with a small crack of an awkward smile. “The sky’s clear today down the hills, it must be helping us.” continuing with a giggle, you bump into Jaemin’s back, who suddenly froze, body twitching sensitively. “Jaemin?” Echoing your whispers were howls of wolves, halting your actions just like how Jaemin’s did.

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

“Jaemin are you scared of wolves too?” You let out a slight laugh, but both of you knew it was only to wash off the sudden creep crawling up the spine. Jaemin was never afraid, you could tell, it was a bad joke at a bad timing, you bit your lips.

“No,” Jaemin whispered lowly, “of course not. Not that I’m scared— it’s just another reason.”

“Jaemin, are you telling me that you didn’t take—”

They glowed. The hungry, shining eyes of hundreds glowed so luminously and dangerous that you knew you weren’t going to spare your life this time. Tangling your footsteps with his, Jaemin catches you swiftly, but his hands beside your arms were slightly shaking. With the sudden draw of the clouds, the dim moonlight was a lot brighter, and you winced by the sharp poke on your arms. Claws. There was no longer the soft hands of Jaemin’s, but furry browned paws with sharply sheared claws piercing out.

“Jaemin, keep it in.”

“If I do, we’re gonna die.”

Jaemin tried to keep his meek smile, leaving you aside for a while. It wasn’t hard to notice that your heartbeat had been ignoring the tempo lately. At Jaemin’s bold action, the wolves halted immediately. Have they figured out who he was? In a blink, Jaemin was no longer there. The earth shook by some matter with an unusual howl. It was the second time, yes, exactly and only the second time. Yet, you felt this familiar feeling from the tall, lunatic figure in front of you. Neither you or the wolves seemed to have expected another visit of him, as the wolves backed up with a menace growls on their faces. How Jaemin had his back hunched to diminish his size, but he still looked menacing enough. A part of you wasn’t even sure if you could call him Jaemin anymore. He gave off a different aura, something more… dangerous, and less human. His growl with a sharp swing was good enough to chase them away. Searching around for semi-useful weapons, you notice a wolf staring deadly at you and only you: the alpha wolf. You recognized the long scar stretched across its snout, the angle of the line just off of its piercing, icy blue eyes.

The smirking growl was the announcement of the beginning of its hunting. Scurrying its steps, Jaemin plunged himself fiercely towards the alpha wolf once more, how the wolf could not even have its chance to run away, rolling onto the ground with Jaemin. It looked like Jaemin was about to rip it into halves, but instead, a deep bite in its leg seemed to be enough warning. The alpha wolf winced in pain, but the other wolves were smart enough to know it was wiser not to attack. Jaemin stood up with dripping blood on his sharp teeth, his cold glare to the clan was enough. The wolves dared not to attack, petrified by the arising of a new enemy they never have witnessed before. The alpha tried getting up, helplessly trying to balance with his three legs, running at a slow, yet fearful pace, following the others.

Your legs were still left shivering from the sudden blood and mess that quickly flashed by just now. The werewolf dropped onto its knee — hard — and you felt the ground shaking a little. His breath was never steady, how you could see the light skin tone of Jaemin’s showing up from the disappear of furs, his figure stopping at where his ears and tail was still able to be seen. His hands were digging into the dry ground for extra support, beads of sweat falling down his cheeks to meet at his chin, dropping on the cold ground.

It was just like the first time you’ve encountered him; shaky hands, sweats meeting one another to drop, irregular patterns of inhales and exhales. He gathered himself with a gulp of his saliva, harsh breathing heard from a distance. A false in his step was one thing that would make him drop dead on the floor. Jaemin — this time — had his ears and tails out, all drooped down.

“Jaemin—” your voice trails off as you get closer to him, speechless from the sudden scene. But one thing you knew was that Jaemin was there. He was back. “Please go,” Jaemin always kept his order simple and short. That was the way he was, and the way you couldn’t navigate out from. “Jaemin, I’m not going to find you cold dead tomorrow morning.” you were stubborn enough to show your will to help him. But instead, you were pushed away by him with the short droplets of energy left in his body.

“Go.” his voice was stronger this time, yet he was still weak. Jaemin wasn’t looking at you, he had his head turned around from you completely. “I just need some time.” His frustration needn’t have to be explained more, “don’t tell this to anyone.” Your fingers blossomed out from your fists, a sudden overwhelming emotion swirling around you. You thought you got closer to him, but maybe he just friended you for his secret.

“Fine.”

The night sky was enclosed with clouds, moonlight no longer seen now. Maybe Mr. Na would be surprised when he opens up the storage, traces of wolf claws that has ripped opened the box. It wasn’t entirely your fault though.

🌕

It was strange. Too strange.

Jaemin didn’t come through the front door of the pharmacy the next day. Or the following afternoon. You couldn’t help feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper, past your stomach, past your feet, and down deep into the earth, where it was so deep under that it felt like you were burning.

[A wild werewolf has been witnessed during the past days, only threatening the humanities more and more. and scientists are still unsure of the cause…...]

Lies, you silently tossed the cushion onto the TV screen, sighing as you turned it off. You’ve been refusing to eat, locking yourself inside your room ever since that day, thanks to Mr. Na suggesting not to come to visit until several days has passed by.

“I’m coming back late.”

But of course, would you ever listen to someone?

The pharmacy was surely closed, as Mrs. Na, who noticed you from the kitchen, had to open the doors for you. “Jaemin’s gotten a bad fever,” finally his mother opened her mouth in concern, as she poured the steaming hot tea into your tumbler. The sweet, romantic aroma of rose hit your nostrils first, then the soothing green teas followed.

“Oh,” first was the hit of betrayal, and second was the hit of worries. You knew it wasn’t just a bad fever.

“Would it be fine to see him?” At Mrs. Na’s nod, you salute a thank you. It was weird how the wallpapers were green now, how you wished the staircases creaked less as it only helped but to ruin your surprise. You knew which door led to Jaemin’s right away, the small crack of the door helping you easier for the door to open.

There he was lying in bed. Jaemin was beautiful, his eyes closed softly, his long eyelashes gently laid on top. He was a sleeping beauty, and if it wasn’t his body rising for breathing, everyone would believe he was an art piece. “You’re not supposed to be here.” His voice was hoarse, deepen from the nap he has gotten since you arrived, still waking up to realize your presence.

“Got a good nap?” Jaemin squinted his eyes a little as you drew the curtains, sunshine directly shooting on his eyes. It took a while for Jaemin to realize what was happening in the room, sighing as he calmed himself down. His sigh was more of a hum, but you couldn’t really tell.

“I guess,” Jaemin straightened himself up, how the blankets slid helplessly on his body, revealing his bare chest which was full of scratches and bruises. You might’ve found yourself blushing by the sudden reveal, Jaemin silently mouthing an ‘o’ as he quickly tried to pull the blankets back up, but giving up soon enough as he noticed you weren’t that surprised.

“Why are you here?” He still seemed to be resuming with his nap dream, his upper body still as he bent his back a little, eyes slowly closing back.

“That can be answered later. First, of all I’m treating you with some medicine.” you lower your voice so the conversation couldn’t leak, as you opened up the lid of alcohol, getting ready some gauzes to dip in. Jaemin squinted his eyebrows a little, making a face, but he didn’t really stop you. Instead, he leaned back, groaning as if he was suffering a back pain.

“You’re such a mess,”

“Always, a mess.” Jaemin corrected you as he chuckled. His smile relieved you somehow, and you replied to him with annoyed eyes. Jaemin threw his head back, staring at the ceiling silently, leaving you in awe of his jawlines. Your thoughts of Jaemin during the weekends flashed by, how you wanted to tell him how much you missed him, worried him, prayed for him, and now, here you were, cleansing his injuries. Jaemin hissed at the cleansing, even though some injuries seemed quite old.

“Do you ever treat yourself after a rough day?” You ask, and Jaemin shakes his head.

“I only take pills. The rest I try to clean on the spot, not when I get back home.” Jaemin’s chin points to the door. “My mom doesn’t know about this.” Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. No wonder her mother looked truly worried when addressing Jaemin with having a bad fever.

“Well, Mr. Werewolf, I think we’re done.” You stuffed the used gauzes in your bag, hoping the alcohol smell wouldn’t leak.

“Don’t— don’t call me that,” You were sure that Jaemin was blushing this time, your eyes watching him sliding the blankets back up. The comfort embraced you just by seeing his eyes, how your eyes moved up and down, observing how his chest rose lightly. The only sound heard was the silent breeze coming through the window, and his small breathings, which sounded like a lullaby to you.

“Your eyes are swollen,” his touch wasn’t startling at all. His warm touch only made you grin. “Did you miss me?” Jaemin asked out of the blues, and your eyes widened slowly. He was hesitance with the movement of his hand, and you witnessed that. The intense atmosphere made your hand still until it came in contact with Jaemin’s. Wordless from then on, Jaemin let out a sigh as he stroke the surface of the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Do you know how much this house smells like you,”

“No, I don’t. But it should, I’ve been here for months.” You chuckle, feeling Jaemin’s grip on your hand only tightening with a smile. His hands were soft, his touch gentle and cautious, as if he was treating you like glass. “I’ve never felt so relieved to smell you as soon as you entered the house,” he smiled, “hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not creepy, I’m being my werewolf self.”

