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mikareo · 6 months

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(DOVE OMG IDK IT SAID I UNFOLLOWED U but i think it was on accident or smth and lwky it was weird bc i didn’t see u on my dash lately :// i’m so sorry for that !!! i feel so bad i’m so sorry ;-; !!)

but i just saw that u were holding matchups, so i was wondering if i could provide a submission ? one for complete matchups, if possible <3

for blue lock, btw !

in a separate ask (thank u sm <3)

male, and around teenage years

sfw pls and thank u :))

i think i’m a v honest person, and i suppose i don’t mind saying what’s on my mind if i’m close to u. but to others, i filter what i say, and i tend to “people please” by saying what might be favourable to them. i’m really introverted and shy lol, it takes me a while to warm up to someone, but when i do, i’m pretty extroverted and loud :,) i think i’m also realistic, and i can sometimes be pessimistic, but i’m trying to be more hopeful about the future lately hehe. i feel like i’m also often trying to take care of my friends, and it’s like i’m the mother of the group ;-; and i would say that i’m quite empathetic, so a lot of the times, my friends do come to me for advice or just to hear some comforting words. i’m an infj :) and i’m a cancer ! i go by she/her !!

i like to write, read, and draw sometimes (not v good at it but it’s a calming activity imo). i also like to watch kdramas and anime <3 they’re probably one of my favourite things in the world !! and i like to cook (baking not so much idk why)—it’s also kinda therapeutic. i also love shopping, but specifically shopping for my things (idk how to feel ab grocery shopping :/)

ideal dates would probably have to be like art galleries, cafe dates, a picnic date w like painting activities hehe, a spontaneous trip out in the city, or a stay-at-home date where we just do wtv and enjoy each other’s company <33

thank u so so much ! hope that i included all necessary info, and pls (maybe) have fun w this !!

(i’m quite excited to do ur submission for my event too hehe <33 and so sorry ab the unfollowing I FEEL SO BAD </3)

💌 ✮⋆˙ love letter to...yoisami!

saki!!!! i honestly didn't even notice u unfollowed me so dw abt it really!! girl u are SO pretty omg!! like the vibes u give off are so fairy princess,, i love that for u <33 also,, before u open this post (if u haven't alr LOL) it's like...really really long bc i have a lot to say abt this particular character ajskfl i haven't even finished writing everything yet while i'm typing this,, but i alr know it's going to have such a long wc for a matchup (1.2k pls),, i rlly hope u like it tho!! complete matchups are always so fun bc they're just a total brain dump for me :3 (p.s. i'm also so so excited for what color u come up w for me n isagi EEEK) also i dunno if i said it alr,, but i rlly love the little selfship drawing u have on ur navi,, it's so cute!!

[ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ᰔ ] your complete matchup results!

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ APPEARANCE PAIRING ! congratulations . . .‧₊˚🌻✩NIJIRO NANASE₊˚🌿⊹♡

with gentle features that seemingly express lots of emotion; no doubt, the two of you would be considered a visual couple and have countless onlookers wishing they were with either of you. nijiro only cares about your eyes, though. he's not bothered by the lovestruck stares and greedy thoughts the passing women have. he only needs to make you smile. that's his one and only goal.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ PERSONALITY PAIRING ! congratulations . . .‧₊˚🍙✩YOICHI ISAGI₊˚⚽️⊹♡

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ chemistry analysis . . .

okay this actually was so easy for me to settle on, i literally read your personality info and the first person who came to mind was isagi. i weighed out all the other options, but no one else really clicked in my head other than him. i think about this man like so often; and knowing so much about him, there's no doubt that you two would be so compatible!

one thing that really stood out to me amidst all of isagi's personality traits, is his perceptiveness. obviously he's extremely good at reading the field, but his true talent is reading people. while you're very introverted and tend to keep to yourself at first, he'd be able to figure out a way to make you feel comfortable around him upon the first introduction. he wouldn't be alarmed by your shyness, but rather intrigued and he'd want to understand you better; in fact, he'd make it a challenge for himself to do so. immediately, he'd be able to notice the difference between you telling the truth and you trying to 'people please'— but no matter which one is occurring, he wouldn't call you out on it. he'd trust that you're saying and doing whatever you feel comfortable with, and respect that. he'd also enjoy your outgoingness once you finally open up to him, and his favorite thing in the world would be whenever he's able to make you laugh. isagi loves a girl who laughs a lot whilst showing a beautiful smile; and he'd wish he had a photographic memory just to revisit that look on your face when he's struggling on the field, in need of some comfort.

i don't necessarily think you two are total opposites, but there are definitely some things that you differ on; one being his optimism vs. your pessimism. isagi is someone who lives on adrenaline and keeping his head in the clouds. he believes that everything will work out for him so long as he continues to practice and find a new solution; however, he needs someone who can keep him grounded. if he spends too much time in the clouds, his feet will never come back to earth. with your realist perspective, you can tell him when he needs to focus or lock in on a goal— whilst also making sure that he isn't getting too ahead of himself. the reverse is also true. he uses his extreme optimism and drive to encourage you to take those chances that you normally wouldn't with your realism holding you back. he wants you to fly in the cloud with him, and looks forward to that safe landing he knows you'll bring. you keep him from flying away. he makes sure you're not stuck to the ground forever.

even though he's an optimist, isagi is so hard on himself. he beats himself up after every game even if he's the one who scored the winning goal. to him, there's nothing more important than improving; which is why your advice is so valuable. if anything, you'd surely be his rock in the midst of the chaos of his football career. he'd rely on you when he's feeling down and go to you whenever he needs some words of encouragement. with those words, he'd close his eyes and try to recall them— recite them— before he has a game (it's his good luck charm) and feel so much stronger. your the person he looks up to most. it's not noel noa. it's you. he hangs onto your every word, his attention is undivided, because he knows that you only want the best for him. your advice is selfless, and yes, maybe he is selfish for asking for it so often, but can you blame him? you're the shining sun when he's rained off the field and the sweeping waves when he visits the beach. your physical and emotional beauty astonish him.

on his off days, isagi loves to go for walks, read manga, or simply stay at home with you. surely, he'd be the one to hand you your sneakers and tell you that there's a new cafe open downtown that he wants to try— knowing full well that you've been looking forward to it for weeks. when the two of you are walking through the city, he's bound to take a few pictures with fans; and while you're holding up the phone telling them to say 'cheese', isagi smiles after, telling the strangers: "isn't my girlfriend so cute?" he's such a character. if you choose to spend the day at home, baking and such, he tries his best to help out in the kitchen. though, it never really works out as planned. isagi has his certain skills, baking not being one of them (i.e. soccer being the only one) which causes your sweets to be a little lopsided. however, his company isn't a burden as he makes you giggle and smile with his quips and encouragements as you try a new recipe. isagi loves spending time with you when he can, and he makes sure to make the most of it.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ memories on the wall . . .

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ a treasured moment . . .

your boyfriend is someone who thinks on his feet, pre-planning has never really been his thing, which is why it was no surprise when he laced up your sneakers and led you to the train station with no prior warning. "c'mon, that new cafe opened in ginza." is what he'd said to you; trying to sound spontaneous, even though he so obviously remembered you've been looking forward to it for months now.

the two of you are nearly there, just a few blocks away since you somehow got off the train two stops too early, when a pair of middle school (?) girls stop you in your tracks. "excuse me, do you mind if we get a photo with you isagi?" to which he gladly accepts.

naturally, you offer to take the photo, being used to your boyfriend's adoring fans and tell the girls to smile big. it's so adorable the way his face lights up whenever he's able to share his passion for football with someone new. you love that beaming look on his face and are so grateful that you get to look at that grin every day of your life.

"the girl taking the photo..." isagi begins to say to the fans, worrying you that he's about to make some joke that you won't find funny. "she's my girlfriend." aw.

they both nod at his words, commenting on how pretty they think you are, before he continues to speak.

"isn't she gorgeous?"

he always knows how to make you blush. damn him.

"you're a flirt, yoichi." you shake your head, giggling softly as you hand the phone back to the girls. "i can't take you anywhere, can i?"

he reaches out, lovingly clasping his large hand over yours and kisses your temple. it's a very public display of romance, but he made sure to cover your face while doing so, knowing that you tend to get a little embarrassed by those sort of things. "i'm the luckiest man in the world." his voice is so caring, so loving. "i'm going to tell everyone i'm yours whenever i get the chance."

(i am literally a mess when it comes to isagi jasfdkl this brain dump was lethal)

#this is SO LONG LMFAO #lit could write an essay on this chara #matchups ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#txt.yoisami

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Donnie Darko

(Not my gif)(Requested by @teddansonwannabe16 )

(Also, if there’s ever something in these headcanons that you’d like me to write more about; especially in the meeting part, just let me know!)

- You and Donnie sort of met when you were younger but you were never close. You’d lived in the same area of town and waited at the same bus stop every morning but you’d never actually had a full conversation with the boy nor hung out together.

- Every once in a while, you’d encounter each other. Maybe he’d tell you your backpack was open or where a certain class is, maybe you’d share an umbrella or he’d tell his friends to leave you alone; or maybe you’d share an awkward wave as you passed each other on the street. Other than that, there was nothing between you.

- That being said, the two of you still liked each other, even if the other person wasn’t aware of it. Your teenage crushes were also; probably, part of the reason the two of you didn’t speak all that much; both of you being too shy and awkward to speak to the other.

- It was seemingly completely out of the blue that he chose to ask you out. You’d both ended up being alone at the bus stop that day, his sister and her friends going to dance practice early in the morning, his friends skipping class, and Cherita coming down with the flu.

- The two of you stood side by side awkwardly, him glancing over at you a few times before he suddenly blurted out the question of “do you wanna go with me”, making you look over at him in surprise.

- It took you a few moments to respond, wondering if you’d heard him correctly or if there was someone behind you you hadn’t noticed, but after he began to ramble, you finally realized it really was you he was talking to. So you interrupted his babbling and told him that you’d like to.

- The bus pulled up as he smiled and the two of you got on, him sitting beside you and watching you as you looked out the window happily.

- He walked you to class that day, and the next day, and the day after that, and ...I think you get the picture.

- The two of you didn’t quite have a first date, you sort of just started hanging out together a lot. You’d walk home together or hang out at one of your houses; maybe in the fields by Grandma Deaths house. It wasn’t until a few weeks after you became an item that you actually went out and watched a movie together which you suppose could be considered your first “date”.

- You share your first kiss a few weeks after he asked you out as well. Donnie didn’t want to rush you; and he wasn’t sure of how to do it himself, so he just waited until he couldn’t take it anymore.

- You were hanging out and he was accidentally only half listening to what you were saying up until he finally blurted out that you’ve “been seeing each other for a while”.

- When you replied with a questioning “yeah?”, he grew more nervous and struggled to find what he thought was the right way to say what he wanted to say. That was, until you asked if he wanted to kiss you.

- Instead of replying, he merely closed his eyes, leaned in and connected your lips. You fought back a smile as you wound your arms around his neck, feeling his hands move down to your waist.

- And just like that, Donnie Darko would never be able to let you go again.

- Donnie sort of just pays no mind to most people so if you let him kiss or touch you in public, he will. Plus, as demented as he can be, he does keep things socially acceptable and innocent so you don’t have to worry about that.

- Handholding. There’s just something so comforting and nice about the feeling of another living thing holding and squeezing him back.

- Random affectionate touches.

- Long and tight hugs.

- Once in a while, he has this inexplicable need to feel you in some way. To kiss you, touch you, be touched by you. You’re what helps him forget about the world and all that's wrong with it. Your warmth, your touch, your lips; they’re what makes his messed up life worth living.

- Gentle kisses on the cheek and forehead.

- Soft kisses.

- Intense kisses. Being able to kiss you until he can’t breathe is quite therapeutic for him.

- Long and slow paced makeout sessions. He could genuinely kiss you for hours.

