#this is what i mean when i say i replaced self harm w other slightly less unhealthy stuff lol i just. like. this is just what i do now

[doebt]

ik why i stay up so late like this man its bc i just want to feel something SO bad. so i will stay up reading or whatever except its not even really reading its just skimming random stuff on ao3 to see if anything hits me in my feelings hard enough for it to matter. and it turns into this thing of me looking up progressively more messed up stuff until i can find something dark enough to make me feel anyhting and even THEN theres usually like nothing. and if i DO find something that makes me feel something then i get so worked up about it i have to keep looking for more bc im like addicted to feeling emotions

[ilysmxiao]

scarred palms | xiao x reader

summary : xiao had told you the story of the scars on the skin that showed, perhaps he was insecure of so, as he was shy to speak of such stories. as one wouldn’t expect, words shared amoungst humans were rarely ever original, though, it was the first he had ever heard such words . character(s) : xiao warnings : mentions of self harm. tho this is comfort !! a/n : came up w this and thought it would be nice !! pls send me some nice requests, rn i mainly write for zhongli, xiao, and kazuha -- though, i can try out other characters! i need to experiment w my writing pfft

            “ it’s the way you speak,                            forming words so easily.                                          i think of the way you think,                                                         it keeps me from falling asleep. “                                                   °· ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ·°

it had been a rough night for xiao, after returning from a recent battle. he rest upon the roof of wangshu inn, settling under the stars that found their spot amongst the very place he protected. the calm, but very much alive atmosphere buzzled below -- the people finding their way back home after the small celebration they held, holding the hands of their lovers as they walked to their rooms.  the thought of love was one he despised, hating the human emotions that created a home in anothers heart -- though, at the same time, he knew that he, himself, had grown ill to such a particular thing.  the tiles shifted ever so slightly, as feet carefully scaled their way across them. it had become a normal thing to hear, at times at these, and the barer of who made those tiles shift was not unknown. it had become a normal routine, and to xiao, it was one he looked forward to on days such as these -- he would never admit to such, instead, hide his delighted heart from his lover when he felt the pressure of their head leaning against his shoulder, and the way they cautiously and lovingly they rubbed the back of his shoulder blades.  in all of xiaos years of guarding liyue, watching many people walk along the very land he protected, seeing many pleasing faces that he had shown no care for, he had never expected one to be the fault of the feelings he had never seemingly dealt with before. one to make him feel human, almost, showing him that any person, human or not, could learn to love. as if, that anything but humans felt that emotion, more or less understood it.  a question was not needed to know how the adepti was doing, nor did an answer need to suffice. after spending the time that they had with the male, seeing him come home with new scars and marks on his already tethered body, it was enough to understand how long those scars would stay with him.  resting a hand upon the fresh scars, you glance at xiao, who had trained his eyes on the abyss above the two. his hand shied away from yours, retreating to the home by his side.  “our scars hold meaning, yours show and hold such complicity that many would never understand -- sometimes, even i will never truly understand what you go through.” to this, xiao turned his ill gaze to his lover, curious of what else they had to say. though such words were often spoke amongst the morals he protected, he had yet to have one say such things to himself. never would he recover from his battles, his scars earning their place on the patches of skin he had, taunting him, but words of comfort from his lover would suffice and slowly take away the hurt that they held. “that takes away no meaning. no matter what you do, how many layers you wear to protect yourself from the blades colliding with your skin, you can not escape it. it is important to understand that, and while doing so, know that you can slowly heal from it.” you comfortingly reached towards xiaos hand, softly picking it up and bringing it to your lips. the feeling brought tingling sensations through his body, earning a slight shiver from so. “scars are horrible, but we all have some. they’re unavoidable. what matters is not how they were formed, but how we deal with it, and what we do from there on.” after letting go of the others hand, you raised yours slightly and brought to attention of the many that littered your own. it had been known to xiao that you had your own scars, but to his dismay and disappointment, he truly never understood how many you had. it made his heart sink, seeing how many of them were seemingly self inflicted -- he wondered why you would ever do such a thing to yourself, not understanding why mortals would hurt themselves, or how much could have lead themselves to the point to doing so. “whats the point in self loathing and wishing for better, if you won’t take steps in that direction? they’re apart of you, you can’t escape that, but you can give them meaning and make them worth seeing. my point is, you can’t hide it, don’t embrace them if you dont want to, but don’t let your scars define you. it’s a thing thats often said.., but as much as it is said, it still holds meaning. and you do not deserve to forever hold onto these things and only see them as bad, no matter where they are from, or how they were caused.” despite having multiple, loving occasions the both had shared that made their relationship ever so more beautiful, xiao felt himself grow even more attached to you, the coldness in his heart melting ever so slightly with each word you spoke. silence followed after the few words you spoke, making you begin to regret ever speaking up in the first place -- showing your vulnerable side, showcasing your own scars as if you had healed from them yourself.  “i’m sorry, i rambled on,” you admit, shame contorting your expression into a unsatisfied one.  though, unexpectantly, you felt a warmth engulf your body -- xiao replacing the cold breeze that comfortably sat between the gap. xiao had never been one to show his affection, finding small gestures more suitable for the feeling of love he had never fully understood. as days progressed, he began to find out more, finally beginning to realize that this what was love was. what was shown by mortals, the affection they gave each other on a day to day basis, it was only the surface; the surface being all that he knew, thinking it was just that. you had taught him that it was more than so, it was not just loving kisses and comforting hugs, it was the mutual understanding that no matter what happened, you would both be there for each other. to care for one another, to relic in the moments that would soon become history, and to cherish them as if there would be not another day to experience them. love was what you taught him, and until the day you left the day of the living, he would be sure to do what he could to show that -- even if all that he was capable of was muttering a small ‘i love you’, or giving you a hug if he could not find the correct words to show how much you meant to him. the grip he held on your shirt tightened, your arms intertwining with his to return the gesture. xiao nuzzled his face into your neck, eyes shutting tightly as he did so. a small smile formed on your lips, understanding that the other had appreciated what you said. “i love you,” xiao said quietly, breaking the small silence that had grown comfortable in the lap of your air. you could hear the slightly labored breathing escaping his lips, the warm air grazing your neck and dissipating each time he let another breath of air out. his warm body was pressed against your own, chest rising and falling until he soon calmed down. “i love you too, xiao.” in that moment, xiao’s repulsive and deprecating thoughts ceased, thinking of only you and the comfort you gave him. the silence from before returned, engulfing the area near, but this time, it was comfortable -- he could bask in your presence forever, especially in this moment. he couldn’t wish for anything better than you, in the life he had been given. although he was an adepti, prone to straying away from such putrid human feelings, he felt himself nearing acceptance of his want for such love to stay, more or less to stay beside him forevermore.  xiao was unable to be healed from the horrid fate at which he had been given, but little by little, he understood that not all was bad and he could one day learn not to hate it.

[imasimpforshanks]

hiii, how are you? may i ask angst alphabet for Ace? thank you ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Portgas D. Ace

a/n: hi hi!! here you go! OMG angst is still really hard LOL I don’t want to think about their rough life 😔😔😔😔😔 ANYWHOOOOO thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy<3

warnings: on the letter S there is mention of self harm

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Ace would definitely blame himself. He’s always thought he was a no-good demon child, son of a criminal that didn’t deserve to be alive (despite finding people that truly cared and loved him). You dying in an accident and him not being able to do anything about it would just reinforce what he already thinks of himself.

Regardless of your cause of death he is likely to attribute it to your association with himself, and because of that he will think it is entirely his fault, even if he wasn’t present at the time of your death.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

His lessons with Makino really helped him develop manners and just a general sense of acceptable behaviour. So, Ace would just be clear and up front, no mixed messages, no miscommunication. He would take you some place quiet and away from others, and then he would be as honest and vulnerable as possible – it’s the least you deserve. The break-up would be very civil, you would definitely end on good terms (doesn’t make it any less sad though).

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

Sometimes Ace can take his teasing a little too far. Usually you can handle it, but there are just some days where his words cut deeper than ever intended (even if they have no malice behind them). It’s not his fault you’re having a bad day, or not realizing you are having a bad day. It’s just one of those things that happens sometimes. As soon as you start to cry though, he apologizes and reassures you so much, to make sure you known he doesn’t mean it and he’s only playing around.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

It would start out with a lot of confusion, like “what t-that must be some kind of a sick joke. H-how… w-what… they wouldn’t just die like that.” After it really sinks in that you have in fact died, Ace will just get angry. I don’t see him as much of a crier (spoiler alert – we only see him truly allow himself to cry on two occasions 1) when luffy got crazy hurt as a child and 2) when ace was on deaths door), so I believe he would react with anger.

Regardless of your cause of death (natural causes, accident, died in battle etc.) Ace would be unbelievably angry with himself, the world and you. He would be angry at himself for being unable to save you, someone he cares about and loves deeply. He would be angry at the world and whatever higher being there may be for choosing now to be your time. There are so many horrible, horrible people in the world, yet you had to die? It makes no sense. Lastly, he would be angry at you. Not a genuine anger but more so a “how could you just leave me like this? We were meant to be together forever.”

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

I think Ace tends to try his sadness. He tries to put on a brave face, not wanting anyone to see him cry as he doesn’t want to be viewed as weak or be even more of a burden on others.

F-Fight (how often do you fight? What do you fight about? Do you fight often? Etc.)

Fights with Ace, although they don’t happen often, can quickly get out of hand. He’s stubborn and his inability to accept that he’s not always right can cause a minor disagreement to escalate into an all-out fight. On a few occasions you have argued about him never turning his back on an opponent.

Your fights tend to be followed by cooldown time. Things can get quite heated (no pun intended) so you need some alone time and space to breathe. After that though, you comeback together and apologize.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

For his entire life, Ace has lived with the guilt of simply existing. He doesn’t think himself worthy of being alive. Can you blame him? It’s all anyone ever told him growing up. Despite eventually finding people who loved him for him, those feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness still remain and continue to plague his mind.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Ace is quiet. He doesn’t want to be around anyone or anything. He wants to be left completely alone so he can sort out his thoughts and feelings. He’d be quite devasted because he’s had so few people in his life love him on as deep a level as you did.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Ace would absolutely lose it if you were injured. He’d be concerned, upset, and angry all at once. First things first, he needs to know if you are going to be ok. Once that’s been established, he’ll be upset at himself for allowing this to happen. This will be replaced by the pure anger he feels at whoever, or whatever, caused this.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When he gets jealous he turns into such a man child. He’s pouting and moping around while mumbling to himself. He develops quite a petty attitude. If you were to ask him “want to go get something to eat?” he’d respond with “why don’t you just go and ask ____ for some food.” But, as soon as you begin commenting on how jealous he’s acting he’s going to deny it to the end of his days.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Ace literally hunted down Blackbeard so he could get revenge on him for killing Thatch. It’s not certain whether or not Ace had the intention of killing Blackbeard, however, he definitely had both the spirit and anger to go through with killing him. So, it is possible that Ace would kill for revenge. However, for the most part, he would prefer to just beat them senseless.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Either Sabo or his mother’s death, would be considered Ace’s greatest loss. His mother died when he was a new-born, so he doesn’t particularly remember, or know, anything about her other than the fact that she was a kind wonderful woman. However, the loss of Sabo is something he remembers vividly. Losing Sabo had a major impact on Ace. It was an unfortunate wake up call as to how awful the world truly is.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One night, after a particularly bad day filled with a horrible series of events, Ace was letting off some steam (quite literally I suppose). Messing with his devil fruit power, throwing some flames around. He hadn’t noticed your presence and so his flames nearly burnt you. He was horrified, and he only felt worse after he noticed the pure terror in your eyes.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?

Ace has nightmares frequently, they vary, but they all have the same underlying theme, that is, the people in his life don’t actually care about him and only view him the same way everyone else views the son of the pirate kind – a worthless devil with no right to life. He wakes up from his dreams in a sweat and finds himself in desperate need of fresh air (ya know to try and clear his mind). He ends up just sitting out on the deck of the Moby Dick looking up at the sky trying to tell himself it was all a dream. But his insecurity and self-doubt begin to resurface and soon he can’t discern imagination from reality. However, the moment someone else on the crew even speaks to Ace with something as simple as a “morning dude” he’s brought back down to earth and thinks to himself “no that’s right…. They love me… I wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t.”

It’s a vicious cycle, but in the end, he manages to remember (even if it’s just for a little bit) that he is cherished.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

When you continuously tell him there’s no need to stay and fight every single opponent. It’s okay to turn and runaway – in fact it’s safer to do that. When you say that he feels as though you don’t understand him. He’s not some careless, impulsive child who’s just looking for a fight (okay maybe he is a little bit). So he doesn’t really get super angry, it’s more so that he is frustrated and a little upset that you don’t try to see it from his perspective.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

It’s the same as the worst mistake he’s ever made with you – nearly burning you with his devil fruit. It made you realize that Ace can actually be quite dangerous (although you know he would NEVER hurt you intentionally). It made Ace realize that he needs to be more careful, the look of pure terror in your eyes has stayed with him ever since that incident, serving as a reminder.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His tendency to not back down from a fight is simultaneously his most endearing and toxic trait. He constantly places himself in dangerous situations with minimal concern for his own safety.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Having his confession rejected by you was definitely a blow to his self-esteem, but he respected and accepted your feelings. Instead of moping around about it he decides to laugh it off, trying to make light of a slightly disappointing situation.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Ace does not have any scars, battle related or self-inflicted.

TW self-harm: I do think ace got worryingly close to self-harming, but Sabo and Luffy made him rethink it all.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

The one and only time Ace broke your trust was after Blackbeards betrayal. You made him promise to take you with him when he left to hunt down Blackbeard because you didn’t want him to go alone. He promised but he had no intention of keeping that promise.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

For a while Ace manages to get by by keeping himself preoccupied. But as soon as he lets up for even a minute, he realizes how much he misses you and is beyond tempted to just sail on back to wherever you are and tackle you to the ground plastering your face in lil kisses. When he’s not distracted, he really does miss you a lot. He hyper-fixates on what you could be doing at this very moment, whether or not you miss him too etc.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

When ace gets mad, he tends to get very loud. He raises his voice quite a lot and it becomes very, very frightening. He would never physically hurt you, but the anger and frustration in his voice is more than another to scare the shit out of you.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Constantly being reminded or associated with the Pirate King. Maybe it doesn’t make him feel weak, but it makes him feel horrible inside and stirs up a lot of feelings and remarks people would make when he was younger. Unfortunately, once word gets out there isn’t much Ace can do to stop this from happening, however, before this, Ace avoided this by not telling ANYONE. He only told Luffy and Sabo, with a very small handful of others knowing (i.e Garp).

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

He hates turning his back on a fight or turning his back on people that talk shit about those he cares about. This is seen during the Marineford arc. He doesn’t let Akainus words about Whitebeard slide. He doesn’t runaway. He has no tolerance for that shit.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

Ok this may be dark as hell but, Ace just wants to not feel like a burden to the world. He wants to be viewed as something different/separate from his father, but he can’t change history.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He doesn’t let you go. He’ll hold on to you until he is forcefully separated from your body. He just starts to spout a lot of nonsense – things don’t make sense at all, but he can’t help it right now. He can’t think properly when you’re about to leave him. He just wants you to stay.

[ddarker-dreams]

Do Well. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: dabi is just a huge asshole, emotional manipulation, implied panic attack word count: 2.6k.

“Would you be a dear and wait here for a few? I need to take a call.” 

Dabi tilts his head alongside his words, glints of amusement present in his sapphire eyes. You’re certain the bastard picks up on every subconscious movement your body makes at the question, feeling like an open book before him. Despite your valiant efforts, human biology doesn’t operate in your personal interest. The challenging premonition causes your lips to curl down, fingers twitching on the wide straw of your milk tea. Pausing mid sip, you pull back, eyelashes fluttering. It’s the subservient behavior he wants to see, and considering the alternatives, you’re tripping over yourself to give it to him.

“... Of course. I should just stay here, right?” It’s more of a question posed for your sake than his, information vital to keep your head above water. Any movements on your behalf that even hint at disobedience could lead to dire consequences, ranging in severity. The worst of which is being confined back to his dingy apartment, with nothing but your thoughts to entertain yourself. All the faux smiles, carefully timed giggles, and strategic brushes of skin against skin would be for naught. You worked too hard for these trips outside for it to fall through your fingers like sand. 

Your captor makes a point of giving you a once over, lackadaisical visage a front for a predator in waiting. Condensation builds up against the plastic container in hand, making it tricky to tell if it’s your hands growing clammy or the drink. Time passes by at a snail’s pace, neither of you making the slightest of movements. People go about their lives in happy-go-lucky bliss, none the wiser to the potential harm that Dabi poses. Feeling finally returns to your body as he stands, seemingly content with the exchange.

