#cloud writes
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cuteness aggression. yan!penacony
Sunday
"This feels... dumb. I'm not a Halovian."
Sunday looks up from last-minute paperwork, pausing. Something unfamiliar stirs in his chest. He tugs on his gloves.
"It's not dumb," he replies smoothly. "You look... wonderful."
A small pair of wings sits just behind your ears, like his own. They're not real, of course, but they function just fine - letting everyone know who you belonged to.
He rises from his seat, moving toward you. You step back until your back hits the door, shrinking away from his hand.
But Sunday simply tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing a thumb gently over the inside of your wrist with his other hand. He leans into you slightly, radiating heat like a small star, blowing sweet breath across your face.
"Adorable..." he mutters, half to himself.
"Sunday," you say, voice weak, though you aren't sure what you need to tell him. You feel very much like a small thing being cornered by a predator, his eyes dark, pupils blown.
Then he pinches your cheek, so swiftly and out of character for him you blink.
Before you can protest, he massages your face lightly with both hands.
This must be what street cats feel whenever you accost them with your affection.
He releases you just as suddenly, patting you on the head as he passes. "Prepare yourself. The guests will be arriving anytime soon."
Well, you suppose there's a first time for everything.
Aventurine
"Good evening, my sickly angel."
You scowl at him from under blankets, a cold compress on your head. "You're not funny."
"On the contrary." He lifts your medicine. "I think I am very funny."
You complain audibly, but that's about as much as you can do with your energy drained by the fever. Aventurine feeds you as patiently as a mother with a small child, though perhaps with twice as much condescension.
"Stop staring," you grumble. "It's weird."
The bed sinks as Aventurine leans over, gathering you up in his arms. "You're like a kitten when you're sick. All angry and no claws."
You hiss when he squeezes you, only belatedly realising that you're proving his point. "Kittens have very sharp claws, excuse me."
"A declawed kitten, then." He rubs his cheek onto the top of your head. "You smell different, too."
"That's weird!"
#honkai star rail#yandere honkai star rail#hsr#yandere aventurine#yandere sunday#aventurine#sunday#aventurine hsr#sunday hsr#yandere#yandere hsr#cloud writes
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BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!
Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!
Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.
But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?
Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.
It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.
“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.
“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”
“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”
“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“
“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”
“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”
“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”
“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.
Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”
“They just hurt. All the time.”
“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.
“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”
“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”
“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”
“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.
Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.
“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.
Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”
“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”
“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.
Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”
“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.
Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”
Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”
“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.
“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.
“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”
“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”
“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”
Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”
“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.
“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.
Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”
It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.
But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.
“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.
Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”
“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”
“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.
“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.
Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“
“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.
Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.
“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.
Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.
“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”
Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.
“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.
Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.
“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.
Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.
“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”
“It’s okay, Mike-“
Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.
“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.
“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.
A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.
“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.
Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”
“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.
“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.
“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.
“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”
“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.
“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”
That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”
Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’
“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.
“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.
It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.
Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”
“Maybe your uncle could help?”
“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.
Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.
“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.
“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”
Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”
“Help me up?” Michael asked.
Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”
“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.
“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.
“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.
“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”
Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”
“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”
“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.
“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”
Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”
“The blood.”
“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”
“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.
Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”
“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”
“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”
“Such as?”
“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”
“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.
“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.
“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.
He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.
Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”
Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”
Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”
“It seems as though I failed…”
“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.
Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.
“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.
Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.
“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.
“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”
Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”
“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.
“It’s no big deal…”
“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”
Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”
“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.
Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.
Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”
Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.
Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.
“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”
Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”
“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”
“Still…”
“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”
Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”
“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.
As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.
Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”
“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.
“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”
“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.
“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”
“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.
“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”
No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.
Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.
“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”
“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”
“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”
“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”
“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”
“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“
“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”
“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”
“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”
“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”
Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.
Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.
Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.
“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”
“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”
Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”
“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”
“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.
“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”
“So it’s bad.”
“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.
Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.
“Gregory-“
But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.
Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”
“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”
“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.
“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”
“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.
Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”
Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”
“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”
“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”
The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”
Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.
Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”
Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”
“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.
“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.
“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.
Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.
“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.
Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.
“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”
Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.
“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.
“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”
Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”
Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.
“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”
Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.
He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.
“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”
“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.
Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”
“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.
Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”
“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”
Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”
I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.
It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.
As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.
Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”
“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”
Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”
“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.
Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.
Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”
Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”
Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.
Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.
Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.
His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.
He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.
Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.
“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”
Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”
“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”
“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”
“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.
The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”
A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He��s so sweet.”
Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.
“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.
“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”
Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”
Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”
“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.
Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”
Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.
“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.
Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.
“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”
“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”
“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”
“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”
“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”
“Your motorcycle is cool though.”
Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”
“Can you take me on it sometime?”
The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”
“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”
Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”
“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“
“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”
“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.
“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”
Gregory flinched at that. “I…”
“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”
Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”
“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”
“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”
“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.
Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”
“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”
“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”
“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”
“It’s better than I remember.”
Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”
“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”
Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”
“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“
“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”
Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”
“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”
Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”
“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“
“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”
“A task?” Gregory asked.
“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”
“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”
“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”
“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“
“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”
“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.
“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.
“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”
“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”
Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.
“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”
He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”
“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”
“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”
“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”
“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.
When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.
“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”
“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.
“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”
“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“
“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”
“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”
“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”
Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”
“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”
“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.
What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.
When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”
Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”
“Better than a dry brush.”
Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.
Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.
“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.
“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.
Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”
“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”
“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”
“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.
“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”
“It’s nothing.”
“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”
Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.
Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.
“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.
Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.
“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.
“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.
“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.
Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”
“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”
“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”
“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.
Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”
“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.
“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”
“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”
“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”
“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”
“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”
“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.
“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.
Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“
“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”
“Still…”
“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”
Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”
“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.
“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.
“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.
“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”
“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”
“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.
“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”
“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”
“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”
“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.
“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”
Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.
“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.
“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly. “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”
“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.
“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”
“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”
“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.
When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.
“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.
“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.
“Oh, shut up.”
Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”
“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”
“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“
“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”
Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”
“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”
“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”
“We’ll see.”
Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”
“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”
Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.
“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”
“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”
“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.
Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.
Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”
“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”
Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.
Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”
“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”
“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”
Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”
Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”
“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”
Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.
They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.
“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.
Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”
“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.
“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”
“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”
Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”
Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.
“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.
He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.
“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”
Evan grinned, and so, the game began.
Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.
It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.
“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”
Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.
“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.
“Eight feels thicker than seven.”
“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.
“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”
“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.
“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”
“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”
“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”
They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.
Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.
“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.
The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.
“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.
Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.
“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.
“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”
“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.
“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”
“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. ���It’ll keep things fair.”
“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.
“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”
He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.
“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.
“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”
“But why?”
“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”
“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”
“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.
“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.
“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”
“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.
Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.
“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”
“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”
“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”
Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”
Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.
Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”
“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”
“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.
“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”
“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.
“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.
“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.
“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”
“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”
“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”
“Yes please.”
“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.
Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.
“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”
“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.
Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”
Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”
All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”
“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.
“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”
“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.
Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”
Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.
“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.
“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”
Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.
“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.
Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”
Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”
The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.
Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.
He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.
It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.
Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.
“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.
“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.
“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.
Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”
Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”
The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.
Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.
Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.
Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.
“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.
“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.
“I can help him with it,” Michael said.
“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“
“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.
Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.
“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.
Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”
Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.
“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.
“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.
Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”
“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”
“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”
Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.
That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”
Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”
“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.
Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”
Henry frowned but he said nothing.
Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”
“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.
“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”
“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.
“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”
“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”
“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”
“Yeah, but-“
“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”
“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”
“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”
Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“
“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”
“I have?”
Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”
“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.
A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.
He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.
When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”
“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.
Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”
“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.
Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.
#cloud speaks#cloud writes#michael afton#jeremy fitzgerald#gregory fnaf#evan afton#henry emily#fnaf au#ballpit au except they have wings#and ye#only took nine days this time#lol#happy.... um#not birthday#I hope you enjoy!#and y'all#I'm so happy about how this turned out#so humor me aight?#XD#art trade
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Evan woke up gasping, his shirt plastered to his back and his hair stuck to his face. He rubbed the tears from his eyes quickly to focus on the clock. 5:48 a.m. An ominous feeling spread through his entire body, but he took comfort in reminding himself that nothing bad could happen while Fredbear was watching over him.
The fabric of his plushie was worn and stuffing was sticking out between some of his joints, but Evan couldn’t bear to part with him long enough for proper repairs to be done. Father always said it would take a few days to fix the plushie if he wanted it done properly, and Evan would never accept a poor repair job, so instead of giving up the bear for repairs, he just kept Fredbear as he slowly deteriorated more and more each day.
He didn’t feel too bad about it though; Michael had done the exact same thing to his Foxy plushie, and he’d had his toy much less time than Evan had. Evan swapped out the destroyed plushie with his own, but Michael hadn’t seemed to notice, even as the original plushie’s head fell off somewhere, making it impossible to repair the poor fox.
The vest was coming a bit loose, but Evan ignored that. Fredbear didn’t need the vest anyway. It wasn’t his identity any more than Foxy’s hat was, and besides, no one remembered that Foxy even normally came with a hat. He squeezed the small bear, humming softly to himself as he waited for 6 a.m. to arrive.
Evan walked cautiously down the hallway to the kitchen, his guard still up from his unpleasant night’s rest.
“You stink,” Elizabeth complained. She was already in the kitchen eating her cereal while Michael was pouring his own bowl.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Welcome to reality Lizzie. People sweat and have body odor.”
“You never stink in the morning,” she retorted as Evan set Fredbear on the counter before climbing on it to reach the cabinet.
“I put on deodorant. Ev, get off the counter. I can get that for you.” Michael grabbed another bowl from the cabinet and filled it with cereal as well. “I’ll get Evan some when I go to the store, okay?”
“You better,” Elizabeth grumbled into her cereal.
“Plus, it’ll be fine. He’s probably going to shower before we leave for school anyway.”
Elizabeth scowled at that. “But then I won’t have time to do my hair.”
“Then I’ll do it.” Michael rolled his eyes again. “You talk like you have a terrible life, Liz.”
“Maybe I do!” Elizabeth snapped, shoveling more cereal into her mouth.
“Good morning to you too,” Mother said, yawning as she walked into the kitchen. “Are we having cereal for breakfast today?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Michael said, grabbing Evan around the waist to drag him from his spot on the counter. “I was planning to go to the grocery store today to pick up a few things.”
“No nonsensical things we don’t need now, Michael. You know how your father hates that sort of thing.”
“Of course,” Michael’s voice sounded stiff, but he maintained his politeness. “Do you want some cereal as well?”
“That’d be lovely, darling.” She sat down beside Elizabeth. “You children are so wonderful.”
Evan felt himself finally starting to calm down. Today was a good day. Mother and Michael were both in a good mood, a rare occurrence, if he was being honest with himself. Elizabeth’s mood was always sour, depending on who she decided to blame for her problems, but she was manageable. He just hoped they didn’t see his Father before school. That was the one thing that could ruin the peaceful moods of his mother and brother before they left for school.
“Do you want to go to the store with me, Evan?” Michael said abruptly after they’d all finished eating. “So you know where to look for deodorant next time?”
“I guess so,” Evan replied quietly, hoping that was the right answer.
It must’ve been, because Michael smiled faintly and ruffled his hair. His expression faltered, and he made a face though. Michael wiped his hand on his pants. “You really need to shower before we leave though, Little Man. Lizzie was right, no offense. You are kind of gross this morning.”