- He likes when you rest your head on his shoulder or otherwise be absentmindedly affectionate and comfortable with him. It just reassures him that you actually love and want to be with him; and it just feels nice.

- He may have trouble initiating it when you first start dating but he actually really likes cuddling. He tends to like to press his face into your neck or chest and wrap his arms around you, especially when his days been sort of shitty. That being said, pretty much any position is fine by him.

- He sorta likes when you nap on or around him, it makes him feel trusted or like he’s your protector or something. He also gets to memorize your features without feeling awkward about looking at you.

- Time is a social construct. If you want to see him or if he wants to see you, the fact that it’s three a.m. is irrelevant. He’ll let you in or sneak you in somehow; you’ve both probably learned how to climb in through each other’s windows.

- Nighttime walks.

- Stargazing.

- Listening to him read, or him asking you to read to him.

- Donnie being Donnie, he usually just calls you by your name rather than a nickname or pet name. There’s something about them that makes him feel awkward; they just seem so strange coming out of his own mouth.

- Looking at his writing and paintings. He’ll sometimes give some of them to you as little gifts.

- He once just really wanted to try to do your makeup and honestly, he did a really good job. Every once in a while, he’ll ask to do it again and hey, who are you to turn down a free makeover.

- Running errands together. If Donnie really wants to hang out with you; which he often does, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he’ll tag along no matter how boring.

- Donnie isn’t one for extravagant dates and you probably aren’t either so the two of you just sort of hang out together. You’ll do puzzles, ride your bikes, jump on trampolines, etc; all just random fun things.

- Television dates. You swear he must have watched every cartoon from premier to end a dozen times with some of the knowledge he has of them. He’ll go on some long explanation after you express confusion about something and then finish with a shy chuckle and a “I watch a lot of tv”.

- Shooting bottles with him or watching him shoot them while sitting on the couch in the field.

- Sneaking into abandoned buildings. The two of you like to go exploring.

- Always being project partners and sitting together at assemblies, lunch, or in class.

- Always having help with your homework or other assignments. Donnie usually just offers up answers without even thinking about it.

- The good kind of teasing comments. Things that’ll snap you out of your funk or start a conversation/make you smile.

- Sharing headphones or just sharing different music with each other.

- Long, somewhat rambling conversations. He just has a lot to say about a lot of things.

- Existential debates.

- Letting him rant to you. He gets really worked up over certain things that most people don’t care about so occasionally you’ll just have to sit him down and calm him instead of letting him blow a blood vessel.

- Listening to the stories of when he was “unruly”. He’ll admit some slightly troubling things and then try to assure you that he’s “better now” so that you don’t think he’s crazy; especially when you first start dating.

- Donnie's view of the world is sort of skewed but even if it wasn’t, he would never judge you, especially because you never judge him. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll always stand by you because he cares about and “gets” you.

- He sometimes likes to pretend to be your therapist. It’s meant to be humorous most of the time but occasionally, when you’re upset, he’ll try to see if it actually works or could help you in any way.

- He always seems to understand you, no matter what nonsense you may be saying. No one else will ever know exactly what you mean like he does.

- Watching him closely when he begins to act sort of strange. You notice that something isn’t right but you don’t know if it’s your place to ask or if you even should.

- He may or may not confide in you when Frank shows up; it depends on how long you’ve been together and the kind of person you are.

- While he may not talk about it, he’ll want to spend as much time with you as he can for some seemingly inexplicable reason.

- If Donnie can help it, he’ll never tell you or make it obvious when he’s jealous so you may never truly know when he is. But, when he’s sitting alone at night, his mind will drift back to what may or may not have happened and he’ll feel his chest begin tighten while a million different thoughts race through his head.

- Donnie isn’t extremely protective but he does look out for you. He’ll tell people to leave you alone, guide you away from something, take something from your hands, or help you down from a large step, etc. Whenever something happens, he’s only ever really worried about whether or not you’re okay.

- You see, if Donnie wants to have an argument about something, you’re gonna have it. That being said, you don’t fight a ton but when you do, he tries to remain fairly calm until he can’t help but get heated; usually when you just won’t listen to him or try to understand or just won’t explain what you’re mad about.

- He’s miserable when you’re in that post fight funk although he may try to convince himself; and succeed, that he’s angry. He’ll mope around and probably tell his therapist about it it. You’ll have to come to him when you’re ready, at least if you gave him the silent treatment since he’ll stop trying to approach you after a while and just assume you hate him now.

- That being said, there will be instances where he’ll just not leave you alone until you talk to him, kind of like a psycho ex would. I’m sorry but Donnie is still Donnie and not completely mentally well.

- There’s not too many I love you’s in your relationship but when there is one, it’s emotion filled and meaningful. He really wants you to know and understand how much he cares about you; especially if he’s saying it after somethings happened to him.

- Well your actually future together is sort of doomed from the start but the future he wanted was one where the two of you were together and neither of you were alone.

#donnie darko imagine #donnie darko headcanons #donnie darko headcanon #donnie darko imagines #early 2000s movie imagine #early 2000s imagine #early 2000s movie headcanons #early 2000s movie headcanon #2000s movie imagine #2000s movie headcanons #2000s movie headcanon

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cotccotc · 3 years

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SKZ REACT to...

⿻ you coming out !!

genre/s: ot8 reaction headcanon, gn reader, platonic, fluff with some humor

wc: ~1k

warning/s: (obviously) descriptions of coming out to someone (in terms of sexual orientation, not gender), my dumb commentary lol, these are just my ideas! obviously i have no idea how they’d actually react, but i just feel like these scenarios are pretty likely.

a/n: this is pretty casual and silly tbh haha. it’s been sitting in my google drive for a while so i thought i’d finally post it :) i tried to make this as non-descriptive as possible while also getting the point across !! hope it makes u smile hehe <3

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you. i’ve kept it a secret for a while now, but i think it’s time you should know. [insert a statement about your orientation here].”

⿻ CHAN

he’d try to be really responsible about responding to this.

he’s the type of person who would thank you for telling him. he’d just be so happy you feel comfortable enough to confide in him.

i could definitely see him asking you questions about it right away, wanting to have an adult discussion about it.

as long as you’re comfortable with it though !! he doesn’t want to push.

you’d be able to tell how professional he’s trying to act, which is comforting but also a little funny.

once you point it out, he’d finally relax a bit and chuckle, his ears turning slightly red from embarrassment.

still, through talking about your sexuality and answering his questions, both of you would really benefit from the conversation and feel closer afterward.

for some reason this one made me really emotional oof NOW ON TO THE FUNNY ONES :DDD KFDJS

⿻ MINHO

in all honestly, you’d be kind of scared to tell minho.

you don’t really talk about these things often, so you might be nervous to see how he responds. but when you do tell him…

“oh so you’re an icon? ok cool”

HE’D HYPE YOU UP SO HARD OMG

LINO BEST WINGMAN <333

if you’re ever out and he sees someone you might be attracted to looking your way, he’ll be sure to point them out and encourage you to talk to them.

“come on! you’re a badass, remember? you can do it!”

which… normally that isn’t too big of a deal, but as he encourages you to talk to someone who he previously wouldn’t have known you’d be interested in, it warms your heart.

and, if you hit it off with that person, he’d hold it over you for the rest of your life...

which is typical !! so, nothing’s changed !!!

⿻ CHANGBIN

i’m not saying he’d cry… but i’m not saying he wouldn’t SKJDD

ok LISTEN

he’d first ask if you want to talk about it a bit more (your story, how you figured things out, the feelings that accompanied it, etc.)

when you agree, he’d listen carefully and consider what you might have had to go through during the process of realizing this is who you are.

this man would get EMO

might write a song about it later tbh

his respect for you would go through the roof omg

after you finish explaining, i think he’d be a little choked up !!! he’d tell you how proud he is of you and how strong you are for being your true self.

ok now I’M gonna cry oh nO-

⿻ HYUNJIN

you and hyunjin are very open about your emotions and confide in each other often.

i’m going to tell you exactly what he’d say, and i want you to imagine it with me, okay?

you’re going to be able to *hear it*, i promise.

ready?

“yay~”

(imagine his soft voice and lil hands clapping oh my goodness oh my goODNESS-)

can you see it? do you hear it? thought so.

he’d act similarly to chan, but with a bit more enthusiasm.

you’d probably end up having a deep conversation regarding sexuality and gender afterward, and it would be really therapeutic for the both of you.

you both trust each other a lot and are respectful of each other’s feelings, so acceptance would be a no brainer for hyunjin (uwu).

⿻ JISUNG

he’d get a little nervous, honestly.

for good reason! he’d be scared of saying or doing the wrong thing. and he can tell this is super important to you/making you feel just as nervous.

his first instinct would be to give you a big hug. no matter what, it’s his go-to reaction to big announcements, good or bad. and this is a good one !!

once you break away, he’d be a bit quiet, allowing you to explain yourself. he’d hold onto your hands though, especially once he sees them shaking a little.

he’d straight up ask: “so who else knows?”

why? so he doesn’t accidentally out you to the other guys.

or literally anyone else he sees DFKJ

overall, things would be a bit awkward at the very beginning because he wouldn’t know exactly to handle the situation, but he’ll just be really considerate of your feelings in order to move forward.

also it would end in a high five but that’s obvious

⿻ FELIX

i feel like felix would be the most casual about it, in the best way possible.

he’d make it seem like you coming out was just a subtopic in the conversation and talk calmly without sounding startled by the information at all.

but on the inside, he’d be SO EXCITED OMG

rainbow cupcakes

he’d force his way onto the gay side of tik tok just so he can send u videos he thinks you might relate to or laugh at

the JOKES

(with prior consent, of course)

“i see your jeans are cuffed today…” cue stupid lil smirk

plays “sweater weather” by the neighbourhood every chance he gets

let’s say you’re up late together:

y/n: “dude i need to go to sleep. i can’t see straight.”

lix: “i wonder why” *cackles*

⿻ SEUNGMIN

“lol duh”

when you come out to him, he’s just like..

ok cool, i know that, what’s next?

obviously, he wouldn’t be rude. however, he’d definitely try not to make a big deal out of it since he genuinely doesn’t think it’s that big of a game changer.

he knows it’s important, of course, but he’d prefer to normalize it right away than make it into a big thing.

“so… do you have any celebrity crushes i don’t know about?”

you’d spend the rest of the day/night talking about your sexuality in the most nonchalant way. you’d recount stories of realization from your past, and seungmin would listen and react just like he would any other time.

*gasp* “really?”

“i know i don’t know this person, but you’re way too good for them.”

regardless, seungmin is able to make you feel comfortable right away. he just has that effect :’)

⿻ JEONGIN

baby bread = confused but accepting

didn’t see it coming at all

for starters, it’s not that he wouldn’t know what it all means, but he’d definitely ask for a bit of clarification just to make sure he knows exactly how you identify, especially if it’s somewhere in the bi/pansexual realm.

once you explain it to him,

q u e s t i o n s

when’d you figure it out? how? with who? was it a cartoon character? he heard about that once...

nevertheless, he wouldn’t make a big deal about it, similarly to seungmin with a dash of hyunjin’s soft excitement.

“our y/n’s just so full of love for everybody, huh? so thoughtful of them.”

“make sure to save some of that love for me, please?”

sure, innie. sure.

also this may or may not be foreshadowing something that’ll be announced on the 25th at 12 am kst :D uwu

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @moonlit-lixie, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @sunshine-skz ( join my tag list !! )

#districtninewriters #inkidz #skzwritersclub #straykidsland #*fics #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz #stray kids #skz ot8 #stray kids ot8 #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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dayurno · 4 years

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under the cut is the kandrew throw down of the year™ aka my attempt at reasoning the ch*king scene in therapeutic context. the events in this happen in betsy’s office, on the grounds that andrew asked her to fix them a few weeks after canon. could probably be the kickstarter for a kandreil fic but who knows. i sure don’t

tw: discussions of abuse, choking, kevin flipping his shit (aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you just want to go apeshit?)