He shoots you a coy look over his shoulder, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Dabi snickers at how your nose scrunches up, waving and slinking off with his phone in hand. You watch his retreating figure, still in disbelief over the unfolding events. This would be the first time since being kidnapped that you’ve been on your own in public. These special little outings were a privilege, one that you had worked diligently for. Consistently being on your best behavior, day after day, in the presence of someone you abhor from the depths of your soul is no easy task. A rush of adrenaline shoots through your body when he’s out of sight, eyes darting around in excitement.

This is a prime location to make an escape, the outdoors of a crowded mall in the afternoon. Everyone ranging from families, to couples, and employees on their lunch break are walking around. Lively chatter fills your ears, and you observe every possibility as if it’s your last. While it’s likely a futile dream, the rush your quickening pulse brings demands attention. Lithe fingers shake by your side, every ounce of your strength devoted to keeping yourself from unraveling at the mere concept of being free. He has to be watching. You know him well enough that he wouldn’t have offered the opportunity to escape on a silver platter, there’s got to be measures in place. 

There’s no way he isn’t keeping an eye on you now, making sure that you hold true to your word of behaving. 

Your shoulders slump at this cruel reality. The act of looking around excitedly would be too much of a give away, an observation he’d surely bring up later. An eruption of goosebumps dot your skin, even in the sweltering summer heat. Taking another sip of your drink, you abandon hope of escape, certain it’d be a mistake should you try it. Though he’s purposefully kept you in the dark on most of his relationships with the League of Villains, you can safely assume he’s interconnected with enough unsavory figures to locate you should it be necessary. In contrast to the sugary goodness that coats your tongue, a sour taste in your mouth develops at this blatant flaunting of power. What an asshole. 

To be so self-assured that even in the event of your escape, hunting you down and bringing you back into his loving arms is still within the realm of possibility. Your eye twitches at this realization, mentally flinging numerous curses towards him. He didn’t have to make it so obvious, rubbing salt on the theoretical wound of your pride. Too preoccupied with festering thoughts of resentment, you fail to notice a figure taking a seat next to you on the bench. 

“Is the drink not good or something?” A light, masculine voice asks from your left. Darting around immediately at the interruption of your venomous thoughts, you spot a man around your age. Sporting messy brunette hair and a casual get up of a tee with a pair of jeans, it tugs painfully on your heart to see someone living an uninhibited life as you used to. This envy mutates into horror, as you realize being caught speaking to a stranger is going to land you in boiling water. Dabi’s consciousness is a minefield in waiting, daring to blow at the slightest wrong movement. 

What do you do? It might leave a wrong impression should you not say anything. The current times are plagued by high tension.  Numerous League of Villain attacks have rendered the surrounding regions on constant alert, news anchors telling folks to be wary of anyone or anything suspicious. Weighing your options, you decide to dismiss the stranger in kind as fast as humanly possible. 

Just act natural, act natural… “W-why do you say that?” 

Shit. Your first conversation with someone other than Dabi in over half a year has left you thoroughly horrified, pupils no doubt dilated and voice meeker than a mouse squeak. The stutter has you wincing, your naive companion undoubtedly picking up on it. You want nothing more than to shoo him off, but in fear of drawing unwanted attention, attempt to suppress your frayed nerves. You’ve been through worse than a strained conversation and made it out relatively unscatched, but this feels like a different type of battle. 

“You just seemed to be making quite the upset face,” he chuckles, reminiscing on the thought. He must’ve been referring to the glowering thinking about Dabi brought out from you. “I swear I’m not a creep or anything. I was just waiting to pick up my little sister, and happened to catch you scowling.” 

“The name’s Ryota. And you?” 

Suppressing panic that threatens to drown you, you swallow thickly. “I’m uh, Hina. The drink is fine… I just have a lot on my mind.” 

The lie is seasoned with enough truths that you hope it isn’t too transparent. Giving away your actual name could hint back to missing person’s cases, the thought of which would greatly displease Dabi. Besides, if it had been as simple as going to the police, you would’ve done it by now. You’ve grown uncomfortably familiar with Dabi’s workings, killing off a few people or bribing them would be one of the least heinous things in his portfolio. You figure the best case scenario here is that this well meaning Ryota character leaves you be, or else dire consequences will come to fruition. 

“Good to know, Hina-san. My lil sis talks about boba often, but I’ve never gotten that into it. I figure since the store’s right here, I should surprise her with a drink. What would you recommend?” 

You can’t help but greedily soak in the normalcy an interaction like this brings with it. The irritation from being drawn into a conversation is replaced with pity, a stronger resolve to keep this bystander out of harm’s way blooming. There’s no time to be wasted on the warmth erupting in your chest, or on the first genuine smiles in months that’s settled on your lips. To see the best humanity has to offer, after being subjected to the worst, is a much needed breath of fresh air. While it may be greedy to fixate on these aspects, you find yourself wanting to savor the moment of being a regular person. 

Surely, Dabi would understand your logic. 

“It depends on her tastes. If she likes sweeter drinks, I’d recommend Thai milk tea. If you’re not sure, classic milk tea is always a safe bet.” You’re proud of how you’ve been able to pull yourself together, speaking like you used to. With this, he should be set to leave, or at least you want to believe this. Unfortunately for you, life is never so easy. He doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere anytime soon, crossing his legs and leaning slightly closer to you. Realizing your mistake of radiating friendliness, your muscles go taut. 

You need to do something about this before it’s too late. 

Ryota scratches his head, mulling over your advice. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I appreciate your insight.” 

“It feels nice to be able to chill and talk like this every now and then. If I’m being honest, I was somewhat against my sister coming out to hang with friends,” Ryota’s tone takes a turn for the somber, face looking crestfallen. “With all the chaos that’s been around, y’know. It feels like everyday I wake up to more of those League of Villain stories. It feels like it’ll just be a matter of time until something happens near here.” 

“I’m sorry that--” 

“Things sure are rough,” A voice that brings out every negative emotion possible speaks up from behind you, Dabi’s familiar figure slithering into sight. He takes a seat on the bench, close to your person, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a bit. You mind?” 

Neither of you were expecting the sudden interruption, Ryota trying to piece everything together. “Oh, uh, not at all.’

Everything hits you like a ton of bricks. From Dabi’s rich cologne that mixes in with the smell of ash, his hair brushing against the side of your face, to the possessiveness of his grip. He squeezes your shoulder, looking from Ryota to you. It takes a moment to register what he’s communicating, but you’re able to decipher the gesture. In a last ditch attempt to salvage this situation, you confirm Dabi’s statement before things get ugly. Nodding your head, you watch with bated breath as Ryota looks from Dabi to you. He gets up from his spot on the bench, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It was nice talking to you.” 

Ryota heads off towards the mall doors, leaving you in the clutches of the devil incarnate. You feel how terribly warm Dabi is next to you, words wanting to spill out to justify the actions that led up to this moment. Before you get the opportunity to ramble out your thoughts, Dabi places a finger on your lips, looking at you with the same grin as always.

“Making some new friends, hm?” He inquires, drawing out the syllables. His finger goes south, lifting up your chin, and holding you close to his face. “Awe, babe. You look like you’re aboutta cry. Don’t give me that look.” 

You’re not sure if you should feel horrified at his sudden spike in talkativeness, or relieved over not having to speak your piece yet. The words wouldn’t be able to leave your mouth even if you wanted them to, a lump forming in your throat to coincide the dryness of your tongue. Dabi makes a point of emphasizing his engulfing height, having to tilt your head up to maintain eye contact. Not wanting to make a scene, you do everything within your power to still the tears that are threatening to spill out. There’s no visible signs of wrath, not that you can pick up on. He watches with great interest as you calm yourself, releasing the grip on your face and leaning back into the bench. 

When you appear sufficiently soothed, he speaks up once more, voice grating your ears. “So tell me, doll. What was all that about? I knew you’d be hurting for company in my absence, but I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to speak to someone else.” 

“I… I was approached, and… I swear, nothing happened. He just-- just wanted to know about a drink for his sister, and--” 

Dabi gently flicks your forehead, unable to stifle his cackling any longer. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I saw everything.” 

It doesn’t settle in immediately, the hypothetical cogs and gears of your head turning in slow motion. Your heart is pounding so violently that you hear it in your ears, your face erupting into a bright red. Humiliation, indignation, and finally, loathing take turns dominating your mind. He’s always had the best of times playing with you at your own expense, poking and prodding to see what reactions he can get. There’s a knee jerk reaction to want to slap him, anything to let out these overflowing feelings. Knowing that getting bothered is what he finds the most pleasure in, you’re further motivated to gain control over yourself. 

A deep breath. Inhale, exhale. You continue repeating these steps, biting your tongue to the point it stings. Dabi rests his head on his fist, watching you calm yourself down through lidded eyes. You really do get yourself worked up so easily, it’s endearing. He wants to pinch your cheeks and tease you more, but is feeling generous enough to give you this time to gather yourself. There’ll be plenty of time to play with you later, occupying himself with this cute sight placates him for the time being. When you finally reopen your eyes, you’re met with the deplorable sight of Dabi’s crooked grin. 

“Can we just… go home? Please?” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate everything about this situation, about the life that you’ve been forced into living. How you have to adapt to unspoken rules, subjected to twists and turns that never let you lower your guard. Most of all, you hate the person who has done this to you. His touch, his scent, his voice, all of it. You want nothing more than to scream at him at the top of your lengths, ripping that satisfied looking off his flesh and ridding yourself of this turmoil once and for all.

“Hm? Already? I thought you were hoping to get some dinner out tonight.” Dabi keeps up an air of nonchalance, likely wanting to hear you repeat yourself. Not willing to give in outright, you instead bunch up the fabric of his jacket with your hand. 

“Dabi…” 

It’s a low plea. You know you’ve gotten your point across ages ago, but he’s deriving too much pleasure from seeing how you squirm. The painful utterance serves you well, earning the slightest bit of reprieve as he gets up. On shaky legs, you follow after him, head downcast. Fixating on the tops of your shoes, you wonder if distracting yourself might do anything to ease your tormented soul. The events of the day have left you thoroughly exhausting, and nothing sounds better to you than sleeping for as long as he’ll allow you.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head on back,” he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. No longer having strength to muster up in retaliation, you let him do as he pleases, still fighting down sniffles. “Don’t bother your pretty little head about this.” 

You don’t bother honoring him with a reaction. 

Dabi takes a final glance over his shoulder, spotting the pesky man from before, who is still waiting against a wall. He takes a mental picture of the notable features, lips settling into a deep frown. How troublesome. Before you notice anything, he picks up his pace, continuing the walk back to his apartment. Ideas and resentment swirl within his mind like a tornado, pent up frustration begging to be released. 

All in due time, he thinks.

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Two

AUTHOR NOTE: all right, here is chapter 2 guys! I’m really excited about the next few chapters where more characters will be introduced. This chapter is kind of a build up to that, so I apologize for not a lot of action yet. It’s a sloooow burn! And I have a new banner made by the lovely @thebannershop, check them out, they are amazing! Anyways if you like this chapter, please please please reblog so more people can see it and send me an ask or comment with your questions! I love to hear your guys’ theories about the story. Also, please be sure to read warnings at the beginning of each chapter, because they may change. Thank you for your support on this series! xx - Des

Banner made by @thebannershop​ Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual) Warnings: mentions of panic attacks & anxiety in this chapter! this series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any. Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? Word count: 5.1k~

As you continued to take cautious steps, your back collided with something firm, yet not hard enough to be a tree trunk. This was softer, warmer. Human. 

Before you could take off running you felt gentle, but large, hands on your shoulders. “Don’t scream, please. We aren’t here to hurt you,” a deep, yet soft voice spoke quickly. Did he just say we!? Despite the strong sense of fear you were feeling, the voice sounded sincere, comforting almost. The hands on your shoulder spun you around and you were met, face to face, with a tall and undeniably handsome man. His features were perfect, too perfect. Plush lips and small, kind eyes. No way is he a natural born. Your eyes widened in fear, and almost as if he could sense your flight response kicking in, he held his hands in front of him placatingly, “hey - hey I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” He rushed out. Did he sound - scared? He seemed almost nervous with the way his brow was furrowed, looking at you with sad eyes. 

“Wh- who are you? Wh-what do you w-want?” you stuttered out, the feeling of tears prickling behind your eyes. You took another step backwards, but stumbled in the process, tripping over uneven dirt. You fell unceremoniously to the ground, huffing out a breath as you landed. 

He reached his hand out, like he wanted to help, but he took a step back, as if to lessen your fear a bit. “I wanted to talk to you about that man that came to see you earlier,” he started slowly, trying to show you he meant no harm, “that’s all.” His eyes softened significantly at your nearly cowering form on the ground. 

Upon the mention of Hyunwoo, your eyes snapped to the strange man’s. It was the first time you stared directly into his eyes, and really took in the man’s face. Even though his features were damn near perfect, his expression was that of pure anguish, sadness, and maybe a dash of fear. His eyes, while beautiful, were dark and he looked worn down, tired. “H-hyunwoo?” you stuttered out, blinking away hot tears.

The man’s eyes perked up upon hearing the name. “You know him?” He now looked at you with a curious expression. Slowly you nodded, shifting your eyes from his face to the ground in front of you, feeling flustered all of the sudden. You didn’t like attention to begin with, hated it in fact, but you don’t think you’ve ever had attention from someone so perfect, someone you assumed was a designer baby. The only time you’d ever even met one was when companies would send representatives to your home or school to scout you. Even then, you didn’t really get to see them this up close. 

The stranger hesitated for a second, seemingly thinking something over, before kneeling down in front of you. He reached a hand out in view of your face, causing you to eye it warrily. He could see that you were about to cry, could see the scrapes on the palms of your hands, but he didn’t want you to think he was pitying you. Didn’t want you to think he thought less of you for any reason. Didn’t want to seem intimidating in any way. His offer was a silent one, an unspoken concern of; let me help. 

With unshed tears clouding your vision, you placed your shaky hand in his strong one. What he did next surprised you. Instead of pulling you to your feet, which your muscles had already prepared for, he kneeled down in front of you and turned your hand over, inspecting the scrapes you didn’t even realize you had. “Will you let my friend clean your hands up?” He asked softly. 

“I- I don’t” you trailed off, looking between this stranger and the peach trees off to your side. Was there someone else here? He did say we. What is going on? There were so many thoughts running through your head you couldn’t process them all at once. “Wh-what is going on?” You asked, bottom lip wobbling.

The stranger's eyes never left your while you spoke, but at your question he looked behind you and nodded briefly. “My name is Namjoon,” he said simply, a soft smile playing at his lips, kindness in his dark eyes.

You felt a presence at your right, causing you to startle quite violently. You turned quickly to look at the person approaching you only to meet eyes with probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen. He was tall, like Namjoon as you now knew him, and had even plumper lips than him. His shoulders were so broad, when you looked up at him he was completely blocking the sun from your view. As you looked up at him, he wore a shocked and almost embarrassed look on his face. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to-to scare you,” he stuttered out as he sat cross legged on your side. He seemed almost abashed. You almost forgot that you were holding Namjoon’s hand until he passed it over to the newcomer. “I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin, for short.” He smiled at you, a warm smile, one that made you feel like you were safe with him. Seokjin took your hand in his before reaching into a backpack you didn’t realize he had been carrying. The backpack was brown leather and looked expensive, only supporting your theory that these men were definitely not from around here, and definitely weren’t natural borns.

“What - what are you doing here?” You asked, a fraction less frazzled than before with the soft way Seokjin is handling you. You felt him gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb as he cleaned the scrape on your palm. It stung slightly, but you were more worried about getting answers. “Why are you here?” It came out harsher than you intended, but your anxiety was skyrocketing at the moment.

Namjoon heaved a sigh, finally giving in to the pressure on his knees and sat down in the dirt directly in front of you. Now, all three of you were sitting in a little circle under one of the heavily blossoming peach trees, oranges and pinks surrounding you. “We wanted to talk to you about Hyunwoo,” Namjoon started, “We wanted to warn you.”

You don’t think Namjoon could’ve sounded anymore ominous with that statement. “Warn me? What do you mean?” You were starting to panic a little, jostling in Seokjin’s gentle hold. He loosened his grip on your wrist so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt yourself. 

“Do you trust me?” Namjoon asked suddenly. You cocked your head to the side and narrowed your eyes slightly at him. Did you? Your brain was screaming at you to tell him no, stand up, and run in the direction of your father’s shed. But something else inside you was telling you to stay right where you are, listen to what he has to say. To trust him. 

“I- I’m not sure..” you trailed off, looking briefly at Seokjin who had just finished bandaging your hand and was politely waiting for you to hand him your other one. You obliged to his silent request, awkwardly reaching your left arm across your body. You definitely felt like you could trust Jin in this moment and you think he must be a mind reader because he suddenly speaks up.

“Do you know who Hyunwoo is?” he asked, still smiling slightly at you. He had such a calming aura surrounding him. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding before answering his question.

“I just know he’s my father’s old classmate,” you started, looking between Jin and Namjoon hesitantly, “he came by early this morning. I just assumed he was from another company that wants to buy my DNA. Isn’t that why you’re here?” 