Evan shrugged. He didn’t want to explain the nightmares, assuming it would put Michael in a sour mood. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.
“Fredbear’s not looking too good lately either,” Michael mused. “Want me to stitch him up for you?”
“Huh?” Evan blinked up at his brother. “Fredbear’s fine.”
“His stuffing’s going everywhere-“
“He doesn’t need anything. He’s fine!” Evan scooped the little bear into his arms, and Michael raised his hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine. If you change your mind, let me know. It would only take, like, 30 minutes, tops.”
Evan didn’t reply to that. Instead, he changed the subject. “I’m going to go shower.”
“Okay.” Michael almost sounded disappointed. But that didn’t make sense. Normally he was happy to be rid of him. Especially so near his birthday, when his friends would be coming over all the time.
On the walk to school, Elizabeth wouldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful her hair was. She practically begged Michael to make it a more regular occurrence, but Michael just shrugged. Evan could see the smile on his face though. He knew it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth got her way.
“Mike!” one of Michael’s friends tried to call him over, but Michael ignored him.
“Come on, you two gotta get to class,” he said softly, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder to direct him away from the other kid. With a startle of surprise, Evan saw a faint frown on Michael’s face. Maybe he’d had some kind of fight with his friends? Evan couldn’t ask about it, just in case.
“You can’t ignore us forever!” one of the boys shouted angrily while Michael guided Evan in the direction of the store after school.
“Just keep walking,” Michael muttered. He seemed very tense, and Evan wasn’t sure he could do anything to reassure his brother. He just did as Michael asked, hurrying along so they could get out of range.
A few short minutes later, they were walking into the store. Evan felt odd. He’d never been to the store without his parents before. Normally, he and Elizabeth only came when Mother was looking for something specific, or when Michael was sick, and Father was going to the store instead. Being here with Michael was… different.
“They don’t get it,” Michael whispered, seeming to forget who he was talking to.
Evan blinked at him, but Michael didn’t elaborate until after they’d filled the basket with necessary groceries and Evan’s deodorant.
“Everyone expects so much from me,” he mused. “My friends seem to think I have to give them every second of my attention. Mother thinks I have to be responsible all the time. Father…” Michael shook his head. “Even Uncle Henry assumes things. It’s awful, Ev.”
“Maybe it’s just because they like you so much,” Evan said quietly, hoping not to upset him.
“Nah. They expect me to disappoint them. Aside from my friends, anyway. It’s just so stupid. All this shit I have to put up with.” Michael froze. “I mean- Just forget I said that.”
Evan giggled involuntarily, surprising them both. “You’re not seriously apologizing for saying ‘shit,’ are you?” Evan asked. “Kids say that all the time at school.”
“Yeah, but if Mother or Father catches you saying that-“
“Who’s going to tell them?” Evan blinked innocently up at Michael.
He groaned. “I forgot how insufferable you are.”
“Only when I can be.” Evan grinned, feeling secure in his behavior. “Let’s get home. I have homework to do.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Michael shook his head, but the faint smile Evan had seen that morning returned.
“Want to watch T.V. with me?” Michael said when he walked into the kitchen.
Evan guessed he was finished with his own homework, considering his confidence in the way he sat beside Evan at the counter.
“What are we watching?” Evan replied, continuing his notes while Fredbear observed them both.
“The Immortal and the Restless,” Michael said with confidence. “And, it’s not even scary, so you won’t wet yourself when we watch.”
Evan shook his head disparagingly. “I got scared watching a movie with you one time-“
“It gave you nightmares, Ev! I got in so much trouble for that, you know.”
“Then why offer to watch something with me again?” Evan asked before realizing what he was implying.
“I-“ Michael sputtered. “C’mon, man.”
Evan put his pencil down and stared at his brother. He wasn’t getting angry, which meant Evan could actually ask serious questions without fearing consequences for it. “You spend all your time making fun of me, and teasing me, and scaring me, and making me miserable. Why should I trust that you actually want to watch something with me?”
Evan expected a lot of potential reactions to his comments. Yelling, maybe. What he didn’t expect was for Michael to crumple in on himself. “I… Look, it’s not…” Michael swallowed harshly. “I can’t say anything to justify my past actions. You have every reason to be weary. But maybe I’ve changed, Ev. I want to spend time with you. I’m tired of pretending all the time, and I-“
“You’re not kidding,” Evan said softly. “Were you exaggerating this morning, then? When you said it would only take 30 minutes to fix Fredbear?”
“What? No. It’s a bunch of little fixes. You just gotta have the right thread. And if we hurry,” Michael glanced at the clock nervously, “I know Father has thread in his office.”
“You…” Evan blinked. “You’d do that for me?”
“I gotta prove my point somehow, don’t I?” Michael jumped up from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Evan turned back to his homework, no longer able to fully comprehend what was happening here. Was Michael genuine? Was he really trying to be a better brother? Evan honestly had no idea, but the best way to find out was to wait until the summer, when Michael was always really nasty usually. For now, though, he’d settle for help repairing Fredbear.
Michael returned, out of breath and a little bit shaky. “We only have a few hours before Father is supposed to be home.”
“Lucky you said it wouldn’t take very long,” Evan said softly, expecting a contradiction.
“Still frightening to think about,” Michael replied. “Okay, I got this.” He threaded the needle and looked at Evan expectantly. Reluctantly, Evan handed his brother the battered gold bear.
Michael set him up gently on the kitchen counter, tucking the stuffing back where it belonged as he started his row of stitching. Evan knew the seams had been originally on the inside of Fredbear, but Michael had tried explaining that he couldn’t fix Fredbear like that. He’d rolled his eyes actually, saying that doing it that way would take a sewing machine and a trip to the workshop, something Michael was not willing to do without permission.
So Evan had to accept that the repairs would be visible, but at least Fredbear would be ready to fight off another night of terrors.
Evan didn’t mean to fall asleep against Michael’s shoulder while watching the show. In his defense, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and Michael was too busy watching to explain it to him. Evan ended up giving up on the show to study his brother’s face. It surprised him how energetic Michael seemed while watching the screen, but then, Evan guessed this was one of his rare moments where there weren’t expectations dragging him down.
He stirred as Michael carried him upstairs. Confused, Evan blinked sleepily at his brother. “What-“
“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Michael said softly. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to have nightmares.”
Evan always had nightmares. That was the general idea of everything going on. He hated the idea of disappointing Michael, especially after how nice the day had been, but he couldn’t control his dreams. Not now and certainly not ever. He couldn’t even remember a time when he didn’t have nightmares every night. But he had a feeling Michael wouldn’t be swayed in this, so he just nodded against his brother’s chest and closed his eyes again.
Evan didn’t have any nightmares that night. Or at least, they weren’t nightmares he remembered. He woke up that morning with Michael curled protectively around him, like Michael was afraid of something happening. Evan wasn’t particularly worried about that, though.
For the first time in years, he felt content and safe.
#cloud writes#hiiiii#I should really be asleep rn#but I wanted to get this done today#well#tonight anyway#since it's past midnight here#but yeah#afton family#evan afton#michael afton
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You can pry soft-spoken, middle of the night confessions from my cold, dead hands
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New book notes have been found !
Book Title: Flinching During an Argument
Characters (separately): CC! Dreamwastaken, CC! Georgenotfound, CC! Wilbur Soot, CC! Karl Jacobs, CC! Sapnap, Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Summary: You flinch in the middle of an argument with your partner (CC)
TWs: Implied trauma, arguing
Author’s Notes: I did this for all of the MCYTs I write for besides Boomerna and Foolish. These definitely ended up being more imagines than headcanons so I’m sorry about that but I hope you enjoy it regardless!
Masterlist
“What in the world are you doing??” You asked abruptly, startling the sleepy man and almost causing him to spill the milk.
“What in the world are you doing??” You asked abruptly, startling the sleepy man and almost causing him to spill the milk.
“I’m making myself a bowl of cereal, what?”
“Why are you pouring the milk in the bowl before the cereal?”
“Is that not how you do it?” He questioned, putting the milk back in the fridge.
“No! That’s going to make a mess!”
You both started laughing while arguing your own sides
Eventually Dream got a little carried away in his argument
He was raising his voice and you were getting a little anxious
“Look, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to make cereal,” you awkwardly joked.
“Shut up!” Dream playfully yelled swinging his arms out to cover his ears like your voice hurt him
You flinched and stumbled backwards at his sudden movement, falling to the ground.
You sat there staring back up at him in silence
Dreams mouth moved to form words but they got caught in his throat
A few seconds later he left the room, leaving you alone on the dining room floor
You were almost about to start crying when he came back with a bunch of pillows and blankets in his arms
“Do you want to have a movie night?” He suggested, glancing at you before putting everything down on the couch
“That sounds nice.” You admitted softly
Dream went to the kitchen and helped you up off the floor beforing leading you by your hand to the couch
The two of you laid down on the couch and cuddled for the better part of the day
Occasionally Sapnap would join but it was mostly just you and Dream relaxing
CC! Georgenotfound
You and George were standing in his kitchen and got into a playful argument over whether you should drain ramen or leave the water in
He thought it was better to leave the water, while you thought it was best to drain it
‘If you don’t take out the water it absorbs all the flavor!” You’d playfully yell
“Yeah, that’s the point! You drink the broth afterwards!” He retorted.
You two were going back and forth seemingly endlessly
He was getting louder and walking back and forth to let out some of the energy he had
You decided enough was enough and walked towards him to admit you didn’t truly care, you just wanted to get under his skin
At the same time he quickly turned around with his arms half up in anguish
You flinched and brought your hands up to cover your face
George’s smile fell and his eyebrows scrunched up for a second before he cleared his throat and awkwardly went to go do something else in your bedroom
You finished in the kitchen, turned off the light and walked to your room
You could see the outline of George laying in bed
You stood in the doorway for a second before lying next to him
You both laid there in silence
“Did I do something wrong to make you flinch like that? I know we play fight sometimes but I didn’t think-”
“No, no, no. It- it had nothing to do with you George.”
George didn’t want to press you for information, knowing that you’d tell him when you were ready
You scooched closer to him, laying your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm over you
He kissed the top of your head softly and you fell asleep to him rubbing your arm
CC! Wilbur Soot
You don’t even really know what you were arguing about
You were both just kind of throwing words back and forth playfully, deciding that whenever one person said something the other had to believe the exact opposite
Wilbur’s voice didn’t really rise so much as he tone changed throughout
His tone was getting less playful by the second
You started to notice this and got a bit nervous
Wilbur wasn’t one to pick a fight with you because he knew it upset you
So when he yelled almost directly in your face you flinched with your whole body
You stood there frozen in fear, hands covering your face and crouching away a bit so that you were less of a target.
Wilburs face fell once he realized what he’d done
He started to apologize but then decided you didn’t deserve a shit apology and just left
You stood still, unmoving even after he left the room
After a little while your body started relaxing but it only made room for your mind to wander
“Where did Wilbur run off to?” You asked yourself aloud.
Getting a bit worried you searched the house, eventually finding him sitting on your shared bed.
You sat down next to him and fiddled with your hands anxiously
“I’m sorry,” He admitted. “I don’t know why I got so upset all of a sudden. We were having fun and I ruined it.”