“Yeah, sure, Jaemin.” your sigh ended up with a smile, as Jaemin pulled you into his arms, smiling wider as his forehead gently touched yours. He snuggled to you closer, head buried into the crook of your neck with a smile of a child, finally wrapping you around with his arms. Your fingers gently combed his dazzling brown hair, and for once, it was peaceful.

“I missed you too, I really did.”

Birds were humming against the slightly opened window, and for the first time, the town seemed to be back in its spring color palette. Livelier shades of green gradationed the leaves, hearing them rustle as the wind brushed against lightly.

#nct #nct dream #nct jaemin #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #werewolf! jaemin #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst

599 notes · View notes

ayatosama · 5 years

Text

when it rains, it pours

characters: hinami fueguchi, touka kirishima, ayato kirishima

word count: 5087

notes: hinami’s grief over the death of her mother manifests into a fear of rain. she struggles to overcome it; first alone, then with touka, and finally with ayato

notes 2: this is my contribution to the @tokyoghoulreversebang this fic wouldn’t have happened without the lovely art of @bringhaiseback and also a huge thanks to my wonderful beta readers for making sure this fic was the best it could possibly be @haisse-sasaki & @igottiredofmyoldusername

i. Death.

One word and yet so many emotions locked in between its letters.

Hinami was curled in a bundle of blankets, a book in her hand, and a hole in her heart. Touka was out for the day, leaving her alone in the small apartment they now shared after... after… after her death.

Hinami tried to occupy her mind with everything and anything. She really was making progress to overcome the trauma that buried itself in the cracks of her ribs. But some days that trauma grew so heavy it was hard to breathe. Especially on days like today.

Days when it rained.

The pitter patter against the windows was so heavy Hinami thought the rain would crash through the window and take her away, take her to where her mother was. No. No. No she won’t let this get to her. She picks the book up and forces her mind to focus on the words in front of her eyes.

The book was giving her no sense of relief. Distraction. Movement. She untangles herself from the cocoon of blankets and makes her way over to the coffee pot on the countertop. Rings of old coffee cup stains coat the counter like an art piece. Hinami’s fingers trace the outlines, wondering how old some of these were.

The smell of the coffee brewing takes over her senses, thus dulling the rain. She closes her eyes and uses this to drown out the tears of the clouds raining down outside. In truth, she had never had coffee, but it was a staple “blending in” drink that allowed for ghouls to pass off as normal. As well... her mother loved it.

She stretches up to grab the sugar — the type of sugar designed for ghouls — from the top cupboard. Her fingers graze the edge of the container and she struggles to shimmy it till it tumbles off the shelf and into her arms. Next she finds a mug and a spoon.

The coffee is easy enough to make. She’s seen Touka and Kaneki do it a thousand times. But somehow it tastes bitter in her mouth. All the sugar in the world couldn’t rid her of this bitterness. Hands, shaky and cold, set the cup down. Feet, numb and mechanical, move her back to the couch.

The rain has quickened its pace outside. Hinami finds herself walking toward the sliding door that leads to the landing outside. With the door open, the rain is thundering down. It’s heavier than it was that day, and so is her heart. She steps onto the landing, soaking her feet.

The sky an inky darkness, not a star or moon in sight — not a glimmer of hope to be found. The rain pounds down in heavy sheets making the visibility close to zero.

The rain hits her face hard. Cold and unforgiving. It soaks through her clothes right down to her very bones. She can feel her skin shivering but that girl feels like another person. The only thing she can really feel is a suffocating sadness.

“Why…” she whimpers. “Why did you take her away!” She shouts at the sky. “I’m... I’m so lonely! I can’t do this anymore... mom… please come back.”

The sky answers with a rumble of thunder.

“Why! Why her! Why me! Just give her back to me!” Hinami’s screams are so loud it parallels the thunder raging above her.

She’s not sure when she fell to the ground, but she finds herself sitting in a puddle, soaked to the core. She’s shivering violently now, but none of her muscles want her to move back inside. Let the rain take us they say, let the rain drown us away.

“Hinami!” Touka’s worry rings loud in her ears. A blanket is thrown over her shoulders and she’s whisked up. The light inside the apartment is blinding. “Hinami, what were you doing outside?”

“I... I just wanted to be with mom,” is all she can come up with. But how stupid is that? Her mother wasn’t anywhere in the storm raging outside.

“Oh, Hina.” Touka pulls her into her chest, burying Hinami in the warmth of her embrace. Hinami feels the tears that had been there all along come spilling out. Touka runs her fingers through her hair as she violently cries, soaking Touka’s shirt with her own storm. “You have me. You have Kaneki. I know... I know we’re not your mom, but we love just the same.”

“I’m so lonely... I’m so afraid…”

“I know Hina, I know.” Touka’s presence is soothing and it seems to calm her to a degree. But even surrounded by Touka and Kaneki she’d never be able to fill the hole that had formed in her chest.

Patch it up with the love others she might, but it’ll never heal. Not fully anyway.

“Thank you…” Hinami finally says. “Thank you for everything.”

ii. “Hina, you ready yet?” Touka knocks on her door. They were supposed to be heading to an arcade that just opened up in the area. Touka says it’s to bond, but Hinami knows it’s really to get her out of the house and her mind off her mother.

“Almost!” she yells back. Hinami finishes up the word she was writing in her notebook; red pen, for words she would need to ask Kaneki the meaning too. Yellow pen was for words that she thinks she knows the meaning of, and green pen was for the words she really knew.

Sometimes Hinami wished she went to school like Touka. But it’s safer this way, hidden like a secret buried in someone’s chest.

“Hinami if you don’t come out right now I swear to —” Before Touka can finish her sentence Hinami opens the door to find a Touka biting her lip, arms crossed. But the tension clinging to her features evaporates when Hinami smiles up at her.

“I’m ready.”

“All right, let’s go.”

—

The streets are crowded. Touka groans as they have to slow their pace. Hinami has rarely ventured out since that night, nor since the night she found her mother. The night he payed for his crimes. But with Touka, it feels like she could do anything. Touka was strong and reliable. Something Hinami wasn’t. She was safe with Touka’s hand in hers, Touka’s eyes on the people around them.

“We’ll make it. It’s not going anywhere,” Hinami says, trying to ease the obvious impatience that had overcome Touka since they hit this congested part of town.

“Yeah…” Touka chuckles, “you’re right, Hina.” They continue to maneuver their way through the crowded labyrinth of these streets.

Hinami can faintly hear the sound of arcade games. She can smell popcorn, it’s too bad it’s something she cannot have.

“We’re close,” she says. Touka smiles down at her. Today would be good, she thought. There will be no ghosts of pain or agony to haunt her tonight. There will only be the promise of fun, of joy. I will move forward. I won’t let this define me.

They approach the arcade and Hinami is starstruck with all the lights flashing, neon greens and yellows. Signs for “FUN” and “GAMES” decorate the exterior of the building. There are several entrances that lead into the arcade. They aren’t doors or anything, they’re just openings, which is probably why Hinami’s senses pick up on everything much quicker with this open atmosphere. People flood in and out of the open entrances, laughing and holding their prizes. A child rides his father’s shoulders, a stuffed bear cradled in his arm like a baby.

Hinami smiles, but she feels some sadness twinge in it as she watches the father and child disappear into the crowd. Touka’s hand squeezes hers, dragging her back to reality. To what’s right in front of her.

“Come on, let’s get going. We have some games to utterly destroy.” Touka pumps a fist into the air and her smile spreads from cheek to cheek. Hinami nods, allowing Touka’s happiness to spread to her, to coat her in a shield of light and joy.

Touka spots a skee ball game and drags Hinami over to it. The rubber of the track is potent in Hinami’s nostrils. Lines of past player’s paths carve up the track. This game must’ve been pretty popular to have gone through this much use. The lights on the backboard light up and carnival music emanates from somewhere in the speaker.

Balls roll to the base of the track, clacking together. Touka picks one up, her tongue between her lips and her eyebrows drawn tight together. She’s focused. Hinami feels a laugh bubble up just as Touka releases the ball. Because of that laugh, though, Touka only gets the ball in the hole marked for 5.

“Hinami! You destroyed my concentration.”

“I’m sorry, you just looked so serious.” Hinami can’t stop laughing and Touka joins her. Laughter, carnival music, the dinging of people winning games. This is the tracklist of happiness. Nothing will take this joy from her.

“Alright you try, smarty pants.” Touka hands her the small rubber ball. Hinami takes her place and mimics Touka’s face just a moment ago; It elicits laughter from Touka. The ball releases from her grasp and slides up the ramp and lands in the hole marked for 10.

“Fifteen points. We’re really showing this machine,” Touka comments.

A few more throws and they only end up with a total of 55. The machine prints them 5 tickets.

“We’ll have to try harder if we want to go home with anything of value,” Touka says. Hinami nods and follows her to the next game they’ll play.

As they walk past one of the openings, Hinami can feel the drop in temperature outside. She chews at her lips. A couple standing outside comment on the change in weather.

“It looks like it might rain.”

Hinami feels her heart begin to ache. Her teeth break the skin of her lip and blood trickles into her mouth, warm and thick. Touka must sense her displeasure, because before Hinami can say anything, she’s dragged further into the labyrinth of games.

“Come on Hina, let’s play air hockey.” Touka’s hand dragging hers was like a lighthouse on a stormy night, showing her the clear path to safety. “I bet I’ll win.”

They reach the air hockey table. Touka slides in the money and the table spurs to life. Hinami picks up the small plastic pusher in one hand and she places the puck in the center. Touka slaps the puck back to her side of the table getting a goal. She pumps a fist into the air and shouts a half hearted taunt at Hinami.