Namjoon was quick to butt in, “No!” he said loudly before realizing his mistake when you flinched. He looked annoyed with himself as he started again, “No, no of course not. We’re just like you…” he said with uncertainty, realizing you never spoke your name.

“YN”, you said quickly, wanting to hear what Namjoon had to say and not thinking about the repercussions of giving your name to strangers.

“YN,” he said slowly, the side of his lips quirked up. Dimples. Cute. His dimples made him look slightly less intimidating in that moment. “YN, we’re exactly like you and we wanted to warn you about Hyunwoo and the company he works for.” The smirk quickly disappeared from his features, replaced only with concern. 

“What do you mean ‘exactly like me’?” You were confused. You’ve never met anyone ‘exactly like you’, as Namjoon had put it. 

Seokjin finished bandaging your left hand and was repacking his backpack as he spoke, “We’re natural borns, and we aren’t the only ones,” he said as he zipped up his bag. You let out a laugh against your will, slapping your hand over your mouth, wide eyes looking up at the two men. Seokjin silently chuckled and you momentarily thought it was the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. Perfectly straight, white teeth on display as his eyes crinkled in laughter. You definitely didn’t believe him after seeing that.

“There’s no way you- both of you- are natural borns,” you said incredulously after removing your hand from your mouth. 

It was Namjoon’s turn to laugh, letting out a dry laugh, “YN, are you a natural born?”

Your mouth snapped shut and your wide eyes turned to look at Namjoon. “Y-yes.” You murmured. You still weren’t sure why exactly they were here, but they must have known that already.

“Then why do you think it’s impossible for us to be natural borns, when you’re sitting right here?”

Was he trying to flatter you? Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at the ground. “I’m nothing special,” you said shyly, not looking either of them in the eye. “I’m just me.”

Namjoon and Seokjin shared a knowing look that you missed. “YN - you’re not normal. You have to know that. Why else do you think companies like Hyunwoo’s won't leave you alone?” You knew there was something different about you. You’ve been told your whole life that you were beautiful, remarkable, even, but mostly by those designer baby companies, and not people whose opinions you actually cared about. Growing up you had been bullied, messed with, told you weren't worth it. Eventually those comments will get to anyone. 

You shook your head lightly at Namjoon’s comment. “Don’t try and flatter me, it won't work.” You had a momentary burst of bravery as you folded your arms over your chest and looked Namjoon in the eye.

“I’m not trying to flatter you. We’re here to warn you, that’s all. Maybe get to know you, and let you get to know us. It’s hard being alone, we know that all too well,” Namjoon spoke slowly, almost as if he was afraid you would bolt. 

“How do you know what it’s like to be alone?” You didn’t mean to sound so rude and judgemental, but it was hard for you to imagine these two handsome men ever having to face hardships in their lives. They probably grew up in big cities, had lots of friends. 

“Most of us went through, or are going through the same thing you’re going through right now. I can guess that you probably don’t have many friends. Been used for your looks on more than one occasion, and I can tell that you have pretty shitty self-esteem from the little bit I’ve gotten to know you.” Namjoon said, nonchalantly as if he’s known you your whole life.

You huffed a little bit, blowing some of the hair that had fallen in front of your face. “You don’t know me.”

Namjoon let out another laugh, except this time his perfect teeth and cute dimples were on full display. “Stubborn, too.”

Seokjin smiled at this, looking at you before standing up to his full height. He looked more intimidating up there, but he offered you his hand, pulling you gently to your feet. “Be careful with your hands, they should heal up in a couple days.” You nodded shyly at him before letting go of his large hand. 

“Will you let us explain why we’re here? Maybe somewhere,” Namjoon glanced over at your home and father’s shed in the distance, “where we won't be interrupted?” 

You have never been one to talk to strangers, always on edge, wary of crowds and people. But something was telling you to go with Namjoon, find somewhere to talk, and you knew the perfect place. 

You led Namjoon and Seokjin through your family's orchard and off the west side of your property line. Just past your land, there was a denser conifer forest, filled with thick shrubs and oak trees that led to a small stream downhill. You knew the forest like the back of your hand, having lived in your small house your entire life. One of your favorite places to be was by this stream, but you hadn’t been out here in years, too busy with the farm since becoming an adult. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” Seokjin stated, hands gripping his backpack straps that surrounded his broad shoulders, “do you come out here often?”

You stifled a laugh. It sounded like a cheesy pickup line you would hear in one of the dramas your mom watched. “I used to,” you began, looking around and taking in the scenery. The stream was flowing quickly, a sign that rain had fallen recently. You could hear the buzzing of insects that came with the summer heat and humidity, “I haven’t in a while though.”

Seokjin nodded his head, not prodding any further. He looked up at the canopy, only to see thick leaves and pine that completely covered the forest ground from the sun. Along the edges of the small stream were river stones, some nearly completely covered in moss. The fast tinkling of the water over the rocks was soothing, you almost forgot how much you loved it here. You took in a deep breath, allowing the smells of fresh pine and dirt to enter your nose. 

“Will your parents be wondering where you are?” Namjoon asked as he sat down on a rock crossing one leg over the other.

You shook your head quickly, “Mom’s at the market, she won't be back for a while. Dad’s working in his shed, he-” you started, but quickly stopped. You weren’t sure how much you should share with these strange men, “he won’t be looking for me,” you conceded. 

Namjoon nodded in acknowledgement before beginning, “You probably have a lot of questions for us, so I’ll keep this quick,” as he spoke you watched Seokjin set his bag down next to Namjoon and walk over to the edge of the water. He cupped his hands together and gathered some water in his hands, splashing it over his face. You watched him curiously before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “Like we told you, we’re natural borns. True natural borns, and like you, we’re different.”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by ‘different’. Sure, you knew you looked different from what most natural borns looked like. Your nose was a bit sharper, cheek bones a little higher, lips a little fuller, but you didn’t think you looked much different than what designer babies looked like. You didn’t think you were unique or special in any way. “I- I don’t feel different,” you said, instinctively reaching your hands out in front of you, turning them over and looking at them.

Namjoon laughed, like a full belly laugh, at your movements. You couldn’t quite hear over the sound of his laughter, but you swear you heard Jin mutter ‘cute’ from the stream. 

After his laughter subsided a bit, Namjoon patted the rock next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You reluctantly sat, still unsure if you should trust these two. “Well, what do you know about yourself?”

It was an odd question. One you weren’t sure how to answer. “Uh- um, I mean I’m YLN YN, I’m 23. I never went to college, never left my home town. I know I look a little different from most natural borns, but uh, that’s all I guess.”

“And your parents?” Namjoon supplied when he realized you weren’t going to continue.

“What about my parents?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What do you know about your parents?” His eyes narrowed slightly when he asked, almost like he was testing you. Does he know something you don’t? 

“They-they’re both natural borns. From this town. My dad’s parents owned our peach farm before they passed away. It’s been in our family for a long time.” You shrugged your shoulders a little bit, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what Namjoon was getting at.

“Are you sure?” As Namjoon asked the question, you heard - and felt - Seokjin splash water on him from behind you, getting you a little wet in the process. Namjoon made a sound of surprise as he turned around quickly to glare at the other man. “What was that for?” 

“Leave her be, Joon,” he scolded gently. He really did seem like a motherly type, taking care of others and keeping them in line. 

“What do you mean, ‘am I sure’?” You asked, a little defensively, squaring your shoulders and turning your entire body towards Namjoon. You could hear Seokjin’s sigh behind you as he turned his attention back to the stream.

“Look, we don’t have all the answers, but we have our own personal experiences,” Namjoon let out a heavy breath before continuing, “I grew up in Ilsan in a small community of natural borns. I was approached by designer baby companies starting when I was in middle school. I realized something was different about me when they wouldn’t leave me alone by the time I graduated high school.”

Your defensive stance softened a bit at his story. You couldn’t help but compare the words he was saying with your own experiences. “When I was about to graduate, that man that came to your house, you called him Hyunwoo?” You nodded at his question, “He came to make my mother an offer. Told her that they would pay her over a million won for me. He told her that I would be taken care of, that they just wanted my DNA.” He looked behind him at Seokjin as he told his story. Jin was sitting now, back leaned up against a large boulder. He had his knees at his chest, playing with one of his shoelaces. You guessed he must be at least a few years older than you, but he looked so childlike right now. If what Namjoon is telling you is true, they must have been through a lot. “My mother agreed. I don’t blame her, I really don’t. He made it seem like everything would be fine, that I would finish high school while in their care and my college would be paid for,” Namjoon let out a dry chuckle, “they told her I’d be with them for 3 months, 6 max.” He had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared at a tree off in the distance. You focused on his face in this moment, and you could see his pain, sadness, grief, even. You could tell this man before you was extremely intelligent. He had hidden these emotions so well earlier, he wore a mask. You felt bad for him, and your empathetic side was hurting for him. “I was there for years. They experimented on me, poked me with needles, deprived me of food. What I went through there, YN - I- I can’t let happen to anyone else,” he looked you directly in the eye as he continued, “that’s why we came here. To help you.”

A look of realization took over your face, eyes widening. “They want to take me? Bu-but my parents would never let that happen. They - they’ve always protected me!” You knew your parents had gone to great lengths to make sure you were never poached by companies, always turning down offers for large sums of money in exchange for you. 

“YN, have you ever seen that man - Hyunwoo - before today?” You shook your head no quickly, “But you said your father has known him for years?” You shook your head yes this time, only more slowly, afraid of Namjoon’s next words, “Why do you think he’s showing up now? Why do you think your father has never mentioned him before?”

Your father’s stiff shoulders and your mother’s look of uncertainty from this morning flashed through your mind briefly. “I- no. Th-they wouldn’t lie to me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft for Namjoon to hear. You startled violently, hand over your chest as you felt Seokjin’s warm arm swing around your shoulders. You hadn’t heard him even get up from his rock. You felt him jump slightly at your movement. You made a mental note that he must scare easily, like you.

“We didn’t come here to frighten you, or to turn you against your parents. We came here to warn you, to let you know what that man is capable of.” Seokjin said calmly, dark eyes boring into your own.

“YN, we were both taken by Hyunwoo, and his company, Big Hit Pharmaceuticals. Kidnapped. We both went through things no one should ever have to endure, and more natural borns just like us, like you, are going through it right now. Some of them are our friends, our brothers. We don’t want this to happen to anyone else.” Namjoon finished somberly, a sad smile on his face as he looked at you, waiting for you to react.

Big Hit Pharmaceuticals… Why did that name sound so familiar? You furrowed your brow as you thought back. Where have you heard that name before? You were snapped out of your reverie as Seokjin spoke up, “We live and travel together, Namjoon, myself, and three others. All natural borns, all running from Big Hit,” Jin took his arm from around your shoulders and reached down to grab one of the hands you had placed in your lap, nervously picking at your fingernails. He intertwined his fingers with yours, silently scolding your nervous tick. “We want to help you, YN. If you’ll let us.”

You quickly pulled your hand away from Jin, feeling apologetic, but unable to express it at the moment. You missed the look of understanding on Seokjin’s face as your eyes focused on your feet. You were starting to feel the familiar sense of panic swell in your chest. Your breathing was getting quicker, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears, it was like all your blood left your body and was swirling in your head. You haven’t had a panic attack in years, usually only occurring in large crowds. But the thought of leaving your parents, of being taken away by Hyunwoo, even going somewhere with these men sitting next to you, was too much for you to handle. You clutched your hand to your chest, as if that would ease the tension within it. 

Seokjin immediately took notice of your stress and wrapped his strong arms around your tiny frame. At first you were shocked to have a stranger's arms around you, but when your wide, scared eyes met his, all you saw was compassion and care. Your breathing started to slow as Jin squeezed even tighter around your body. It was an awkward hug, with both of you sitting sideways on a too small rock, but it was comforting nonetheless. It was strange to you, that Seokjin knew exactly how to help, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. His calm and comforting nature should have told you as much. Namjoon watched on with a worried expression, afraid that you would push away Jin’s act of comfort, but you didn’t. He didn’t expect you to actually start to calm down. Leave it to Jin to know exactly what to do. 

As your breathing started to return to normal, Jin’s hold on you loosened. As your mind returned to a normal state, your thoughts did as well. You needed to get out of here, away from Namjoon and Seokjin. They were comforting, sure. But you weren’t sure if you totally believed them yet. You needed answers, needed to feel safe and secure in your home. You still felt safe there, right? Yes, yes. Of course you did. You physically shook the thoughts from your head and Jin removed himself from you completely. 

“I need to go home,” you uttered quickly, “I need to get out of here.” You went to stand up, but Namjoon beat you to it, standing above you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, please-” he started but you cut him off.

“I don’t know you!” You half-screamed, then lowering your voice again, arms gesturing frantically as you spoke, “I- I don’t know you, I’m sorry. I believe you - I do - but I need to figure some things out. I need to talk to my parents, my friends.” You could feel yourself panicking again, and as you’ve come to expect from Jin’s comforting presence, he was once again there rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. 

Namjoon pulled his hand back as if you had burned him, causing your gaze to fall upon him, a regretful look on his face. “It’s ok YN, we understand,” it was Jin who was speaking now, a soft smile on his plush lips, “I’ll give you my number and if you need anything, you can reach us. Is that ok with you?” He spoke so gently, you could do nothing but nod slowly at him, lips pursed in a thin line. You supposed taking his number wouldn’t hurt. Maybe you could speak with your parents and get some more answers from Seokjin later. You fished your phone out of your pocket, noticing the missed messages from your group chat, and handed it to Jin, which he gently took. His eyes darted back and forth between your two, looking for any resistance in your face, searching for any hesitation. When he found none, he turned his gaze to your phone and began typing.

“Please be safe, YN,” Namjoon spoke quietly. He sounded defeated, and for some reason it caused your heart to drop. Why did you care so much what this man thought? “Please,” he finished curtly. 

Jin handed back your phone after a moment and went to grab his backpack, rising from his seat on the rock. He took a few steps towards Namjoon before stopping and turning his body halfway towards you. “You call me, or text me, if you need anything,” Jin started, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders, “I mean it.”

You nodded your head, yet remained seated on the rock. “Where are you going to go?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at your question, “We’ll be around. Not too far. If you need us we can get to you quickly.”

You didn’t realize that was the answer you were looking for, but when he gave it, you felt… relief? You weren’t sure why you felt this way, but you suddenly felt a little lighter. You nodded your head again, looking between Namjoon and Seokjin. 

Namjoon worried his bottom lip between his teeth and hesitated like he had something to say, but thought better of it, before giving you a curt nod and turning around. Jin offered the same type of nod, turning and placing his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. As they started to walk away, you could hear them murmuring quietly, but couldn’t make out the words over the babbling of the stream behind you. You watched as the pair walked through the dense forest and you idly wondered if they had been here before. They seemed to know where they were going at least, and you found an odd comfort in that fact. As they disappeared into the thick of the forest, you let out a breath you didn’t notice you’d been holding. 

You suddenly felt exhausted. Mentally, physically, and most of all, emotionally. You just absorbed so much information and you didn’t know what to do with most of it. The first thing your brain unpacked was: there are others like you. You’ve always felt alone, isolated from other natural borns, but you never thought anything about you was special, per se. But after meeting Namjoon and Seokjin, if you truly were like them, they definitely were something special, at least based on their appearance alone. 

The second thing you tried to come to terms with, was the fact that if you were indeed different, and like these two men, that meant Hyunwoo and Big Hit Pharmaceuticals were possibly going to attempt to take you, or buy you, from your parents. But this just caused more questions to form. Were your parents keeping something from you? The question Namjoon asked you earlier flashed through your mind. 

Are you sure? 

What did he mean by that? You need to talk to your parents, and soon. Maybe they knew something about what made you different. Why these companies wanted your, and others apparently, DNA. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that your brain was just barely registering the fact that you could potentially be in danger. Namjoon and Jin both just told you they were essentially kidnapped and held against their will by this company, and you were sitting out in the middle of the forest, alone. This kicked you into high gear, standing up from the rock and looking in all directions. Seeing that you were completely alone should have calmed your anxiety, but all it did was make it worse. You needed to get home, and fast. 

You took off running through the dense forest in the direction of your farm. Bare feet hitting the ground rapidly, twigs snapping and forest debris crunching under your weight. Pushing through the pain, you ran as fast as your legs would take you until you reached the edge of the forest, light finally shining through a gap in the trees. As you reached a clearing of brush, you could make out your home in the distance, past the orchard. You stopped running for a moment, feeling relief at the sight of your home. You looked on carefully, standing half hidden behind a tree, chest heaving from the physical exertion, trying to catch your breath. Squinting, you cocked your head to the side as you caught sight of something, or someone, in your driveway. There, in front of your house, was your father.

And Hyunwoo. 

To be continued...

A/N: What do you guys think YN is going to do!? Super excited for the next chapters, where we will meet the rest of the group! Let me know what you think, as always if you want to be added to the taglist please follow me and comment or send me an ask! 

taglist: @minifruity​ @mrcleanheichou 

copyright aliendes 2020

[anindecisivespirit]

Stitches

Written for Whumptober 2019, and never having seen the light of day before now, is Stitches! (Since that was the prompt, that shall be the title.)