"You’re a spineless, despicable, selfish, obsessed and self-righteous person—” Andrew starts, a tinge of anger simmering under his words. It’s almost dangerous, but Kevin knew Betsy would throw Andrew out of his room if he tried solving this with his fists.

Maybe it’s that safety that has Kevin cutting him off, perhaps just as viciously, “You are a man,” he says, pointing a finger in Andrew’s direction. “You are an average, lazy, boring, cowardly, success-fearing man. You have potential and you waste it. You think feeling nothing makes you have the upper hand, but that makes you average. It makes you so-so; irrelevant; not special. You settle because you’re a coward.” He takes a deep breath. “You think violence makes you a man. It does not. It makes you a petulant child with knives.”

“Not so spineless after all,” Andrew snarls, a cold fury settling all over him and tightening his muscles into unbearable tension, as if he was about to snap.

Kevin does not find fear when he looks for it; most of all, he’s tired. He’s tired of Andrew’s leash and how short it is, he’s tired of pulling at his teeth, he’s tired of up-keeping a deal with a man who did not keep his word in the first place. “Do better, then. Stop acting like a child and do better. You can’t like me if you tried and I’m getting tired of pulling at your teeth.”

“Andrew,” Betsy interrupts before Andrew can — most likely — launch himself onto Kevin, “what do you think? How does that make you feel?”

He stares at her fixedly, avoiding Kevin as if he weren’t there. “I think that I want him out.”

She considers it for a second, then says, “No. I can’t let him leave, Andrew. This is the root of all your issues with each other, and you’ve asked me to fix you two. Let me help.”

Andrew takes a long, shuddering breath, so deep Kevin’s own lungs hurt as he follows it. Inhale; exhale. They do it as parallel lines, eyes pointedly away from each other. “I think,” he roughly replies, “that Kevin could simply go back to the Ravens if he wants someone that gets off to Exy as much as he does.”

“Oh, because that’s so mature,” Kevin fumes, at once the forest fire and the leftover ashes. “It’s so easy for you to throw other peoples’ abuse around, isn’t it? Andrew gets to have boundaries, Andrew gets to keep secrets, but God helps anyone who wants to do the same. No one can touch you, but you can hurt people however you want without a single care for the consequences. Doesn’t sound very fucking healthy to me, Andrew. It sounds like someone I know and you won’t like to hear who it is.”

Andrew’s gaze is stone cold. Kevin would shiver if he wasn’t so deep within the flames, and then again — he's seen worse. If Kevin survived Riko Moriyama, he'll survive anyone.

“Say it,” Andrew demands. “I dare you. Say it.”

“I don’t fucking do what you tell me to do,” Kevin snaps, struggling to keep his voice down. “I’m not your fucking pet, Andrew. Obedience under the coercion of a knife is not the choice you think you’re giving me.”

“Is that how you feel?” Andrew asks, dead gazed. His lips are chapped and his hands are balled into fists; shaking with the strength it takes him to hold himself back from giving Kevin another necklace of bruises. “You were not forced to strike a deal with me. You did it out of your own volition. Do not speak of things you do not understand because you want to lash out at me.”

“He thinks I don’t understand what it’s like to not have a choice,” Kevin laughs, a cynical sound choked out of his throat. “Oh, aren’t you farsighted. Before I got out of the Nest, saying ‘no’ to someone was not even in question, Andrew. There are things I still need spelled out for me because I don’t know what it’s like to have personal fucking boundaries. When you choked me, I,” at this point Kevin’s hands are trembling at the same violent rhythm Andrew’s are, though a part of him — untainted and scared; perpetual in its adolescence — still thrashes at his insides at the mere thought of arguing back, biting back. “I didn’t even know. I didn’t know that wasn’t a thing you should be allowed to do. I didn’t have a name for that. All I thought was that I was submitted to you, and that it was right, and that I was paying for keeping something from you. I didn’t know and you did it anyways. You took advantage of me.”

Andrew’s entire body tenses up. “I didn’t. I didn’t. If you say something like that again, I’ll kill you.”

“Then be it,” Kevin replies, leaning back against the chair with a slump of his shoulders. “Kill me. Do it. Finish the job you started. Live with yourself afterwards. Live your sad, average, miserable life and feel free to tell me if it’s worth it in the end.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Betsy holds her palm up in a quieting motion, looking only slightly tipped off by Kevin’s blowout. It was probably the last thing he’d ever say to Andrew — probably the last thing he’d say at all, if Andrew’s murderous wishes were to be fulfilled — and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. “That’s enough, you two. Kevin, do you understand how heavy of an implication that is? You cannot take it back. You know Andrew’s issues with being taken advantage of.”

“But isn’t it, doctor? Isn’t it being taken advantage of?” Kevin spits out, “Isn’t it taking advantage of someone to hurt them from a position of power, thus rendering them unable to defend themselves? I think it is. I think I won’t allow him to make me seem crazy for being angry.”

Betsy blinks for a few seconds, searching for Andrew’s eyes. Andrew, on the other hand, is perfectly still, frozen from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. There is no pride in Kevin to have made him like that — there is only tiredness, so deep it settles in his bones. His bones; the place he knows Andrew the best in. Kevin sighs, “I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to. But I can’t do that with you using me as your punch bag because you know I won’t hit back, Andrew. I can’t do that.”

“I did not mean to,” Andrew says in a whisper, almost a prayer. “I did not mean to.”

“Andrew,” Betsy calls, her tone unwavering, “breathe. Breathe. You can’t fix this if you’re having a panic attack. You’re with me, you know this. You’re in my office at Palmetto State University. You are safe. You are having a joint session with Kevin.”

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Andrew repeats, and it’s the most vulnerable Kevin has ever seen him. Something in his chest recoils sadly at the sight. “I did not mean to take advantage of you. I was just— Neil— I lost control.”

Kevin purses his lips, allowing his bruising heartbeat to will down. “I know you didn’t mean to be cruel. That doesn’t mean you were kind.”

“Okay,” the therapist sighs, adjusting her glasses. “Okay. Andrew, I don’t think Kevin shouldn’t be allowed to manifest his anger in a controlled environment. You hurt him in a way that hindered his own recovery, and triggered memories of his own abuse. You did not mean to bring those memories back, but it has happened all the same. Kevin, do you think this could be fixed?”

He wets his lips, gently thumbing along the skin of his throat where sickly yellow, green and purple bruises were only a few weeks ago. Andrew follows his movements almost obsessively, and something glossy shimmers under the layer of apathy Kevin knows too well; guilt. Self-loathing. Kevin huffs a soft sound, and answers honestly, “I don’t know if I can forgive it in a way that’s healthy.”

She nods. “Thank you for your honesty. Andrew, do you think there is anything you could do to make it up for him?”

Andrew exhales shakily. “He could hit back.”

Betsy frowns, but Kevin beats her to whatever she was going to say by uttering, “No. I won’t put my hands on you.”

It makes Andrew offer him a weird look, though he’s still far, far away, the guilt now a lot more emptier; cotton-white. He looks speechless, so Kevin completes it for him: “I’m not like them. I’m not like…” like you, he wants to say, but wills it away; it would be too cruel. “I’m not going to hit back. I just want… I don’t know, Andrew. I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m tired of having no choice. I'm tired of having the yes choked out of me.”

“I will make it up to you.” Andrew steadies his gaze onto Kevin’s face, gripping the armrest of his chair until his already pale knuckles turn white. It sounds like a promise. “I will make it up to you. You have my word.”

It doesn’t mean much to me right now, Kevin wants to say. Instead, he answers, “Okay,” because really, what else is there to do? Andrew’s word is the best he can offer. There is nothing else he can promise and not even Exy can mend — whatever this is. Whatever Andrew has made of them.

“Is there anything else you want to say, Kevin?” Betsy asks, gently, her words a feathery touch skimming down the side of his face.

Kevin doesn’t answer, staring directly at Andrew, wishing that he could at least hold his gaze for a second, a minute, a lifetime — enough that Kevin could peel back the years of apathy from him like jackets, meeting Andrew, for once, in all of his mess the same way he has met Kevin’s messes one too many times. “Yes,” he says, and Andrew snaps his gaze towards Kevin with something too akin to shame for it to be any comfort. Still, Kevin holds it like it’s a prize, challenges him, tells him something Andrew might have not believed until now: I am unbreaking. “Wash that look out of your face. It’s a waste of blood and sweat, and I won’t have it in my life or in my Court. You cannot break me. I am angry at you because you tried when you were supposed to have my back.”

“I know,” Andrew answers, his grief razor-sharp and stupefying. “I will not be like them. I will not be like him. I will make it up to you.”

“Good,” Kevin tells him, crossing his arms and baring his teeth. “I’m expensive to keep.”

Betsy looks like she wants to interrupt their relentless stare down; Kevin’s muddy green meeting Andrew’s forest fire hazel, a battle of wills years in the making. Kevin might not hit back outside of Court, but he does not pull away — he is not the man to do it. If it aches in Andrew, then it should ache and ache and ache, until it balances out the pain he caused; until he rots into something new.

He is just a boy, barely a man, a shadow of what someone with such unrelenting morality should be and act like. Kevin looks at him — really looks at him, no bias clogging his mind, and what he sees is what he’s always seen; a boy.

Leave it to the rest of the team to mistake Andrew Minyard for a hero or a villain. Their eyesight is filtered through their own self-beliefs, their opinions are based on their inability to believe others have the same nuance and complexity they believe themselves to have. Kevin Day, though — he has always had perfectly sharp vision, and he cannot be fooled by sharp knives and dead eyed gazes. He came from men much worse; he sat with the horrors of the world, unflinchingly, long before Andrew did.

If Andrew could only be what he pretends he is.

#all for the game #aftg #kandrew #kevin day #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #neil josten #my writing #kevin #andrew

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

“Please just hold on a little longer. I can’t loose you too.” Yakko Wakko dot

Yakko knew things wouldn’t feel the same after Wakko left, he just hadn’t expected it to this degree.

At first, it had been okay. Not pleasant, nor was it enjoyable, but... bearable. With Wakko being gone, and Dot often needing to nap to preserve her strength, Yakko was left alone with his thoughts, something he was hating more and more. Times like that he wished he was a normal kid with normal kid problems.

He missed his parents a lot during those times too.

He had vague memories of being sick when he was a kid. His mother held him close, never leaving his side and singing softly to him. His father would tell him tales of battles he had fought in his knight days. He also told the story of how they met.

He loved that story, and would’ve given anything to hear them tell it again.

Yakko sighed. It had been nearly five years and he still missed them.

However, it wasn’t all bad. They only had to move once from winter to spring, and it seemed Yakko had a stroke of luck because just a little way outside of the town was an empty water-tower like building that was empty, except for two beds. Two whole beds. Yakko couldn’t even recall what it felt like to sleep in a bed, so he was overjoyed and full of excitement to show Dot.

Dot had been delighted to hear she’d have her own room and a giant bed of her own. Normally, Yakko was supposed to take the bigger bed, he was older and taller, but he wanted his sister to be as comfortable as possible. After all, she could very well-...

You know...

There were some sentences Yakko still wasn’t ready to finish.

However, that stroke of luck ended, and by May, Dot had hit another rough patch- a really, really rough patch. So much so that he considered writing Wakko a letter to return, but Wakko hadn’t written in a little while and Yakko wouldn’t have known where to address it.

It was moments like that that just made Yakko think, “Wow, this really sucks.”

“Y-yakko-” Dot called hoarsely from her room.

“I’m coming Dot, i’m coming,” He said as he finished preparing her a bowl of soup as quick as he could. He really hated leaving Dot alone, even for a second, like this. He never felt sure she was alive unless he was there, and watching her breathe.

“I’m back,” Yakko said as he entered and set the bowl down on the little nightstand he had made for her next to her bed, before scooting next to her in bed before she snuggled up next to him.