“Come on Hina, you just gonna let me win like this? Where is your game?” This deep in the arcade she can’t see the outside nor can she sense the rain that might come. She slaps the puck back towards Touka, almost a goal too.

The two continue the back and forth till Hinami reaches ten points first. Hinami throws her hands into the air and a smile reshapes her features into a glowing young girl with nothing to worry about. Touka pouts and crosses her arms,

“Alright you think you’re slick? I bet you can’t win again.”

“I bet I can.” Hinami says laughter intermingling in her words. Touka smiles and adds another coin to the machine allowing it to whir to life again. And it doesn’t take long for Hinami to win again. Touka sighs and throws her hands up in surrender.

“Let’s go take a breather outside, it’s so hot and stuffy in here.” Touka walks toward the openings leading outside. Hinami warily follows her. Outside, she can see the clouds angrily biting at the sky. Thunder cracks and Hinami feels it in her ribs, cracking away, tearing her apart. The next rumble of thunder brings with the sound of muffled cries and the feeling of Kaneki’s hand over her eyes as rain soaks her to her core.

“It okay, you know,” Touka says, her hand reaching out to grab Hinami’s.

“What?”

“To be afraid.” Hinami looks up at Touka and sees something heavy in her face. Something she can’t quite describe.

“I feel so...helpless.” Hinami looks down at the ground, avoiding the sky.

“Being afraid doesn’t make you helpless. It’ll make you stronger,” Touka says. “Trust me.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I’ve been afraid and I’ve felt helpless. But I overcame it and I’m stronger now because of those fears. They don’t define you, Hina.”

Hinami looks up at Touka again; this time that heaviness is gone, replaced by a full but small smile, confidence dancing across her features. Hinami thinks she looks beautiful when she smiles like that.

“Come on, let’s go back inside. We can’t leave the arcade without having won something.”

Hinami nods and follows Touka back into the noisy, crowded arcade and away from the storm. Touka leads her over to a machine with various toys clumped together. A claw hangs from the top dangling back and forth like a pendulum.

“I’m really good at this.” Touka says. Hinami feels her muscles forcing out a smile but her heart isn’t in it. Her heart is drowning.

Touka inserts the coins and the machine buzzes into action. She uses a lever to maneuver the claw above the toys like it was their God. Deciding which toy would be granted the escape from this machine.

The claw drops and snags the ear of a pink stuffed bunny.

“Now we be very gentle” she stretches the word gentle out as she raises the claw back up with the bunny in its grasp. As she begins to move the claw toward the dropbox, the bunny slips from her grasp.

“Damn it!” She groans. Hinami finds herself fascinated with the game and driven with a desire to get that bunny.

“Again Touka!” She says putting her hands on the glass that separates them from their prize.

“Alright! Let’s go again.” Touka’s smile widens and her eyes focus like a predator who’s located its prey. Hinami turned back to the machine, excitement swirling in her eyes as she pressed her face to the glass. She knew the toy was probably nothing special but she desperately wanted it.

The claw once again roamed over head, taunting both them and the toys. Touka slowly dropped the claw catching the bunny by the ear. Hinami didn’t realize her body was buzzing with anticipation till she felt her legs quivering.

Touka slowly, very slowly brought the bunny toward the dropbox again. Hinami saw a slight shift in the hold she had on it and for a moment thought she would lose it again. But Touka swings the bunny into the dropbox sending it out of the machine.

“You did it!”

“I told you I could.”

Hinami takes the stuffed bunny out and hands it up to Touka. With a laugh Touka tells her to keep it.

“I’m beat, I don’t know about you.” Touka says. Hinami nods, now clinging tightly to the pink bunny. “Come on, let’s go home.”

As they exit the arcade, Hinami notices the rain has vanished.

“Looks like the sun has come out, huh?” Touka comments putting a hand above her eyes to look up at the sky.

A smile: “It has.”

iii. Sun filters in through tattered blinds. The creaky bed underneath Hinami groans as she lifts herself into a sitting position. A shiver runs through her spine as cool air blows in. The ratty blanket she has does very little to shield her from the cold.

She chews at the inside of her cheek, wondering if this really is the right decision. It has been a year since she’s enlisted with Aogiri, but on days when she wakes up to a torn up blanket and a bed so close to breaking, she thinks maybe she was wrong.

“Hina, I’m coming in.” A body shortly follows the voice. Ayato stands in her doorway, his resident scowl perfectly placed on his face, but a cup of coffee in his hands hints at something other than disdain. “I brought you coffee, it’s fucking cold out and this place is shit.”

He moves and sits on the bed, earning an annoyed creak from it. The cup is warm in Hinami’s hand, the steam curling, wafting a scent of something sweet. So he remembered.

“Thank you, Ayato.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit to go out and get that mask. There’s no need for those damn doves to see your face.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts from side to side. “It’s a fucking wonder my dumbass sister never got you one”

“I appreciate you helping me, Ayato.”

“It’s nothing personal. If you’re going to stay a part of my team, you can’t be exposed like that.” She catches his eyes wandering anywhere but her face. “Be ready when I get back.”

Hinami finds a laugh escaping from her lips and Ayato turns back — but there is no scowl on his face. Just scrunched features watching her carefully.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re so much like your sister, it just, well, it makes me feel safe,” she replies. Ayato bites hard at his lips before abruptly turning around.

“Just be ready.”

—

The sky is cloudy, tearing away any warm weather the sun might have produced. The streets are mostly empty. Ayato walks just a step ahead of Hinami, avoiding contact with her. She wonders if she makes him uneasy.

“Where are we going? For the mask.”

“A shop.”

“A shop called?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I mean...” She pauses. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“It really doesn’t have a name,” Ayato says. “It’s actually just a place run out of a house of a ghoul associated with Aogiri.”

“Oh, okay. Do you know this ghoul?”

“Why so many questions?”

“I like to know things; is that a problem?”

“Ever hear of curiosity killing the cat?”

“Do I look like a cat to you?”

“Ha, sometimes,” he replies, which causes them both to laugh. Hinami likes it when Ayato let down that iron wall around him. When it was just the two of them, when a crack of light would filter out of him to create moments like this, or like when he had brought her coffee earlier.

Hinami wonders how this boy is the same boy who violently battled Kaneki and Touka all those years ago. The same boy who didn’t seem to care for a single thing around him. The same boy raised in violence and anger. Turned into a machine to be utilized by Aogiri.

Hinami wonders if she has changed. If she has gotten any stronger like she had hoped when she fled into the open arms of Aogiri, unaware of the claws that dug into her flesh. She thinks of asking Ayato, but she’s afraid he’ll take her asking as a sign of weakness.

I am not weak.

I am strong.

Hinami doesn’t need anyone to tell her otherwise. Or so she hopes.

“We’re here,” Ayato says, stopping short. When Hinami bumps her shoulder into him, he doesn’t recoil. Hinami’s eyes trail up a three decker building with winding balconies around each section. The paint is fading, some of the windows boarded up.

“Relax,” Ayato says and places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze. Hinami feels as if she’s absorbing some of his strength, just a simple shoulder pat, but it feels like something more. She looks up and meets his eyes. They’re usually so cold and determined, but today they seem softer.

“Thank you, Ayato,” she says. She thinks of putting her hand on his, but she doesn’t want to push him too far. He’ll grow more comfortable with her. She’s sure of that.

The inside of the building is just as ratty as the outside, all chipped paint and loose railings. Hinami lets Ayato lead the way. She can hear muffled music growing louder as they ascend the stairs. Buried in that music, she hears hurried conversations and pencils scrawling on paper.

“Is it just one person who does this?”

“Yeah, usually.”

“Oh.”

Is the other voice a customer, or something else? Hinami swallows any worry she had. Ayato is strong enough to take down a whole squad of the CCG by himself, so he can handle a rogue ghoul if need be.

The door to the apartment swings open, revealing a young man holding what appears to be a freshly finished mask in his hands. “Thanks for your time, mystique.” The man steals a glance at Ayato before disappearing down the stairs they had just ascended.

“Mystique?” Hinami asks. Ayato snorts, but just continues up the stairs as if to say “see for yourself”. When they enter the apartment, Hinami can’t figure out where her eyes should go first. Sketches and full oil paintings clutter the wall so heavily it‘s as if they had become the wallpaper. Lights of varying colors are strung all around the apartment, dipping and swinging in some places, creating a kaleidoscope effect. Crumpled paper litters the floor along with what appears to be broken pencils and markers, as if the the concept of a trash can doesn’t occur to this woman.

In the center of the room stands a huge table with a lamp as bright as the sun tilted toward the table. A woman sits, sketching away. She picks her head up, revealing her mask. It looks like a masquerade mask, patterns of glittering stars interwoven into the design.

“Ahhh, Ayato!” She jumps from her chair and moves to greet them. She is dressed in a silky black dress that looks more like a nightgown than something you would wear when expecting company. Bracelets take up a majority of her arms, jingling anytime she moves them. She is certainly... eccentric. “And you’ve brought your precious Hina.” And before either of them can refute that sentence as anything but untrue, Hinami’s dragged to a chair near the sketch table.

“Ayato, make yourself a dear and make us some coffee.” She waves her hand toward the tea pot and Hinami half expects the coffeepot to levitate. Hinami suddenly understands why this woman is called lady magician.