Universe: Sanders Sides

Word count: 4,753

Summery: After a less than pleasent conversation with the Core Sides, Remus spirals into a panic. In trying to find a way to be better, he acts on the one thing he’s certain they all hate; his ideas. He can’t stop himself from thinking them, but he can stop himself from saying them out loud. I mean, he already has the string... However, this leaves Deceit and the others trying to fix the damage they've done.

Warnings: Uh... Self-harm (self-mutilation??), needles, stitches, blood mention, intrusive thoughts (violent, odd, and self-deprecating), ideas of violence, possible questionable Virgil(?), suicidal thoughts, misunderstandings fueled by anxiety and intrusive thoughts, panic, threats (both serious and as jokes), Sympathetic Deceit & Remus.

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  “What if chocolate milk really did come from brown cows? Where would pink milk come from? Flamingoes?” Remus asked suddenly, causing the other Sides to jump, as if they had forgotten he was there. Or, maybe, like he hadn't remembered to announce the fact that he was there in the first place. And… oh, right. He had forgotten to tell them.

  "Remus!" Roman snapped, standing from his seat at the table. "What are you doing here?"

  Remus forced himself not to flinch at the suspicion lacing Roman’s voice. The 'Light' Sides had been eating lunch- tacos, apparently, even though they should know burritos were better. Keywords here being had been. Now, though, Patton was staring at him with fear painfully apparent in those wide eyes, all while Virgil glared and Logan eyed the situation with a cautious - perhaps callus - sort of neutrality. And Roman…

  His brother was annoyed - maybe even angry? -, glaring at him from where he stood by the table. Suspicion practically rolled from him in waves. Remus smiled, just a bit too widely, a bit too forced.

  "Can't I just visit my dear friends every once and awhile? It's been so long since we all talked!"

  Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

  "That is entirely incorrect, Remus,” He said. “You were here just yesterday. If I remember correctly, you wanted to discuss the best ways of hiding a dead body, along with the effects of teleporting directly to the bottom of the ocean."

  "Aw," Remus said, sending a small smile and a wink Logan's way. "It warms my heart to know you care enough to remember!"

  Logan just sighed again, and Roman took a step forward, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, however, another thought caught Remus's attention.

  "Or, could I light my heart on fire? It’d be warm, then. What would it taste like cooked? Would it go good on tacos? It might be too chewy, though, so that might not be a good idea."

  Patton's face looked slightly green as he ducked his head, staring down at the floor. Huh... Remus hadn’t even said anything ‘wrong’ this time.

  "Remus," Roman said impatiently. "Either tell us the real reason you're here, or get out."

  "Preferably that second option," Virgil muttured. "We don't need any more 'ideas' from you."

  This time Remus couldn't help but step back slightly, but he covered the movement up well enough. Or at least, no one seemed to have noticed it. Was that worse? Was it worse if they just didn't care enough to notice? Or they could be ignoring it. Ignoring him. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.

  "I-"

  "And please," Patton interjected softly, glancing up at him. "Say it in… in a nice way?"

  Remus's chest felt tight. It was like something had wrapped itself around his ribs, threatening to constrict, and suffocate, and break him apart. He knew what Patton really meant. It wasn't about how kind he was, but how much of himself he repressed, how much he let them see. They wanted him to be more like Roman. Kinder, just a bit quieter, easier to control. Easier to deal with. To get rid of. It wasn’t about being nice- it was about getting him out of their way faster, simpler, cleaner. It was to get rid of him again. He hesitated, just for a moment, searching each of the other Side's faces for anything besides irritation, contempt, and fear. Something warm, something welcoming, or even just something that didn't nail home the fact that they wanted him gone. Any sign that he might be welcome. And… and there was nothing.

  "...Ah, no. No, it's nothing important," He muttered, his words for once catching in his throat, before sinking out back to his room.

  ...He was just slow enough to see the relief shining on their faces as he left.

  Remus ran his hands through his hair as the bright, warm light of the common area’s dining room was replaced by the familiar, cold chill of his room. It was always either freezing or burning, no matter what he did. He could never fix anything. Could never do anything right. His fingers caught on the tangled curls of his hair, catching and tearing and his thoughts felt the same way, caught on that moment, painful and repeating, repeating, repeating, repeating-

   Remus shook his head sharply, shutting his eyes tight as if that would cast out the image of their relief - relief at his absence - from his mind. It wouldn’t. It was never that simple, no matter how much he always hoped that it would be, even just once. He began to pace through his room, counting out each step, focusing on the constant impact of his feet against the floor (not that he could go very far without running into a cluttered pile of random junk or a shelf).

  "Stop it," He muttered, shaking his head wildly as more and more thoughts began to flit through his mind, whirling around like a thousand tattered pages in a hurricane. They all hate you. You should be more like Roman. But it's their fault you're like this in the first place! Kill them, tear them apart, they deserve it- No, they don’t. You’re the problem. You aren't good enough. Not for them, not for Thomas, not for anyone.

  "Stop it!" He snapped, pulling at his hair, the pain just barely registering, taking a backseat to his panic. He couldn’t do this. He needed help- he needed to go to Deceit, or Virgil- no, no, no, Virgil was one of them now, he hated Remus and Deceit both-

  For good reason. Have you ever considered just leaving? Dying? Fading?

  "N-no, I haven’t, and I w-won’t," He hissed, and wow- that lie wouldn't even fool Roman. He shook his head again, wild and panicked, casting his gaze frantically around the room, trying to find anything in the layers and layers of trinkets and trash to distract himself with. It was usually easy, and he could direct the flow of his thoughts at least partially towards whatever he found. It was one of the reasons his room was so full of junk.

  Right now, though, there was nothing. Not a single thing caught his eye.

  Speaking of, could you tear your eyes out? Do they pop like grapes?

  Remus could go try cooking, or baking, or- or something. That kind of thing seemed to help Deceit and Patton destress, but right now he'd probably burn the kitchen down. Or just burn himself.

  "Gah! It doesn't even matter!" He finally snapped, spinning on his heel and falling backwards onto the mountain of pillows and blankets that made up his bed. "I don't care what they think! I don't care! So just stop it!"

  Remus didn't need Deceit's ability to pick out lies to hear the distinct ring of a falsehood in the words. He cared. He cared about the hate, and disgust, and contempt. The way he was too much and wasn't enough at the same time, cast aside and stomped on. If anything, he cared just a bit too much. He tried not to let it get to him- even tried to act out even more than he usually would, because if they were used to him being worse, when he acted normally they'd accept it, because he was better, right? But it never worked.

  Just fade. Leave. Die. Duck out.

  No. There had to be something. Something that would get them to accept him easier. He just- he just had to figure it out.

  And… there was definitely a common thread between their complaints. Voices drifted into his thoughts, memories of conversations with all the others. Plenty from Patton-

  'And please, say it in… in a nice way?'

  'Thomas doesn't need any more of those thoughts!'

  'Don't say things like that!'

  'Why would you- That's horrible!'

  A few from Virgil-

  'Look, say anything you want, just keep it away from me.'

  'You know I don't like hearing about this stuff!'

  'Just keep your mouth shut for once.'

  Logan-

  'I'm sorry, but I'm busy. I don't have time to hear about nonsense right now.'

  'Your brand of thoughts will not help at the moment, we need to keep stressful ideas away for now.'

  Roman-

  'I don't want to hear it!'

  'Your ideas are so… so horrible! It's no wonder we split!'

  'Can you be quiet for once in your life?'

  'In as little words as you can, what are you doing here?'

  'Ugh! Just stop!'

  Even Deceit-

  'Remus, I am in the best of moods. I can deal with your ideas right now.'

  Every single complaint was about his ideas- about what he said. He just had to stop sharing them. If he could just stay silent and stop the thoughts from slipping out, then… then they would like him more. They would accept him. But how did he…?

  You know how. All you have to do is find some string...

  Remus sat up. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. He just needed… His gaze caught on a specific pile of junk a few feet away, one filled with a dozen different kinds of fabric, yarn, and string.

  He felt slightly numb as he stood and retrieved a spool of light green thread. Scissors were close by. A needle soon followed.

  He cleared the counter in his bathroom, setting his bounty down carefully. He wasn't really doing this, right? He wasn't- he couldn't-

  It'll work. Just do it, and you'll see.

  Remus's fingers were somehow steady as he threaded the needle, staring intently into the mirror before him. He raised the needle to his lips, and made the first stitch.

  It hurt, but he pulled the string through anyway. It hurt, but he kept going. It hurt, but it was for the best.

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   Deceit frowned, looking up from the common room up the stairs to Remus's door. The other Side hadn't come down for hours, and frankly, after hour two of no interruptions to his work, Deceit had started to worry. Sure, there were days Remus locked himself away or stayed in the Imagination, but it was on those days that the Side needed the most help. Deceit was sure that Remus had left to visit the others at some point, and that made it somehow even worse. Remus would usually regale him with a detailed account of his conversations and experiences. Whether Logan had to step in to keep everyone calm, if Roman was at a loss for words, or if Patton actually snapped for once. There hadn't been any stories today. He hadn't even seen Remus since this morning.

   Still, Deceit had yet to check on him, even hours after that. He really should have, but… For all there were days that Remus needed people to be there with him, there were also days where Remus was better off left alone.

   Deceit sighed. Dinner had been ready for ten minutes now, and he had been hoping that Remus would be drawn out by the smell alone. No luck there, it seemed. It was time to check in.

  He walked up the stairs, stopping in front of the door. It was green and black, nearly hypnotic in the way the colors swirled together. It was almost like oil on water. Deceit raised a hand and knocked, waiting patiently for the door to open or for Remus to shout a greeting or refusal. A few moments passed.

  He frowned, and knocked again.

  "Remus? Are you there? Dinner isn't ready," He waited. Nothing. He had been sure Remus was in there… Just as he was going to knock again, the door opened. He smiled, slightly relieved, before he saw the duke's face.

   Remus’s eyes were slightly red, like he'd been crying earlier. His hair was a mess - even more than usual, at least -, tangled and sticking up every which way. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The part that truly shocked Deceit was his mouth. Stitches ran along his lips, the skin red and puffy were the string disappeared into flesh. It looked like Remus had gone over the stitches several times, multiple threads running together, some of the strands stained pink and crusted with dried blood. Each stitch was closely knit, firmly sowing Remus's lips shut.

   A sharp, hollow feeling crept into Deceit's chest.

  "Remus," He whispered, eyes wide. "What… what did you do?"

  The duke rolled his eyes, and moved to speak. He winced as the strings held, blood slowly dripping from a few of the holes. Remus grabbed Deceit's hand instead, tugging him into the room. Deceit followed numbly, mind struggling to process what was happening.

  Remus grabbed a paper from his bed, presenting it to Deceit, somehow uncertain and proud all at once.

  Deceit blinked, taking it. Everything felt… slow.

  ‘Dee, I've sown my mouth shut,’ the note started, painful in the way it was causal. ‘You guys You and the others made it clear that you want me to that this is the best option. I-’

  Deceit's hand was shaking. Suddenly, reality caught up with him. He dropped the note, watching it flutter to the ground.

  "Remus," He said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself?"

  Remus's eyebrows knit together, and he pointed down to the note on the ground. Right. He'd done it because he'd felt that everyone would prefer him this way, Deceit included.

  "I never… Remus, I would always prefer you to be silent and hurt over being yourself!" Deceit hissed. "Maybe I have a lot of patience at times, but I always wanted this!"

  Remus blinked, drawing back slightly. He seemed confused, like he'd expected Deceit to be happy about this. Like he had honestly thought that he was doing something good.

  "What brought this on?” Deceit asked. Things had been getting better for them recently. It was far from perfect - very, very far from it - but Remus had shown no sign of things getting this bad. “What happened to make you think that… that this was the best option?"

  Remus paused, hesitating for just a moment before scooping up the note from the floor and pointing to two particular words. The others.

  Deceit's hands clenched into fists. How dare they? How dare they?! It was bad enough with how Thomas pushed them away, but for the other Sides to make Remus feel this way? They had no right.

  "Remus," He said, trying to keep his voice level. "Please, remove them? We can work everything out after."

  Remus shook his head, not meeting Deceit's gaze, as he gently tapped the note again. Right. The others.

  "What they think doesn't matter!" Deceit snapped. "Which one was it? Who made you think you had to do this?! We can go and tear them apart."

  A small smile tugged at Remus's lips, though tears had started to gather in his eyes. Anger surged up in Deceit's chest. This had gone too far. They had hurt Remus. They had made him cry. Sure, Deceit had a part in it, something that hurt far more than the other Sides’s scorn ever could, but the others were involved as well. And they had gone too far.

  Deceit gently pulled Remus into a hug, giving him enough time to pull away. He could feel the other Side slowly relax in his hold, before wrapping his own arms around Deceit's shoulders. He could feel the duke trembling, and heard his sniffling as he cried softly. It had been a long time since Deceit had heard Remus cry, especially like this. Stifled, quiet, and painful- what should have been loud sobs condensed into sniffles and whimpers. Remus hated repressing himself, whether it be in laughter, anger, or even tears. And Deceit could feel his heart break as he realized that Remus had no choice but to do so now, with the stitches firmly in place. it was either this, or risk pain as his wails tore the string through his skin.

  "Shh, it's not alright," Deceit murmured. "You're not alright."

  He gently rubbed circles into Remus's back, whispering reassurances as Remus broke down. They remained like that for a few minutes, before Remus’s shaking slowly became subtle trembling, and his breath evened out into something just a bit steadier. When he finally seemed to be as calm as he was going to get, Deceit pulled away, keeping his hands on the other Side's shoulders.

  "Is there any way I can convince you to take them out?" He asked, frowning as Remus just shook his head again. "...Then how about we pay a visit to the others? And if they still make you feel like this is for the best… well. We can kill them, or at least steal their kneecaps."

  That got a soft snort from Remus, which had been Deceit’s goal, but it quickly became a soft sound of pain as the stitches stretched. Still, he slowly nodded in agreement with the new plan.

  Deceit took Remus's hand, squeezing it gently to offer a bit of comfort.

  "Then let's go."

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  Remus allowed Deceit to pull him into the Mind Palace, appearing in the corner of the common room. Suddenly, for all he hoped that Deceit would be right and Remus had simply read things wrong, or fell victim to faulty logic again, or went too far, fear gripped his heart tight and refused to let go.

  They'll hate him more when they see what he did. They'll drive him out, or Deceit would actually kill them. Rip them limb from limb, snap their necks, cut through their stomachs, tear out their hearts-

  Remus ducked his head, hiding his face. Deceit squeezed his hand again, grounding him. It gave him something to focus on beyond his thoughts, something he was extremely grateful for.

  He should have just gone to Deceit in the first place…

  "What are you two doing here?" A voice demanded. Ah… of course Virgil would show up first. He always did have a knack for knowing when something was wrong.

  "Ah, Virgil," Deceit said calmly. "Don't be a dear and call the others, would you?"

  "No. I don't care what you guys want, or what you're playing at, so just leave."

  Remus tried to open his mouth, taking a sharp breath as the movement tugged at his stitches. Pain stabbed through each stitch as he grimaced, and his breath caught in his throat. Carefully, he schooled his expression into something calmer.

  "Now, now, Virgil," Deceit admonished. "This is in no way important. We will be leaving if they don't speak to us."

  Virgil growled.

  "I don't want to play your stupid games Deceit! Just-"

  "Virge? Kiddo, is something-"

  Remus wished he was looking to see Patton's shocked face at finding the two of them here, but he couldn't move his head from its place tucked against his chest. He couldn't let them see.

  "Morality," Deceit greeted coldly. "Well, now we have two of the four."

  "Deceit, Remus," Patton acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

  Deceit sighed.

  "It seems no-one is asking that, and everyone is listening to the answer. We don't need all of you."

  "Why?" Patton asked warily.

  "This is a very unimportant matter," Deceit hissed, temporarily losing the calm control that he usually had. "If you don't call them right this instant, you will not regret it."

  "Ooh," Virgil mocked. "Scary. What, Remus finally shut his mouth, so you have to do the threatening part for him? Gotta say, you aren't that good at it."

  Deceit's grip on Remus's hand tightened. Remus himself couldn't help but flinch slightly at Virgil's words. He knew it. He knew they would be happy.

  "Anxiety," Deceit said lowly. "If you want to see us leave, you will stop. If you make another remark like that, I swear you will lose your eyes, pinprick by pinprick."

  "Deceit!" Patton shrieked. "Don't you dare say something like that again! I would expect that talk from Remus, not you! Now behave, or we'll have no choice but to make you leave."

  "Patton? I heard yelli- Deceit!" Oh. Logan was here. Great.

  "Logic," Deceit said coldly. "Be reasonable and get the prince down here."

  "Why?"

  Remus listened as Logan was given a rundown of events by Patton and Virgil, and then sighed. Remus could almost picture the other Side pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

  "Well then," Logan muttered, before the sound of someone rising up filled the air. "Now we're all here."