“Dot, you can’t snuggle now, you need to eat,” He pointed out. Dot shook her head weakly.

“Not hu-hungry-” She tried to say, but got interrupted by a lengthy cough that was bad enough to make Yakko cringe as he patted her back.

“C’mon Dot, you know it’s for your own good,” Yakko said. Dot didn’t look at him. Sighing, Yakko added, “If you can’t do it for you... can you at least do it for me?”

Dot glanced at him after that. He silently pleaded with his eyes and Dot begrudgingly sat up and nodded. Yakko was thankful that argument still worked: he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when/if it didn’t. That didn’t matter though, as that wasn’t the here and now, and Yakko began to feed her the soup.

Dot had always had a distaste for the soup, and Yakko couldn’t really blame her. The herbs and medicines the doctor had recommended didn’t smell all too good, nor did they taste pleasant, but they were good for her so she had to have it. Today, she wasn’t putting up much of a fight and willingly swallowed, which meant Yakko could rest easy tonight knowing she had at least something in her system today, something he couldn’t quite say for himself.

After a while, it was clear Dot had had enough and he set the bowl aside, and Dot cuddled back into him, but Yakko noticed that she clearly had something on her mind today, and whatever it was it was clearly bothering her. Yakko took in a deep breath, and mentally prepared himself before asking what was the matter.

“Yakko, what were Mom and Dad like?” she asked weakly.

“M-mon and Dad?” Yakko blinked. Of all the questions she could’ve possibly asked, he hadn’t prepared himself for that one. Dot nodded.

“W-well... Dad was a handsome knight who had married a beautiful princess,” he said.

“I know that Yakko... I mean what were they really like? Personalities, likes and dislikes, loves and hates,” Dot looked up at him. Yakko grimaced, but internally cursed himself for that. Dot had a right to be curious, she was less than a year old when everything happened, and Yakko had plenty of time to prepare himself for this moment.

“Well... Dad was really strong, and really really wise. He loved reading and liked to read me and Wakko bedtime stories,” Yakko said. “But he was also really funny, and he liked doing bad magic tricks for Wakko that made mom cringe,” he chuckled a little at the memory and was happy when he saw Dot was doing the same.

“But Mom still loved him, right?” Dot asked.

“Of course, that was one of the things she loved about him. He always made her smile,” Yakko smiled a little, hearing her in his head.

“What about Mom?” Dot asked. Yakko felt himself cringe as a swarm of memories flooded his mind that he pushed back, stuff he definitely wasn’t going to tell her.

“She... she was beautiful, witty, and kind, and a lot like you,” Yakko said, looking down at his little sister and noticing how true his words were.

“Really?” Dot said, trying to sit up, but was too weak, so Yakko helped her.

“Of course. There’s a reason you two share names,” He joked.

“Her name was Dot too?” She tilted her head.

“No, her name was Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca II, and your full name is Princess Angelina Contessa Lousisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III,” Yakko said. Dot smiled.

“I like that name,” She smiled weakly.

“It’s a very good name,” Yakko nodded.

“Better than Wakkorotti,” Dot added, and Yakko snorted.

“You got that right, just don’t tell Wakko,” He laughed. Dot nodded and did a “lips sealed” motion, before coughing weakly and returning to her cuddling position. Yakko tiredly sighed.

“I’m sure if she were still alive she’d be very proud of you- they both would be. They loved you very much and were willing to die if it meant you would be safe,” Yakko practically whispered as he stroked the fur on the top of her head softly. However, after he said that, Dot started to cry, which confused Yakko.

“Hey- what’s the matter?” He asked, equal parts confused and concerned.

“M-m-mom a-and dad d-died a-and I-i s-still m-might d-die and i-it’ll be for nothing a-and you’ll b-be sad a-again a-and Wakko is-isn’t here a-and- a-and-” Dot quickly lost control of her words and began to give in and sob into his chest.

“Dot- don’t say that,” Yakko was aghast. He honestly had no idea where such thoughts had come from.

“B-but it’s true,” She sniffled. “Th-they died to pr-protect u-us b-but I’m gonna die a-any way.”

“Dot, you aren’t going to die,” Yakko frowned.

“B-but...”

“No ‘but’s Dot. You can’t die. I won’t let you,” Yakko stated. “There is nothing on this planet I wouldn't do to keep you alive, and if death wants to take you he’ll have to get through me first,” he said.

“But I don’t want you to die! Wakko needs you!” Dot pleaded with teary eyes.

“Y-you... you need to stop caring about me... I don’t want you to be sad...” she muttered quietly and Yakko couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No. I refuse,” He shook his head.

“Yakko, please, I’m hurting you. You can’t care about me anymore,” She said, trying to push him away with all of her might, but her efforts were ineffective.

“Well, that’s tough. Because whether or not you want me to care about you, I’m gonna. Do you know why?” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“Because you’re my baby sister, and it’s my sworn duty as your older brother to take care of you. I love you Dot, and nothing is ever going to change that. I’d never, ever stop caring about you, no matter how much you beg me to.”

“B-b-but-”

“No ‘but’s Dot. I love you, nothing, and I mean nothing, is ever going to change that,” He quickly wrapped her into a hug, and she buried her head in his arms and cried more, and he didn’t even flinch when the cries mixed with coughs, he was determined to never let her go.

The pair stayed like that until Dot was able to wear herself out, exhausted by the emotional outburst. Still, it seemed to be slightly therapeutic, as the certain tension that had been with her for the last few days seemed to have weakened.

Yakko stood and kissed her forehead as he tucked her in.

“Please don’t give up yet Dot,” He thought as he smiled tiredly at her. “I know what I said, but I’m scared too. I just... I can’t afford to lose you too.”

“Goodnight Dot,” He said out loud.

“Wait Yakko-” She grabbed his arm.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Can... can you stay with me tonight?” Dot looked away nervously.

“Of course,” Yakko smiled tenderly, which only increased as he saw the joy it brought to her as she skooched aside so there was adequate room for him. It was a big bed, and though it was full of hay and not feathers, it still was plenty big and comfortable enough for the both of them.

“Goodnight Dot,” Yakko said as she snuggled up close.

“Goodnight Yak,” Dot smiled weakly before sniffling and shivering slightly. Yakko held her closer and the shiver subsided.

Dot had no idea what she had been talking about. Yakko was never ever going to stop caring about her. He didn’t care if it would hurt him more in the long run, the last thing he wanted to end up was bitter and alone. He promised his mom he’d take care of his siblings and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop caring now.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#my fics #animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #dot warner #family feels #angst #feels #i just-#im a sucker for their relatuonship #especially in wakkos wish

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3

Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)

The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

MASTERLIST

A small part of you scoffed when Satan told you he'd be tutoring you while helping out with your volleyball practice. He may be the smartest guy you know, but the idea honestly seemed stupid. How did he expect you to pay attention to the ball in front of you and the words coming out of his mouth at the same time? It didn't seem possible; it didn't seem practical. You went along with the plan because he promised he'd help out with your practice, not because he claimed it would help his tutoring.

You should have known better than to doubt someone like Satan, though.

This may just be the best tutoring session you've had yet.

"It's important to note that the primary reason why Americans didn't want to join WWII was that the Nye Committee spread lies about America's purpose for entering the first world war," Satan explains, continuing to explain the chapter of history you're on while helping you stretch. "The Nye Committee essentially stated that America's purpose was purely economic, and that arms manufacturers encouraged the government to enter the war so they could increase production and raise profit."

You nod your head, grunting lightly as Satan coaxes your body lower while you continue to reach for your left leg. He's surprisingly good at this; not just the helping you stretch part, but also the whole summarizing the relevant parts of the chapter while cutting out the unnecessary information part.

You almost feel bad for having ignored him this past week during all his normal tutoring sessions.

"Do you remember the senator for which the Nye Committee was named?" Satan asks you when you finally pull out of your stretch and begin reaching for the other toe. "We discussed this earlier."

You frown. You certainly do remember Satan telling you something about the Nye Committee, but you can't remember what.

"Um…"

There's an exasperated sigh from above you as Satan's palm stops pushing your back lower and he groans to himself, but the sound seems to stir your memory. You abruptly recall him making that same groan of frustration just half an hour earlier when you first arrived at the student gym, when you interrupted his explanation of the Nye Committee to set a volleyball straight in the air to him, only for it to bounce perfectly off his head.

"Gerald Nye!" You exclaim, withdrawing from your stretch to beam at Satan. "You said it was named after Gerald Nye!"

There's a flicker of hope on his face, a moment of silent pride because this is perhaps the first time you've successfully answered one of his questions without requiring hints.

"Good job," He blurts, surprised. He clears his throat immediately after, quickly continuing his explanation of the global state of affairs during WWII, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

A peaceful grin crosses your face as you continue to stretch.

There's something therapeutic about having someone talk to you while you go through your preparatory routine. Having your body occupied with warmups actually makes it easier to focus on Satan's words. This is definitely something you could get used to, a form of tutoring you'd happily partake in because it's genuinely enjoyable.

"Alright," You interrupt once you've finished stretching your legs and are now just casually flexing your arms. "Let's move on."

"To what?" Satan glances at the textbook that's still open. There are a couple pages left in the history chapter, and you need to get through this material by tomorrow for your reading check quiz. "Can't you stretch a little longer so I can finish explaining the chapter?"

"I guess," You shrug. "But I have to do a warmup jog before I can actually get started anyway, so why don't you just keep explaining stuff while I run?"

Satan shoots you an unconvinced look.

"You expect me," He mumbles under his breath, shaking his head. "To believe that you'll actually pay attention if I read to you while you're running laps?"

"Eight of them!" You exclaim, nodding eagerly.

"I don't think that's—"

"Okay, I'm starting!"

You don't bother waiting for Satan's approval before jogging over to the red line that borders the student gym. You know he could easily catch up to you if he wants. All your efforts as an athlete have failed to make you a particularly impressive runner, and you're definitely among the slower side of your team. Of course, that's never set you back, given that you'll readily dive for a ball without a second thought if you know you're too slow to sprint there on time, but it still surprises you when Satan doesn't tackle you as soon as you begin to run your laps.

You understand why in a moment.

"Woah, you really are slow."

Your eyes widen when you see Satan jogging next to you, fists lose at his side. Somehow, he's maintaining your pace effortlessly, not a hair out of place as he moves his legs in what looks more like a brisk walk than your stuttering jog.

"How are you—" You have to cut yourself off to breathe, a bubble of frustration rising when you see how easily Satan jogs at your side.

"Alright. Back to our lesson."

The blonde barely takes any time to breathe as he continues to educate you on how Nazi Germany channeled success within athleticism into socialism in an attempt to make their regime seem more prosperous, easily continuing on to explain how the development of the radio only further strengthened Hitler's influence. He maintains the same tone he would have if he were merely walking, utterly undisturbed by the fact that you're jogging and now struggling to keep up with his pace.

"Slow down," You gasp at him when you're on your fifth lap. Satan had unintentionally picked up the pace to turn it into what looks like a real jog for him (which coincidentally ended up being your sprint), and you're not sure what's suffering more: your heart rate or your ego.

"Oh, my bad."

It's almost shameful when Satan drops his pace to yours, abruptly making your jog seem like a snail's pace as compared to the rapid speed he'd been pushing earlier. At the back of your mind, you consider trying to pick up the pace, trying to sprint faster, but the memory of Satan's untroubled lecturing even as you were struggling to keep up with him tells you that he's the last person you want to challenge.

Eight laps cannot be over soon enough.

You all but collapse on the ground when you finish, nowhere near as excited as Satan about the fact that he managed to time it so that his explanation of the chapter ended the moment you completed the last lap. All you can think about is the awful fact that your nerd of a tutor who quit track three years ago is still somehow better at running than you.

And yes, it hurts your ego substantially.