“They sometimes call me a witch,” she says as if reading Hinami’s mind. Up close, Hinami can see her eyes through the mask. They‘re a golden caramel color that looks too ancient to belong on anyone this young. Her dark hair is tied messily utop her head, strangs falling out in odd places. “Now, Hina, you strike me as a modest girl.” Without an answer, she begins to sketch. “A collected girl who gives too much to other people... don’t forget you’re important, too. Take some time for yourself as well.”

Ayato walks over with two cups of coffee, interrupting the conversation. The woman takes a sip and licks her lips, “Ah, delicious as always, Ayato.” She continues with some sketches, occasionally glancing up at Hinami. Sometimes she looks skeptical, and other times she looks curious. Hinami feels like a zoo animal.

“Hmm, okay, I have a base mask around here that should fit this design.” She stands abruptly and ruffles through a drawer. “Just a few tweaks and this should do you just right, Hina.”

Hinami eyes Ayato, who appears to be bored and annoyed at having to be here, his arms crossed and a flat expression on his face. Hinami looks out the window and sees clouds beginning to paint the sky a steely gray color. She bites the inside of her cheek and fidgets with her fingers, twirling both her thumbs over and over each other. Hopefully it’s just cloudy.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” the woman says. She’s tweaking the mask she was going to use for Hinami’s. Her golden eyes are focused and sharp. Hinami’s stomach begins to clench painfully like putty in some cruel god’s hand. She glances over at Ayato, worry and anxiety swirling in her eyes like creamer added to freshly poured coffee.

“Well, I’m not trying to be stuck in some fucking rain, so hurry it up, why don’t you!” His voice is gruff and harsh, but when his eyes meet Hinami’s, there’s something softer gathering in their depths. Like candle wax — drip, drip, dripping.

“I’m almost done, will you relax? It’s only water,” she replies.

Huh... only water. She’s right. But she’s so wrong.

“Finished!” she proclaims. She walks over with the finished mask. “I tried to keep it simple and elegant. Hopefully this works for you, Hina.” She places the mask in Hinami’s hand. “I’ve also got bags if you wanna put it in one so you’re not walking around town holding it.”

Hinami just nods. Her mind is too focused on the storm brewing outside (and inside her, too).

“Thank you,” Hinami says. Ayato says nothing, but heads toward the door. Hinami gives her a last smile before following Ayato out.

“You don’t like rain, don't you?” he says. Hinami, again, only nods. He seems like he wants to press for more, but he lets her be. As they walk outside, she can smell the rain before she feels the cool droplets splash across her skin. “I brought an umbrella,” he says after a bit, and Hinami just nods again.

—

Ayato walks, holding the umbrella more so over Hinami than himself. The streets are empty due to the rain pouring down onto the pavement in a pitter patter. Every so often he’ll look over at her and regret it. A horrible sadness sits heavy on her features. A look that doesn’t suit a girl like her. It’s as if the sky is crying for Hinami, wailing for some injustice that Ayato can’t see.

They walk down the empty street in silence, which Ayato feels is suffocating. The whole way here she wouldn’t shut up with all her damn questions. But now it seems something has stolen her voice, tied her vocal chords together and cut her tongue out. He realizes he doesn’t like it when she is quiet. Even more so, he realizes he likes it when she speaks to him. He feels normal — he feels wanted when she speaks to him.

They round a corner and Ayato thinks of speaking but —

“My mother died.”

Ayato doesn’t know what to say; it isn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry” didn’t taste right in his mouth — bitter and foreign.

“The doves got to her.”

My father, too. He wants to tell her, but this moment seems entirely hers, and he doesn't want to turn the focus on himself.

“It was raining the day she was killed,” Hinami says. The words are so soft, like snow falling. But they seem so heavy in content that Ayato understands why she looked so frantic back in the apartment when the weather began to change. Why she is so solemn now, why it seems a funeral is living in her bones.

Ayato isn’t sure what he should say. He was far better with acting on his emotions than actually attempting to vocalize the tornado of thoughts ripping through all the nerves in his mind. He watches the way her eyes seem so focused on the cracks of the pavement as they walked.

“I used to be terrified of the rain,” she laughs but it’s hollow, “now it just make me sad.”

“Hina...I’m sor— I didn’t know that happened.” His mouth doesn’t seem to know how to form words of comfort. The muscle memory for genuine care atrophied. But he continues, willing it to work. “Your mother didn’t deserve that...didn’t deserve to have someone judge her worthy of living or not.” He has to fight the urge to not get angry. He hates the doves. But this was Hinami’s moment and he couldn’t rip it away from her. Turn this into his own personal vendetta.

“It’s been so long but even now when it rains I...it hurts.”

“You’re stronger than this rain.” He says. He looks over at her. Her face downcast, fingers trembling. “You don’t have to let it control you.”

“I...I know. I realize that.” She looks up at him, tears streaking her face. “But everytime it rains I’m just…. I just feel this overwhelming sadness and fear. I can’t control it.”

“I think rain is pretty.” Ayato says. He doesn’t realize his hand is on her shoulder till he looks at her again. “It cleanses the world, brings nutrition to plants, washes things away.”

This time when her eyes meet his there’s no fear, instead there’s hope — like the sun poking through the clouds.

He continues: “Let the rain wash away your feelings of sadness.”

A laugh: “I never thought about it that way.”

“You’re a smart girl, Hina. Don’t let your emotions run away with you.”

“You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions either.” She replies. He’s caught off guard by her statement.

“Maybe we both need to grow up then.”

—

When they get back to Hinami’s room he follows her in. He notices a pink stuffed bunny sitting on her bed. The bunny looks like he’s seen some better days. His left ear is childishly stitched back. Fur that was once easter pink is now faded and grime clings to it. One of the eyes is missing and the other looks like it’s about to follow.

“Touka won him for me.” Hinami says ripping Ayato from his thoughts. “Shortly after my mom died.”

Ayato chews his lips at the mention of Touka. He liked Hinami but he also forgets sometimes that she grew up with Touka. The way he didn’t. The way he should have.

One corner of her mouth is turned up, like she wants to smile but her body can’t take it. The rain has decided to launch a full scale attack. It hits hard against the window. Ayato thinks it might come right through.

“Well I should —”

“Will you stay?” She asks before he even finishes his statement.

“Are you still scared?”

“No...well...I am.” Her eyes meet his and he realizes right then just how pretty they are. “But I know I’m not alone. I guess that’s what Touka wanted to show me… but...here with you I feel like I can take it on.”

“Hina…”

“So will you stay?”

“Always.”

#writing #hinami fueguchi #touka kirishima #ayato kirishima #i miss writing ayahina

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in-the-name-of-the-holy-reborn · 6 years

Text

Star-shaped biscuit - Yamamoto

Arc 3 Secret Santa 2017 Participation to @kingprochan / @jirou-kojirou I just want to wish you a Merry Christmas and wish you all the best for this end of the year 🎅

Yamamoto took a deep breath when he jumped out of the plane, sweet volutes of smoke coming out of his mouth as he adjusted his scarf, the cold fresh air of Namimori tingling his lungs. He smiled to himself, delighted to be back, his bag on his shoulder as he walked again on the ground of his homeland, he hadn’t seen a real winter for years since he moved to Italy, not that he really minded as he wasn’t never fond of chilly weather. He remembered the number of the bus he was supposed to took, right in front the airport, a goofy smile painting his lips as he blinked nostalgically to each details flowing under his exhausted hues, it was like if he had never left. Soon, they were out the suburbs surrounding the city, the downtown already far away, when he came to his sens, he was the only one sitting on the dusty seats now, hoping they didn’t cut the line so he doesn’t have to walk much longer than planned. When he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he took a look behind him, the red lighting bulbs fainting in the scenery, his eyes fell on the road which had not been maintained for a long time. His usual gentle smile still on his face, he then faced the congested path he used to take so often when he was a child, the ascent began and he couldn’t turn away until he had reach the top, not that he really thought it was a possibility when he came back here. The cloudy sky adorning a milky color threatened to strike and Yamamoto kept climbing between the bushes and trees, his fingers turning red, his knuckles white by dit of blowing on, he didn’t mind, not paying attention at anything but his goal. When he reached a platform half way, he sat on the nearest rock, opening his bag to gulp down a bottle of water, he squinted toward the city, filled with crowded streets and flashing lights, his hands brushed against the box of homemade cookies at the bottom of his bag and he let his delightful smile come back. - «D-dont do that ! Put that bowl down or you’re going to ..!» The clattering noise echoed in the house as the bowl full of flour crashed on the ground, breaking probably one or two tiles in the process, a thick cloud of white powder emerged in the whole kitchen as the three hosts coughed from the bottom of their lungs, moving their arms with the hope to dispel the dust, in vain. Tsuyoshi was the first to react, opening the window quickly as he expeled everything, an irritated sigh slipped past his mouth, he turned slowly a murderous aura around him, and by his glare, the remaining flour wasn’t the only thing he will oust out of his territory. Oh yes, he should have been frightening, could have, if he wasn’t covered in white from head to toe, dust painting his skin and coating his jet black hair up behind his traditional headband. «What the two of you were doing in MY kitchen exactly? Y-you s-stop laughing you! - Mah-Mah Tsuyoshi, why the long face, we were just making cookies for Christmas, your son wanted to make you a little gift for when you’ll get home after the service, however, we didn’t expect you this soon..» He picked up the dangerous pieces of glass on the ground, setting it into the trash, far away from his beloveds, with a slight pout and a well hidden blush, he crossed the room, his frown brushed away as he holded them in his arms, no more perceptible hint of anger sticking to his mind. The clock on the wall told him he was already late for his night shift preparations, with a reluctant sigh, his eyes landed on two big honey hues and he pointed the tip of his finger toward the nose of his 4 years old son a star-shaped cookie in hand, he emphasised, «YOU, be careful with ustensils and YOU both better make the best cookies I ever eaten!» He ruffled Takeshi’s hair, pecking his wife on the lips as he rushed to the door «AND I WANT MY KITCHEN BRIGHT AND SHINY FOR TOMORROW!» - A dropplet of water ran on his split chin, and Yamamoto wipe it off with a laugh at the memory, before putting his bottle of water back in his sport bag, yep, those biscuits were definitely bad, but he remebered that his dad ate them all until the last crumb. It became a tradition and each year, they made Christmas cookies together, trying not to transform the house into a North Pole battlefield. As he took the road again, the first snowflakes began to dance around him, ephemeral unique forms crushing on his shoulders, the ground seemed inclined to accept the delicate layer and the young man quicken his pace. He was tempted to pull out his tongue and catch one or two, but the silly idea was quickly replaced when the top of the hill came into view, Yamamoto closed his eyes in enticipation, he then mounted the last few feet which separated him from the place of the last goodbye given to his mother. Takeshi’s heart tightened up when he spotted the back of an old man at the edge of the cliff, he was contemplating the silent landscape displaying his beauty in front of him, from this spot, the quintessence of the entire valley in which he has always lived could be caught in one single glance. At the soundless step behind him, the grey hair man, bite his lips, releasing a nostalgic tear he couldn’t, didn’t want to, hold back. The younger of the both stood without a word next to his father, a box nicely wrapped in his hands, he let out a comforting sigh, his eyes on the wonderful scenery. Directing it to the other man, Tsuyoshi thanked him with a smile, pulling on the red ribbon slowly, with a muffled sound, he cracked open the case, an amused eyes covering the contents as he pulled out a star-shaped biscuit that he hastened to bring to his mouth.