  "Logan!" Virgil snapped.

  "What? If they have something important to say, and won't leave until they say it, it would be best to get it done and over with."

  "Uh, why am I- Gah!" Roman cried, and there was a thump as Remus assumed his brother backed up into a wall. "Why are the Dark Knight’s here?! What the heck is going on?!"

  "That," Logan said, "is what we will hopefully find out now. Deceit? What is it that you have to say?"

  "...That you are all a bunch of fools masquerading as far kinder people than you are at heart. That you can't see the consequences of your actions. That you wouldn't see reason if it stood in front of you waving its arms and screaming."

  "Woah now, kiddo," Patton said, "What are you talking about?"

  "Obviously, it doesn't actually matter," Virgil muttured. Remus huffed softly, forcing himself not to try to speak past the stitches. It wouldn't do any good. Still, it was a lot harder than he'd first thought it would be.

  "You are all just-" Deceit took a calming breath. "Remus? Would you like to show them?"

  "Show us what?" Roman asked warily. Remus hesitated, before slowly lifting his head. It would be fine. It would be fine. Just show them. The thoughts circled in his mind, giving him the courage to meet their eyes.

  Patton gasped, hands flying to his face as horror overtook him. Logan took a sharp breath as Roman stared with wide eyes. Virgil just watched, frowning.

  "K-kiddo, what… what happened?" Patton whimpered, voice muffled by the hands still covering his face.

  Remus shifted uncomfortably, and Deceit growled.

  "You did! All of you! Somehow you got it into his head that we'd all appreciate this!"

  "I mean," Virgil said coldly. "It's certainly an improvement."

  "Virgil!" Patton and Logan said at the same time. The anxious side shrunk back, a frown settling on his face.

  Logan slowly approached them, stopping as Deceit shifted to block Logan from reaching Remus, like a mother bear defending her cubs. Logan held up his hands, calm and quiet. Maybe Logan also saw the comparison, like Remus did. The way it seemed that Deceit might lash out if he took another step, like a wild animal. Afraid. Protective.

  "I only want to see how bad it is. Is that alright?" He asked, acting almost as if any loud noise or sudden movement would result in Deceit snapping. Maybe it would. Remus hadn't seen him like this in a long time.

  Deceit paused at Logan's words, before looking towards Remus. It would… it would probably be fine. Logan wasn’t cruel, or hateful. He was only unwelcoming and cold. Remus nodded hesitantly, and Deceit begrudgingly stepped aside to let Logan through. Remus eyed Logan warily as he stepped up to him, moving with that same calm, soothing manner that he had with Deceit.

  "We saw you just this afternoon. How many hours has it been since you did this?" Logan asked gently, tilting his head to look closer at the stitching. Remus slowly held up four fingers, and Logan frowned. "This is… well, suffice it to say it's bad. We need to remove the stitches-"

  Remus shook his head sharply. Logan frowned, looking towards Deceit, a lost expression on his face.

  "Is there a problem?"

  "Well," Deceit said, smiling bitterly. "Since he did it for all of us, he'll only keep them if we all agree."

  "Oh, of course I don't want this!" Patton all but shrieked. "I might get overwhelmed by you, and not exactly like your contributions, but that doesn't- I never wanted this!"

  Roman stepped forwards, still blinking away his shock.

  "Remus?" He said quietly, sounding almost scared. "Is this… is this because of me? Of what I said today?"

  Remus looked away. It was, partially. He didn't blame them, though. But… based on their reactions… maybe he had gone too far?

  "W-well, if it's our stance on this you want, I…" Roman paused, clearing his throat and gathering the right words. "I would greatly prefer it if you let Logan help you. Actually, I'd prefer it if you had never done this in the first place. I'm… I'm sorry, Remus."

  "I believe that it's clear what I think," Logan said. "I apologize if I contributed to your decision. Please, allow me to assist you."

  Remus blinked, eyes stinging. He tried to open his mouth, wincing as pain shot through his lips and cheeks. Deceit sighed softly.

  "I don't agree with them."

  Remus wasn't sure what was going on. They all… they all thought this way? Had he really messed up so badly? Logan he had suspected, and he knew Deceit's opinion. Roman, though? Patton? He had thought they would be glad. Remus's gaze drifted to Virgil, along with every other Side. Virgil shrunk under the undivided attention.

  "I… Look," He sighed, "I don't like being tricked. I can see the signs of one, even if you guys can't."

  "Virgil," Patton said, confused. "Do you really think Remus would hurt himself just to make us feel bad? It… doesn't sound like him."

  "Maybe not," Virgil agreed. "But Deceit would do it."

  The entire room froze, holding its breath. A thousand thoughts ran through Remus's head in a single moment, but they all screeched to a halt as Deceit spoke, hands trembling slightly.

  "Who are you?" He asked softly, and Virgil flinched. "Clearly, you are not Anxiety. He was untrusting and as cold as he was paranoid, but he could still see the obvious. Not Virgil either. He was open and worried, but he saw clearly. So who are you? Who are you to be so cruel? So oblivious and uncaring?

  "Do you even hear yourself? You can't be Virgil. He actually knew us. He would know that I would never go this far. That I would never hurt him or Remus. So I will ask again; Who on this earth and all the rest do you think you are?! Who do you think you are to accuse me of that?! To accuse him of that?

  "Who are you?"

  Virgil stared at Deceit with wide eyes, along with everyone else in the room. Remus looked closer and- were there tears in Virgil's eyes?

  "I-I…" The anxious Side gaped, then frowned, and scowled, and then finally grimaced. "I just… Just… do whatever you want."

  With that, Virgil sunk out. Everything was quiet for a moment, before Logan coughed lightly.

  "W-well, we can handle that later," He said. "Before we do that, are you willing to remove the stitches now?"

  Remus hesitated, before nodding slightly. Patton glanced between them and the space where Virgil had disappeared, frowning in uncertainty, before Roman whispered something into his ear. Patton paused for just a moment before he nodded, ducking out after Virgil. That was probably for the best…

  Remus was led over to the couch, Deceit sitting on his left and Roman on his right. Logan knelt in front of him with a pair of small scissors and tweezers, gently cutting and pulling the string back through each stitch.

  It hurt, but Remus forced himself to hold still. It was… odd, to be surrounded by so many people that were there just to be there. Only the two of them were missing, and understandably so. Virgil… they'd have to talk with him soon. Hopefully Patton was dealing with that alright.

  After every stitch was removed, though his lips still stung, Remus opened his mouth and said the very first thing that popped into his mind;

  "T-thank you."

  "Of course," Logan said, smiling softly. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

  "I disagree," Deceit said, nodding. "I would not appreciate it if this was a one-time occurrence."

  Remus laughed softly, and… though they would still have to deal with Virgil, and for all that had happened, he thought that...

  That maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

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

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

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

Just Right

Read it on Ao3

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

Pairings: none. found family is my shit

Word count: 2667

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know. I’m doing things!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see how fast we can run, hmm?”

“May wants pictures too.”

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

“Steve!”

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

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

Doesn’t necessarily mean you understand them.

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

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

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

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

“Clearly.”

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

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

“Ow!”

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

“Peter?”

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

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

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

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

Peter shuffles. “Need something.”

“Okay. You hungry?”

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

“Where are your earbuds, Peter?”

“Counter.”

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

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

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

“Uh…not really, not right now.”

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

“M-maybe later.”

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

“Stay,” Peter says, “please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s it for?”

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, “sorry.”

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

“No, I…I should’ve told you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I, um…mine’s weird.”

“Weird how,” Sam asks.

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

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

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

Tony huffs. “Little bit of an understatement.”

“I-it’s easier for me to think!”

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

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

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

“H-help?”

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

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

“Is that what we should do, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like—like that.”

“Steve, you’re such an asshole.”

“I agree with Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

May: Peter’s earbuds broke.

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

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

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

Something, something, he needs something.

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

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

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

Where else can he feel?

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

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

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

It’s stopped being a word now.

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

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

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

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

“Peter?”

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

“They’re on their way, Peter.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

It’s just right.

[allmycrushesaredead]

Sad - Chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480694/chapters/67817831

Summary:  

Remus offers his advice in his own unique way.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, self-esteem issues, self-harm, cutting

ANGST!! You have been warned!

Originally published on 10-15-2020

Words: 1605

Chapters: 3/?

Remus had a feeling that Patton wasn’t doing so good up in his head, but he knew better than to worm his sorry ass into a situation he wasn’t wanted in.

Remus had the blessed ability to hear allll the little evil voices in everyone’s heads, not to mention his own demented friends who took up dwellings in the deep, dark crevices of his mind. So it wasn’t too much of a shocker when he started to hear those dreadful dicks coming over from Patton’s brain.

They all whispered darkly, sowing seeds of self-hatred and self doubt. They told Patton he wasn’t loved, wasn’t cared for, wasn’t important.

Just shut up and do your job. No one cares if wittle baby Patton is sad. Why would they care about you? What have you done that deserves love? You literally split Creativity. That was your fault. Your job is to be happy. Suck it up and grow a pair.

Remus wanted to bash their heads in with a blunt axe. He want to chop their heads off, tear out their eyeballs and replace them with candles, then use them to decorate his room. He wanted to—

Well… you get the picture.

And besides, they were just thoughts. He couldn’t do shit to actually harm them, no matter how much he wanted to.

When the thoughts slowly darkened, Remus wanted to rip his own heart out. It hurt too much just thinking about the fact that Patton would even consider following through with his thoughts.

He knew Patton had started cutting. He knew because of those voices that told him to slice his skin like bread whenever he got upset. That didn’t happen unless you already started cutting.

Remus didn’t judge him for doing it though. There was something cathartic about watching your very life source trickle out, to know you had the ability to end it all right there in your hand. The pain forced your brain to shut the fuck up for just two seconds. Remus could understand the appeal. Hell, he’d done it himself more than he could count. Watching the wounds heal in slow motion could silence his brain for hours on end, granting a much needed reprieve from the clashing and yelling of his thoughts.

Remus absentmindedly dragged a nail over his raised scars while he laid in bed, thinking. That was never a good sign. When Remus thought, that meant he was about to do some stupid shit he would regret later.

Today, it seemed like that stupid shit was going to be confronting Patton.

Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his usual outfit, applying his makeup with a practiced hand.

Suddenly, he caught a whiff of coffee and food. Realization blooming on his face, Remus dashed to his bed, plopping down to yank on his boots, then grabbing his morning start. You never know who you’re gonna have to kill over breakfast, he thought, a wicked grin overtaking his features as he skipped down the stairs.

As he skidded to a screeching halt in the kitchen’s entrance, Remus shot Logan, Virgil, and Patton a gap-toothed grin, leaning suggestively against the doorway.

“Morning, dorks!” he shouted, swinging his morning star with one hand.

Virgil rolled his eyes from where he was perched on the counter, though Remus caught a glimpse of a smile from behind his coffee mug. Patton gave a small wave, pulling a coffee mug down from the cabinet, filling it to the brim, then handing it to the side. Logan stared at his coffee mug, the tips of his ears tinged pink. After a moment, he risked a glace at Remus, only to find that Remus was staring at him, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. The normally solemn side blushed a furious red, coughing awkwardly before shuffling out to the dining room. “I’ll… go set the table,” he muttered, face still bright red.

Virgil chuckled lightly before catching Remus’ pointed look. Giving a small, discrete nod, he said, “I’ll go help him, then. Can I take the plates and silverware? Seems like Logan forgot those.”

“Alright, kiddo!” Patton replied. “I’ll just finish up the food. It’ll be ready in just a second.”

As Virgil stepped out of the kitchen, balancing a stack of plates and silverware, Remus stepped away from his spot in the doorway, approaching Patton cautiously.

“Soooo…. about the whole slicey-slicey thing?” Remus probed, miming slitting his wrist.

Patton froze, his shoulders tensing as he paled. “W-what do you mean?”

“Y’know… the whole cutting thing? The whole self-harm thing? The whole cutting your skin open and watching yourself bleed thing? The whole—”

“Nope! Yeah, I… I got it… Just, um… how’d you know… about that?”

“Well, me kinda being the embodiment of intrusive thoughts and all, I can kinda hear all intrusive thoughts from the others… including you.”

“I am so sorry, Remus. If I had known—”

“How could ya have? And, besides, its not like you coulda just not thought the thoughts. It’s kinda the whole reason they’re called intrusive.”

“Still, I don’t want you to have to deal with that on top of what you already have to deal with.”

“It’s part of my job! Besides, I’d rather know what’s going on inside your head so I can… I dunno… help, I guess? Geez, stop making me sound so sappy, you’re gonna ruin my reputation,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Still…. I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine! You should hear some of the shi- stiff! Stuff… that, uh, Logan has to listen to. Of course he’s got the whole, ‘I’m not good enough’ thing going on, but then he’s got the whole ‘I’m not supposed to have emotions’ thingy, on top of the ‘I’m failing Thomas and the others if I take time for myself’ thing. And that’s not even the worst of it! It’s insane the amount of irrational and self-destructive thoughts he has, considering that he always has a rebuttal for anyone else’s illogical thinking. And don’t get me started on Roman! He—”

“Remus! Wait, please,” Patton cut him off abruptly. “I- I don’t think you should be telling me this, not with out the others knowing. We need to talk about it, but… with the others, m’kay?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, sorry… I got a little carried away with my train of thought there…” He paused a moment, trying to remember where he was going with this. “I just… I know I’m not the best person to go to for hwlp with stuff like this… In fact, I normally make it worse… but, go to someone when you need to talk? Don’t keep these thoughts bottled up inside. I know I’m kinda being hypocritical here, but… ask someone to help you work through these thoughts. Repression works for a period of time, but eventually you’re gonna have to wake up and smell the cow manure. And, believe me. It’s much easier to face your problems when someone’s there to help you than to go it alone. If you’re hurting, I want to know so I can help. And I know the others feel the same…”

Patton stood in shock for a moment, tears glistening in his eyes. Suddenly, he surged forward, wrapping Remus in his embrace. Remus wordlessly cradled the moral side in his arms, tucking his face into Patton’s neck to hide the glistening of tears in his own eyes. After a moment, Patton pulled away, smiling softly at him. Retrieving their coffee mugs that had both been abandoned on the counter during their discussion, Patton topped them off with fresh coffee before returning the octopus one to Remus.

Gladly accepting the drink, Remus chucked once more. “Geez, my reputation totally just jumped out of the window… of the plane… while in flight…. Anyways, I gotta pull myself together! Can’t have people thinking I’m some sappy, lovey-dovey friend, now can I? Hold up, lemme get back in character.”

Remus began squawking loudly, shaking out his limbs and pulling strange faces. After a moment of this, with Patton giggling from behind his hand, he resumed a somewhat normal expression… at least… normal for Remus… which meant slightly crazed. Cracking his neck loudly, he blurted out, “So, about our resident nerd… that was quite a strange reaction to my presence, don’t ya think?”

Patton giggled again, hugging his mug to his chest. “I’d say!” he replied.

“Oooh! I wonder if Logie-poo has the hots for me!” Remus said with a cackle.

Patton blushed lightly at the phrasing, but pressed on bravely. “I dunno, kiddo! Sure looked strange to me, though!”

Remus gasped dramatically. “I bet he had a wet dream or something, and now he can’t look at me without seeing me in all my naked glory!”

Patton choked on his coffee, his face blooming into a burning blush. He stammered a moment in shock before attempting to change the subject. “You wanna help me carry the food out, bud?” Patton squeaked, fanning his face with one hand.

Remus let out another cackle. “Of course, Patty-pal! I gotta try and eat it all before Roman wakes up! He’ll be pissed!” he replied, sounding delighted at the prospect. To emphasize his point, he scooped a handful of scrambled eggs up with his bare hand, shoveling it into his mouth. “Let’s go! No time to waste!” he called to the still flustered side, somehow balancing all the trays of food in one hand.

“C-coming!” Patton cried, gathering the strawberries and whipped crème.

“That’s what he said,” Remus muttered.

“What was that, Remus?”

“Nothin’, Pops! Nothin’ at all.”

[lordseochangbin]

Bad News 

Smut, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: “Badboy” Lee Minho x Aspiring Writer

A/N: So I honestly didn’t want to publish this 4.1k baby because it’s so long but I had so much fun writing it LMAOO so when I finished I was like hmph why not :D After reading it again I realized it actually goes by pretty quickly so enjoyyy

----

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble. 

So annoying.

You’re jotting down every note from this man, this doctor who claims that if humans eat raisins it will save their life from any harm. Evidence? Bullshit. But I suppose that’s what you have to do in order to get into Yale’s English department. Sir Lordseochangbin expects nothing but a good story and you already know he’s going to throw this one in the trash. Just like the others. 

“... and so the texture of the raisin is very particular. Every ridge is filled with yum but it is also the color, OH the color! The color of the raisin is magnificent! People may mistake the raisin as a cat's disposal however…” 

“Doctor!” you get up from your seat, closing your notebook and showing a fake smile of happiness to leave and resent of the wasted time. “I believe we should wrap this up, thank you for your time!” You tell him, shaking his hand before quickly running off. 