You took his hand in yours and assured him that it was alright. It was just an accident after all. Happens to the best of us.
Wilbur rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your shoulder
He pulled you backwards onto the bed until you were both laying down with his head resting on you.
CC! Karl Jacobs
Karl was painting your nails in his office because you had asked him to
He was doing a pretty good job at it too
It was just plain black nail polish to match what he currently wore on his nails
You were about seven nails in when a muscle in your arm randomly spasmed without warning, causing the arm Karl was working on currently to twitch very noticeably
Your arm bumped into the open black nail polish bottle and knocked it off his desk.
It landed directly into Karl’s lap, spilling all over his brand new pants
Karl slammed his fist down on his office desk in frustration
“Fuck!” He yelled loudly
You flinched at his yelling
Karl noticed you flinch and immediately calmed all the way down to avoid upsetting you any further
His shoulders dropped and he walked up to you and put an arm on your shoulder, leaning his head down and lifting your chin to look you in your eyes
“Hey, it’s okay.” He nodded, trying to reassure you, “It’s completely fine. I can just go change my clothes real quick and then I’ll finish your nails, alright?”
Karl smiled and your heart melted, causing you to smile back
“Yeah that sounds good, I’m sorry about your pants though.”
“Ay no worries, I needed to change into pajamas anyways it’s getting late”
You looked at your own outfit and realized it was the middle of the night and you were still wearing your daytime clothes.
“Oh, I should too actually.” You added, getting up from your seat and walking to your shared bedroom.
After Karl finished painting your nails you would lay in bed and cuddle for a bit. He would kiss all over your face until you were laughing and shoving him away from you.
CC! Sapnap
You Dream and Sapnap had sat down to watch a football game
Frankly you couldn’t care less about the game, but you wanted to spend more time with Sapnap and Dream since they were always busy with their stream stuff
You made popcorn for you all and sat between the two boys so they could both reach while you held it.
Sapnap and Dream had been betting on the game
You warned Sapnap not to but he unwisely didn’t listen
Just like you predicted his team lost and he ended up owing Dream money.
Sapnap started yelling, slumping down in his seat in frustration
“You’re such a sucker for gambling, you’ve got to get it together man.” Dream laughed, pissing Sapnap off even more. “You’re an easy scam.”
“Fuck you dude.” Sapnap spit
“Better start kissing my ass or I’m going to add interest to that shit.” Dream chuckled as he teased his best friend.
Sapnap flung himself up out of his seat on the couch next to you
He startled you, making you flinch and throw popcorn all over the place
You clung on to the popcorn bowl and curled up on to the couch and Sapnap paced the living room
Dream noticed you freaking out and decided to speak up
“Sapnap chill out dude, you’re obviously freaking out Y/n”
Sapnap stopped pacing and turned to look at you
“I’m so sorry Y/n, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The boys decided maybe it wasn’t the best time to watch football so they turned on a nice movie instead
You curled up next to Sapnap on the couch and both fell asleep during the movie.
Dream left and went to his room to sleep, turning off the lights and throwing a blanket over the two of you.
Taglist
@graymoon2 @allywritesforfun @wrenqueenisboss @graymoonspam @bi-narystars
#dreamwastaken x reader#georgenotfound x reader#wilbur soot x reader#karl jacobs x reader#sapnap x reader#x reader#mcyt#mcyt x reader#dsmp#dsmp x reader#mcyt imagine#mcyt oneshots#dsmp imagine#dsmp oneshots#fluff#angst#cloud writes#clouds library books
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“It’ll never be over,” Ian whispered. “Not until you monsters move on and die.”
He needed to stall. His eyes searched out for someone who’d remained behind, but his whole team was gone. His assistant had abandoned him. But Scott was picking up the radio, muttering words into it with a frightened expression. Scott met Ian’s defiant gaze, and he dropped the radio and knocked Ms. Lemon from her stance.
The woman didn’t appreciate it, quickly gaining the upper hand over the older-looking ghost. Her knife gleamed, and just as Spring Bonnie subdued Peter, she drove the knife into Scott’s chest. A guttural cry came from Scott’s throat as he went rigid, and cracks formed all along his form.
He stopped moving, and the glow that emitted from him slowly faded, his appearance going with it. Ian suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was possible to kill a ghost?
Ian scrambled backwards as Ms. Lemon turned to him again. “No more interruptions.”
“Are you really sure about that?” A deep mangled voice asked. “I guess you forgot about me.”
Spring Bonnie loomed above the ghost woman. Ian felt a different kind of terror as he looked at Spring Bonnie’s form. The other two ghosts had been frightening, with their threats and their gleaming purple eyes, but Spring Bonnie knew how to take it to another level. He used the full size of his animatronic form to appear bigger and more threatening. Those silver eyes from before lingered only for a moment on Ian before turning back to Ms. Lemon.
“I doubt the others will be pleased when they find out what you’ve done. Even if this man is the monster that you claim he is, who’s to say no one will step forward to take his place?”
“We’ll kill them all,” Ms. Lemon answered. “But seeing as you haven’t died properly, I have to take care of you first.”
The animatronic rabbit laughed, a wheezing and painful sound. “I’d like to see you try.”
#fnaf au#there are others#of the others#spring bonnie#phone guy#idk if I should tag the other ones#since they don't really have tags?#anyway#cloud writes
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Like all caverns, Kaningård (“rabbit warren”) has a lot of different positions. Its specialty is, on paper, the containment and study of mutants and limebloods to better eradicate their genes from mother grubs’ reproductive capacities.
In practice it aids them in survival, both in the cavern as well as preparing them for a healthier life outside of it.
It is a cold place suited to a maximum population of around a thousand consistent troll inhabitants and a few hundred grubs and wrigglers. It is located in the equivalent of troll Sweden, and best fosters land dwellers of varying mid and high castes, but cares for plenty of lowblood grubs as well.
Further roles detailed below the cut.
EGG TENDER: Trolls who first clean, survey, and catalogue any eggs that come in, as well as care for them during their incubations. There are only a few present at the moment, as Kaningård’s own mother grub is not yet of age to produce her own offspring.
WRIGGLER MINDER: Those who deal with the newly hatched grubs, responsible not only for their care but for recording information about their health, habits, and psiionic ability, as well as any other notable qualities.
TRIAL PROCTOR: Trolls specifically trained to administer and oversee a newly pupated grub’s cavern trials. Kaningård administers a variety of trials that take into mind a troll’s particular needs or disadvantages. It is important to ensure their more likely survival on the surface, but also to give every grub a fair shot.
DIETARY SPECIALIST: Grubs are, as much as possible, tested for allergies or any other health concerns and fed in account with such by trained professionals.
CULTIVATOR: With limited moonlight and a location unfavorable for farming, the cavern supports its own food supply as much as possible. It possesses various underground greenhives and keeps a small amount of livestock in shallower passages near the surface.
Some trolls also hunt and forage for the cavern in nearby forests to provide fresh meat and other plants they cannot grow themselves, but they still remain somewhat dependent on imports.
DROID/DRONE HANDLER: While Kaningård’s head matron frowns upon the use of imperial drones to cull and demand genetic samples, they reluctantly allow in robotic ones so long as they are strictly controlled by their handlers.
Simple droids, used primarily for sanitation, architecture, and general maintenance, pass without issue, and the cavern always needs a few trolls to handle requests for their use and maintain the ones in service.
MEDICULLER: Kaningård aims to preserve the lives of as many grubs and wrigglers as possible, but as always, not all of them can be saved. Those who do thrive will receive as much medical care as possible to help them do so, and a painless death if it becomes necessary.
LAB WORKER: Scientists of varying fields work together in the cavern’s laboratories, searching for ways to improve the life quality of all types of mutants, as well as to stabilize psiionics that cause health issues, and any other project the head matron deems useful. They also have the riskiest job, coming up with sufficient research and evidence to appear as if they are supporting Imperial casteism.
SECURITY DETAIL: While most caverns have trolls trained to defend both the other inhabitants and the young trolls they care for, Kaningård’s forces are equipped to also deal with the empire or supernatural threats if needed. The head matron gives few details, but assures their guards that there are many things that might try to attack them, and not all are mortal or natural.
There are also small organic constructs scattered all around the cavern to keep an eye on things, though they are rarely seen or admitted to existing. They seem to be able to change shape at will, if unobserved.
OUTSIDE LIAISON: Trolls who frequently come and go from the cavern for various reasons. Kaningård is not isolated as other caverns often are - trolls are welcome to come and go from the surface with the proper leave requests and notifications - but these workers perform some particular service for their cavern, be it making trips to other ones, handling imported supplies, or otherwise.
LUSUS TENDER: Trolls who ensure the steady flow of lusii to pick up their pupated charges, and that said lusii don’t eat too many of their fellows. They keep tabs on breeding seasons, general health, and any threats to lusus populations such as disease that might enter the area.
#Kaningård#cloud writes#long post#I cut it but still. this is cavern shit. I put everything I have into cavern shit#I’m probably missing some job or other but I can add more later
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Protective hug with Reigen and one of the kids?
this got so out of hand. so out of hand. thank you so much for the prompt! <3 i really went. frickng. this is 8.6k. but I’m really really happy with how it turned out! <3 ty again for the prompt
- future fic bc I love post canon potential, protective reigen, Teruki’s parents are the worst, heavily implied child abuse/neglect (not pictured), etc. married terumob at the forefront with backburner married serirei. because I’m a sap. everyone is protective of teruki and shigeo.
hope you enjoy! my formatting broke while copy/pasting to tumblr shdjkfsdf so here’s the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43243897
~*~*~*~*~
Reigen is balanced precariously on his hand-me-down stepladder replacing the blinds when Teruki bursts into the office with a sound like a gunshot and nearly vaults Reigen to his death.
“Teruk—!” Reigen yowls, flailing. He's lucky enough that the blinds had already been secured to the window—he grabs ahold of the rail and steadies himself, then hops down the three steps to the floor. "Holy shit, don't do that to me—”
Teruki's across the room before Reigen's collected himself. His hands chain around Reigen's arm and the fear in his eyes brands straight to Reigen's soul.
“She found us,” Teruki blurts. “She knows where we live, Reigen, she—”
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Heat rips through Reigen's chest. Teruki is twenty six years old and all Reigen sees behind those eyes is a scared child. “Who found out where—”
Oh.
Oh shit.
“Shit,” Reigen says out loud. He grips Teruki by the shoulders to hold him steady. Not even Claw could make Teruki tremble like this. “What happened? Are you and Shigeo okay?”
“We’re okay,” Teruki stammers. His gaze flickers around like he's expecting someone to hurt him. “Shigeo got the door, but she knew who he was and I never even told her I was gay. How did she know who he was? How did she know—”
This has been the one lingering fear that has followed Teruki every year of his life. Claw has come and gone. Natural disaster has come and gone. But his parents—somehow they’ve managed to cling like the roaches they are, digging their grimy hands into whatever good things Teruki builds for himself.
Not this. Not fucking this.
“I don’t know how much she knows,” Teruki says. “He told her off but she said she’s going to come back. What are we supposed to do when she comes back?”
Reigen hugs him. It feels like what Teruki needs. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. The rage within him seethes and bleeds into the ferocity of the hug, but he can’t do anything about it. “She doesn’t get to do this.”