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deadsy-doodle-blog · 6 years

Photo

PUNK ROCK RUINED MY LIFE

SECTION ONE

Grim reached the front door of home from his walk from the high school, staying after for detention. He noticed a random unfamiliar car in the driveway, and Sara’s bike was also there. He walked in and noted his little sister doing her homework in front of the tv, she had brought home some of her school lunch and was snacking on it.

“Mom home?” He asked tumbling his backpack off his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Sara said quietly between nibbles and writing.

“Fuuuuck.” He groaned, slumping his shoulders as he went to his room. The sun was starting to set so he turned on his corner lamp, sat on his bed tuning his guitar in the dim light. Hearing his mother and a mystery guy moaning through the wall, and the headboard grazing against the thin drywall. He banged his fist against the wall a few times and yelled.“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” he rolled his eyes as the sounds didn’t stop. “Fuck this.” He said getting up. He grabbed Sara’s arm and dragged her out of the house with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked the sixteen-year-old.

“A friend’s house. This is bull shit. I can’t handle it anymore.” He said tugging her along as he walked quickly. They walked about a block down the road until Grim knocked at his friend Morty’s door and his father let them inside.

“Morty’s in his room.” His father said as Grim brushed passed him in the doorway. Grim took his little sister into the room and slammed the door. Morty was smoking pot out his window, turning his head with a jump.

“Hey.” He said after huffing out. The stale smoke spiraled and he waved it out the window.

“Fucking bitch.” Grim said shaking his head.

“who?”

“My mom, dumbass.” He said directing Sara to sit down on the green plaid chair as he sat on the bed and took Morty’s pipe. He took a few hits and tried to calm down, taking a few moments for it to take to his mind.

“What?” Morty asked, moving his long curly red locks out of his eyes, tucking them into his beanie a little better.

“She’s boning some dude and won’t even take care of my sister. Fucking slut bitch.” He said shaking his head. “Had to get out of there.” He said in a stiffened smoky breath passing the pipe back.

“Hungry?” Morty asked getting off his bed and scooting a shoe box out of the crack between the bed frame and the wall. He gently put his stash in the box and tucked it back into its hiding place.

“Starving.” Sara’s quiet voice said meekly from the corner of the room. Morty took them to the kitchen and pulled out a pizza box from the fridge. “Just gotta heat It up.” He said handing them napkins. Morty’s father came into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and took a slice as well. he cracked open the beer and asked if everything was alright.

“Just can’t be at home right now.” Grim said sort of brushing him off. Grim gave Sara a slice of pizza and chomped into his own.

“you’re welcome to spend the night.” Morty’s father said walking away slowly. A few hours had passed between the friends talking, Grim tucked his little sister into Morty’s bed the two of them went out with a baseball bat smashing mailboxes, Grim noticed the unfamiliar car was still at his house, he smacked the aluminum bat against the car’s mirror and broke it off. The mirror dangled from the car and the glass glimmered in the moonlight.

“Fucker.” He said spitting at it. He lifted it up again and smacked the bat into his mother’s windshield. The crunch sent a satisfying chill up his spine as he pulled the bat back again. Morty’s hand grabbed onto it and wouldn’t let it come down for another blow.

“You’re gonna be in deep shit.” Morty said looking around and ready to flee the scene.

“I don’t give a fuck anymore, Morty. I hope she kicks me out, I can’t stand her. She doesn’t care about us, she just worries about getting laid.” He said in a heavy panting, ears pinned back and his eyes were wide, the moonlight gave their green tint an eerie glow. The aluminum bat fell to the ground as Grim slumped, trying to calm himself down.

“you sound irrational Grim.” Morty said frightened a bit.

“Maybe I fucking am! I don’t even know anymore, I feel like I’m losing my mind!” He weakly deflated onto the ground and held onto his knee, resting in the shards of glass at the bumper of the car. He heaved in deeply and felt the blood rush to his head and create a migraine, a mental nose bleed of congested thoughts and emotions.

“you’re going off the deep end…” Morty said helping him up after a few moments. He walked him back to his house and the two smoked again in the backyard, Grim finally soothing himself into a slow swirl as he heaved in with a toke and out with baggage.

It wasn’t until after school the next day that Grim and Sara spoke to their mother. Grim got home an hour late per usual and glared at her as she sat with Sara making up excuses.

“We’re not fucking stupid.” Grim said as he went down the hall to his room. “You probably didn’t even come out to check on her.” he called as she was turning her attention to him.

“Don’t talk to me like that, god damn it Grim!” she screamed. Grim turned in his door way and stared at her for a moment in disgust, his ears perked forward and alert, tranquilly unpleasant.

“Fuck you.” He said calmly then closed his door and locked it. Grim pretty much avoided her the rest of the night.

“You have to come out to eat.” She yelled though the door after trying her best to unlock it and push it open. She banged on the door every hour trying to get him to come out for his round of emotional and physical abuse.

“The hell I do, I’ve gone longer than a day without food before.” Grim yelled from his bed as he was layed back reading the insides of his CD covers.

“You kidnapped my daughter, I can call the police.” She said louder.

“Go for it. Then they can take us away to child protective care.” He shouted fumbling to put the sleeve back inside the current CD case.

“you ungrateful bastard.” She said bitterly letting the words bite through the door.

“Thanks mom.” Grim said rolling his eyes in sarcasm as he tossed the CD case to the floor and started on the next.

“You’re going to school tomorrow, you have to come out for that. Your homework’s out here.” Grim just laughed heartily. The next morning Grim headed out for school and walked with Sara to her grade school. She seemed troubled and uncomfortable.

“why do you and mom hate each other?” she asked.

“Sara, one day you just learn the facts of life, and some people are just not good.” He said stopping in front of her school.

“But you break and steal things.” She said looking up at him as he was lighting up a cigarette and adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

“It’s for existence, what mom does is self-interested.” He said looking at her dryly with the fresh cigarette taught in his somewhat hairy lip.

“oh.” She said quietly.

“Make sure you eat lunch today. I’ll go by the store on my way home and get some stuff.” He said leaving her, she walked to the school door as the bells rang.

Grim walked the next four blocks to his school. He was fifteen minutes late as usual. He walked into class and sat down in the back corner of the room.

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Grange.” The teacher said as the other students stayed silent, one jock snickered from across the room and Grim glared his green daggers at him. As class went on Grim just put his head down on the desk, slumped forward and smelling the nicotine caked into his jacket sleeves.

A kid next to him whispered “Grim…” he looked up at him with his dark ringed eyes. “Is it true that you carry a knife?” he asked quietly.

“Wanna find out?” Grim asked sarcastically and reaching into his pockets with an edgy jump.

“Just asking…” he said bitterly. “I like knives.”

“Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone.” Grim said with a grimace on his face, not wanting to be this random kid’s friend.

“Boys, is there a problem?” the teacher asked quietly. They shook their heads. As the bell rang the teacher called to Grim. “Grim, your grades are slipping, you’re fighting to keep your head above water here, son.” He said looking up from his papers. Grim gave him an apathetic shrug and let out a light sigh.

“Is everything alright at home?” he asked concerned.

“Why does that matter?” Grim asked defensively with his ears swiveling.

“Just wondering if we need a parent teacher conference.”

“You don’t scare me, and my mother would never come.” He said shaking his head.

“What about your dad?” he asked.

“Never met the guy.” Grim said shrugging and pushing his bottom lip out and his eyebrows up. His piercing on his brow bobbed up with his expression.