"How are you so fast?" You whine as you try to regain your breath on the floor, trying not to look up at Satan because you already know that he'll look nowhere near as disheveled as you.

"Born that way," He says with a grin, walking over to your duffel bag to grab your water bottle. He takes a sip before he gives it to you. "Sorry. All that talking made my throat a little dry."

You can't help but pout at that. Your mile-run was so slow that not only was Satan able to finish a whole history lesson during it—but it wasn't even the physical exertion that wore him out. It was the talking.

"Hey, don't feel bad." He frowns when he sees your pouty expression. "You're still miles better at volleyball than I could ever hope to be. No, really. Miles."

The thought does little to console you.

"Satan. Please," You begin, taking a long sip of your water and pulling yourself to your feet only so that you can clasp Satan's hands in yours. "Teach me your ways. I want to be as fast as you."

"Let go," Satan blurts as he pulls his hands free of yours, his nose scrunching up. "You have sweaty palms."

"Satan!"

The boy laughs, a rich sound that fills the empty gym. His grin is broad when he faces you next, pride decorating his features. "You're not that slow, I promise. I'm just…"

Ridiculously fast, you think to yourself.

"A little better at running than the average person. That's all. It's stupid for you to compare yourself to me when it comes to running, just like it's stupid for me to compare myself to you when it comes to volleyball."

"It's not stupid," You grumble to yourself, taking another sip of water before tossing the bottle back into your volleyball bag. "You still haven't told me why you quit track."

"And I'll never tell you unless you start getting better grades," Satan interrupts, briskly transitioning into his tutor-mode.

You open your mouth to retort, to shoot him a mischievous comment and maybe pull him back into a longwinded conversation, but the moment the blonde walks over to your volleyball cart, it's just head-empty, and all you can think about is practice.

There's a brief transition period where Satan specifically asks you what you want him to do, because "this is supposed to help you in both your tutoring and volleyball," so he "may as well do exercises that are actually helpful." It's how you finally manage to worm him into a downball exercise, which wounds up being pretty effective because Satan seems to be sufficiently muscular such that every ball flies to the ground with impressive force but also sufficiently terrible at volleyball such that every ball is several feet away from you, making for an excellent simulation of a real game environment.

There are, of course, the questions that Satan insists on asking you in between every downball. He's moved on to explaining physics to you, now, and you don't bother asking him how he somehow has all this information memorized, merely leaving the explanations to him because they do sound an awful lot like what your teacher has been explaining in the past week.

But somehow, the practice remains enjoyable.

Every now and then, the two of you need to take a pause so you can collect the balls from the ground. Satan only brought one cart over, so the two of you do have limited resources; but the overall experience is surprisingly smooth. So smooth, in fact, that the two of you end up moving on from physics to English, English to computer science, computer science to art appreciation, and you're about to tackle another subject when the doors to the gym abruptly open and you see the familiar faces of your teammates.

"It's time for practice!" You exclaim eagerly, your face lighting up. "Satan, I gotta go!"

The blonde raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You've already practiced with me for nearly two hours."

"That wasn't practicing, Satan. That was studying. You made us stop for so many questions that I could barely even get my heart rate up."

The blonde shoots you another concerned look, still hesitant. "Maybe you should sit this practice out. Or at least take a short break. I don't want to be the reason for you getting injured."

"Aw, what a sweet sentiment~" You coo, slinging an arm over Satan's shoulder. Your grin is bright as you tug him toward the bleachers, towards where you dumped your volleyball bag. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I'll have to practice much longer when our actual training season starts up, anyway."

You can see Satan frown at that, his lips curving downward as he doubtlessly wonders what you mean by the 'actual training season,' but he doesn't press the issue, merely nodding his head.

"Is there anything I can do to help out?" You see his fingers flex at his side, the boy eager to do something to appease his guilt for keeping you so long but clearly not sure what.

"I usually refill my water bottle before practice, so…"

"Let me," Satan interrupts firmly, taking the metal bottle from your hands. "And sit down, at least until I return. Try to rest, even if it's only for a little."

A soft smile spreads across your face at that. Satan might have been a Varsity runner in his freshman year, but it's clear that he's forgotten just how hard athletes at your school train. Still, it's endearing how concerned he is. You nod your head at him with a smile as you take a seat atop the bleachers. The action seems to pacify him, and he quickly jogs off in the direction of the water cart, easily slipping into a pace that would surpass all of your sprints.

"So~" A voice calls from next to you, oh so mischievous and oh so familiar. "What were you doing with our student president?"

"He's my tutor!" You respond brightly, smiling at your co-captain as she takes a seat next to you. "He brought me here because apparently, I wasn't responding very well to his normal teaching attempts, so he decided to throw volleyball into the mix. It's actually working out pretty well!"

"Oh?" The setter chuckles. "No surprise there. I can't really imagine you sitting at a desk and actually learning anything."

"Hey!" You smack the girl in mock offense, clicking your tongue in annoyance as you roll your eyes. "I'm not that bad. My grades have been improving, thanks to him."

"Is that so?" The girl grins, her eyes darting down as she doubtlessly checks Satan out. "And have they been improving because he's a good teacher or because he makes for such great eye candy?"

You snort. It's not like you haven't recognized by now that Satan is one of the most attractive people in your grade, but you find it hard to pay attention to that when there's so much else going on in his personality.

"He's a good teacher. Nothing else."

"So you don't want to maybe date him one day?"

"No," You deadpan. "I don't want to maybe date him one day."

The setter by your side deflates, leaning against you with an angry mumble about how unfair it is that she never gets to tease you about liking any boys. "So frustrating," She mumbles, doubtlessly in reference to you. "He's so cute, too. And smart. And popular. And rich. And perfect boyfriend material, from what I've heard."

"He's just a friend."

Satan has reached the athletic cart on the other side of the gym, already in front of the giant water cooler. He catches your gaze, shooting you his usual, broad smile as he continues to fill your water bottle.

Keep resting, he mouths to you, gesturing for you to remain seated when you attempt to stand.

"A good friend," You correct yourself.

Satan is a firm believer that there is beauty in simplicity. It is how he has approached life and it is how he has approached tutoring you: finding the simplest route and executing it with maximum precision.

In the present moment, this has translated to Satan's agreement with you: one correct answer, one toss. One piece of evidence that you're actually improving in your classes, and one chance to improve on your volleyball hitting form. One nod at academia, one nod toward athletics.

It's an ingenious agreement, simple as it is beautiful.

The execution, though, is anything but.

"You have to toss higher," You hiss, catching your ball in midair and throwing it back to Satan before your feet have even touched the ground. "The ball needs to reach my hand at the peak of my jump, not my head."

Satan scowls at your admonishment, grumbling under his breath before tossing the ball to you again, lifting it higher.

It's been precisely four days of this volleyball-meets-tutoring agreement, and Satan's hands have already begun to cramp from the hundreds of sets per day he's been tossing you. The manicure Asmo gave him right before he left the House of Lamentation has begun to chip off, the bright green nail polish now cracked and uneven. The blonde even has a bruise on the side of his torso from getting hit by one of your jump serves two days prior, just another battle wound in his war to make you pass your classes.

The only positive to this whole arrangement is that you really are beginning to improve.

"What were Caesar's last words?" Satan asks, consciously picking a straightforward question that he expects you won't remember the answer to.

"Et tu, Brute?" You smirk, quietly beaming because you know you're right.

Satan suppresses a sigh, ignoring the ache in his palms as he tosses the ball into the air and sets it to you, making sure the ball arches unnecessarily high because you jump like a goddamn frog.

"That's better!" You cheer as your palm slams into the ball with inhuman force, hitting it to the ground and letting the sound echo through the gymnasium.

Satan shudders, thinking about the bruise he's sporting on his torso from your serve the other day. He doesn't want to imagine how much pain he'd be in if he'd been on the receiving end of that spike you just delivered.

"Again," You demand, already backing up in anticipation for another serve as Satan brainstorms up another question to ask you for your cumulative Shakespeare test tomorrow.

The truth is that he thinks you're ready. A statement he never would have imagined one week ago, but it has become reality. By combining volleyball practice and academics into one, it's as if your brain is unable to differentiate between the two and you simply have to use your full energy on both, resulting in an impressive amount of progress.

"Why is Romeo banished?"

"For killing...Mercutio? No, wait! For killing Tybalt!" A triumphant grin spreads across your face, proud and happy.

Satan tosses you another ball.

He's genuinely impressed with the level of focus you've been able to retain during these past few tutoring sessions. When you first asked him to read you the plays from your literature class, the boy was skeptical. Particularly so because you wanted him to read to you as you cycled through your conditioning exercises, and Satan doubted that reciting Hamlet's infamous monologues while you did burpees would help you learn. The blonde was pleased to discover that he was wrong, though. By the end of the day, he had found that while there's nothing you seem to loathe more than properly sitting down to read a book, you actually enjoy being read to. It's helped him teach you material in nearly every subject.

"Explain why Cordelia was disowned."

"Cordelia...Cordelia...who?"

Ah, there it is.

Whenever Satan grows a little too proud of you, you always seem to dash his hopes.

"Cordelia," The blonde mutters, already sensing what your next words are going to be. "From King Lear, the book you were supposed to finish on your own yesterday."

"Oh, that." You hide your hands behind your back, smiling sheepishly. "I, um, didn't."

Satan sighs, letting the volleyball in his hands bounce back into the cart he picked it up from.

"Wait!" You cry, trying to stop him. "Just a few more tosses, please! I've been trying out this new hitting technique where I try to hit the ball straight down instead of with an angle and I'm finally getting good at—"

"Too bad," Satan blurts, crossing his arms and interrupting you. "If you wanted me to help you practice, you should have done the reading I assigned you. That was our agreement."

"But it was a whole play! How was I supposed to read all that in one night? That's just cruel!"

"What's cruel is you choosing to ignore that play for so long. You had weeks to read King Lear. You chose to make it difficult for yourself."

Satan grabs the volleyball out of your hands and drops it in the wheeled cart, already moving to the other side of the net to pick up the remaining balls from your hits.

"But Satan!" You continue to whine, still trying to tug him backward. For the first time, though, he manages to fight your grip, internally thanking his six brothers for having taught him the art of pushing people away.

He doesn't pay you much mind when you groan and flop backwards onto the gym floor, spreading your limbs out like a starfish. The sight only makes the edges of his lips quirk up in amusement because, really, as nice as it is to see you energized and full of life, it's still nicer to be reminded that even you have your physical limits.

"Come on," He mumbles, nudging your shoe with his own. "Let's go."

"Don't wanna," You mumble in response, closing your eyes. "Tired."

You emphasize the sentiment with a yawn, and Satan would almost believe that it was genuine if not for the sneaky smile that you have to fight off your lips.

He rolls his eyes.

The boy leaves you be while he cleans up the rest of the gym, picking up all the balls from your practice and depositing them in the cart before dragging it over to the room it's supposed to be stored in overnight.

The blonde is unfamiliar with the whole action of putting athletic equipment away, not having done any sports since his freshman year of high school, but he offers every time. The small amount of time it takes him to clean everything up is virtually the only break you seem to take, and while you don't appear to notice the way your legs have begun to tremble with overexertion at the end of every day, Satan notices. And he will not hesitate to clean up the entire gym if it means you'll take these few minutes of rest.

"We still need to do math," Satan says when he grabs your volleyball bag and sits down next to you. It's the one subject that the two of you can't do over volleyball practice, the one subject that you actually need to sit down and do yourself.

"I'll do it in the morning."

"You always say that, and you never end up doing it."

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

Satan doesn't bother hiding how he rolls his eyes as he pulls your water bottle out of your volleyball bag and shoves it into your hands.

"Drink," He tells you, already getting out your day shoes so you can take your volleyball shoes off and get ready to go home.

"Don't wanna sit up," You drawl, your body still lying on the ground.

"Drink, or I'll make you do math the minute we get back to the dorm."