“Take care!” 

You enter the busy room full of books and posters. Had you never done your research on the professor behind the English department, you would’ve guessed this was some 17 year old fangirl obsessed with some hotshot korean rapper. Pictures of the man were everywhere and you couldn’t help but to cringe, was he obsessed with himself or something?

He’s sitting on a comfortable chair with a mirror in his hands, his fingers forming the classic ‘peace’ sign as he giggles in a cute voice “Mmhpm! Cute binnie! I’m cute binnie!” 

You literally want to gag in your throat but okay. “L-lordseochangbin? Lord? Are you there?”

“Oh fuck” you hear in his normal voice as he slides the mirror under the desk and straightens his shirt. 

“Ahem. Y/n, how can I help you?” You take a breath of relief to see him back to his old self before handing him your notes.

“I got a story, just wanted to know your opinion” you said with a grin. 

He grabs the pack of papers out of your hands and looks at the first page. “How one doctor is raisin-g awareness about the new way to save lives” He reads in monotone before tossing your work on the floor. 

Your heart is pulsing and your hands are fidgeting. This is fucking stupid. You don’t need Yale. Fuck it. Can’t deal with this stupid conceiting motherf-

“Y/n… sit down.” he takes a sharp breath before grabbing the mirror out the floor. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at myself?”

Not this bullshit again. “Lordseochangbin, what do you see?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

He looks into the mirror, winking at his reflection before answering “I see perfection. You know why? Because interesting shit happens in my life. They range from being thrown into a dumpster in Sri Lanka to marrying the love of my life, Mel. Like I said, terrifying yet beautiful experiences and what’s best is that I learned from it!”

“W-what are you saying?” You respond, leaning closer to him on your seat as you anticipate his response.

“The first story you sent me, the one about that boy. The boy in your story captured my eye. He helped others by secretly selling illegal drugs, donating the money to charity and supporting his family.  I want more guys like him.”

“Like him?” 

“Hmm… how do I say this in the nicest way possible? Y/n, get yourself out there man.” He says, sending you a look as if to sympathize with your loneliness

“Oh”

“Yeah.. now go get a life” He says, shooing you off before he could shut the door on you. 

Wow. Okay. So not only did he throw away the story you spent 7 hours on but also told you to go do something with yourself? 

You turn around, facing the closed door. “One day, I’m going to go inside that room and draw devil ears on every one of those fucking posters! Triangle headass!” You curse, rolling your eyes before hearing a quick “I heard that!” and running out of the building.

-----

You know what the funniest thing was about that story Lordseochangbin mentioned? You made up the name. Your high school memories were long gone and all you could remember was calling him “Daddy” every time he pushed you to the edge. In the story, you called him Eric but what was his name? You just couldn’t remember.

The high pitched screaming ringed through your ears as you remembered the times with “Eric”. You made those scenes extra spicy in your book, replacing high school jerseys with suits and lingerie, old school basketball games with extreme galas throwed by rich people. The whole story was like a perfect manhattan lifestyle until he broke it off with you. 

And god, your safe word with “Eric” was the best part… like seriously? The number of times you screamed “CRANBERRY JUICE” as he fucked your insides out was insane and perfectly memorable. His face, unforgettable. 

These vivid images ran through your head as you jumped into the taxi with your two friends. You, y/n, were bound to get into some trouble. 

The night’s off to a boring start as you have time adjusting from candles and Netflix to DJ lights and drinks. You hit your tenth shot before your friends could pull you off to the floor. You sway your hips to the music, throwing your head back as you feel the beat pulse through you. Throwing your hands up in the air, you feel a tight grasp on your hips before turning around to see your friend. 

“Yo. 9 0’clock. That guy has been checking you out, go get yourself into some trouble!” She says, pushing you in the guys direction. You start to stumble on your feet, letting the crowd of waving arms and stepping heels lead you to him before you're in his arms. 

“Umm… are you okay?” He asks with a smirk on his face. This man is gorgeous up close, and that aching feeling between your legs is just hoping you can get a taste of those plump lips. The ones that lie agaped as he waits for your response. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I-I’m fine..” you shake your head, stupid y/n. His arm finds itself around your waist as he guides you to the bar table, a glass of water in front of him. 

“No drinks?” You ask with a smile. “I’ve had enough” He simply replies, taking a sip of his vodka as he looks across the table. You’re staring at his side profile and as much as you know you shouldn’t you just can’t help but to gaze at him. 

“You’re perfect…” you mutter under your breath before he could turn his attention back to you, “What was that? Sorry the music is a little too loud” He apologizes as he leans in closer. 

No..no no no. Please. He’s so close you can smell the cologne he’s wearing and god is it addicting.

“Umm…. hi!” You randomly spurt out, your hands grabbing his shoulders. At this point you are just wide eyed staring at each other, centimeters apart as your gesture seemed to pull you two closer. You have his full attention and you’re not sure what to do with it. The proximity is making your breath hitch and he’s staring at you like an eager kitten, pupils wide and a grin on his face. 

“Umm.. hi” he mocks you, “What is it? Virgin that’s trying to get knocked up? Good girl trying to disappoint her parents in a club?”

“What?!” you reply confused, “Oh! Wait I mean I’m not trying to get knocked up and I think I’ve dissapointed my parents enough but you’re kinda hot so I mean I wouldn’t mind having sex with you NOT that I haven’t had sex before or anytime I mean I’ve madeout but like sex with you seems-” You realize how fast you’re talking and wince at his still expression, silence between you two for a few seconds before he finally says: 

“Perfect, you’d look so pretty under me kitten” he whispers, his thumb holding your chin up as he pecks your lips.

You close your eyes into the kiss before he could say, “Strawberry chapstick, cute” Looking as innocent as a doll, you look up to him as he gets up.

He sends a wink in your direction before grabbing his jacket, “Let’s get out of here” You get a chance to look back to your friends before they mouth to you, “Use protection!!” and you laugh at their responses and the thrill that’s running through your nerves. 

You two exit through the back, a motorcycle helmet in your hands as you throw your leg over him and settle on the backseat. Once the helmet’s on, he turns his head slightly as if to check on you and grabs your hands, wrapping them around his chest. His black denim jacket is covering your shoulders and his white tee is clinging to his body.

You y/n, you just got yourself into some trouble. 

----

A million fans blowing at your face simply couldn’t compare to the cool breeze that blew past you as you find comfort on the motorcycle seat. Your initial goal is long forgotten, but this guy in front of you is already screaming danger and you love it. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, your question being muted by a nearby car horn.

“Sorry, what?” he replies with a smirk before pulling to the side, pushing the kickstand with his foot and getting off the bike. You’re stunned when he takes off his helmet, his messy hair poking all over the place and when he uses his fingers to comb through his dark locks you realize you are absolutely done for.

“Did you ask something?” 

“W-what’s your name?” you ask, your voice muffled because of the helmet. He simply chuckles as he takes the helmet off you, he’s so close that he can hear your shaky breaths and unsteady heartbeats. 

“It’s Minho. Lee Minho… yours?”

Your nails grip onto the leather seat on the motorcycle as you attempt to get off when your dress gets caught on the bike. “Aw, fuck!” you curse yourself, you knew jeans and a jacket would’ve been a good idea. 

“Woah, woah don’t worry I got you” He says, walking over to the other side of the bike before getting on one knee to help the situation. You’re trying your best to look away because this may or may not have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, one leg is mounted to the floor and the other is leaving you unbalanced on the other side of the seat. 

“Nice panties by the way” he says with a smug look. Your cheeks are pink when you turn around to see that he's right in between your legs, the inside of your dress completely open for him to see but his eyes are still focused on that one knot that he’s been trying to untangle. 

“Oh my god” you pant out, covering your eyes in humiliation. “This is so embarrassing”

“It’s nice to know you were serious when you said you wanted to have sex” his smile is hard to hide when he finally sets you free, the balance of the bike suddenly shiftng your weight as you fall towards him. 

“Oh-” you let out as his eyes stare into yours. They’re literally shining, and maybe it’s the reflection of the street light behind you but it looks so magical in the moment as your hands wrap around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

His hands are around your waist, giving your ass a tight squeeze as he stands up, your lips still connected before he could pull away with a smile. 

“You…” he says with a quick breath, “You never told me what your name was.”

---- 

At the sound of the elevator bell, your back is up against the wall. Minho is quick to get his hands on the bottom of your dress, slowly pulling it up to your waist as he presses kisses into your neck. 

“The second I saw those white lace panties, I wanted them off you right away” He growls into your ear as he grabs your jaw. 

Your legs stiffen as he presses your back on the wall and you gasp as he throws off his jacket, pulling his back tee over his head. “So.. so..” you stutter as your hands grab his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. His tongue is past your lips, his teeth biting down your bottom lip and you whimper at the arousal building up between your legs. 

“Aw, what was that kitten?” He asks in a playful tone

“G-god stop teasing Minho.. just fuck me already” you whisper, your eyes close shut as the trail of wet kisses he’s leaving across your chest as he slowly takes off your dress. “Is this okay?” he asks as his hands go to your waist.

“It’s fine.. please just-” your lips shut as his attaches to your breast, the other one being groped by his hand as he massages it. His tongue swerves around your wet nipple as he flicks it softly, your cold buds hardening before he could suck on it harshly.

It’s a moment of pleasure until you feel your core pulsating, your hands diverging between your legs as you rip off your panties, fingers diving into your wet folds before Minho could slap them away. 

“Who said you could fucking touch yourself?” He asks, making you whine at his words before he unzips his jeans. “This should fucking teach you a lesson…” His pants are on the floor and before you know it he’s carrying you bridal style onto the bed. 

He’s leaning against the backboard, leaving you confused at the fact that you’re just lying there before he pulls his boxers down, revealing his cock covered with beads of pre-cum. 

“M-minho..WAIT. Umm.. shouldn’t we make a safe word?” Minho looks at you in surprise before letting out a chuckle.

“A safeword kitten? C’mon, I can be rough.. but not that rough”

“Just say a word Minho”

“Strawberry-chapstick.”

“Strawberry...chapstick? O-oh.. okay”You stutter as you place yourself in between his legs. Your hands wrap around his member as you pump him up a few times, your tongue sucking on his tip as you leave his arousal all over your lips. When you go down on him, he lets out a loud moan, his eyes shut in pleasure as his hands go to your head. 

“Nnngh, God.. you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth” he lets out, his eyes watching you attentively. A few more groans pass his mouth before he’s biting onto his lip, trying to let anymore out. When he feels you slowing down, he starts to thrust up your mouth, stuffing it with his cock and watching you gag on it. 

“I-i’m so close kitten, I’m gonna fuck your mouth so good” he mumbles as his hips meet your face, your nails gripping onto his thighs as you feel that familiar twitch.

In seconds he’s laid back on the bed, his hands pulling you up to your face as you manage to swallow all his cum before he could align his cock with your entrance, quickly moving past them as he bucks his hips into yours. 

“OH!” you scream, a mantra of his name leaving your lips. As if you haven’t said or thought of his name enough already. It’s the only thing on your mind when you’re staring at him in bliss, your hands on his shoulders as you sink down on him, just for him to hit your sweet spot again. The way his cock is stretching your walls feels so fucking good and you can’t come to terms on whether is pain or pleasure. It’s a pattern of thrusts and moans before it could grow slower and sloppier. 

“I’m so close Minho, please fuck me Minho! Please!” You cry, his hands playing with your clit as he rubs his fingers on it. His hips buck into yours again, finding that same pace and you look helpless, letting him take over you as your breasts jiggle against his chest, mewls passing your lips. 

“J-Just-” You stutter before you could reach your high, letting out a loud pornographic moan as he reaches for his own before filling you up. Your eyes close shut as you get up, falling on the bed next to him. 

He lets out a long, exhausted breath before his hands could play with your hair, giving you access to lay on his chest before saying, “For a virgin.. you really know how to suck dick” 

You nearly choke at his words before rolling your eyes, “I’m not a virgin” 

“Ahh, that makes sense. Who was the lucky guy?” He says with a smirk, leaning down on the side of his bed to grab another liquor bottle and handing you a glass. 

“He’s.. not sure how to explain it. High school friend I guess…” you reply as you take the drink down in one go and place it on his nightstand, cuddling into his arm as you start to fall asleep.

“Who was your first?” you mumble before your drink could get the best of you.

“Mine… she was in high school too. I had some shit going on though, couldn’t keep her. You know, it’s hard thinking my parents own some bigshot company, and I'm just here. Going to be heir to a billion dollar business and I just… can’t handle all of it. I’m here clubbing every night because I know no matter what I do I’ll never be able to impress them…”

---

Thank god. Thank GOD for that recorder you snuck underneath your dress. What you didn’t thank god for was all the times you screamed, “Fuck me! Fuck me!” God… it made you cringe in your seat. It was good sex though, you had to admit. 

What you weren’t proud of was the fact that you didn’t get anything out of that night. No inspiration, no good story. No nothing. You slumped down your seat in exhaustion before you could hear Minho’s voice. 

“It’s like I’ll never be able to impress them…” you hear him pause for a second before rewinding the tape and listening to what he said seconds before you fell asleep. 

He has a story. Minho… he’s more than just a guy that goes clubbing and rides on his motorcycle and drinks every night. He’s a boy that was never loved by his parents, using his money to donate to charity, never knowing what his future lies of him as the heir to a billion dollar company. 

“I trust you.. you know. I don’t know what it is about you but… oh, are you sleeping?” He giggles. You smile at how attractive his laugh is before looking down at his notes. Would it be bad to use these for a story? His life… as a book? 

You remembered his sleepy eyes as he laid on the bed, you trying to put on your clothes in a hurry as you left the apartment without a sound. Should you have left? You throw your face into your hands before hearing the sound of his voice again. 

“She looks cute with this cat filter” you hear him mumble before you could hear the click of his camera, a laugh leaving his lips as you could hear him close settle in his spot next to you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me” He mocks in a high pitch voice before hear a starling snore. “Oh, she snores. Great.” 

You mentally facepalm yourself before turning off the recording, leaning back in your seat as you stare at the roof wondering if it was worth it to break his trust like this.

“I gave you a day, y/n. Got any ideas?” You turn around to see Changbin leaning against the door before looking back at the recorder on your desk.

“I think I do. I’ll have it done in a week.”

----

A month passed and all of your dreams came true. Getting into Yale, publishing a book, and getting the status as an official writer. You regret giving yourself a deadline of a week, but when Changbin saw how well you were doing he extended it, knowing a book could never be done in a week, not even a month. You spent your days and nights on this however, the thought of Minho in mind was only brain fuel. 

Some nights resulting in reaching your own high, but you couldn’t even count the number of men who passed by your apartment door. They weren’t just men, men from Yale, and were they hot. 

You ended up asking them to leave however, knowing you had to get back to work. None of them used “Strawberry-chapstick” as a safeword. None of them took a cute cat filter selfie when you fell asleep. None of them were Minho. 

----

Smile, sign the book, have a conversation and it’s the next person. Minho walked past the book-signing banner as he walked into the library, heading straight to the counter. 

“So busy here, it’s not usually like this” 

“Mr. Lee, there’s a book signing going on here. New author who just made her way to Yale, you should read her book.”

“Yale? It’s probably a book about Hilary or Bush, i’ll pass on reading about notable alumni” he sarcastically replied.

“Well if that’s the case sir, the kids are eagerly waiting in the room past the signing for you” 

“Perfect, thanks..”

Minho tucks his jacket as he walks towards the kids room, catching a glimpse of the fan meeting as he walks by the crowd. 

“Shit, shit! Hide me” You whisper, hiding behind Changbin’s back as you watch him walk by you. 

“Y/n.. I’m your boss not your friend, get out there” he says, stepping to the side before you could make eye contact with him. You see him stop walking down the hall, his eyes staring right at you. 

“Shoot, um changbin can you-”

“Sir you can’t come past this line, it's a book signing.” 

“I need to talk to that girl!” Minho exclaims, pointing a finger at you as you continue to hide behind Changbin. Minho tries to fight off the bodyguards before you could tell them to let go. 

Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you look down at his luxury shoes as you ask, “What are you doing here… you shouldn’t be here”

“I’m always here, the real question is” he looks off to the side, reading the name off the banner, “Y/n.. you left me that night”

You took down a harsh gulp before looking back up at him, “I did.”

He scoffs at your words, “Seriously y/n, you did? No fucking joke, I had no idea what your name was, who you were, all I had was this” he presses the button on his phone, lighting to show you his lockscreen of you sleeping with the cat filter.

“I’ve been thinking about you since that day y/n… please” he says, grabbing your hands in his and giving it a squeeze. You’re left speechless, not sure how to reply before Changbin interrupts you two. 

“Y/n, it’s time. You! You must be a friend of y/n, check out her new book!” 