“well at least ask your mother if she would come.” The teacher said writing a note.

“Look, dude. The only thing my mom comes to is a guy in bed.” He said trying to just shut him down. He put the note back in his hand and walked away, leaving his teacher speechless. He went to his second period and spent his time leaned against the wall flicking pencil lead at the backs of girl’s heads.

“Seriously, Mrs. Hawk, do something.” One said turning around and glaring at him. Grim was sent to the hall so he started wandering for a while, he walked down and peeked into classrooms, waving at his friends and the members of his shitty punk band.

“Grim.” Mr. Mckentire said noticing him at the drinking fountain. “Do you have a minute?” he asked. Grim looked up a little surprised and took a step back from the drinking fountain, wiping the water off his muzzle

“Don’t take me to the principal about what I said earlier.” He said looking stressed, ears flicking back in discomfort.

“Are you acting out because of problems at home?” his teacher asked with dipped ears and a concerned expression.

“I’m a bastard.” Grim said looking up at him.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself…” he said uncomfortably.

“No, literally, I am a bastard.” He said sucking in his bottom lip and holding his arms out.

“there’s counseling provided…” his teacher said trying to reach out to his struggling student.

“No, no, no no” Grim said wringing his hands. He tremored at the thought of talking to someone who knew and thought he was crazy, being just another statistic in their day and another file in their portfolio. Using artificial happiness and knew he couldn’t trust himself with a prescription like that, besides would it even help? It was too expensive to ever find out.

“I just want to hold on until the end of the day, when I can go into my music appreciation class with my friends and be alright, and then literary analysis after that. Just leave me alone! I’m fine! Just sick of people assuming they understand or anything”

“well, if you need help, you can come to me.” His teacher said backing off, unsure of how to defuse a ticking time bomb.

At the end of the day Grim walked home with a quart of milk and some cereal, as well as a loaf of bread and some peanut butter from a close by grocery store. As he walked through the door he handed the peanut butter and bread to his sister and put the rest away. His mother sat at the table smoking a cigarette waiting for him to come home.

“Still not talking?” his mother asked in her harsh voice as she glared at him moving throughout the house.

“Here’s a question for you… You sat on your ass all day, why the hell couldn’t you go buy some food?” his green eyes locked onto her blue ones from the fridge.

“I couldn’t drive!” She yelled back at him. She put her cigarette out in the ash tray forcibly, smushing the filter into the glass.

“You’re drunk all the time, should be a pro by now!” he said going red in the face with another fit of rage. She stood up at this point, gripping onto the edge of the table in anger.

“Somebody smashed my windshield and my friend’s mirror with a baseball bat, you little prick!” she screamed grabbing him. She slapped him across the face and pushed him to the floor. He looked up at her, feeling the sting and impression from her nails and palm. He calmly got up and headed to his room, ears pinned and his head hanging low. He sucked his lip in trying not to lash out physically toward her. “you’re grounded!” she yelled. “I’m not done beating your ass, you wanna act like that this is what you’re gonna get!”

He ignored her, sat on his bed and hugged his knees to his chest. The throbbing on his face and a hot sting of angry tears burned with the ringing in his ears. He heard her yelling at Sara to go to her room. Grim let go of his knees and cracked his head against the wall, just trying to numb it out. He sprawled back there thinking for a long time, the house still and brooding. Every little memory courses through his head as his eyes searched through what was burned in his mind.

After what felt like forever he sat up and picked up a backpack, he started stuffing clothing into it, his favorite CD’s and his book of songs for the band. He shoved his picks and extra strings in the bag and the money he had saved up from small house shows and venues. He flung it onto his back and strapped his guitar around his back as well. He pulled the door open, the house was dark, everyone locked away. He quietly walked out the front door and trudged down the road.

He stopped by Morty’s house and knocked on his window, Morty jumped up from his bed and turned his bedroom light on. He opened the window and Grim looked at him with stern eyes. “I’m leaving town.” He said in a hushed voice.

“Shit, really? Where?” Morty asked looking around outside.

“I might have a place to stay, I can’t stay there any more man. I’ll still come out for band shit, but I’m done.” He said shaking his friend’s hand. Grim started backing away and made his way down the road a little further. After another fifteen minutes of walking he went down the street to Crue’s house.

Crue was a bundle of weird memories and emotions for Grim, she was an amazing bassist and they had shared a lot of firsts together. He quietly snuck around the side of her house and found her window and just as he had done before knocked lightly and woke her up. She turned a lamp on and was bundled up in her blankets.

“Wow nice pajamas.” Grim smiled as she shivered in the cold night air.

“What do you want? It’s like 1 AM.” She said in a groggy voice.

“I’m leaving.” He said leaning on the window sill. “Don’t worry about the band, but I wont be around school and shit.” He said looking at her brown eyes.

“You’re running away?” Crue asked quietly a little surprised.

“It’s been hard.” Grim said shaking his head and pushing his forelock up with a stressed hand. Crue looked at him for a moment before leaning out the window and giving him a kiss.

“What was that for?” he asked pulling back confused.

“Luck, I guess.” She said in a smirk.

“I gotta go, see ya, bitch face.” He said walking back out into the night, even more confused than before.

He walked for miles, the air growing cold and his nose starting to run. Cars passed slowly, he felt their stares. He reached the next town deep into the morning and rested at the park. He pulled a bag of weed out of his coat, packed his pipe and lit it. He dragged deeply from the pipe hugging his freezing hands to his chest and his knees over them. After his short hit break he got back up in the freezing night and kept walking, a little calmer. he reached the home of his grandmother around 7 am. He knocked on the door hesitantly and quickly straightened himself out a little when she opened the door.

“I’m sorry, Grandma, but can I stay for a while?” he asked looking like he was about to pass out. She brought him inside and took him to a guest bedroom. He sat on the bed and slumped over in relief and exhaustion.

“What’s going on?” she asked caringly.

“My mom, she’s not taking care of us.” He said rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“she’s out of control again?” she asked looking sad.

“Yeah, I just can’t stand it anymore, she’s been really bad lately.” He said pulling his wet shirt off. His grandma took it from him and held onto it to put in the wash.

“Go take a shower really fast then get some rest.” She said leaving the room gingerly.

The next morning he woke up and started coughing violently. His grandma tapped on the door and came in and felt his forehead. He had slept nearly a whole day and his body was an aching mass of heavy limbs and fur.

“You’ve got a fever.” She said as he wheezed. “come get something to eat and a hot drink.” He rolled out of the bed and went down to the kitchen for a while. Getting some breakfast he sat down in the living room. His grandmother brought him a cup of tea.

“Grandma, what the hell is this?” he asked taking if from her.

“It will help with your cold. Please watch your language.” She said sitting down with her own cup.

“Oh shit, sorry grandma, bad habit.” He said with a smile as he ate his cereal. They conversed in pleasant small talk for a while.

#anthro #horse #horseanthro #punkanthro #story #horse character #original character #fur art

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emma-poole · 7 years

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Still, like pooled water. Five years old. The dairy leaves me congested. Cheese turns my head into a cotton ball. My mother takes me to a holistic doctor in the neighborhood. His name is Stephen. Stephen has gentle hands and kind eyes. I am intrigued by his office, the soft, muted colors. He asks my mother about my diet, has me lay down on a padded table while he palpates different body parts with his fingertips. The whole left wall is lined with windows. Sun pours in through the glass and lights up my baby hairs. I look like a reclining angel. A congested angel.

Six months later, after a strict elimination diet of no dairy and wistful trips down the grocery store cheese aisle, I return to the office. He holds a milk carton up to my right hand to see how my energy reacts. My hand accepts the milk. I can eat dairy, but gradually. Everything in moderation. We discover my healing colors are purple and green. I feel validated, as I've always been drawn to earth tones and have a special affinity for anything purple. I lay on a bed in a room covered with lighting slides in my heart colors. I dream of my father and ice cream. The color green wakes me up, though I can't remember falling asleep. Slow, like molasses dripping off a metal spoon. The blank space before a memory forms. No more cotton head just limbs of honey. Malleable, five years formed. Is this why I place rose quartz on my heart when I feel sad? If left long enough, the crystal will take on the body's heat, becoming warm to the touch.

13 years later I move into my college dorm. I adorn my twin extra long bed with purple pillows and a sage green comforter. Fire is prohibited but I place scented candles in empty corners and turn my new space into home. I've become skilled at this. Friends remark that my room feels cozy. They lean on my throw pillows and borrow jewelry I never wear. I cry myself to sleep almost every night of freshman year, remembering a boy with blue eyes and large hands. I used to stare at the bumpy ridge of his cuticles and wonder how something could be so beautiful. He comes to me in dreams, which becomes torturous. In movement class, we roll around on the ground proclaiming our pain. Agony slips out my throat onto the rubber floor. I am howling in front of my classmates, body folded into grief. If we had babies, do you think their eyes would be brown or blue? Green maybe, you'd whisper. You liked me in green. Said it brought out my eyes.

We never made it to your cabin that summer before I left. Your mother got sick and began to lose her mind. She wrapped household appliances in paper and gifted them to you for your birthday. You sat with me in your backyard, confused and ashamed of the illness inside your mother that seemed to take all the good parts of her captive. I comforted you by talking about my father. It'll be ok, I told you, cradling your weeping head. Soft, like silk on bare skin. You kiss me. Your mouth is salty and warm. I can taste you seeking refuge in me, desperate to empty yourself of the pain you conceal so well between pursed lips and a puffed-up chest.