Teruki hugs him. Reigen’s hug is angry; Teruki’s hug is afraid. “What are we supposed to do? She hasn’t done anything for years, if we take it to the police—”
“She’s done enough.”
“We can’t prove anything.”
“We can try.”
“Shigeo answered the door,” Teruki says halfway through his second cup of tea.
Reigen stops fidgeting with the blinds to join Teruki at the couches, sitting across from him. Teruki has been mostly silent thus far, breathing and sipping tea while recollecting his bearings. The sign on the door has been flipped to Closed.
“He told me he’d handle it,” Teruki goes on, “but I didn’t like the thought of him being alone with her. I don’t. So I went with him.”
Reigen nods. He’s trying to keep things comfortable for Teruki’s sake, but anticipation gnaws. “What did she want?”
Teruki leans back. He swishes his tea and watches it until it’s still again. “... Apparently she and my father got divorced,” he says. “I figured it’s been coming for years, but she picked a weird time to tell me.”
“Yeah. Sounds like manipulation to me.”
Teruki’s smile is bitter. “That’s what Shigeo said.”
“What about your dad? What’s up with him?”
Teruki shrugs. “I’ve met him maybe… twice? He was always away when I was growing up. I don’t know if he ever wanted to be a father in the first place.” Teruki swirls his tea again. “They had to sell the house after the divorce, so she’s living alone just outside of the city. She gave us her address in case we wanted to… visit. I guess? She said she wanted to ‘reconnect’. Not apologize, just reconnect.”
“What’s she expecting? A family reunion?”
Teruki huffs. It’s the first smile that’s seemed at all real since he got here. “Shige’s family would tear her apart. Ritsu’s been wanting to for years.”
Reigen can empathize.
Teruki reaches the bottom of his mug and settles it on the coffee table between them. “Sorry,” Teruki says. His eyes are red, and he sniffs while he tucks loose hair back into place. “I appreciate you letting me stay for a while. Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Reigen says. He hates that he can’t do more. “Do you guys have a game plan? What are you gonna do?”
“We’re going to file for a restraining order,” Teruki answers. “I hoped she would leave me alone once I was an adult, and I probably would’ve been okay with never pressing charges as long as she just… stayed away. But now she’s— stalking us. Enough that she knows where we live and who Shigeo is. If she’s willing to go that far, I don’t know what else she’s capable of.”
“Yeah, no, that makes sense.” Especially after a divorce. Knowing what he does about Teruki’s parents, it probably wasn’t a clean break. “And I meant what I said about security cameras. You and Shigeo already have a bunch of them outside, don’t you? Do they record audio?”
“Not yet. Shigeo’s getting those installed today.” Teruki rubs his arms. “I feel bad for leaving him at the house alone, but… I just, needed some time away after she was there.”
The wrath is back. That this person is managing to make Teruki feel unsafe after all these years is despicable, much less in his own home that he’s built for himself with his husband.
“Shigeo understands,” Reigen says. “It probably gave him some time to regain his bearings. You know how he is. Just call the police if she starts snooping around the place again, alright? I mean that. And call me, too.”
“Yeah.” Teruki grabs his shoulderbag. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
Reigen nods. He jots a mental note: make sure Shigeo still has that spare key to the office. Teruki and Shigeo have a litany of places to hide out before the office, but if they need somewhere last second that’s completely detached from friends and family, Spirits and Such isn’t a bad choice.
Teruki leaves with a short and tired goodbye and Reigen watches the sidewalk from the window. Once he sees Teruki turn the corner on the curb, he drops the blinds and locks up for the night.
Then he calls Shigeo.
He gets a single ring in before Shigeo picks up. “I almost killed someone today.”
“Yeah.” Reigen runs a hand through his hair. “How literal is that?”
Shigeo dodges that question like it’s a landmine. “I recognized her,” he says. “And she—somehow recognized me. I thought I could just tell her off and it would be over, but then she started talking about him and—” Shigeo heaves in a deep breath. “I told him not to follow me. He didn’t listen. How much did he tell you?”
“Just that she was trying to guilt trip him with the whole ‘divorce’ thing,” Reigen says. “And that you were pissed.”
“I still am. She gave me—she gave me her address. I almost—” Another very, very deep breath. “Reigen.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it too much.” Reigen doesn’t know what he would do if he ever met Teruki’s parents, but he’d probably end up with a fun story to tell his roommate in jail. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it were me. It sounds like you held it together pretty well, all things considered.”
“She knows I’m married to him,” Shigeo says. “How does she know who I am?”
“What about social media? You guys kind of keep up with that, don’t you?”
“We do, but our accounts are private. She shouldn’t be able to see anything, not unless she’s getting updates through somebody else.”
“Gotcha.” Reigen could punch a wall. “Damn it. Teruki talked to me, but have you talked to anyone?”
“I talked to Ritsu. He told our parents. They’re upset.”
Teruki’s parents set off an airhorn in the lion’s den with the Kageyama family alone. Ritsu is fiercely protective of his brother and subsequent brother-in-law, and the Kageyamas are fiercely protective of their sons and subsequent son-in-law.
“I also went to the gym for a few hours after I got the security cameras fixed.”
“Well, good.” The concept of that makes Reigen want to die a little, but weight training has been a good outlet for Shigeo’s overwhelming mental state over the years. “Are you home now?”
“Mm. I got takeout from Teru’s favorite restaurant, but I don’t know how much he’s going to eat.”
“Makes sense. I know you’re already going to, but make sure he eats something.”
“I will. I’m glad he talked to you. I have to call Ritsu back, he’s going to help me get the motion light installed tomorrow.”
“Alright. Oh—however much you paid for dinner, let me know. I’ll reimburse you.”
“What? No, you couldn’t…”
“I haven’t treated you kids to ramen in years, this ain’t gonna break the bank. Just text me. And don’t tell Teruki until you really feel like it.”
“… Okay. Thank you, Shishou.”
It’s no use telling Shigeo not to call him that. He already knows—now, the kid just saves it for nostalgia and the verbal equivalent of a hug or a promise, which is ridiculous but also makes Reigen emotional if he thinks too hard about it. Being fourty does that to a person, maybe.
“Call the police if you get suspicious.”
“That goes without saying.”
“Call me too. I want dibs.”
“Family first. But you can deal with the leftovers.”
“Well, I suppose that’s only fair. Nothing hurts more than rubbing salt in the wounds.”
Shigeo kind of laughs. It’s as much of a laugh as he’s going to get out of the kid given the situation. “Thanks again.”
“Sure thing.”
Shigeo hangs up. Reigen packs up the office and calls Katsuya on his way home.
Shigeo is seated on the couch with a book, still bristling, when Teruki walks through the door of their home.
Shigeo tries to shove his anger aside because Teruki has never liked seeing Shigeo upset, but this is one emotion he can’t stuff, and Teruki doesn’t like it when Shigeo stuffs emotions either. Maybe it’s better that Shigeo doesn’t pretend everything is okay.
“Hey,” Teruki says, letting his shoulderbag slip to the floor.
“Hi,” Shigeo says. “I got takeout for dinner. You should eat something, even if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, uh.” Teruki laughs, a little nervous and a lot ashamed. “I’ll do what I can. Thanks.”
Shigeo nods. He puts his book off to the side and drops his legs, opening up his arms. He makes grabby hands at his husband. “Come here.”
Teruki exhales deeply. He kicks off his shoes on his way over to the couch and collapses into Shigeo’s chest. Shigeo wraps his arms around Teruki’s head and hooks his ankles over the backs of Teru’s knees, wishing he were tall enough to envelop him completely. He draws his aura around them both and pours as much safety and as much love into it as he can.
Teruki knows that Shigeo loves him and would protect him, but he has to feel it.
Teruki’s arms slip under Shigeo’s back as he hugs him, too. His coiled-up aura unfurls against Shigeo’s, scared and stressed but trusting. Shigeo reaches for it with a thought.
“St-Stop,” Teruki gets out weakly, even as he burrows into Shigeo’s hoodie. Shigeo frowns, confused. “Y—You’re gonna make me cry, Shige.”
Shigeo presses deeper. It’s not fair, but he couldn’t possibly pull away. Teruki hiccups and clutches the back of his shirt.
“This is your home,” Shigeo says. His heart feels fierce, but broken, and he tries to keep his voice steady for Teru. “She doesn’t get to take your home away from you. I won’t let her.”
Teruki’s tears seep through Shigeo’s hoodie, next to his heart. “God.” He laughs wetly and brings a hand up to cover his face. “I thought I could hold it together longer than this.”
“I’m not really going to let you do that, either.”
Teruki huffs. Shigeo lets his aura bleed into Teruki’s and runs his fingers through his blond hair until the jitters in Teru’s aura soften into a thrum. It’s still more sensitive than his bassline, but no longer as frightened.
“… Thank you,” Teruki says. Shigeo nods. “Have—… Did she come back?”
“No. I would have told you if she did.”
“Right. I, um. I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel for tonight. My head’s spinning.”
“Would a hotel really help?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”
“I think it might,” Shigeo admits quietly. “I—I want you to feel safe, Teru, but I don’t want our home to be a place you run away from. Your mom can’t take this home away from you.”
“I know, but…” Teruki trails, then sighs, curling his knees against Shigeo’s ribs. “Maybe I don’t know.”
“I’m here, too,” Shigeo reminds him. “As long as I’m here you’ll never have to see her.”
“I don’t want you near her, either, Shige.” Teruki’s fingers press over Shigeo’s heart. “I don’t want her anywhere near you.”
“I’ll keep a barrier up. We have plenty of cameras and Ritsu is going to help us with motion lights. If we’re here, then we’re home. She can’t touch us here.”
“Nothing’s ever stopped her before,” Teruki croaks. His aura is starting to crumple again. Shigeo presses him closer.
“You were alone before,” Shigeo says.
Shigeo’s phone rings. Teruki flinches and Shigeo smooths his hand over Teruki’s shoulder-length hair as he digs his phone out of his back pocket.
“It’s my mom,” Shigeo says.
Teruki relaxes and Shigeo answers. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi Mom,” Teruki says loudly.
“My boys,” Mom says. Her smile is just as audible as her concern. “Are you two home?”
“We’re home, why?”
There's a knock at the door and no question as to who’s behind it. Teruki huffs incredulously as he slides off of Shigeo and Shigeo gets to his feet. They head to the door together and Shigeo pulls it open.
Mom yanks Teruki into her arms the second she gets a visual on him.
Teruki hardly has the chance to jump before he realizes what’s going on and he’s sinking into her embrace. He’s taller than her, but he finds a way to press his face into her shoulder while she runs her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, Teru,” Mom whispers.
Teruki’s arms squeeze around her shoulders.
This is how it should be. It should be like this when mothers come to visit.
It was not like this when Teruki’s mother showed up. She spoke in clipped and entitled tones with condescending words—she singled him out as her son in law and he loathed it. She called Teruki her son and herself his mother and he saw red. He told her to leave and she asked what gave him the right. That she has the right to see her son and that he has no right to keep her away.
“It’s going to be okay, love,” Mom murmurs, hugging Teru close. “We’ll figure this out.”
Teruki nods and steps back only to be met with an armful of Ritsu, despite Ritsu’s reluctance initiating physical touch. Teruki returns the hug with a joke about Ritsu’s height. Ritsu scowls but stays right where he is.