Changbin hands him a copy and you try to grab it out of his hands, “No Minho you seriously shouldn’t…”

“Wait y/n this is crazy..” he says, swapping your hand away. He mumbles out the title ‘Bad News’ before turning around to read the description. “Bad boy with a bad reputation. Drugs, Drinks, and girls. A billion dollar company and parents that are more than disappointed. Choi Mino..” 

He glares at the words before looking back up to you. “Minho… look I can explain-”

“Don’t bother” he says, dropping the book on the floor, “You could’ve at least thought of a better name for a dissapointment” 

Minho bits his lip in anticipation of a response, another try to ask him to stay but you’re left without words. You don’t know how to explain yourself, you can’t. 

“I-i’m sorry..” you whisper under your breath before Minho could roll his eyes at you and leave. 

“Oh, where’d your friend go?” Changbin asks you, you turn around- trying to hold back the tears that were close to falling before facing the crowd of readers in front of you.. books in their hand and smiles on their faces.  Posing a fake smile you grab the book that Minho dropped in your head, leaning against a table.

“Hello everyone, you know my name. I’m the author of Bad News.

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 13

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 04/03/2020

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,470 words

A/N: One month until my birthday! I’m trying to finish this series. any guesses on the gender of the baby?

Previous Part.

That was as far as you’d gotten, the words seizing in your mouth as you tried to think of how to explain it all and Namjoon’s power wore off.

You were sitting partially against the wall and partially in Hoseok’s lap, trying to think of how to explain it all to them.

They were all gathered around you with pillows and blankets, cozy next to the fireplace you hummed into existence.

Hoseok was braiding lavender into your hair, and Jimin was singing softly as all of you relaxed from the stress of the ‘mission’.

Taehyung was sprawled across the floor and Yoongi, muttering about missing Yeontan.

Jungkook was curled in Seokjin’s lap, wrapped in his arms.

Namjoon was sitting against the wall beside you and Hoseok, waiting for you to be ready to talk.

“I went to the conservatory after my parents…well, after my mother was killed. I needed a distraction, a way to move forward. The conservatory offered training in hand-to-hand and other skills that I saw as useful. I’d only ever been trained in artifact retrieval and care, and self-defense. I thought learning something would help distract me. Everything was fine until about a week after I’d arrived. Every time I tried to just…go outside, to even just go to the gardens, I couldn’t. I asked the dean if I could and he said no. He wouldn’t give me a reason why, and he made it clear I wasn’t allowed to ask anymore.”

“So you went searching,” Yoongi said, smirking.

You nodded, looking to Jin. “You can imagine the secrets I found.”

“The testing,” He whispered, his grip on Jungkook getting taut and causing the younger to glance up at him in worry.

“Among other things. They were testing ways of stealing the students powers, brainwashing, hypnosis…bionic replacements.”

Taehyung sat up, looking worried. “Like Heuning’s wings?”

You nodded. “The man who did that was driven out when they realized it was hurting them, but he wasn’t stopped for quite some time after.” You fidgeted with Hoseok’s hand.

His other hand rested on your stomach, warm and comforting.

“But that didn’t stop the other testing. Or the abuse of the students. Manipulation and hypnosis, brainwashing them into their little soldiers. Maybe if I hadn’t been hiding who I was, I might not have had the backbone to resist their testing, but I was stronger than they knew. The students were prisoners. Test subjects. And they still are.” You let your gaze drop to the floor, thinking about the things you had to listen to, avoid, and endure. “If I hadn’t been able to sneak away to even just my little living-space pocket, I might have gone insane. I would also have been in trouble if I hadn’t been able to keep up with my hair dye. I was using a constant melody to keep my visage hazy, but a change in hair color would have been too noticeable. But getting away was difficult. I actually had to go to restricted areas just to find enough privacy.”

“You two weren’t there at the same time?” Yoongi asked, looking between yourself and Jin, holding hands with Taehyung.

Jin waffled a bit. “There was a little bit of overlap. About three months, actually, but we were always in different places. Or if we were in the same place, neither of us took notice of it. I was trying to escape already, after having exposed the man that did the bionic replacements. He called himself Daedalus. His test subjects had their memories wiped, and most were kept at the school, giving them new identities. After that the youngest kids disappeared before I could rescue them. I’m assuming that was you?” He rested his cheek on Jungkook’s head.

You nodded. “Yeah. After they were brainwashed. I had their files from the lab and I put them in a time-frozen room until I escaped. I met Nadya on my way out. They had been trying to find a way in to investigate. She knew that I was an Archivist, she’d been told she would meet one and that I was the answer. But when we returned to the temple and got the kids settled in with their former identities to help them recover, the time super also told us that the time for her to return to the Conservatory had yet to come.”

“I don’t understand,” Hoseok murmured.

You took a deep breath. “The conservatory fights, but they don’t value the lives of those they send to fight. They’re like toy soldiers. Fighting for whatever cause the conservatory’s dean determines worthy of their attention. Sometimes that means whoever is the highest bidder.”

“Or the fight against super-powered people,” Jin added quietly.

It hung heavily in the air.

“And you and Nadya want to put an end to it,” Yoongi said, nodding slowly. “Make it into a real school for heroes, a safe place for them instead of a nest of evil. But what about your connection to the current dean?”

The boys looked to Jin when you hemmed and hawed a bit, struggling to find a way to explain it.

He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t remember her at all.”

“Ryoko…she’s…” You sighed. “She was a student. One of the ones that was in charge of keeping me in line after they realized I was an escape artist.”

“And?” Namjoon asked, one of his hands encasing yours.

You stared at the floor. “She found out about me. And I had to use a memory spell on her. But when I did it…I had a lot of ideas. So I gave her an artifact that puts her in the good favor of those above her, one that earns you promotions…but that also let me know what happened at the conservatory.”

“W-what?” Jungkook’s eyes were huge.

Jimin’s mouth was open.

“You…used an artifact on her?” Jin asked, sounding like he couldn’t believe it. “What if someone had taken it from her?”

You shook your head. “It was a rare one, one that can only be used once.”

“So when Nadya asked if ‘She’ remembered you, she was talking about the dean?” Yoongi asked, frowning.

You nodded.

“What happens if she remembers you?” Jimin asked in a small voice.

You shook your head. “Nothing good. She’s always been power-hungry, that’s why she was the perfect choice to become the next dean and be my unwitting spy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Taehyung said. “I mean, I’m getting the feeling that there’s still brainwashing and experimentation being done…but I feel like there’s something else you haven’t told us.”

You met Jin’s gaze and could see he knew what you were going to say.

“None of you have asked about what happens to the students who don’t end up working for the Conservatory,” You said quietly. “Or why none of the students appear to be over the age of eighteen.”

The atmosphere of the room plummeted.

“Oh,” Hoseok breathed, hold on you just a little tighter.

Taehyung looked scared. “What happens to them?”

Jin cleared his throat, taking over. “If they reach the age of 18—”

“If?” Jimin asked, sounding distressed.

“They’re still used as soldiers, Jimin,” You told him, then gestured for Jin to continue.

“If they reach the age of 18, they’re given a choice: stay and work for the conservatory, or go out into the world. If they choose to go out into the world…they’re stripped of their powers, their identity…they become zombie-like. Eventually they can recover a little, but they will never notice supers or anything having to do with powers. They usually die from having their powers stripped from them, though. Or become addicts. I’ve heard of very few leading real lives.” Jin was holding onto Jungkook, like the kid might disappear at any moment. “The only reason I escaped was because I was a teacher, and I managed to leave during the turnover of staff. I wanted…I wanted to help them, but I didn’t know how. The conservatory is strong.”

“But you and Nadya think that this is the chance to change everything, to get the upper hand on the conservatory,” Yoongi said, putting it all together.

“Except I can’t be there.”

“What if we made sure the fight was drawn out, until after you’ve had the baby?” Namjoon asked, slowly and carefully.

You shuddered. “How many might die because of that?”

“Why do you need to be there?” Jungkook asked, frowning.

You looked around at all of them. “Because I can reverse the brainwashing. I’ve had the song for that school figured out for years.”

“Our first time back there you threatened to destroy the school,” Jin said softly.

“Yes. But more than anything else, I threatened to bring Ryoko harm, because it wasn’t the artifact that corrupted her. All of us lost count of how many young supers she has gotten killed.” You shuddered. “And Soobin is actually a former student.”

“What?” Taehyung yelped.

“He caught me as I was escaping and I brought him with me, took him to the home. That’s why he wanted to be closer to us instead of the people from the home. That’s why I didn’t want the boys staying there.”

“What are his powers?” Namjoon asked, frowning.

“Sonic senses, transmutation and peace inducement,” You answered, shifting and resting more on Hoseok. You felt insecure. You wanted them to assure you that they loved you, even if you did break your own rules. Your sacred rules of archives.

Hoseok’s hold tightened slightly, both hands on your stomach. “That is a dangerous power.”

“Which one?” Jungkook asked, frowning.

“Peace inducement,” Seokjin answered. “Under the control of any sort of villain or person with ill-intentions, he could induce everyone to peacefully accept a tyrant to reign over the country.”

Taehyung shuddered and pressed closer to Yoongi

“And the other boys? What are their powers?” Jimin asked, coming over to essentially sit on Namjoon so he could be close to you.

You chewed on your cheek for a moment. “Well, Beomgyu, you know has healing. Soobin told me he would keep the others safe if we made the wrong call about sending him with them. But I think it was the right choice. Heuning Kai has light, photokinesis, and the wings, but he also has air manipulation. Taehyun…I’m still not entirely certain about his powers, but I think…it’s largely psychometry, maybe enhanced memory reliving. Either way, it’s an extremely potent weapon. Especially since he also wears the badge of the high priest, meaning he trains directly with the high priest of time—not with one of the bishops or normal priests like other acolytes. That means he probable has prophetic visions or dreams.”

It was quiet after that.

Finally Seokjin forced in a breath, then forced it out. “And the last?”

“Yeonjun, he had the green robes of a nature acolyte, and his appearance…it’s definitely evidence of it….” You tried to remember what powers you’d sensed from him, working to pinpoint the exact name for them. “He was powerful too. Very powerful, but I was so overwhelmed by Taehyun’s power that I…I couldn’t really focus on his. But he was aware of Jimin, and there was some sort of…nature to him.”

“That would explain the horns,” Jimin whispered. “And the way…I didn’t really say anything but I felt like he was connected to me the moment we reached the archives and were away from the noise.”

You nodded. “I think…don’t quote me because I’m guessing here, but I think he has Ecological empathy…and maybe…something strong that has to do with the elements.” You tangled your fingers with Hoseok’s and vines quickly bound the two of you together by the wrists.

Jimin placed his hand over both of yours, smiling slightly when the vines wrapped around him too. “And are they okay right now?”

You nodded. “They’re fine. I have a song placed on Soobin, he knows how to let me know if something is wrong. I checked in this morning too, through the note-dropping system. He said they’re fine. Yeonjun is completely healed now, and they’re getting along, and apparently Huening Kai is very excitable and screams when he’s excited.”

“I wondered if he was okay, he seemed so uncomfortable and stiff,” Hoseok murmured.

“He’s young and had to go through a lot.” You let your eyes close.

You could hear them all moving closer, joining the pile.

Someone pressed a kiss your temple.

“You did so well today, baby,” Namjoon whispered. “I know it wasn’t easy telling us about what’s been going on, for you or for Seokjin-hyung. I know you probably downplayed a lot—”

“Probably?” Yoongi objected.

“Everything,” Seokjin said at the same time, sounding so heartbroken that it silenced the room again.

You opened your eyes to check on him.

Taehyung pressed a kiss to his lips. “I wish I could say I was sorry you went through that hyung.”

“Tae—” JImin hissed.

“But I’m not. I’m not sorry that you went through it because it’s what brought us together. It’s what brought you to me. You knew how to save me because of your time there, you knew how to help all of us become better people because of your time there. I’m only sorry that this place still haunts you, and that we didn’t realize how much trouble it was before now. You saved me, hyung. I know that might not be enough to you, but it means the world to me.” Taehyung pressed his face into the crook of Jin’s neck as he hugged him from behind.

Jin leaned back into the embrace, one arm still firmly planted around Jungkook, but his free hand going back to rest on Tae’s leg.

“He’s right. Your knowledge is what kept us from getting our butts kicked, now it’s you and y/n keeping us from getting our butts kicked and frankly…I think it’s because you both attended this school. So, we’re going to take it down. We’re going to find a way. Maybe not during this threat, but we’ll find a way,” Namjoon said, voice firm. “After. After our baby is born, and y/n has recovered. Until then, we build up our arsenal of allies. Or, if this fight takes longer than we think, maybe you come back in time for us to take down the school at the same time. Okay?”

There were murmurs of consent from everyone, including you.

Then all of you were just laying there, cuddling.