Satan has never seen you shoot up faster, a small smile gracing his lips when he sees you pop the lid off your bottle and begin chugging it down instantly.

"Ah," You mumble after you've drunk the whole thing. "That felt surprisingly good."

Satan bites back a quiet I told you so, instead opting to gesture for you to switch your sneakers.

He ignores your quiet complaint that he's such a slave driver, that it's unfair he's making you do all this. The truth of the matter is simple: you have a cumulative Shakespeare test in less than twelve hours, and you still haven't read one of the assigned texts.

Time, unfortunately, isn't something either of you have in abundance today.

"Up," Satan demands, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet before he drags you out the door.

The entire walk back, you're leaning on him for support, and the blonde staggers more than once as he tries to balance the weight of your volleyball bag in one hand and you in the other. The picture is one that's graced this sidewalk more than once in these past few days, but Satan can't bring himself to care as he internally frets over how he's going to get you to pass this test when you're clearly too tired to properly have a full-on tutoring session. If your nonstop yawning weren't sufficient, the way you practically fall asleep on Satan in the elevator is proof enough that you really are exhausted.

"Take a shower," Is what his final decision is when the two of you arrive back at the dorm, at the little hallway that separates the 665 of your room and the 666 of Satan's. "It'll wake you up."

"I don't want to be woken up," You argue, trying to push against Satan to flop onto your bed.

You clearly don't care about the test tomorrow, but Satan does.

"Either take a shower or wake up some other way," The blond hisses, glaring at you. "But you are not going to bed until you've finished reading King Lear. And unlike yesterday, I will personally be supervising you to make sure you don't fall asleep in the middle again."

You scowl at that, your earlier pout turning into a harsh glare as you realize that Satan has essentially left you with no choice.

"Fine." You blurt. "I'll shower."

It's only once you've gathered your clothes and toiletries and are gone from the room that Satan realizes just how in-character it would be for you to simply choose to sleep in the shower stalls.

The blonde instantly begins to panic.

He's pacing back and forth in your room by the time you've returned, trying not to bite his nails with his book discarded on the bed because he knows that there's no way he'll be able to get you out of the bathroom if you choose to do so, and that if you really do try to hide out in the shower stalls, it's almost certain that you'll fail your test.

When his eyes catch sight of you, the tension in his body visibly disappears.

"Why were you pacing?" You ask, a teasing laugh slipping from your lips as you dump your other clothes in the hamper. "What, did you think I'd just hide from you in the bathroom?"

"Yes." Satan doesn't bother hiding the truth. "And I'm quite surprised that you didn't."

You open your mouth to speak, but the way you avoid his eyes and fidget with the edge of your T-shirt speaks louder than your refusal to deny his words.

"You did, didn't you?" Satan accuses. "You actually tried to sleep in the shower stalls."

"Madam Scream caught me." You explain quietly, refusing to meet Satan's eyes. "She told me to go sleep in my own bed, and when I tried to tell her I was trying to hide from you, she just got even madder."

A warm laugh spills from Satan's lips. He'll make sure to thank the dormitory administrator when he next sees her.

"Wonderful." He grins. "Now, sit. We have to get through this whole play, and I doubt you've even read the beginning."

"I don't want to, Satan," You plead, your hands flying together in a loose imitation of prayer. "Please, please, please don't make me read it all. I can't. I'll die. My brain will explode."

The blonde sighs. No doubt, you're being unnecessarily melodramatic, but he can see the tones of desperation coloring your eyes. That, and he's been tutoring you long enough to know that you really do loathe reading, enough to make you request to do math instead if that's what it takes to get you out of it.

"Alright," Satan mumbles, picking the book up himself. "I'll read it to you. How does that sound?"

You still look hesitant, and Satan can tell that this wasn't the compromise you were hoping for. Even after your shower, the pull of sleep looks strong, and he can practically feel your bodily exhaustion through the droop of your shoulders. Still, this is all the leeway Satan can give you.

"Fine."

Satan smiles, pulling out a chair and gesturing for you to sit next to him.

"No." Your expression is unchanging as you blink at him. "Bed."

You all but throw yourself onto the mattress, patting the spot next to you expectantly with an impish grin.

"This isn't a bedtime story," Satan hisses, trying to get you to take this seriously. "You need to actively listen to the play. You can't just—"

"I can't hear you if you're not on the bed."

The blonde is impressed with himself when he manages not facepalm.

As usual, Satan is forced to give in to your whims, and he awkwardly slots himself next to you on the bed with a scowl on his face, not bothering to be gentle as he pushes you closer to the wall to make room for himself.

"You have to stay awake," He tells you, voice even. "This is not a bedtime story."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it."

And so he finally does get on with it, awkwardly resting his back against the bed frame while you fiddle with the throw blanket on your lap and listen. It still feels awkward, reading a play out like this where he has to specify the character speaking at the beginning of every new line, but this isn't the first thing Satan has read to you and it certainly won't be the last, so he grows comfortable with the material easily.

The only issue is that you keep squirming your way down to rest your head on the pillow.

"Up," Satan snaps at you when you try to do it while he's in the middle of one of Edmund's Thou Nature monologue. "You have to stay awake."

It works to snap you out of your daze, and Satan resumes reading from a few lines earlier, occasionally glancing your way to make sure you're paying attention.

Of course, this only lasts so long. Satan is only on the second act when you lean your head back on the pillow, and he just barely resists the urge to flick you on the forehead to wake you up.

"Come on," He grunts, pulling you back up into a seated position next to him. "This will all be worth it tomorrow when you get a good grade on your test."

You grunt in response.

Satan doesn't know how long this goes on for—him shaking you awake and you quietly trying to fall asleep again—but you eventually seem to have had enough, because by the time Satan is halfway through Act III, you rest your head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" The blonde instantly snaps, his eyebrows furrowing. Your hair is still wet from your shower, and you're getting his shirt wet.

"Just try'na read better," You slur drowsily.

Sure enough, your eyes are open and you do seem to be gazing at the words on the page, but Satan is doubtful of your true intentions. After staring at you skeptically for a few moments longer, though, it's clear that you're not going to be moving unless he explicitly asks for it, so the blonde merely continues to read.

It's better this way, he thinks to himself, feeling your warm breath tickle his neck. I can at least tell if she's awake.

He tries to pay attention to the rate of your breathing at the back of his mind as he reads through the remainder of the act, gently shaking his shoulder every time he feels the rise and fall of your breaths grow a little too steady.

"Stop moving," You grumble when he shakes you awake again.

"Stop trying to sleep" is Satan's snarky response.

In the fourth act, though, Satan can't help but redirect the attention he was allotting you towards the book at hand. From Edgar's compelling narrative to Cordelia's analysis-worthy decisions, the blonde can't help but forget the outside world as he delves into the play, no longer reading out the lines but softly mumbling them under his breath as his mind lights up with visualizations of every scene. It's truly not Satan's fault that he doesn't notice when your body abruptly feels heavier, your weight no longer shifted away from him but gracelessly deposited onto him, even the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his arm only serving to further lull him into the depths of the play where nothing exists but the characters and their deeds.

Satan only realizes that you're dead asleep when the act ends, when he turns to ask you what you think and you're peacefully laying on his shoulder, long asleep and long gone.

"Hey, wake…" The boy cuts himself off before he can try to shake you awake, a surge of guilt washing over him.

You really do look exhausted.

Which is understandable, given that you had regular practice today and then some with your training-tutoring session with Satan.

He can't blame you for wanting to sleep.

The blonde sighs reluctantly as he closes the book in his hands and awkwardly tries to maneuver you off his shoulder and onto his pillow. You try to cling to his warmth the whole time, but your sleep-addled hands are useless next to Satan's cautious fingers, and within seconds, he's got you under your blankets and atop your pillow.

He'll wake you up early tomorrow, the blonde decides. And he'll finish the play with you, and he'll make sure you pass this test.

But right now, he'll let you get some sleep first.

A good decision, because Satan doesn't think he'd be able to bring himself to wake you even if he wanted to.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 5.6k

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

Notes: okay so i’m trying to change my writing style so apologies if the flow of this chapter was awkward; i’m really trying to step away from some of my bad habits (while building some new ones!) so i hope that didn’t take away too much from this chapter

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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kureis-writing-hell · 3 years

Text

Cleaning

First || Previous

Nao figures out that normal counsoling he was taught wasn't going to work woth Chisaki. He's changing his aproach. And Kai seems to do so as well. Prompt taken from this list.

In which Chisaki Kai goes through therapy!

When Nao came for his meeting with Chisaki he was stopped and told to wait. It worried him at first but then he was told that it was a cleaning day and he came while Chisaki’s cell was still undone. Not having much to do he went to the observation room, curious of how the process was executed in a prison like Tartarus. Having a permit and already being recognized by most of the guards, Nao entered the room.

And almost took a step back.

It wasn’t the fact that on one of the screens he could see an inmate being held down on long, metal rods. It wasn’t even the fact that he could see another inmate being stripped in their cell for god knows what reason. It was the fact that his patient, Chisaki, was cornered by two guards and looked detached while the third aggressively changed his sheets. Nao held back the urge to turn around and storm there, to yell at them for treating Chisaki like that. It took Nao over a month for the man to finally start opening, it was a huge progress and now Chisaki looked like he was going to shut down again.

"Nao! Hi!"

Nao flinched and looked at the guard that greeted him. He smiled at the other man and made a little wave of his hand.

"Hi. Sorry, I was told to wait."

"Yeah but they're finishing. I think you can go now." The guard waved at him and Nao nodded. Without a word he left the room.

If it wasn't for the confidentiality agreement the first thing Nao would do after leaving the Tartarus was spill everything he saw till now. The terrible treatment of the inmates, irregular meals, showers and how violent guards could be. How most of those people needed help from professionals, how broken and sick they were. Nao understood they were horrible criminals, he knew their cases from TV and couldn't fathom doing most of their crimes, yet he could see humans in them. Contrary to most of the guards here.

And most of the people outside - he reminded himself. Even if he broke the agreement and spoke about the inside of Tartarus he knew no one would really care. All they cared about was themselves and their safety. Understandable, but nonetheless annoying.

With a growing lump in his throat Nao went down the corridor, nodding to the guards that passed him. He forced his thoughts to think about Chisaki, how to approach him now. Nao was sure he's going to be difficult again.

A guard standing under Chisaki’s cell greeted him with a scowl. After a routine check of his belongings, the last one from plenty he got on the way here, Nao was let inside.

Chisaki was standing in the same corner that Nao saw him on the camera. He flinched when the door opened but didn’t do anything else.

“Hi, Chisaki.” Nao smiled at him.

The other, younger man took a moment to look up. Then he took another moment to recognize Nao and it was obvious. His wide eyes relaxed and he breathed visibly.

“How long…” he started but then trailed off.

“Two days, like always.” Nao kept smiling. He didn’t want Chisaki to notice his previous anger.

“There were… guards here.”

“Yeah, they just left. They changed your sheets.”

Chisaki looked at the bed, cringed and then visibly relaxed. He leaned heavily on the wall. He nodded at Nao and the hero took it as his cue to start their routine. With a huge relief.

“Do you want to talk about something today?” asked Nao when they were done, with Chisaki sitting under a wall. He readjusted the new sheet the way the former villain asked him to and was sitting on the bed.

And Chisaki made a pause. Normally he immediately answered, with a no. Normally Nao had to nudge him to have a simple conversation about his likes and dislikes and even that didn’t always work.

“I want to leave this place,” finally said Kai. “I want to see the boss. But I don’t, I don’t know how.”

Nao considered his hunched position, the way he didn’t look at him. Chisaki was a big man, muscular and for sure strong. They were probably the same height and Nao usually stuck out in the crowd in Japan himself. Yet right now that big, strong man looked small and lost.

“Do you understand why you are here in the first place?” asked the hero. They didn’t talk about this before and he wanted to know what Chisaki thinks about his situation. He needed to know where he should start.