This is how family should be. Family should be like this, not like—
Mom locks Shigeo into an iron hug. It’s parental and full, but a different hug than the hug she gave Teruki. This hug digs into Shigeo’s heart like an elbow in the ribs. It grounds him.
She’s angry, too.
“We’re going to solve this,” Mom whispers into his hair. “I promise. That woman isn’t going to lay a finger on Teruki.”
Shigeo wraps her up with his arms and his aura. He nods.
Teruki’s mother told him that they have no right to keep her away.
Soon they’ll have the right to keep her away.
“We just need witnesses,” Tome says. “That’s it, right? She’s already a disgusting person, all we need is a way to prove it and get that restraining order.”
“It’s not that simple,” Serizawa says, watching her pace around the office. “She could contest the restraining order. The court doesn’t have to grant it if they can’t find a genuine cause.”
“So we prove it,” Tome reiterates, stopping in front of him and pivoting fully to make her point. “We get whatever evidence we’ve got lying around and drop the gaffle on her ass.”
“You can do all sorts of stuff in court if you know the system,” Reigen says, folding his hands. “Teruki and Shigeo don’t have a chance if she hires some skeezy lawyer who knows their stuff.”
He thinks twice. Teruki said his mother’s living in an apartment outside of the city… Reigen lived in an apartment outside the city until he and Katsuya were able to afford a larger one together closer to the office. Any apartment that far out is cramped and cheap and doesn’t at all suit the lifestyle Teruki described of his mother.
He wonders how much money Teruki’s father walked away with in the divorce. Maybe she couldn’t hire a lawyer.
Tome throws her hands into the air. “Okay, so whatever. Teruki’s mom can’t win. She can’t win.”
Katsuya interjects. “As much as I understand the urgency,” he says, “going before a judge is not black and white. Especially not in family court.”
“Besides, Teruki and Shigeo haven’t even decided how they wanna handle it yet,” Reigen butts in when Tome opens her mouth to argue. She’d make a good judge if she ever decides anthropology isn’t her thing. “We should wait to hear from them. There are plenty of ways to go about this.”
“They may even try going through the esper division of law,” Serizawa adds. “Shigeo mentioned looking into that. The only qualm is that this mother isn’t an esper, but they could still have it settled in a hybrid court. Especially since Shigeo is also an esper.”
“Wait, I didn’t know about that part.” Reigen spins the chair around toward Katsuya. “What the hell is a hybrid court?”
“I’m not sure myself. Shigeo said he’s looking into it. I think Shou is helping.”
Tome drops onto the coffee table with a groan. “I guess that checks out. Shou’s mom sort of had to deal with that when his dad went off the rails. But how’s that work when the espers are the ones wanting the protective order?”
“That’s why they want to involve the esper legal system,” Serizawa says. If Tome’s anger is problem solving and Reigen’s anger is cheshire smiles, then Serizawa’s anger is something quiet and very, very dangerous. “It’s the only way to ensure that she doesn’t try and flip this back on Teruki.”
“Right.” Reigen puts his head in his hands. The thought of his mom somehow finding a way to blame Teruki for all of the abuse makes him want to throw up. And punch a wall. “Damn esper descrimination.”
Tome looks disgusted. “That’s a thing?”
“After the Claw shitshow, yeah.”
“How the shit—she’s gonna spin this like it’s Teruki’s fault?”
“We don’t know that she would,” Reigen says. “And could you get off the coffee table? The hell do I have couches for.”
Tome kicks her feet up onto the table in defiance. “So what? Do we just sit around and wait for something to happen? I hate that.”
Reigen hates it, too. “Teruki and Shigeo are still figuring out how they want to handle this. If they go for a permanent protective order, they’re gonna need evidence. That’s step one.”
“Alright, evidence.” Tome leaps up and finally leaves Reigen’s coffee table alone. “I’ll talk to Shou and see if we can scrape anything up records-wise. He’s always down to clown on shitty parents.”
“Don’t do anything illegal.”
“You’re the one person who doesn’t get to tell me that. That woman’s got a lot of nerve messing with my boys. She can’t win.”
She shuts the door behind her. Reigen hangs his head.
“It’s going to be okay,” Katsuya says. Stupid husband telepathy or whatever the hell. “Once Teruki and Shigeo decide how they want to handle this, I’m sure they’ll let us know if there's anything we can do to help.”
Reigen sighs. He can’t argue with that, and frankly doesn’t want to. “Right. Wanna go get ramen?”
Katsuya grabs his coat.
Teruki and Shigeo are set up on the couch with a dusty cardboard box sitting open on the coffee table. Teruki flicks through loose polaroids and album sleeves. Shigeo sorts with him.
“This one’s an option,” Teruki says, carefully drawing a photo from its lamination. He’s so young in these pictures—he can’t even remember when or where most of them were taken. Empty memories. “You can, ah… tell I wasn’t being taken very good care of.”
Shigeo looks at the photo over Teru’s shoulder. It’s objectively not a bad picture, Teruki just looks… sad, and thin, and there's a bruise on his head. He looks maybe five or six, which means he was actually seven or eight, and he’s holding his mother’s hand. It might've been the last time he ever held her hand.
“You’re so small,” Shigeo says with no air.
Teruki blows all the air out of his own lungs and leans back. “Yeah. It’s good evidence, though, right?”
He hates the smile that claws its way onto his face, all muscle-memory. Shigeo hates that he smiles when he’s trying to hide something. Teruki hasn’t slipped into the bad habit this instinctively in years.
Shigeo reaches for the photo. He stares intensely at it for long enough that Teruki feels self-conscious. “Did—” Shigeo pauses. “The bruise,” he says. “Did your mom…?”
“What? Oh.” Shigeo’s stress is making more sense. “Maybe once or twice? It didn’t happen a lot.”
“So she did.”
“Not often.” Teruki doesn’t have vivid memories of being hit. He has vivid memories of her voice and her damn words, and maybe being cornered in the middle of it. “I was mainly just left alone a lot growing up, and it was around the time Claw started catching onto me. She was way more into pretending I didn’t exist.”
Shigeo nods, stiff, and when he doesn’t stop staring at the photo Teruki reaches over and takes it out of his hands. He isn’t trying to upset Shigeo anymore than he already has, and in all honesty seeing his own face like that for too long is dragging up drowned memories. He doesn’t want to think about any of this.
He settles the photo onto an empty patch of coffee table. “Evidence pile,” Teruki says.
He hates every part of this.
Why’d he even keep the stupid cardboard box? Nostalgic childhood nothings, loose photos, the methodical albums his mother was so particular about keeping as he grew up. She always was particular about her image. He can’t say he grew up much different, but he’s not the person he used to be. When she kicked him out of her home he stole her precious albums to take with him, both to spite and remember her.
He still remembers the way she held his hand in that picture. It wasn’t because she wanted to.
“What if it’s not enough?” Teruki whispers.
“We might not even need so much evidence to get the temporary protective order,” Shigeo tells him. “Especially since the esper court is getting involved. They’re familiar with Claw. The fact that your mother abandoned you when she knew you were being hunted isn’t something they’ll let slip.”
Teruki takes an enormous breath. “Yeah.” God, his lungs hurt. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” His head hurts, too. “I, ah, I have a couple bills that accidentally showed up at my old apartment instead of my parents’ house. It should be enough to prove she had me living alone as a pre-teen.”
Shigeo nods. “You have her text messages, too. We have enough. It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah.” Teruki breathes and this time it aches instead of burns. “Thanks. I know this is a lot.”
“It’ll be over soon.”
Teruki feels a little better after that. He finds a couple more pictures of himself as a child and even some he took of his apartment when he first moved in. Shigeo brews a fresh pot of tea while Teruki digs around in his old filing cabinet for those old bills. By the end of the night, well past ten o’clock, they’ve assembled a small arsenal of evidence to be taken to the court house first thing in the morning.
After changing into comfortable clothes, Teruki scrolls through his phone while Shigeo brushes his teeth. Teruki thinks it takes longer than usual, but he’s on-edge, so it’s more likely that he’s reading into things he shouldn’t. Shigeo turns out the light on his way to bed. Teruki sets his alarm. Shigeo curls up on his side of the bed, taking half the comforter with him as normal. Teruki runs warm, so it’s alright.
Realistically, he won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.
Shigeo stretches over to kiss his temple. “Goodnight.”
Teruki kisses the top of his head. “Sleep well.”
Shigeo rolls onto his side and Teruki watches the ceiling. It’s a still evening, a mute note in the air. Shigeo shifts a little. Teruki takes a couple deep breaths.
Shigeo shifts again. Then again. His breath hitches.
“Shige?” Teruki reaches for him, with his aura first and then with his hand. “Are you okay?”
Shigeo fails to stifle a brittle sob.
Teruki is more alert now than he was seeing his mother’s face at their door.
“Hey.” Teruki gets in close. He searches blindly for Shigeo’s hand and slots their fingers together when he finds it. “What’s going on?”
Shigeo’s shoulders shudder. He presses Teruki’s hand to his lips, taking thin breaths. “You were so small,” Shigeo whispers, the tremors reaching his voice. “Why would anyone—how could anyone hurt you like that? Y-You were— Teru.”
Teruki’s gut wraps itself up in one giant knot. He shouldn’t have let Shigeo see the pictures—or at least he should’ve been more aware of how it would affect him. He wraps his arms around Shigeo’s stomach and tugs him back against his chest, not sure of what else to do. Shigeo doesn’t relax into him, nor does he pull away. His breaths rattle over Teruki’s knuckles.
“I’m sorry, Shige.”
“I’m mad,” Shigeo snaps. “And—...”
Teruki wishes he could see his husband’s face. He hates the part of him that’s relieved he can’t see his husband’s face. He squeezes Shigeo closer and Shigeo’s turbulent breaths dissolve into hiccupping sobs.
“You were so small,” Shigeo hitches. “Y-You were so small.”
Teruki wants to take all the things that make Shigeo cry and rip them apart. He never wanted to be one of them.
“It’s okay,” Teruki says.
Shigeo snarls. “No it’s not.”
“Sorry, that’s—that’s not what I meant. I’m okay. Okay?” He doesn’t feel very okay, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a lie either. Shigeo is rigid against him, heaving like a board refusing to buckle in a hurricane, and Teruki threads his fingers through Shigeo’s hair. “Let me hold you.”
“I should be doing that,” Shigeo bites, his voice wet. “I should be the one holding you.”
“You have been, Shige.” Teruki draws his fingers across Shigeo’s scalp, tracing his hairline. “You always do. Please.”
Shigeo sobs.
Teruki curbstomps his panic and buries his face against the top of Shigeo’s head, smoothing his hair repeatedly. Shigeo finally sinks back into him but the stress in his chest won’t let him relax, and Teruki hates that this isn’t a problem he can solve.
But Shigeo is letting him hold him.
“It’s okay,” he whispers into Shigeo’s hair. “Shh. We’re okay.”
He can’t remember the last time Shigeo cried like this. The occasions are few and far between and Teruki never knows what to do with his voice. His hands keep Shigeo close. Both of Shigeo’s hands clutch one of Teruki’s against his face and hot tears run over their knuckles.
“S’Sorry,” Shigeo whispers through his tears, hoarse. “I’m sorry, Teruki.”