Because you would have to leave them once the conversation truly ended, and none of you were ready for that.

~~~~

Part 12.   Part 14.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

Tagging: @ephemeral-mindset​, @alex–awesome–22​, @bryvada​, @missmoxxiesworld​, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck​

[novaimpactgenerator-blog]

First things first: Hello! Second: May I say your recent work on a request tugged my heartstrings so much that it inspired me to think of my own request of where the Lost Light's female human (giant sized thanks to Brainstorm's idea of sizing them up), Rung, Whirl are dealing with the Fort Max hostage situation, though this time the human is trying to calm Max down, but of course Whirl is trying to make sure Max doesn’t hurt Rung or her by making jabs at him so he could hurt him instead. (1/2)

A Hostage Situation:

“Wow! This is amazing, Brainstorm!” You examined yourself in the mirror with the teal and white scientist standing next to you. You were now able to stand up to his elbow joints and looked down at the device responsible for your new found size attached to your wrist. I reminded you of a digital watch except the time was replaced with height measurements and the side rim was a dial you could turn to adjust said measurements. However, it seemed like the current setting was the tallest.

“I really have outdone myself this time, haven’t I,” he stated smugly. “It was a bit difficult to figure out to expand your body since its made of flesh and not metal. Nothing I couldn’t handle though!”

“Well, thanks. I mean it. This will make living here with you guys a lot easier.” You then began to look over the bodysuit that Brainstorm had also made. It was able to change sizes with you. It was even in your three favorite colors! But the weapon specialist did say it could turn nearly invisible so you could wear other clothes over it.

“I have to go show everyone!” You then ran out of the lab to do just that. The entire crew was completely shocked since you had managed to keep this little project a secret. What could you, you wanted it to be a surprise. In total, it took about a few hours to find everyone. Well, almost everyone. You had yet to find Rung, Whirl, and, hell, even Fortress Maximus had managed to elude you. And he wasn’t exactly what you would call subtle.

You decided that you’d start with Rung, and made your way to the most obvious option. His office.

The walk was filled with the occasional exchange of pleasantries among those you passed, but mostly silence. You finally made it. His office was located near the end of the ship to it took a while.

You had just knocked on the door when a deep voice startled you.

“Y/n!? Is that you?” You whipped around to find one of the bots you were looking for, Fortress Maximus. You immediately placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart to calm it.

“Max! Oh, you scared me.” You gave a nervous grin as you looked up to meet his optics. But something was… off. He seemed nervous and kept glancing around as if someone was going to attack him. “Is everything all right, Max? You seem-”

“What are you doing here?” He said cutting you off, but you didn’t take it personally since he looked so shaken up.

“I came to see if Rung was here. I’ve been looking for him. You too, actually.”

“Listen, you need to leave now!” Fort Max bent down and whisper-yelled at you.

“What? Why?”

But the door behind you opened before Fort Max had the chance to respond, and you turned around the face whoever opened it. It was Rung. He looked at you and was utterly shocked that he could look straight ahead and lock gazes with you.

“Brainstorm,” you said absentmindedly.

“Oh, I see. That’s very extraordinary, but I’m actually in the middle of a session right now.” Rung said gesturing to the last bot you were looking for.

The helicopter gave a little wave with his claws. “Yo. Nice upgrade, Y/n. Now I don’t have to worry about stepping on you.”

You were about to laugh when Fort Max snarled in frustration behind you. Before you could turn around to see what was wrong the barrel of a very large gun was suddenly next to your head and pointing at Rung’s terrified face.

“M-Max! What are yo-” you tried to question, but he cut you off again. This time with a real yell.

“IN! NOW!” He shoved the barrel into Rung’s cheek to emphasize that he meant business.

Both you and Rung began to slowly back into the room and you heard Fort Max close the door behind him. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Whirl was crouched down and quietly making his way closer. And it seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed.

Fort Max jerked his gun to point it at the former Wrecker, who immediately threw stealth to the wind and charged at the armed bot with a battle cry. Fort Max fired a few shots at Whirl fully intent on blowing him away, but the blue chopper was nibble and dodged. “BRING IT, GLITCH!”

Whirl jumped over both you and Rung and tackled Fort Max into the door he had just closed. You two made a break for it to the furthest part of the room by the window. You wanted to help but knew you couldn’t.

You watched in horror as your two friends battled it out, and once Fort Max snapped out of his daze it was almost immediately over. What started as a fight turned into a beating for the smaller of the two, but he refused to fall even after his frame was wrecked to hell. Whirl was still struggling when the red-eyed Autobot ripped off his guns and wrapped his entire servo around his helm but went limp when the larger smashed the side of his helm into the wall.

“Whirl!” You cupped your mouth as you feared the worst. You were only slightly relieved when the ex-Wrecker groaned in pain, but Fort Max crushed that relief when he threw him to the middle of the room, beaten and broken and leaking energon. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You knew Cybertronians could survive a lot more than a human, but you didn’t know how much.

The huge grounder then stomped his way over to the two of you and you began to shiver in fear. You slammed your eyes shut when he started reaching out but instantly reopened them when you heard Rung cry out. He had him by the neck as the therapist tried to get away from his assailant.

“No!” You quickly grabbed the large black digits around Rung’s neck and tried to pry them off, but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. Fort Max pulled Rung closer and used his other hand to push you off. You could tell he didn’t put any real force behind his push but it was still able to knock you to the ground as he turned away.

“Max please!”

“Quiet, Y/n.” Max walked past Whirl and sat Rung down on the lounging chair. He then pulled a long reinforced cable from the subspace in his shoulder and began to tie down Rung.

“You don’t need to do this!”

“Yes. I do.”

“Why!?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand!… Please.” You made your way to Whirl to check on him. “Why are you doing this?”

“I said. Be. Quiet!” Fort Max then ripped a piece of pipe from the ceiling and speared it through Whirl’s abdomen as he attempted to get up. You couldn’t stop the shriek of terror as energon spattered across your face and body.

Whirl cried out in agony as Fort Max twisted the jagged metal through his delicate circuitry. You pounded your fists against the kibble around his shin while you pleaded and begged for him to quit harming the blue chopper.

Whirl groaned before he rebooted his vox, “Listen, Max. In the hope that this can still have a happy ending- and speaking as someone who appreciates the challenges of adjusting to postwar life- I just wanna say that there’s still time to do the decent thing and kill yourself.”

“W-Whirl, please stop. Don’t push him to hurt you mo-” You whispered to the injured Cybertronian, who only cut you off in return.

“Come on! Blow yourself away! Let’s see a spark-spasm up close!”

“Max! Please don’t listen to him! You can still fix thi-” Whirl interrupted you again.

“Fix this!? Don’t make me laugh! Unless he’s got some kind of time machine hidden under all that armor, I think the frag not! He can’t even fix himself, let alone this mess!” Whirl’s outburst made a growl escape Fort Max’s derma and he looked as though he were about to strike him before a look of realization spread across his faceplates.

“Clever. Trying to get me to lose my cool so you can get the chance to overpower me.”

Rung finally decided to speak up, “Actually, I think you might be crediting him with too much-”

“Seriously, all of this is a bit pathetic, isn’t it? Even for an epic, epic failure like you. I mean not only did you practically beg the Decepticons to take G9 off your hands, but you curled up into a ball the moment Overlor-” KUNCH

Fort Max smashed the barrel of his gun against Whirl’s face denting and crushing the metal around his optic.

“STOP!” You yelled, catching the grounder’s attention. However, it seemed that Fort Max shifting his attention away from Whirl only caused to the ex-Wrecker to vex his assailant more.

“Wow. If I’d known that was the best you’ve got, I would have said something genuinely offensive.” KUNCH “Ugh!”

“PLEASE, STOP IT!!!” You threw yourself at Fort Max’s stabilizer again and slammed your fists weakly against him while tears streamed down your face.

“Anything else?”

You thanked whatever self-preservation instincts Whirl had when he didn’t reply. You then glanced over to Rung to see him looking up. You followed his field of vision to see a small camera blinking in the corner. You slowly got up and stepped closer to Fort Max.

“Max. Please just listen to me. Whatever you’re doing this for, I’m sure there’s another way. You can stop this now and explain yourself and I’m sure everything will be okay.” You tried to sooth the metal giant by gently placing your hand over the servo that wasn’t holding a cannon at Whirl.

“You wanna know why I’m doing this, Y/n? YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY!?” You flinched away when he leaned down to shout in your face, which seemed to make him calm down enough to lower his voice. “Fine… I’ll tell you why…”

Fortress Maximus then proceeded to tell all of you about Garrus 9, about Overlord, and about what he and his crew went through. All the torture and death. You finally understood.

“Oh, Max. You said you didn’t remember. Why didn’t you tell anyone the truth?” You stroked his servo while you looked up at him.

“Because, Y/n, I’m Fortress Maximus. I couldn’t just-”

“No one, and I mean no one, would have held it against you. What you went through wasn’t your fault and would affect even the strongest of bots. It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to be scared. You have a right to be. And you have a right to want answers. But not like this.” You gestured to the other two bots in the room. “Not by hurting others.” You put your hand on top of the cannon and Max allowed you to slowly push it to point at the ground and away from Whirl, while his guilty optics stared into your gentle eyes. “Like how you were.”

Just as Fort Max’s grip was loosening to drop the weapon he snapped out of his trance. “No. It’s too late to go back now.”

Both you and Rung saw the darkness that took over his optics. “No, dON’T!” Rung tried to reason with him, but he ignored his therapist and grabbed you by the arm and flung you across the room.

Your scream was cut off when your spine collided with the wall next to Rung, who screamed your name. Your ears were ringing, so you felt more than heard the pounding of pede steps getting closer to you. You did, however, manage to make out the sound of Whirl yelling curses at the Autobot who threw you.

“YOU FRAGGER!!! YOU KNOW WHAT!?! SHE’S SO WRONG!!! ANYONE that could be beaten into submission by OVERLORD is nothing but a WEAK, SAD EXCUSE FOR A PATHETIC WASTE OF SPACE!!!”

By Primus, if Fort Max wasn’t pissed off already he sure was now. Your vision came back just in time to see the enraged look on Fort Max’s faceplates and you knew that was the last straw. Max whipped around and stomped back up to Whirl. He pointed the cannon directly at Whirl’s face and the barrel began to light up as it prepared to be fired.

“That’s ENOUGH out of you!” Fort Max moved his digit over the trigger, and in a burst of adrenaline, you lept to your feet and tackled the gun.

When Fort Max saw you, his optics widened in horror and he tried to let go of the weapon, but when you pulled it down with you his digit caught the trigger.

And the gun fired.

Your grip immediately fell from the smoking cannon and you stumbled back a few steps. Every bot in the room stared at you with wide optics. They could only watch in horrible awe as you looked down to see a large hole through your shoulder that was bleeding profusely.

With all the adrenaline pumping through your veins you could barely register the pain you were in. You slowly glance over at Whirl and Rung and gave a weary smile as they trembled in shock and horror.

“It’s going to be okay.” You mouthed silently at the two before return your attention to Fort Max. He trembled as he gaped at your bleeding shoulder and he dropped his gun and fell to his knees.

“What have I done?” Max clutched at his head as he began degrading himself.

“It’s okay, Max.” You started taking shaky steps as you kept the best smile you possibly could.

“No, stop. Don’t come any closer, Y/n.” He shook his head as he tried to shy away from you.

“I won’t leave you, Max. I’ll never leave you to deal with your demon alone ever again.” When you finally got close enough you fell forward and wrapped your arms around his neck as best as you could.

“Please… I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Fort Max kept his servos hovering around you as his plating rattled.

“I’m here for you. And I care for you too much to turn away from you. I love you, Max. We all do. We’re here for you. In our own ways.”

Once your slurred words sunk in, Fortress Maximus finally broke down and wrapped his servos around you as he began to sob.

You smiled gently while rubbing the back of his helm. Your mind and your body were quickly becoming more fatigued and your inner temperature was dropping from blood loss and you could feel yourself begin to lose consciousness. Using the last of your energy, you looked up at the camera, and even though you had no idea that Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Drift, and the entire crew were watching, you whispered, “I love you guys.”

And then you drifted into a cold, dark, dreamless void.

[shmengels]

A Passion for Life

Fullmetal Alchemist

Word count: 2074 - FF.net - AO3

The narrow dirt tracks, barely wide enough to accommodate a small cart, ran alongside the fields of Resembool. The weather mild and fair, the birds sang their hymns and the sun basked all with its glory.

Towards the end of this quaint country road, sat a yellow house. The Rockbell’s call this home, and by extension, so do the Elric’s. And that’s exactly what they were now.

Home.

Nothing about this scenario could have seemed more perfect. Life was peaceful now. No wars. No death. No danger. Just the quiet serenity of the hills and the joys of life. And best of all, Edward had come home, fulfilling his self-imposed duty to bring his brother Alphonse with him in the flesh. Oh yes, everything was perfect…

…And Winry Rockbell was livid.

“YEAH?! W-WELL YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER IS TALLER THAN YOU!”

“Eh, I got used to looking up at him in the armor anyways.”

With a dramatically loud huff, the fiery blonde mechanic stomped her way out of the parlor and up the stairs, leaving behind a very confused elder Elric brother.  

Since Al, and more specifically Ed, had returned, things were great! No. better than great! But at minimum once a day, she and Ed got into a spat about something. Well, really it was mostly her yelling at Ed while he stood there baffled. But that’s beside the point. Was this unusual? No, not by any means. What was peculiar is that she had no idea why she was mad at him. Always there was something. Whether it was ‘Ed doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut’ or ‘Ed didn’t keep up on his maintenance’ or worse ‘Ed tried putting all the blame and responsibility on himself again’ and at the expense of her own sanity, the classic ‘Ed was a selfless idiot who put himself in harm’s way without a thought for his own well-being’. No matter what, there was always a reason.

Yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t find one. In the few months Ed had been home now, he had been better behaved then she even dreamed possible. He volunteered to help with menial chores. He went out of his way to do something nice every once and a while for them or treat them all with sudden compliments. He’d laugh it off when someone insulted him, joking or otherwise. On a bad day, the worst she received was some grumbling and a scowl when she asked a favor of him. But he never attempted to shirk his responsibilities. One afternoon, she nearly fainted upon entering the kitchen to find Edward performing his own maintenance on his leg. Al insisted he hadn’t told him to do so, and Granny claimed that she hadn’t seen him all day, which left her with the unthinkable third option that Edward Elric actively chose to take care of her automail. This behavior just didn’t sit right with her. Something had to be wrong and that idea alone was infuriating her with every passing day. Trouble was, no one believed her when she attempted to explain her plight. Apparently, she was the only one who could see his very un-Edward-like behavior. Granny told her she worried too much and Al had the gall to laugh in her face. Sweet little Alphonse had clearly been influenced far too much by his older brother these past few years!

Even though by this time it was only mid-afternoon, her workroom remained dim and the air still. It was a sharp contrast to the breath of life that swept over the countryside recently. She wished she could simply appreciate it, but she was a Rockbell, and she’d be damned if she ever let a problem in need of fixing go so easily.

She shuffled some of the various schematics and diagrams around her desk hoping something in the pile would kick-start her mind. From deep within a stack of old designs, slid out an old diagram.

She could only stare at it numbly for a few moments.

It should have been tucked away somewhere safe; this was quite possibly her most precious design and here it was, lost among a clutter of forgotten plans and failed projects. She wanted to kick herself for not taking better care of this one.

In the lower right hand corner, written as neatly as an eleven-year-old could, were the now fading words ‘For Ed’.

It was her original schematic for Edward’s right arm.

She caressed the paper fondly, remembering how proud she had been when she finally completed her draft. Granted, Granny had helped her with it but it was still primarily her project. She recalled how she couldn’t wait to show him. She had bounded up to him, blueprints in hand as he sat on an old armchair doing his best to thumb through a book with only his left hand. He had been elated as she babbled on and on about all the intricate details of her masterpiece. She knew he couldn’t care less about the inner mechanisms of his replacement appendage, but she could feel the excitement radiate from him as he came to realize everything he’d be able to do again. His attitude had been so infectious then that it seemed to have bled straight into her as well. He was overjoyed to finally get moving and brimming with determination to move mountains to return what they had lost. Admittedly at first, she thought they were in over their heads but with each passing grin and reassurance she became more and more convinced that Edward could make even the impossible happen.

Her lips turned up slightly as she traced her hand down the drawing, stopping as her fingertips came into line with the sketch’s own. Though she may still have his leg, she secretly missed Ed’s mechanical arm. It had become a part of who he was after a while but she could only be wistful for so long. After all, Ed moved mountains and he achieved the impossible. She could never have doubted him if she tried. But that was also just who Ed was. As tactless as his methods might be, he inspired determination and hope wherever he went. It seemed at times like Ed’s purpose in life was to take the weary and downtrodden and those drowning in the pits of despair and drag them kicking and screaming if necessary to the surface. He’d never give up, she knew him better than that. As long as she could remember, Ed wore that trait on his sleeve…

Or more specifically, in his eyes.

The way his brow furled and his eyes lit up when he really got fired up over something was awe-inspiring at times. She enjoyed it, there was no denying that. She dare even say that she maybe, possibly, could have potentially picked a fight or two or dozen in her life just to see his eyes flare up so she could again find the warmth of the flames that were there. She knew it wasn’t seeing Ed angry that she enjoyed so much, it was what that fire symbolized. His conviction, caring, valor and strength. It was his…

Passion.

That’s what was missing.

She’d been searching for it behind his Iris since he got back.

And she had yet to find it.

Nearly knocking over her chair as she quickly stood, she marched briskly out of her studio to find the former Fullmetal Alchemist. She could picture every time his eyes flared with fortitude; from when she had first instilled hope in him with her automail to the day he walked off her porch to save the country. Winry Rockbell was not about to sit back and let Edward Elric’s flame die out.

Winry opened the front door hurriedly but found herself apprehensive to step out onto the porch. Admittedly she was too caught up on having finally figured out what the problem was, she didn’t even stop to think about how she was going to solve it. Mentally she berated herself for not thinking this through beforehand. For crying out loud, she was a mechanic. A proper engineer. A problem solver. This was not like her to go charging in without a plan of attack. That was more Ed’s style. But, she supposed, some things took precedence. Ed was definitely not okay, and to her, that was definitely not okay.

Surveying the scene before her, she could only gasp. It was so beautiful it was heartbreaking. The sun had begun its descent and early signs of reds and oranges illuminated the horizon. Wispy clouds floated endlessly above them, making their way to some to some other corner of the earth. Birds sang from the tree tops, the breeze accompanying their symphony with the gentle rustling of leaves. The winds made waves across the fields, as if an ocean of greens, browns and tans were laid out before them. The sweet aroma of the vibrant flowers which skirted the fence lines met her senses. In her front yard, Alphonse Elric, newly acquainted with his human form, laughed gleefully as Den bounded her way back with the branch he had thrown. And only a few feet in front of her, as the breeze lightly swayed his hair, sat Edward.

From the top step, he leaned back on his two flesh hands, his gaze not visible but trained somewhere out ahead of him. Winy felt a pang in her heart to think that he could not enjoy the spectacle around him.

Timidly she approached and sat beside him. He made no motion to acknowledge her presence, which was only making this whole scenario more difficult on the girl. She’d have to just be blunt and direct. But as she opened her mouth to speak,

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve had nothing to do.”

She lost whatever words she had had in her throat, leaving her mouth somewhat agape.

“It’s just for so long, getting Al’s body back was the only thing I had on my mind.”

Well, so far this was going exactly where she wanted it to, and without prodding. To say she was surprised was an understatement, though it would appear more outwardly that she was just letting him continue.

“There was plenty of time to do nothing, but I never allowed myself to really relax, I guess.”

She tried to lean forward to catch a glimpse of his eyes but Ed’s lengthy bangs hindered her attempts.

“But now, everything’s over and I have to decide what I’m going to do, at least for a while anyways.”

Her hands tightened on her legs. She dreaded to hear Ed say he had no direction in life.

“And you know what?”

She had leaned towards him more than she was probably aware, awaiting his words.

“I think I’m happy right here.”

At last, he turned to her, and she felt an intense chill overtake her body like a shockwave.

She saw something she had not seen in nearly eleven years.

Ed was smiling.

A truly genuine smile.

And his eyes seemed to glow brighter than ever.

It was then that Winry understood.

So much of his drive was built on hurt, loss, regret, and pain that the fire she had always known was a raging, crackling inferno. Wild and untamable. The fire burned in such brilliant concentration that it seemed everything around it had dimmed.

He had stoked the flame with every bit of suffering he carried, and when at last he ran out a fuel, the fire diminished to embers and ash to be blown away. When the intensity of the flames left, they made way for what the blaze had overpowered. The sun peered through the fading smoke, and the whole world was alight.

Deep in his eyes, she could see it all. Like a phoenix rises from the ashes, so does one’s spirit from anguish.

It seemed now as if the sun itself had been eclipsed by his pupils and she felt nothing but the comforting warmth of its rays.

Finally, she smiled back as well.

Together, they sat in peaceful company, both able to enjoy the tranquility which befell the land.

Granny and Al were right, there was no need to worry.

After all, she knew Edward Elric better than that, he could never lose his passion.

Now, he only carried a passion for life.