“Of course!” There was a click in the walls and Chisaki stiffened. Nao waved at the camera to let the guards know he had the situation under control. After a moment he looked at Chisaki and the former villain continued, quieter. “I’m not an idiot, I know why I’m here.”

“I didn’t say you’re an idiot, you’re not,” agreed Nao. “But I still want you to tell me.”

Kai chewed on his lower lip not looking at Nao. He obviously thought hard about his answer for a bit. His jaw tensed, he licked over the bruise he made on his lower lip and Nao wondered why he struggled so much with the answer.

Then, he realized Chisaki could be thinking what Nao wanted to hear. He wanted to believe in the man, but at the same time he knew Chisaki just wanted to get out to see his former boss. And the word “manipulative” from his files became uncomfortably obvious for the hero. He still waited in silence.

“I- Because of… Eri. And the league.” Chisaki still didn’t look up at Nao.

Nao sighed and brushed his forearms, even though they were covered with his turtleneck. It was a tick he never managed to get rid of, a nervous one. This was going to be a difficult discussion.

“Can you elaborate on that? What do you mean it was because of Eri?”

Chisaki looked uncomfortable. To the point Nao wondered if he should change the topic. But before he could propose it Kai answered.

“If she didn’t run… that kid, no one would find out. Till now everything would be done, boss would be fine, my plan would work, my arms-” he looked at his stumps and cringed, shook his head and started brushing his shoulder against his chin. Nao quickly realized it was his mysophobia kicking in. “She just couldn’t sit down for a little bit longer to make it better for everyone.”

Nao wanted to bite his nail but the glove that he wore stopped him. Instead he brushed his chin and scratched his ear. He knew he’s not a good person to do this and couldn’t understand why Rei, his boss, wanted him to lead Chisaki so badly. He was still a newbie and Chisaki obviously had some real issues he didn’t know how to handle. Also Nao didn’t have the most… therapeutic approach. All he wanted to do after hearing shit like that was to stand up and shake Chisaki till he realized what he was saying. Rei always seemed so composed when dealing with criminals and he just couldn’t do the same, he was salty, hot headed and most of the time spoke without thinking.

He sighed, already hearing Rei’s scolding once he was going to call her at the end of the week.

“Is this what you really think?”

“...yes.”

“Let’s think about it then.” Nao’s smile got sharper, he heard his inner voice whispering to him to yes, tell this man everything, make him feel like shit. He shushed it away. “You experimented on your boss’ granddaughter while he was under coma, induced by you. You planned, no, you started to sell drugs that would greatly mess up the world. Not mentioning organized crime. Did that girl make you do all this stuff?”

For a long moment Chisaki was looking at Nao as if he didn’t recognize the hero. When Nao started questioning himself and scolding himself for his long tongue, the former villain spoke.

“She didn’t…” he said slowly. “But, but she couldn’t understand, she- This is bullshit!” Even Nao jumped at the sudden outburst. This time the clicking in the walls didn’t follow. “Why are you even talking about this?!”

“Why?” Nao sighed. “Because I want you to realize you won’t get anywhere with that attitude.” He watched how Chisaki’s anger shifts into despair. “This is not ‘helping prisoners get out of prison’ program, nor ‘make a wish’. It’s a redemption program, where you’re supposed to understand the mistakes you did, come out with a way to better yourself in the eyes of society and be able to live a normal life. I’m here to provide you help, not lead you by a hand.” Kai was biting his lip again, not looking at Nao. He looked shaken, angry in some way and depressed. Nao brushed his face, unhappy for yelling at his patient.

“This is why I was opposed to Rei’s decision to put me as your counselor. Your case angers me. You’re too proud and honestly, I’m surprised it took me so long to snap. But then we didn’t really talk about this before, right?” Nao laughed, to relieve his own tension, and noticed that Chisaki looked at him. “Anyway, I enjoyed meeting with you, I really did. You can be enjoyable, honestly, when you’re not like that.” He waved his hand in the direction of Chisaki. He wasn’t giving up, he didn’t want to give up. But he stepped over the line and assumed that was what he was supposed to do. “But it’s obviously not working. I’ll call Rei and tell her to send someone else. Unless you want to end this here-”

“No!” Kai jolted up, straightening his hunched position against the wall and cringing at his arms. He looked back at surprised Nao. “I don’t want anyone else and I don’t want you to stop coming. This is- you’re right. You know I decided on this only to get out of here, I need to see my boss. I don’t care about Eri, about what happens later to me I just, I need to apologize to him.”

Manipulative, full of himself, with anger issues and radical world views. Hopeless case. Nao had the words before his eyes. He didn’t have to know this beforehand to quickly realize it on his own. But, what he saw now, was a broken, desperate man in need of help. And he wanted to help him so badly. Not only to lessen his guilt against the old Shie Hassaikai boss. He wanted to find him a purpose to continue living.

He didn’t want to think about how much he could relate to Chisaki right now.

“Okay.”

“...okay?”

“If you don’t mind then sure. But it’s gonna work on different rules now.” Rei was going to kill him. “I’m not gonna be your nice therapist anymore. I’ll visit you as myself from now on.”

“Did you visit me as someone else before?”

“Yes and no,” chuckled Nao. “Let’s say… Nao is more professional and has a better approach. Nikodem is going to slap your head for saying dumb shit.”

“Ni...kodem?”

“That’s my real name. You can keep calling me Nao though, it’s shorter.”

Chisaki nodded, said Nao’s name again to himself and looked down. Nao tilted his head lightly.

“Why do you even want to come here?” he asked, not looking up.

“Because you asked me to.” Nao shrugged. “And, eh, Rei’s gonna kill me. I can relate to you. A little bit.”

“What?” Now Chisaki was the surprised one. He lifted his head.

“She got to me when I was in jail. I did some shit before, too. Looking at you right now… I can imagine myself if she didn’t get involved. Assuming I would still be alive.”

“In jail…” Kai blinked, frowned and looked to the side. “But you’re a hero now.”

“Sure, because I went through the redemption program. And it was different for me too, to be honest.” Nao scratched his chin but quickly shrugged. “It took me almost two years to be able to leave the jail.”

“What did you do?”

Nao blinked, finally catching Chisaki’s eyes, then smiled. He leaned back on the bed, supporting himself with his hands.

“You really want to know?” Oh, Rei was totally going to kill him.

“Yes.”

“Well.” Nao looked at a watch he had hidden under one of long sleeves. He still had some time till his hour with Chisaki passed. “This… is kind of a love story, to be honest.”

#bnha #overhaul #kai chisaki #mha #mha oc #original character #fanfiction #my writing

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guardian-esper · 3 years

Text

Entry #0: An Introduction

Date: I couldn’t reliably tell you in my current state.

Time: Late morning. Headache-o’-clock.

This might not practically be the best time to start writing, or rather this isn’t the best personal state of physical being, but it’s not like I can do much else when I’m this hung over. Gods, my head is pounding. I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated quite like I did last night. I went ahead to the infirmary and asked for a concoction to deal with this bottle ache, hopefully that’ll kick in soon.

Anyhow, let me back up a little here, remark on some context. Yesterday, I was awarded my first ever promotion in rank for the town guard. Last night, my new fellow sergeants decided to give me the usual rite-of-passage celebration for privates who rank up. I had, ah, to be honest, never touched a drink in my life. Not like that, at least. So uh, that’s two major developments: My first promotion, and my first drunken escapade.

I don’t really remember everything after the first few rounds, but right now I think I feel mostly regret, despite my excitement. Although, I do think I accidentally bumped into one of the women sergeants, in an accident of...inappropriate contact. I think I tried to explain myself through the alcoholic fog, but based on the faint stinging on my left cheek, I feel fairly certain of the strength her backhanding capability.

I uh, I don’t think I’ll be indulging in whiskey quite like that ever again. Need to remind myself to go and apologize later.

Ahem. At any rate, I’m here writing now at the recommendation of the lieutenant I’m now serving directly under. They said it would be good to keep a record of some kind, a source of reflection on any future operations or happenings. Not that I or they expect there’ll be all that much, considering how usually peaceful and calm it is in this little town. Still, I guess it might be worth it in a general sense, at least.

I think I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself, though. I’ve completely forgotten to record an introduction. Let’s continue this properly.

Name: Ivan Stavros.

Race: Human.

Age: 21. Born on the twenty-first day of the ninth month of the year.

Title: Sergeant of the town guard of Trelynshire.

Responsibilities: Second in command to my unit’s leader, Lieutenant B’jorn. In addition to making the usual town rounds and participating in the usual drills, I’ll be sometimes sent as messenger boy between the lieutenants and the captain. In more rare occasions, I’ll be put in charge of my unit. If circumstances ever demand it, that is.

...honestly, aside from a bit of a pay raise and some more authority, I don’t expect my new station to amount to too much. Other than a rare few major incidents, not a lot of particular danger ever comes knocking on our doors. Trelynshire is a pretty quiet town, with nothing but miles of wilds and forestry surrounding. So we’re a bit on the isolated side here, and in the context of the wider world...if I’m being honest, it’s rather boring. Peaceful, yes, and full of kind and hardworking folk, but you aren’t exactly going to find many thrilling stories about imminent danger threatening the townsfolk or anything.

Many, I emphasize. There have been a few. Including, I should mention, the events surrounding what led to my somewhat sudden promotion. Which, I will get into after my introductions here are finished. I need to fully recover before I start going over those more recent events again. Otherwise, Trelynshire itself isn‘t entirely boring, or empty of intrigue or mystery. Far from it, actually, though most of its secrets are kept rather hush-hush. Again, I will get into that, probably in a future entry.

Back to myself, however, I’ve got a solid 21 years of life to recount. At this point, they’re not something I’ve sat down to think about very much. There are...some things that aren’t very favorable to reminisce. Some things I’ve only spoken to a few people in confidence about; one of them being Lieutenant B’jorn, mentioned above. The man doesn’t like to pry too much, but he has genuinely tried to help me out, even with advice on personal matters. That might be another reason he recommended I start journaling: for the supposed therapeutic aspect of it. I mean, maybe he’s right, perhaps it would be good to finally sit down and take stock of my 21 years on this Earth, but...I’m not certain how easy that’s going to be.

I think maybe I should let this hangover let up first. Let me just sleep on it for a bit.

...

The time: Early evening, same day.

Right, I feel better now. That concoction’s worked wonders, and I’ve napped the hangover off otherwise. The rain and grey skies outside helped me sleep. Just a little worn-out still. Thank the gods that I was allowed a few days off to recuperate before taking my new station.

Anyroad, where was I? Right. The story of my life. Hmm...

Let me preface by saying that, I’m not taking stock of any of this for reader’s sympathy, not to say ‘poor poor me’ or anything like that. I don’t like to stay too hung up on the past. Growing up here in Trelynshire, my mentor would often tell me that the past need not define me or anyone, yet reflection is important all the same. That it’s to be learned from, or something. Honestly, I don’t know about that. The past is what it is, and can’t be changed. In my case, I prefer to just not hinge on it. Or think about it much at all, really. It’s not like I’m going to get closure or anything like that, and besides, there’s the here and now, and the future to think about. This town has been kind and patient with me, and gave me as good of a fresh start as I could have ever asked for. What good can really come from hinging on things that can’t be changed?

Damn it, I’m delaying. I told Lieutenant B’jorn that I would try to write, if at least to keep my head clear and focused in my upcoming post as a sergeant. He needs me focused, like everyone else. C’mon, Ivan, buckle down and get it done. It’s not like anyone else is going to read this anyway.

Right, then. I guess the very beginning of things would normally be the best place to start. Yet...I think it might be necessary here to jump around a bit. At least to better contextualize past events in conjunction with where I am in the present.

It would be most prudent then to start with the fact that Trelynshire is not my native home. No, I’m actually not from anywhere quite near here. I’m from a much more largely governed area, and Trelynshire is for all intents and purposes an independent town, as far as I can tell. As much as Trelynshire is (by a long shot) more home to me than my original home was, I feel the need to tell about my origins here.