Teruki nuzzles the top of his head and squeezes his eyes shut when the burn turns scorching. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.”
Shigeo twists around to bury himself in Teruki’s chest, then he cries until he falls asleep.
The courthouse opens at nine o’clock the following morning. Teruki and Shigeo are downtown by eight fifty. Teruki speaks with the clerk and hands over the forums he filled in advance.
The esper division of law is going to get involved.
Shigeo isn’t as upset as he was yesterday, but the tension never left. He was tense even as he slept. If Teruki weren’t so strung-up himself he would be able to comfort him better.
The esper court takes over as soon as Teruki brings up having been hunted by Claw as a child.
It makes him sick that his mother’s threatening text messages are somehow more relevant evidence than the pictures of him as a child, given how Shigeo reacted.
That his mother is stalking him to the point of showing up at his home does not look good for her.
The temporary protective order is granted.
Teruki and Shigeo take a taxi home late evening with a yellow folder between them, a court date ahead of them and Teruki’s hand in Shigeo’s.
“I’m going for a walk,” Shigeo says as soon as they’re through the door. He doesn’t ask if Teruki wants to join him, so this is probably a subtle way of telling Teruki he needs time alone. Teruki nods and hangs up his coat as Shigeo pivots back out the door. Teruki slides all the locks into place.
He gets the tea kettle boiling. The folder sits on their dining table, which has seen less use than their coffee table this week. Teruki stalls by glancing about his and Shigeo’s home. Humbly furnished and full of pictures; a few fingerprints in the paint courtesy of Tome and Shou; the bougie coffee maker as a wedding gift from Reigen and Serizawa; his mother-in-law’s choice of cutlery and his father-in-law’s electric mixer; fridge magnets that Ritsu mailed while he was off at college.
That’s not all. He could look at anything in this home and tie it back to somebody precious in his life. This home is made of connections and promises and it’s Teruki’s and Shigeo’s and whoever else they welcome into it.
Teruki cuts the heat when the kettle whistles. He grabs his phone from the living room.
Reigen’s stepping into his and Katsuya’s apartment when his phone goes off. Some fumbling and light switching and shoes-kicking later, he gets through the door and answers the phone. Katsuya’s shoes are already here and the light’s on in the living room.
“Heya,” Reigen says, starting down the hall.
“Do you wanna serve my mom the restraining order?”
“Heya?”
“We got the temporary restraining order today,” Teruki says. “We have a court date, but she needs to be served before that can happen.”
“Oh damn.”
Katsuya looks over from the couch in the living room with a question and concern. Reigen waves a hand and Katsuya nods, understanding. He’ll explain after the call. “When’s the court date?”
“November seventeenth.”
“Gotcha.” Reigen hugs the phone between his cheek and shoulder, tearing a post-it note from the fridge to write on. “So, listen, as satisfying as that sounds, are you sure Shigeo doesn’t want to do it? Or I guess maybe that’s not allowed depending on what’s in the order. What about Ritsu?”
“We talked about it. Shigeo could, but we think it’s for the best that you do it. If you’re willing, we’d love to give you the honor.”
“... Well. In that case, gimme a time and place.”
Teruki gives him a time and place.
Friday, because she told Shigeo and Teruki that she would be at her apartment on Fridays if they ever want to ‘stop by’, and she’s located about where Reigen assumed. A tiny studio apartment on the outskirts of Seasoning City. A dank ride through a cheap train and a long walk through cold wind and autumn leaves.
Reigen double-triple-quadruple checked the proof-of document to be filed once Teruki’s mother has been served, and Katsuya and Tome looked over it for him. So did the Kageyamas sans Teruki.
Hanazawa Eiko is the woman’s name. Reigen only learned that recently.
Instincts say he’s the wrong person to handle this sort of legal jargon, but he’s determined not to be. This is for Teruki and Shigeo. People usually hire lawyers or mediators to do this stuff because it’s easy to get wrong. Reigen refuses to get it wrong.
He knocks on the door of apartment 417 and stands back and waits. The envelope is worth its weight in tears. The doorknob rattles. Then turns.
Then he’s staring into the face of Hanazawa Eiko.
She looks nothing like Teruki from her brown hair to her brown eyes to her confused and unhappy face. She has more frown lines than Reigen has years to his name.
“Hello?” Hanazawa Eiko says. She stands in the door with her whole body, taking up as much space as possible. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Reigen Arataka,” Reigen says. “I’m a friend of the Kageyama family. Including Teruki.”
She’s still confused, but the unhappiness tilts into interest. “Teruki.”
“Yep. I’m just here to give you this.” Reigen presents the file to her with both hands. “I’ve been given the honor of serving you.”
“What?” She rips it out of his hands and opens the slip.
“Ah, if you could not read it in front of me—”
“What is the meaning of this?” she says, meeting his eyes. She must’ve read enough to have gotten the gist. “He’s blindsiding us with this, now? Where is this even coming from? His father—” Fury, for half a moment. “His father is going to be devastated when he hears, don’t you understand?”
“Probably not as devastated as Teruki,” Reigen says. He shouldn’t, but. “You got on without him the first twenty six years of his life. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” She laughs, and he hates how it rings in the air. “My son stabs me in the back and you mean to tell me this is fine?”
Reigen stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Listen.” She shuts her mouth, brows drawn tight. “What exactly is your goal here?”
She’s gritting her teeth behind her lips. “I want my son back.”
“Gathered that, but why? Are you so angry he’s living comfortably without you that you have to come in and ruin that? Or do you have a conscience after all and you’re trying to soothe it in the way that best suits you?” He pauses. “Or maybe you’re lonely.”
Her face contorts. It isn’t anger. Not quite. “What do you know about our family?”
“I know Teru’s made his boundaries pretty clear,” Reigen says, “and what he’s asked for isn’t unreasonable. You tracking him down to his home regardless of what he’s asked for tells me everything I need to know about you.”
“What do you know about raising an esper?” Ah, sure. He could’ve expected this. “That boy put me through hell. All I ever wanted was for him to show a little appreciation.”
He thinks of Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama at Shigeo’s wedding, their tears and their laughter and their pride. He thinks of the jokes lovingly ladled at poor Ritsu about how finicky he’d been with the flowers. He thinks of the way they love and how much they’ve had to handle between their sons, and how angry and devastated they’d be if someone dared lay a finger on them.
He thinks about walking Teruki down the aisle. It’s not the same as raising someone, but it’s a culmination of all the things it should mean to be a parent.
“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Reigen says. “But if you’ve got a single self-preserving bone in you, you’d cut this shit out and let Teruki go.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“You’ve gotta understand. It’s not me. Maybe it’s the guy behind the counter at the discount drugstore. Maybe it’s the guy working nights at the restaurant no one really goes to. If it’s not them, it’s the person who owns the floral shop, or the woman who goes to the park every day with her kids. Or it’s a shady psychic business. The personal trainers at the gym. That weird girl with a telescope you wouldn’t give a second thought.”
“You’re espousing nonsense now?”
“What I mean to say is, this city is full of people who love Teruki and are looking out for him,” Reigen says, “and all of those people have people who are looking after them. I don’t know what foot you think you have in the door, but you’re gonna lose your chance to walk away real fast if you keep pushing. It’s not a threat. I just thought if you won’t do it for him, maybe you’d do it for yourself. That’s all I’ve got. Goodnight, Hanazawa-san.”
He turns away.
“Wait!”
He stops. Eiko’s got a hand reached toward him, but she hasn’t closed the space. The envelope crinkles under the strength of her grip.
“I—” Eiko begins, but that’s as far as she gets before the distress on her face tilts into something that could be shame, maybe, if not for her denial. She stares at her hand and then at the envelope and then at the ground. “I do want my son,” she says. The confidence is gone. The entitlement isn’t, but it’s changed. “I—...
“... If you really care about Teruki,” Reigen says, “you’ll leave him alone. The only decent thing left for you to do at this point is to walk away.”
“Walk away?” Her face is incredulous. “The reason why he’s mad at me to begin with is because I walked away, and now that’s what he wants? How am I supposed to know what to do if nothing is ever good enough for him?”
God, Reigen does not want to have this conversation. It’s not the walking away that made Teruki put his foot down—it’s the neglect, the abuse, the abandonment. But this is not a person he can speak logically to. He can explain it to her until he’s blue in the face and she isn’t going to understand.
But her question isn’t disingenuine.
Goddamnit.
“He told you to leave him alone,” Reigen says. “I don’t think he can make it any clearer than that. You had a chance. You lost that chance. You don’t get to choose when you’re a part of his life again, if ever.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“... Become a better person,” Reigen says. “Do it for yourself and for the people you’ll meet in the future, and leave him out of it.”
He leaves her behind. She doesn’t call out to him again.
The seventeenth of November comes with a dry and biting cold. The one client Reigen had scheduled for today bailed, which likely isn’t a good omen, so he cranks his apartment space heater to max and leaves the office closed. He has no shortage of emails to catch up on. Not to mention the months-long anticipation building towards today.
He hasn’t heard from Shigeo or Teruki, and probably won’t until this afternoon, maybe early evening. Staying distracted with emails will help.
He gets a call just after noon. Shigeo.
He’s never picked up his phone faster. “Shigeo, hey.”
“She didn’t show up.”
“How d— what?”
“She didn’t show up,” Shigeo reiterates. “The judge gave us everything we asked for. The whole order, we got everything.”
“You—wait, what? She didn’t show? She missed the hearing?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know, the court is going to get in touch with her, I think. But we don’t have to be involved. We’re… We’re done.”
“Holy shit.” It was— easy? Reigen doesn’t want to think of it like that because it was hell for Teruki, but just like that? “That’s—How’s Teruki doing?”
“He’s… kind of in shock. But he’s good. We’re going to get food and go home.”
“Right. And how are you doing?”
“I’m also in shock, but good. I wasn’t expecting everything to be granted.”
“Yeah. That’s good, though, isn’t it?”
“Better than good. If the order was just around Teruki and our home that would have been enough. The esper division was really sympathetic and a lot of people in the courtroom recognized us from what happened with Claw, I think, and when his mother didn’t show up— Oh, Teru’s back. I’ll call you later.”
“Alright. Take care.”
“Bye.”
Shigeo hangs up. Reigen sits there stunned.
Just like that? Eiko didn’t show. Which also means she didn’t contest. He’s a little bit pissed that she didn’t show up, actually—could’ve at least had the professionalism to handle this properly—but on the other hand, it does mean she didn’t contest.
It’s not like she would’ve had a choice. Contesting the order would’ve just made her look like shit, especially if what Shigeo said about the esper courts is true. Showing up was a basic courtesy, as was expected of her. Teruki would have been granted the order either way.
But bitterness aside, maybe this was her way of letting him go.
Maybe this was her way of running trying to save herself. Who knows.
… In any case, trying to psycho-analyze her isn’t worth his time. The years to come will make her intentions pretty clear.
His phone pings. Group chat notification.
[barbie and ken’s spiritual successor]
The judge granted the protective order. We got everything we asked for.
Tome’s the first to hop on and react with Serizawa right behind her. Ritsu is more generalized in his response, which likely means Shigeo called him personally like he called Reigen. Reigen pops in with a response similar to Ritsu’s with a dash of Tome to make it convincing; if Teruki is keeping details scarce while processing his mother’s no-show, he’ll play it cool.