Months later, you tell me the distance is too much. You harden into a stranger I don't recognize, blame me for leaving you, despite having known the circumstances all along. I reach out for you in my sleep, beg the universe to bring you back to me. My heart is a fist lodged into the center of twisted muscle. Constant, relentless ache. You become cold, hostile, and mean. Breathing turns into a task, forgetting, a goal. But I want to remember. I am obsessed with re-living our memories, see the two of us outside the day you told me about your mom. Your eyes matched the sky, clear and blue, as your mouth trembled. Chin up, my son. Why do we teach boys not to cry? What becomes of the women who turn into surrogates of their mothers?

Hard, like a peach pit stuck in a wind pipe.

Suffocating, like heartbreak.

The year after I move to New York, my grandmother dies. She passes peacefully, after a quick and accosting bout with dementia. I go to see her in the final days. Her hospice room overlooks green grass and sprawling trees. There is bad art on the wall, but the windows make everything softer. Sun pours in and lights up her tiny frame. She is all skeleton, skin translucent over bird-like bones. Her head hangs at a forty five degree angle. I search her eyes for recognition but she is elsewhere, death waiting patiently to claim the last lucid parts. I imagine myself in a rocking chair with her on my lap, her tuft of thin white hair velvety against my chest. I would rub her back and cradle her small bones in my warmth, tell her it's ok to let go, that there are people waiting for her on the other side. A son and husband she has waited years to see again. She used to walk into the kitchen when I had guests over and present framed pictures of my uncle Michael and Grandpa Joel. Her first love and firstborn. She'd stand there like a child presenting her most prized possession and pass the picture around to my slightly uncomfortable but very gracious friends.

My nana always wore lipstick and had eyes the color of deep water. She marked water glasses, dogs, and humans with her pink mouth print wherever she went. People told her she looked like Marilyn Monroe, which she loved, since they shared a name. She was beautiful, kind, stubborn and heartbroken. A part of her died the day she lost her husband and later her son, which is why standing in that room, days before her death, it felt right that her time on earth would soon end. As her body decayed, I knew her consciousness was expanding.

Rocking her, I'd whisper thank you for showing up. For all the graduations, plays, family dinners and stories. And for letting me be your roommate the summer after my freshman year of college when I came to you, stung over the loss of my first love, looking for comfort and a familiar place. I slept in the water bed all of June, July and August, occasionally sneaking in and out of the window that faced the yard. I even brought a boy into your house that summer, but you didn't know. Instead, you threw me a surprise party for my 19th and invited all my close friends. They brought me candy nipple tassels which we somehow convinced you to take a bite of.

Remembering isn't fair, because it is never as accurate as the heart wants. Details become grainy, smells are lost. Except in that house, your house, the same one we stayed in when mom moved us back North from Florida to Niskayuna, New York, the town she grew up in, you live on. If I close my eyes and imagine it, I can smell rotisserie chicken warming in the oven, the pink bathroom enveloped in a waft of floral perfume. It smells like Nana in here, we’d say.

I wonder if the people who live there now ever experience signs of before. I hear they remodeled it, changed so much that it barely resembles the brick house I knew. I think she'd be happy knowing a family inhabits the place that hers grew in.

I love you so much, I'd tell her. Now off you go.

Calm, like wind rustling leaves. She is nowhere and every where.

I visit Israel the summer of 2014. The old cities with their cobblestone streets and white washed buildings feels like stepping into a movie. In Jerusalem, girls and women dressed in long skirts tilt their heads against the wailing wall. They tuck their secrets into paper notes they wedge between the wall’s stones. I wonder what their bodies look like under the layers of clothing, if any of them have mothers who tucked them into bed at night with amethyst under their pillows. Do they marry men who nurture them or whose mothers they become ghosts of? I want to feel devotion the way they do.

I think of Camp Coleman, a Jewish summer camp in Georgia my sister and I attended in grade school. The best part of camp was the blob, a giant inflatable raft that sat on the lake. One person sat on the edge of the blob while the other jumped off a ledge and upon landing, sent the person on the edge of the raft zooming up into the air. I liked the horseback riding, movie nights and camp food. But I also liked the daily services and hymns sung in Hebrew. I had a crush on a boy named Evan. He had blonde curls and brown eyes and we slipped notes to each other in the dining hall. It was the first summer I ever tried Nair, since some of the girls shaved their legs, which gave me great envy. I found out I was allergic to Nair and had to sit out of camp activities for a week because of the boils on my legs.

I walk over to the wall. Closing my eyes, I place my palm on the cool stone and remember. I think of my grandmother, whose faith she turned to when life became harsh. Come with me to shul, she'd say, the more Jewish word for temple. I think of my mother, my grandmother’s gift to me, and our childhood home that she filled with plants and nourishing food. I am forest green and deep purple, embodied in my memories. This city is blue. Like my grandmother’s eyes. The first boy I loved. And my mother’s.

The stone beneath my hand has become warm. I tear a piece of paper out of my journal and scribble the names of those dearest to me on it. Folding it up, I tuck it into the nearest empty space.

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thelibraryfanfiction · 7 years

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Chapter Five

It was July in London. Which meant that the weather was nice. There was a light breeze that perfectly off-set the bright sun.

It was such a change from the normally miserable London weather that I did something I rarely ever did; I wore a dress.

Normally on a warm day like today I would have worn shorts, but today, for some reason, I felt like wearing a dress.

But not just any dress, a nice sundress that made me look more suited to playing in the fields than it did working in a library. I pulled my hair back off my face but let the rest of it hang down behind my back.

It was strange to say but I felt beautiful and because I felt that way, everything else seemed to be more beautiful.

Even James, sitting on his phone and texting Craig, the boy he’d met a few months ago in this very library didn’t bother me. I was happy that he was so in love.

Of course, that was when Ian walked in. But not even that could spoil my mood.

He too seemed to be taking advantage of the nice weather as he wore a simple shirt and jeans. He looked rather handsome with his hair swept back the way it was and I smiled at him warmly as he approached the desk.

“Hi.” I smiled.

“Hi.” He breathed, seeming a little out of breath.

“How’d you find it?” I asked, gesturing to the book as I scanned it in. It was some book I had never read entitled ‘The Girl on The Train’.

“It was good. Bit of a nail-biting thriller type.” He told me as he put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

I briefly wondered what he could be nervous about before I spoke again, “Well if you like that kind of thing, you should read Gone Girl. I know everyone’s seen the movie but books-”

“Are always better.” He finished for me with a smile, “and thanks but I’ve read it already.”

I shrugged. Normally that kind of rebuttal would have left me feeling awkward and rejected, but not today.

“Let me know if you need anything.” I said simply as I turned to catalogue his book in the stack of put-back books.

He nodded his head before he quickly shuffled away, heading over to the book shelves.

Eventually he came back with a big blue book, placing it on the counter, I picked it up with interest.

“Eragon.” I read.

“Have you read it?” he asked.

“No. But my roommate has the series and she loved them. I always meant to read them but I’ve never gotten around to it. My list of books to read is too long.” I told him.

“What’s on this list?” he asked curiously.

“What you’d expect, Anna Karina, To Kill A Mockingbird, Water for Elephants,” I listed.

“You know those are all movies now right?”

I opened my mouth but he finished my sentence before I could even speak the first word.

“The books are better than the movies, I know.” He assured me.

I smiled.

“What are some things I wouldn’t expect to be on the list?” he asked.

“Ah…” I trailed off, “My Time In Russia by Bonny Propipso.”

“What’s it about?” he asked.

“It’s based on a true story about an Australian Ballerina that was over in Russia to dance when the siege of Leningrad happened. She fell in love with a soldier and refused to leave him.” I explained.

“Siege of Leningrad?” he asked.

“It’s known as St. Petersburg now.” I explained.

“Ah. I like a girl who knows her history.” He smiled.

I flushed at the compliment and looked up at him through my lashes. I could be mistaken but he was staring at me with something akin to wonder, fascination maybe? I couldn’t quite tell.

“Hey Clara,” interrupted James, announcing himself as he emerged from the book shelves, “Have I told you how much I love your outfit today?” he asked.

“Thank you.” I smiled, “It’s vintage.”

While vintage may have meant that my dress was custom, to me, it actually meant that I had gotten it from a Good Will store and it was probably older than my mother.

“Perfection!” he told me.

“I know.” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder before I turned back to look at Ian.

If he found my exchange with James strange, he didn’t show it. Instead he smiled and headed towards the door, “Well, good luck with the list.”

“Thanks. I’ll get to it one day.” I smiled.

“Well you’re in the right place for it.” He said as he opened the door.

I simply smiled and watched him leave.

Once he was gone, James heaved himself up onto the counter and sat down, swinging his legs playfully, “So you look nice today.” He stated.

“Thank you.”

“You’re not dressing up to get the attention of a certain someone, are you?” he asked slyly.

I frowned at him, “A girl can’t just dress up some day to look nice?”

“Not typically but if you are good for you.” He stated, “Ian certainly noticed.”

My frown deepened, “He what?”

“You didn’t notice? He was totally flirting with you just now. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” He told me.

I blinked in shock, “He was?”

He nodded so enthusiastically it reminded me of a cartoon.

“Why would he be flirting with me? He has a girlfriend.” I said pointedly.

“Mother of his child is not a girlfriend.” He retorted.

“Typically it’s a wife.” I corrected.