“Let’s hear it for freedom!” Tome slams her mug into Shigeo with reckless abandon. “I knew you guys had it in the bag! There was no way she was gonna win after everything she did.”
Spirits and Such’s favorite ramen shop has somehow stayed in business all these years—maybe solely on the patronage of Spirits and Such, but even so it’s a good ramen shop and the owner doesn’t mind their bombastic group dinners. They’ve got the whole crew with them tonight—Tome, Ritsu, Shigeo, Serizawa, Teruki, Reigen. Feels like old times.
“Ah, yeah.” Teruki rakes a hand through his hair, twirling noodles around his bowl. “My mom actually didn’t show up to the hearing, so we won by default.”
“Oh, seriously?” Tome leans back, taking a large swig of peach-flavored soda. “That’s weird. Would’ve thought she’d be the type to fight.”
“Yeah, well.” Teruki glances sideways at Shigeo, who glances sideways back at him. They both face the group. “Thanks for sticking it out with me,” Teruki says. “Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve gotten through all of that without you guys. This… This has been a long time coming.”
“Overdue, if you ask me,” Reigen says, slurping ramen. “Don’t sweat it.”
Teruki smiles, and it’s real. “Thanks.”
Tome calls for a second round of noodles.
Shigeo shuffles out of the bathroom, dressed in cozy clothes and toweling his hair dry. His footsteps quiet and Teruki feels his gaze. “Teru?”
Teruki hums, lost in thought. His mother’s photo album is across his legs, missing several incriminating photos and leaving behind the rest. Shigeo draws close, settling at Teruki’s side.
“I should get rid of this,” Teruki says.
The words hang. He turns the page.
“Do you want to get rid of it?” Shigeo asks.
It’s a spread of him running through sprinklers over the grass of his parents’ lawn. It was the last good summer he had up until middle school. “I feel like I should,” Teruki says. “... I feel like I should want to.”
“If you’re sure you want to get rid of it, that’s fine,” Shigeo says. “But if you have any doubts at all, then it’s fine to hang onto it, too. It’s not something you can replace.”
Teruki hums again.
Shigeo leans into his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed soon?”
“Yeah.” He turns another page. Shigeo yawns and nudges under Teruki’s arm. “You can go on ahead, I’ll join you in a bit.”
“I’ll stay.”
“You’re just going to fall asleep on me.”
“You like it when I do that.”
Teruki huffs. “You’ll say it with that much confidence?”
“Sure.”
Teruki leans into the back of the couch, taking Shigeo along for the ride. Shigeo drops his head onto Teruki’s chest. “What did I just say,” Teruki says, but he’s too damn smitten for his own good. An old coworker warned Teruki about the novelty of marriage and how it gets old and tapers off, but he’s been married to Shigeo for four years and if he could do it all over he’d still choose Shigeo.
Shigeo reaches up to poke him between the eyes. Teruki nearly sneezes. “Excuse me.”
Shigeo’s smile is made of sleepy adoration. “You make this face sometimes,” Shigeo says. “It’s cute.”
“I ma— what.”
Shigeo shrugs and turns into Teruki’s chest, settling down.
“Wait, no you don’t, explain.” Teruki grabs him by the shoulder and tries to extract him. “Explain what that means. What face is it? I’ll make it more often.”
“Maybe now would be a good time to go to bed after all.”
Teruki pushes the album off his knees, wraps both arms around Shigeo’s stomach and essentially suplexes the both of them across the couch. Shigeo yelps. Teruki fails at not laughing.
“You’re hilarious,” says Shigeo. “Do you wanna go to bed now?”
“Alright, alright.” Teruki sits up, releasing Shigeo. “Go on ahead, I’ll get the lights.”
Shigeo slides off of him and to the floor before ambling to his feet. Teruki zips the album shut and clicks out the lights, double-checking the deadbolt and then following his husband into their bedroom. Shigeo has starfished himself on the center of the bed, which is just as well. Teruki drops over him sideways and Shigeo jerks awake with breathy ‘eep’.
“Sometimes,” Shigeo says, his voice empty, “I think it would not be so bad to have two beds.”
Teruki knows he’s joking, so he laughs. “We could get two beds. Push them together.”
“Oh, and then when we’re fighting we can separate them.”
“I’ll gradually just inch mine closer and closer as the night goes on…”
“Like a serenade.”
Teruki makes a garbled noise. “Like a what?”
“A serenade, like in that romcom we watched where the wife was upset and the husband cheered her up by singing.”
“Wow, Kageyama, I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic.”
“We have matching socks. And it wouldn’t be romantic if I actually sang to you.”
“Maybe not romantic.” Teruki twists around, propping his elbows up on Shigeo’s chest. “But it’d be cute. I’d forget all about being mad at you. Just try it next time we’re fighting or something, I guarantee it’ll work.”
“Our marriage is doomed.”
Teruki kisses him. Shigeo goes quiet, startled—then he presses forward. Teruki wraps his arms under Shigeo’s shoulders to pull him close. Shigeo’s fingers thread into his hair. It’s quiet and it’s gentle—familiar and tired and soft. It’s just a kiss, but it’s nice.
They pull away at about the same time. Shigeo’s eyes are so deep. Teruki strokes Shigeo’s cheek with his thumb.
“I love you,” Teruki says.
Thank you.
“I love you too,” Shigeo says.
“… I think I’m gonna keep the album,” Teruki decides, smoothing Shigeo’s hair off his face. “Until I know for sure.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah.” Teruki leans in again and Shigeo meets him in a shorter kiss. Teruki pulls away, cups Shigeo’s face in one hand. Shigeo’s eyes are so dark that it’s hard to tell what color they are, but the red shines clearly under the moonlight. Shigeo blinks up at him. His brows pinch.
“Teru?”
“Yeah?”
Shigeo touches his face. “You’re crying.”
“Oh.” A tear splashes onto Shigeo’s cheek. Good timing. “I—I guess I am. Uh.”
Shigeo’s thumb brushes underneath his eye. It’s such a tender gesture that Teruki’s chest caves in. He tries to breathe through it, scrubbing his face.
“Sorry, sorry, I—” It hurts. “I was just thinking—I love you, you know that, Shige?”
“I do.” Shigeo’s voice is so, so kind. “I love you too.”
Teruki sobs and Shigeo tugs him down, pressing Teruki’s face into the side of his neck. Shigeo runs cold. It feels nice. Teruki wraps his arms underneath Shigeo’s neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” Teruki gasps.
Shigeo’s fingers filter through his hair again. One arm winds around Teruki’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’ve put up with so much from me.”
“Not really.”
“You have, Shige.”
“It’s been worth it,” Shigeo says.
Teruki doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s hard to tell where the pain ends and relief begins—mainly he’s overwhelmed and he’s in love and overwhelmed with the thought of being loved, and overwhelmed with the thought of that love not coming from his mother, for as many years as he thought he was over it.
More overwhelming still is the possibility that she does love him, but would sooner go his whole life hurting him than show it.
He means to keep the photo album. It’ll stay in the back of the closet where he has to go out of his way to see it.
Shigeo’s wedding ring gets caught in Teruki’s damaged hair as he runs his fingers through it.
Teruki wishes he were at a better vantage point to crush Shigeo as close as physically possible. He also can’t fathom drawing back.
“Thank you,” Teruki weeps.
He feels Shigeo nod. “I don’t regret anything,” Shigeo says. “But I especially don’t regret you.”
That does it. Teruki goes for the vantage point, yanking Shigeo into his arms and wrapping him up in his aura. Shigeo squeaks, which is cute and hilarious and also makes Teruki cry harder. He’s holding something precious who holds Teruki’s heart like it’s something precious.
Shigeo is so, so gentle with Teru’s heart.
Shigeo acquiesces to the new position. He draws his aura over Teruki like a blanket and lets Teruki hold him. Teruki still feels like he’s the one being held.
“I don’t regret you either,” Teruki whispers.
Shigeo traces tiny shapes against Teruki’s chest. It’s all he can realistically do with his arms pinned. “That’s nice.”
Teruki laughs. And chokes on it. And laughs some more. It doesn’t take long before he realizes Shigeo is crying, too.
It isn’t over. It might never be completely over. But it’s forward.
He can be okay with just moving forward.
#cloud writes#answered ask#mp100#mob psycho 100#terumob#serirei#hurt/comfort#fanfic#future fic#idk how it got this long idk how#but here it is!#oml#<3
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HELLOOO EVERYBODY!! IM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE A NEWLY POSTED FANFICTION OF MINE!!
it's a hazbin hotel crossover with my hero academia with focus on izuku, who happens to be the son alastor. if you're interested in this concept, then this is the fic for you! /silly
#my writing#my fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfiction#bnha#mha#hazbin hotel#cloud writes
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In the Parish of Space Dust
Shortly after settling into Mycol Fields, Arty started gathering materials. Nothing big; small wooden scraps they could burn when acquiring a little lighter. If only there was incense here.
If only there was a body.
In the place of one, Arty had drawn a likeness of Patience as best they could remember on a sheet of paper. Then they covered it with a pillowcase, and sat down on their floor as they placed it in front of them.
In a small bowl, they clicked the lighter and set fire to the scraps, ready with another small piece of fabric to snuff the flames out after too long.
They could barely remember the prayers, they realized with frustration. It had been so long since they’d been to a funeral…
They sighed. What prayers did an NHP need, anyway? Was blinkspace like the firmament that way, a sea of Souls, or Deimosians rather?
Assuming Souls - the Aunic kind - had been human. Assuming that was not simply how they perceived themselves…or pretended to, to make humans comfortable.
“I guess I’m a little selfish, wishing I could have saved you, or seen exactly what you became.” They murmured to their drawing. “I’d hoped…but no. You wouldn’t have understood anyway, most likely. If there was anything left of you afterward.”
It was a blessing that everyone else thought they too had been shocked, down there with the casket in that horribly cold place.
Unheard of, someone had said, as they'd all seen Patience’s casket being slowly overwritten, almost certainly by Beggar One.
Only to you, Arty hadn’t said. I’m standing right here. I’ve been here the whole time, and you have no idea.
Admitting the truth was a sure way to get killed - or worse - and this time they wouldn’t come back.
At least, not in this body. If at all.
They liked this body and these memories. Well - they were familiar. There were plenty of things they might have been happier to forget.
Their face was still unfamiliar and unsettling at times, the mask often preferred when they had to look in a mirror.
“Oh.” They realized, spirit dropping further. “What if the Egregorians…”
No, surely not. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice the difference. Maybe there was a way to ensure the aliens wouldn’t be able to sense their emotions or memories…
Their shoulders slumped. They wanted to share in that feeling, learn those abilities if they could.
They shook their head. They needed to speak the prayers, even half-remembered and incomplete.
But all they could recall now was the wretched Harvest Star’s rites, which they refused to speak. Metat Aun had no place here. They would not profane Patience’s death so; the administrator deserved better. They had suffered terribly, that much was clear.
Arty thought. They remembered…something else. Two somethings.
A memory of childhood; a song about the dead. Sung between doing dishes with soapy water on their hands, trying to entertain the small children, keeping time while they did errands on the crowded streets.
The pulse and push of the world - more than a world. The firmament, coming and going like a tide. Illumination - brightness, clarity, remembrance. Like moonlight, if moonlight was sharp and lamenting.
The tide drew back from the Great Deep surrounding it, that abyss beyond, and that was something like death, to the best of the Minds' knowledge. Even they weren't sure.
They took a deep breath and sang in a somewhat unsteady, rusty voice.
“Wise folk at their ends know dark is right, their lightning words dividing day and night,
The last wave they stood, frail deeds dancing in a green bay.
Blessed and cursed with fierce tears, here - “
They felt hot tears slowly drip from their own eyes.
“H-here I pray.”
They took another, choking breath. They clasped their hands together, and wiped their tears away, forcing themself to put out their fire. Smoke gently wafted from it.
They sang softly, barely above a whisper.
“Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
#cloud writes#artemis hallow#a normal funeral held by a normal person. normally.#not the first time Arty has quoted this poem! well. the first time this version has :) tho this is of course one altered by millennia#that's why the words aren't exactly right
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I may have started a thing
(Jack of All Trades AU)
#jack of all trades au#cloud writes#help#i really need to deal with wips before this#but Br u#h#bnha#midoriya izuku#we love a bsing quirkless izuku
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sleeping positions. yan!hsr.
lunae
he knows you hate him, but something in him refuses to stay away from you. so dan heng wraps his tail around your wrist, or leg, or waist, if he feels you won't protest too badly. he hates being away from you for too long - 'too long' meaning any duration longer than a second, and so he always likes to have some part of him in contact with you.
sampo
he's horrible (affectionate). he likes tucking you into him back first, one arm locked around your waist - never mind that it's summer, and the both of you are sweating through your clothes. sampo's only goal in life seems to be making you as uncomfortable as possible.
jing yuan
you often find yourself waking to a scene out of a fantasy romance novel - jing yuan, his hair golden under the early morning light, gentle smile full of affection, one arm draped lightly over you. he's surprisingly comfortable to sleep with, and doesn't make you feel like you're being held hostage - i mean, you are, just not to the bed.
blade
a menace, and tough to boot. he crushes you to his chest with both arms, leaving you no room to move and barely enough to breathe. he seems to have no concept of how strong he is, and it takes a combination of cajoling, kisses, and kicks to his shins to get blade to let up a little. good luck going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
#cloud writes#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr#hsr#honkai star rail#yandere dan heng#yan!dan heng#yandere sampo#yan!sampo#yandere jing yuan#yan!jing yuan#yandere blade#yan!blade
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Heyyyyyy, do y'all remember that poll I did at the end of November? About the crossover fic? Yeah, I finally posted some of it on Ao3. Here's the link
The crossover includes characters from Into the Ballpit by @pixlokita, Vengeful Evan AU by @cookieruma29, and There Are Others from my blog!
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Michael blinked up at the ceiling of his room, vision swimming slightly. He sat up and his head immediately protested. Was he sick? Michael pressed his hand to his forehead. It was warm. He couldn’t tell if it was warmer than usual though.
Still, he went to his parents’ room to see if his father could tell for sure. “Father?” Michael asked, surprised to find that his voice was raspy.
“Michael?” William turned the lamp on. “Are you feeling alright?”
“No. I can’t tell if I’m sick or not.”
“Come here.” William yawned. “Let’s see.”
A few minutes later, William was on the phone with the school, and then with Henry. “I can’t go in today, Hen. Michael’s sick.”
An irritated voice came from the other end of the phone, leaving William to scowl at the wall. “Well, I can’t control when my kids get sick. Would you prefer I sent him off to school?” William sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, but I just can’t- Henry.”
Hanging up, William muttered something to himself before turning back to Michael. “Let’s get you back to bed Mikey.”
Michael felt his mouth twitch slightly at that. William rarely used the nickname. He did, however, startle slightly when his father lifted him off the ground. “Something wrong?” William asked as Michael pulled his left arm free to grab his father’s shirt.
“I’m too old to carry,” Michael complained.
“You’re not too old,” William replied, chuckling slightly. “You’re twelve.”
“That’s too old. Most kids aren’t carried by their parents after-“
“I’m not most parents, Mike.” William gently deposited him on the bed. “Do you want me to stay in here while you try to get some sleep? Or should I go at least try to get some work done before your uncle comes to scold me?”
Michael smiled gingerly at the joke. “I think we can handle Uncle Henry.”
“True. He’s a big teddy bear, isn’t he?”
Michael giggled at that one. “He is Fredbear after all.”
“Really?” William feigned shock. “I had no idea! Do you think I could get an autograph?”
“I don’t know… But I bet Spring Bonnie gets all the autographs he wants.”
“Does he really? Maybe I could snag one off Spring Bonnie. He seems more than willing to hand out autographs when people ask.”
“I’m sure Uncle Henry would be more than willing to give you an autograph, Father,” Michael said, crawling under his blanket. “He can never say no to you.”
“Unless we’re talking over the phone.” William sighed. “Do you need anything? Or just my company.”
“I don’t need anything right now. But I’d like it if you stayed here.” Michael reached out with his right arm.
William took his son’s wrist as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Of course.”
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Annnd another day of writing soft, pining byler
#byler#fanfiction#will byers#mike wheeler#help I already have 5k of this mess what am I even doing#cloud writes
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Congrats on 100 Cloud!!!
I would love snowing, Sapnap and “I’ve never really been in love, not seriously” (:
A new book has been found !
Book Title: Movie Night
Characters: CC!Sapnap, Reader, CC!Georgenotfound
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Reader gets to the movie theater later than usual because of the snow outside and ends up catching Sapnap's attention when they give him a gift.
Tw: Mention of food
Author's Note: Exciting to finally be able to write requests for this event!!
Beta Reader: @allywritesforfun (thank you!!)
Event Masterlist
Regular Masterlist
“Finally.” You sighed and watched the cloud from your breath be swept away in the chilling wind. “I’m here.”
Your boots sunk into the snow as you slowly trekked through the AMC’s parking lot. You stepped through the doorway of the movie theater, your frosty skin was immediately met with a sea of warmth. Reaching into your jacket pocket, you pulled out your phone and checked the time. ‘9:25, shit,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Five minutes won’t be enough time.’ You walked up to the counter in the middle of the lobby as you slid your phone back into your pocket.
The employee working at the counter seemed to be the only other person in the theater.
‘I guess going to the movie’s once the movie has already started does have its advantages.’
“Good evening,” the woman said, interrupting your train of thought. “How may I help you?”
“Good evening,” you responded. “I’d like a ticket to ‘The Black Phone’ please.”
The employee grabbed the ticket from under the counter and shuffled a few steps right to the register. She waved you over and said, “That’ll be $13.69, anything else I can get you?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you.” you answered as you took $15 out of your wallet, careful not to drop anything, and handed it to the employee.
“Enjoy your movie!” The employee kindly smiled at you as she handed you your change.
“Thank you! Have a good day!” You smiled back before you walked a few steps away and took your phone out again.
’9:27.’ the lock screen read.
‘Only three minutes, I don’t think I’m going to make the commercials,’ you thought before deciding it would be alright to miss them— after all, how could you watch the movie without getting a duck?! With that in mind, you dashed over to the arcade section of the lobby, straight to your favorite machine.
The rubber duck claw machine was your favorite game because you were always guaranteed to win. Everyone was actually— it’s impossible to lose the game. All you have to do is put in one dollar and, just like a claw machine, you maneuver the device to win your prize. The game had no timer, and won’t stop until you’ve won! All the prizes in the machine were different rubber animals; although, they were mostly rubber ducks in costumes. Since discovering the machine, you’ve made it a habit to get a rubber animal to accompany you to watch the movies.
You squatted down and fed the machine a dollar. As you stood back up the door chimed. A gust of cold wind hit your skin and sent a shiver through your spine. You glanced in that direction and saw two men walk through the door. One was slightly taller with dark brown hair. His face was flushed from the cold and he was blowing into his hands, presumably to warm himself. The other man’s hair was a lighter brown with a hardly noticeable red tint to it. As if he could sense your gaze on him, the shorter one turned his head and met your eyes. He looked you up and down before his friend stole his attention at the counter.
You remembered what you were meant to be doing and refocused on the machine in front of you.
‘Wouldn’t want to miss too much of the movie, better hurry this up,’ you thought as you moved the machine’s arm.
You decided you wanted the rubber duck that looked like a green T. rex and let the claw drop to pick it up.
“Wooo!!” You cheered as the machine picked up the weirdly positioned dinosaur on your first try.
“Clang!” The dinosaur was dropped into the plastic area of the machine. “Clang!”
‘That’s weird… Sounded like it fell twice..?’ you silently questioned.
You opened the compartment and reached your hand in. Sure enough you felt two rubber ducks. Pulling them out, you noticed that the machine had given you two of the same dinosaur ducks. You stared at the second duck in your hand in confusion.
‘It must have been picked up with my dinosaur and I just didn’t notice,’ you deduce. ‘But what should I do with it? I can’t watch the movie with TWO rubber ducks, that’s not right.’
You looked around the lobby and saw the two men, now at the counter paying for their popcorn and tickets. An idea popped into your head and you walked over to them.
“Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt you,” you started. “Long story short, that claw machine over there just gave me two ducks instead of one, so I came over here to give one to you. Paying the luck forwards you know? Anyways, have a good movie!”
You handed the shorter man the duck and started walking towards your movie theatre.
“Wait!” He lightly grabbed your arm to stop you. Succeeding in his attempt, you turned back around and tilted your head at him, confused.
“Hmm?” you hummed.
“You didn’t give me the chance to say thank you,” he chuckled softly. “My name is Sapnap, this is my friend George.”
“Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.”
‘He smells good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘What is that smell though? I definitely recognize it.’
“Nice to meet you too, and thanks… for the dinosaur.” Sapnap smiled, looking down at it then back to you.
“No problem! But I’ve got to go, the movie is going to start any second now if it hasn’t already!” you said as you quickly left to go to theater five.
~~
“Are you going to have that stupid smile on your face for the rest of the day?” George asked Sapnap.
“What are you talking about?” Sapnap tried to push down the smile on his face, only for it to peak back through.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” George scoffed. “You like them.”
“Quit it, I don’t like them,” Sapnap lied and started walking toward their theater, already late for the movie.
“You’ve talked to them once and now you’re in love!” George shook his head at his friend.
Sapnap rolled his eyes at George. “You’re so stupid. I’ve never been in love… Not seriously— at least”
The two walked on in a comfortable silence until they reached the door of their theater. They walked in and got a few isles down before Sapnap threw out his arm and stopped both of them in their tracks.
“What?” George questioned.
“Is that them over there?” Sapnap pointed at a person sitting in the front row.
“You’re not going to be doing this the whole movie are you?” George crossed his arms over his chest.
“I think it’s them!” Sapnap whispered, walking in their direction.
“Come watch a movie in the theater with me you said, it’ll be fun you said.” George mocked his friend, following a few steps behind him.
Taglist:
@graymoon2-archive @allywritesforfun @wrenqueenisboss @graymoonspam @bi-narystars @0yuioy0
#sapnap#sapnap x reader#x reader#sapnap oneshot#sapnap imagine#mcyt#mcyt x reader#fluff#dsmp#dsmp x reader#cloud writes#clouds library books#clouds 100 followers event
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