James rolled his eyes, “He was into you!”

“He was not!” I dismissed.

I was not going to let it happen again. I wasn’t going to let that bubble of hope expand inside of me just to have it burst the moment Jemma stepped in the door. I didn’t need the heartache.

…

I blew my nose for what felt like the hundredth time that morning and it made Barbara cringe.

“Its September. How can you have a cold in September?” she asked me.

“Because we’re in a miserable country with miserable weather.” I told her, the words coming out nasally because of my congested sinus’s.

“Urgh, I’m going to go make a cup of tea. You want one?” she asked as she stood up from the couch.

“A lemon and honey one?” I asked hopefully, my throat was getting a little sore from all the coughing I had been doing.

“Only for you sweetness.” She smiled before she headed off into the kitchen.

Snuggling down onto the couch a little more with my blanket wrapped around me, I grabbed my phone as it buzzed on the coffee table, I had a message from James: ‘Guess who just left?’

‘Who?’ I texted back. He was at work while I was taking a much needed sick day and I imagined he was quite bored without me there to talk to and annoy.

‘Ian Harding. He asked about you.’

My heart leapt into my throat, ‘He did?’

‘Yeah. He asked where you were and I told him you were sick. He said he hopes you get better soon.’

Stupidly, I felt flattered by his concern, ‘Well that’s nice.’

‘You would have loved to have seen Jemma’s face. It was priceless.’

‘Describe it for me in detail.’

‘Cross between ‘I smell something rotten’ and ‘I just sucked on a lemon’.’

Despite feeling horrible, I suddenly found myself smiling, ‘Brilliant.’

‘Make you feel better?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Good. Come back to work then. I’m bored without you. I have no one to talk to.’

‘Why don’t you read a book?’

‘In a library? Who would have thought of that?’

Smiling at his sarcasm I placed my phone down on the coffee table just as Barbara came over to the couch and handed me my cup of tea.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Your welcome. Just don’t touch me. I don’t want to catch whatever plague you have.” She said as she sat down.

“What are you talking about? You’re an understudy. Your job literally improves when someone else’s sick. You can afford to be sick.” I told her.

“Yes, but I love my job and don’t relish the thought of spending a week an oozing, sneezing, snot infested mess.” She told me.

“Hey, I love my job.” I defended.

“I know you do. That’s what makes you so adorable.” She smiled before she made a kiss face and turned her attention back to the television.

I turned my attention to the warm cup of tea in my hands. Taking a sip, I let the hot liquid warm me from the inside. Though my insides already felt quite warm due to my conversation about Ian with James.

“How did your call back go?” I asked conversationally.

“Ok I think. I just did a monologue in front of the producer and director again.” She told me.

“So what happens now?”

“Now I wait and see if they want me to do a chemistry read with the other actor.”

“A chemistry what?”

“Its where you get two people together and see if they have sparks that translate onto film.” She explained.

“So not only do they judge you based on your looks, they now judge you as to whether your attracted to a complete stranger?” I demanded.

“Pretty much.” She shrugged.

“That’s messed up.”

“I know.”

“I’m beginning to think your entire profession actually has very little to do with whether you have actual talent.” I commented.

“I know.”

“I mean, they chose you for your looks. Then tested whether or not you could sing. Then tested whether or not you could sing in front of people. Then they test for if you can act. Now they are going to test if you can act with another person?”

“Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“That’s because it is stupid.”

“Hey! I don’t make fun of your career!” she said pointedly.

“Yes you do!” I said in aghast.

“Name one time.”

“All the time!”

“Like when?”

“They other day. You asked me if I had to put in an incident report if I ever got a paper cut on one of the books.” I reminded her.

“Oh yeah.” She smiled.

“Then you asked if it was covered under Occupational Health and Safety.” I commented.

“In my defence, that was a valid question.”

I stared at her with a dead-pan expression.

“And a funny one.” She grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

…

“Hey,” smiled Ian when he came into the library, “Your back.”

I was so happy to see him that I hardly even noticed Jemma was with him. Her hand clutching Maggie’s as she practically dragged her into the library.

“Yeah, I was sick last month.” I explained.

“Nothing serious I hope?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“No, just a little cold. I’m all better now.” I smiled, not bothering to hide my delight at how concerned he was for me.

“Well that’s good.” He smiled.

“Ian, come on!” interrupted Jemma, “Hurry up and get your book. Maggie is fussing.” She snapped as she hauled the crying toddler off the ground.

“Alright.” Soothed Ian, he sent me an apologetic smile before the trio disappeared behind the shelves.

Even though I could no longer see them, I could still hear Maggie crying. But behind that crying I could hear whispers. Angry whispers and I wondered if the two of them were having an argument.

Such a thing should have made me happy, but it didn’t. Instead I worried not only about Ian but about Maggie as well, having to see her parents fight in front of her at such a young age.

Eventually Jemma appeared from behind the bookshelves carrying a crying Maggie. She didn’t even glance my way as her heeled shoes tapped against the floor as she marched right out the door.

I blinked in shock as she slammed the door behind her. Turning to James I made a face, he too had been watching her and looked similarly shocked.

“Well that was dramatic.” He commented.

I resisted the urge to laugh as Ian came out from behind the bookshelves and placed a book down on the counter.

The room was so silent; I swear I could hear myself blink. The beeping sound the computer made when I scanned his card and book into the computer seemed obnoxiously loud. Ian refused to look at me the whole time.

As I made to hand the book back to him I tried to catch his eye, so I could convey to him somehow that everything was ok. That he shouldn’t be embarrassed. That everyone fought, it was fine.

But he never looked up. Instead he grabbed the book and headed out the door in just as dramatic fashion as Jemma.

“Well,” began James when the door slammed behind him, “That was interesting.”

“Hmm.” Was my only response. I was worried about Ian. Was he ok? Whatever they had been arguing about, it had obviously upset him.

“Trouble in paradise.” He commented.

“We shouldn’t pry.” I told him as I forced myself to focus on the paperwork in front of me.

“What? I thought you’d be happy about the two of them fighting?” he asked.

I was, wasn’t I?

Not really. I thought I would be happy to see the two of them having problems because it gave me hope that something could once again happen between us if he were to break up with her.

But the problem was, I could see how much emotional distress Ian was in and how hurt he would be without Jemma.

It was a strange thing to admit, but I cared about his feelings and happiness more than my own. If it meant he was happy, I would be willing to sit quietly on the sidelines and love him from afar, I’d been doing it for nearly two years now. If that was what he wanted. As long as he was happy.

But then I had to ask myself, would he be happier with me?

…

“Happy two years.” I smiled.

Ian frowned as he looked up from attempting to wrangle Maggie off the floor, “Excuse me?”

“It’s your anniversary. You’ve been signed up with the library for two years.” I explained, gesturing to the computer that had an orange flashing pop-up box informing me of the fact.

“Two years, really?” he asked as he scooped Maggie off the floor.

“Yep. Two years.” I smiled.

I could still remember the first time he walked into the library as if it was yesterday.

“Wow. It doesn’t seem like that long.” He commented as I handed his book back to him.

“Well, if you think about it, you only come in here once a month. That’s twenty-four visits. It’s not that much.” I reasoned, “I mean, you could be a real weirdo and be in here every day.” I winked.

He laughed, “You know, I actually know someone like that.” He said in a matter of fact tone.

“Have you told her to get a life?” I commented dryly.

“No. Truth is, I would spend most of my time in a library if I had the choice.” He said simply.

“Well,” I began as I grabbed a stack of books, “Not all of us can be so lucky.” I joked.

He laughed.

“Ma-ma. Ma….ma-ma.” Babbled Maggie.

“It’s ok baby, I’ll take you to your mothers after lunch.” Ian soothed as he walked towards the door.

Instead of going and putting the books away like I had been preparing to do, I instead stayed put, suddenly rooted to the spot as I watched him leave.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed standing there until James suddenly jumped up onto the counter and laid down, striking a provocative pose, “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls Jack?” he asked, pouting his lips.

Broken out of my trance I rolled my eyes and headed towards the shelves. James quickly jumped down from the counter and followed me.

“You know, this situation reminds me of a song,” he stated.

“I imagine that happens quite a lot to you. Given how your mind works.” I commented as I began placing books back on their correct shelves.

“Not as often as you may think.” He told me seriously, “But I was thinking of a certain song by a certain songstress who, in my humble opinion, should be queen of the world,”

“Is anything about you humble?” I interjected but he ignored me.

“In the wise words of Miss Taylor Swift, ‘You Belong With Me’ is so you and Ian’s song.” He told me.

“Really?” I asked sarcastically.

Ian and I didn’t have a song. We weren’t a couple.

“Oh yes, because it goes,” he began clearing his throat before he started to sing, “She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts…”

“Please stop.”

“She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers…”

“We’re in a library.”

“Dreaming about the day, when you wake up and find… that what you’re looking for, has been here the whole time!” he sung loudly.

“James! Shh! Oh my god!” I hissed, looking around in embarrassment but he could not be discouraged as he began to theatrically throw his head back and forth.

“Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you! Been here all along so why can’t you see…” he sung as he skidded along the hardwood floor on his knees, coming to a stop at my feet.

I looked down at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish the song.

“You belong with me…” he sung.

I rolled my eyes and tried to look annoyed, but failed miserably. Despite my conflicted feelings about Ian, James had succeeded in making me laugh.

#chapters #fanfiction #fanfic #real person fanfiction #the library #Ian Harding

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