To put matters simply, I am more or less a refugee. My home city is, as far as I know, currently in a severely war-torn state. I only saw a few days of a glimpse at this conflict before I, and many other children at the time, were rescued and extracted from the children’s boarding school we had been living in. Or rather, I should say, where we were frankly being kept and groomed. You see, according to what little I’ve learned, my home city-state has fallen into a state of fascism and borderline dictatorship over the last few generations. Growing up, I couldn’t really grasp what was going on around me there, especially being one of the ostracized lower-class kids, but in hindsight, the place is and has been a right mess.

For a more broad geographical and political context: Trelynshire is located deep within forested wilds, further inland on the continent, which all major maps call Eliostar. If one travels from Trelynshire far to the northwest, they will encounter a major desert region. This region extends into a major peninsular landmass, which is the geographical home to a major empire composed of a number of distinct city-states. Well, ex-empire, I should say. Over time, the political configuration become more democratic as the various city-states began to elect representatives to rule alongside the empress, and keep her power in check. If I recall correctly, this area is now officially called The Imperial Republic of Akkacia, formerly the Akkacian Empire.

My home city, Ireithett, is actually the capitol of one the Republic’s major city-states, Vortix, which lies near the mountainous threshold between the Republic and the desert separating the peninsula from the rest of the continent. As far as the past of this city-state goes, what I do know is that it has always been notable as one of the more militarily powerful of the states, second only to Sythemar further west. In the recent decades, however, Vortix has been the cause of tension through the Republic, and by the time I was around eleven years old, any political stability it maintained with the rest of the Republic had broken down. Whatever sparked it, an armed conflict broke out between Vortix and the rest of the Republic, who in time had fought their way across Vortix’s farmlands into Ireithett itself, intent to storm the capitol, take control, and force the leaders into some kind of agreement. I don’t know what the source of the conflict was, or even if it’s close to have been resolved yet, but that’s not currently high on my list of interests to know. As far as my life there goes, however...

Ireithett was always called the ‘crown jewel’ of Vortix, being the one major city to populate the otherwise overwhelmingly farmland structure of the nation-state. But if you were asking me if that was true, having grown up on the inside of the capitol, I could tell you that is actually far from the case. Most of the city is, frankly, overwhelmingly slums. There was always a more poor district in the outer areas, but in the past, it was much smaller. Where there was apparently an existing middle class region, there isn’t really anything left of that. I snuck in once, in fact, only to find that all of the housing was abandoned, decaying, and/or used for some governing or policing purpose by those in their unreachable ivory towers, which were separated from us common folk by tall, iron-wrought walls. In short, where I lived, and everywhere I could even go, were all slums. Even more bizarrely than this, we weren’t even allowed to leave the city itself, so I never saw much of the green fields and farmlands outside the city. A decaying capitol was all I knew, and as you might guess, it was rife with danger. Crime, homelessness, gangs, violence and substance abuse were common, and there were even rumors of trafficking. Of weapons, drugs, and...I loathe to think about it, but of people. As hard as it was being a growing kid in the slums, I shudder to think about how some less fortunate than I ended up.

In short, well, it was a shithole. I really can’t describe it any other way.

Ironically, though, the only thing scarier than thugs or traffickers was the city guard. A lot of brutalizing bastards acting at the behest of the elite, or whoever might be able to pay them more or do them the right favors. They knew little mercy and had just as little patience. Claimed to be acting in our best interests to try and get us to cooperate, but they were all the bloody definition of dirty law enforcement. And I was one of the kids unfortunate enough to be born in this city’s walls, under their monitoring.

Yet I was fortunate enough to eventually be rescued, just as all hell was breaking loose upon the city from the invading united armies that made their ways to the city gates. Obviously, it’s nearly impossible for me to look back in positivity at those days. My family didn’t have much to its name, and avoiding trouble (and resisting the urge to get into trouble for a scrap of anything better) was a monumental task all its own. I had seen my hefty share of street fights, brutality, fear and strife before I was free from it all, and it’s a difficult thing to look back on.

Honestly, though, it’s not that I don’t ever look back. I try not to, but...unfortunately, I’m not certain I can say all ties with the place are completely cut. I did, of course, have family and friends there when I was extracted and eventually brought here to Trelynshire. I don’t know, but I like to think I still do have said friends and family. The thing is, I have no idea where they are, if they ever broke free from that place, or if they’re even alive. And this was ten years ago. I don’t know what happened to my mother after I was separated from her and put in that bloody stupid boarding school. I never learned what became of my father, who joined the city guard apparently in hopes of bringing us into a better life inside the upper-class walls. And my friends...not a day goes by when I don’t wonder about them, if they’re okay or not. This kind of distance from them...it’s a thing that I loathe about how things have turned out.

Don’t get me wrong. I could not be more fortunate than I am to have been taken care of these past ten years by the folk here in Trelynshire. Despite the difficulties I’m (often, but in jest) reminded I posed to them, I’ve always been cared for and looked after here. I have a place in the world here, and it seems I’m carving out a future of some kind. But do you know how tantalizing it is to be suddenly whisked away from your home, downtrodden and hellish as it was, never to know what became of everyone you knew?! It sticks with you. Indefinitely. You feel things like guilt, even regret, regret for not finding out on your own before it was too late. Regret for not bloody fighting for it, even if you know there was little you could do.

Forgive me. I need another moment to cool off. Emotion is getting the better of me here.

...

Apologies. I’m alright. Let me try and wrap this up for the time being.

To shed light on what I was just talking about, I have indeed tried, once or twice, to learn about the goings-on in Ireithett the past ten years. Unfortunately, even if someone makes it through the desert to the border, it’s hard to be granted passage into Akkacia as a whole right now. Apparently the conflict is still going on, and the Republic’s government isn’t exactly keen on letting very many details out. In light of all this, I frustratingly only have more questions instead of answers. Still, the captain of the guard here assured me that she would keep whatever line of information possible between here and there, and update me on any developments. There is at least that, and she has my deepest appreciation. Not that I’m really holding my breath for anything to come to light any time soon, but all the same it means a lot. I’ve thanked her, and in meantime, I’ve just tried to carry on and focus on where I’m going, not where I’ve been.

With that though, I’m getting a little too tired, emotionally and physically, to carry on with all this right now. It’s getting dark outside, and the post-nap drowsiness from earlier is really starting to weigh on me. There is more to tell, certainly, but at the moment, I don’t feel very up to the task. I do, however, have a few days of off-time left before my first official shift as a lieutenant, so maybe after a good night’s rest I can go into more detail tomorrow. For better or worse, there’s a lot left to unpack here, but I’ll try again perhaps in the morning. Hmm...mayhaps I’ll set up to write in the local cafe. I could use something strong to reset with, and the service there is always top-knotch. For now, if Hypnos would be so willing to give me an uninterrupted sleep, I’ll be up and going strong again in the morrow. Until then.

-Ivan

#DnD #dungeons and dragons #d&d #d&d character #aasimar #psi warrior #fighter #ivan stavros #journal #writing #fiction #5e #fictional characters

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not-poignant · 4 years

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I'm a bit ignorant in this whole field, but I was wondering about the boundaries of professionalism psychological counseling in FFS. Like if the time ever comes when Ef may no longer require therapy (if that even can happen? considering it also feels like his trauma will be a constant battle in his life and rightfully so), will Dr. Gary still be allowed to remain in his life as emotional support/maybe even friend? That honestly feels idealistic though tbh, so I wanted to get more insight.

Hi hi anon!

Ooo there’s two good things to talk about here. The first:

Like if the time ever comes when Ef may no longer require therapy (if that even can happen? considering it also feels like his trauma will be a constant battle in his life and rightfully so)

It’s actually a myth that people stop therapy once they’re mentally ‘healthy.’ People stop therapy once their goals are met. And usually those goals actually don’t include curing them of their disorders. Most people who exit therapy still have mental disorders, but they often exit when they have the tools to manage those disorders safely, and have achieved a level of function in human society (i.e. friends, possibly partners, hobbies, the ability to self-regulate or have mostly healthy coping mechanisms) that they’re happy with.

Shit fuck this got so long, sorry.

For example, I’m always going to have PTSD, major depressive disorder, and a couple of other things. But I’ve gone from needing therapy quite often, to only needing to go about once every 3-5 weeks, and as time goes by, eventually I’ll phase out to much less often, until finally I’ll probably only need to call when I have something unusual or an emergency.

So basically, Efnisien can have PTSD and Pure O forever, but he likely won’t need a therapist forever. Though he’ll need to see one longer than most people, because of the complexity of the mental injuries he’s endured.

will Dr. Gary still be allowed to remain in his life as emotional support/maybe even friend?

That might technically be possible, but not in the way you’re thinking, and for a few reasons:

1. If Efnisien exits therapy, but then needs it again, he can’t go back to having therapy with Dr Gary if he’s Dr Gary’s friend.

2. I’ll go into this in more detail below but... Dr Gary can’t stay as like, an emotional support if he’s not working in his role as therapist. Mostly because he’s a person, and he either gets paid for his job, or they renegotiate their connection.

3. Dual relationships are considered profoundly unethical and unprofessional in therapy. So this is like, when you’re friends with your therapist and also they’re your therapist. (A more extreme version is when you have a sexual relationship with your therapist and also they’re your therapist, but I’m not going to touch that one at all, lmao).

4. ‘Once a patient. Always a patient.’ This is partly because the therapy-client relationship is built on a fairly significant power differential, and that power differential is kind of impossible to unpack once you’ve kind of gone through it that way. (It’d be like trying to make your mother no longer a mother so you can ‘just’ be her friend, your brain still knows she’s your mother).

Like, you spill your secrets to someone who responds from professional distance. They want you to do well, but all they expect from you is payment. They’re not telling you anything that doesn’t help you the most as a patient in the moment (from their perspective), and you’re not finding out anything about them as a person. It’s wildly, inherently imbalanced in nature, and sets up flawed expectations (even the expectation that Efnisien could get emotional support in a friendship with Dr Gary is, itself, kind of a sign that it’s impossible to see him as a person and not a therapist, or not in a role where he centres Efnisien’s wellbeing possibly over his own).

5. Ending therapy, and the grief it brings, is actually a therapeutic technique that’s really relevant and important! It allows the client to grieve and cope on their own (something they’ll have to do in ‘normal’ life as well), and learn for themselves that they’re so much stronger than they used to be. It mimics other circumstances where they will lose things (or people) that really really mattered to them, but in a way that is guided and very safe, and can be done compassionately. It sets a client up to go ‘oh, I survived that, actually... I can do this.’ Ending therapy into ‘friendship’ kind of ruins that process.

The general adage is - it’s easier to find a good friend than it is to find a good therapist. So keep the two separated.

The *general* rule of thumb is that if a therapist and a client are going to be friends, it should happen around 2+ years after the therapeutic relationship has been exited, to make sure that the client is like, living an independent life and that friendship boundaries can be negotiated. This doesn’t make it ethical, by the way, or even a great idea, it just makes it slightly less unethical (there are exceptions to the rule, but Efnisien and Dr Gary don’t meet any of those exceptions). Personally I’m still not a fan of it, and I don’t think it should happen in Efnisien’s and Dr Gary’s situation anyway. (I have no problems with people imagining it happening! And maybe there are AUs where Gary isn’t a therapist, but ends up become Efnisien’s friend, etc.! But I can’t imagine it for myself).

No WAY should Dr Gary be Efnisien’s emotional support and a friend. He’s either a friend, or he’s a professional, not both. There’s never a future (except in fantasy land) where Efnisien should be allowed to see Dr Gary after therapy as a friend to talk about how hard his life is and get therapeutic advice. That’s just ‘free therapy’ which is bad for both of them.

(Also, we don’t know what Dr Gary is like as a friend. It’s a fact of life that quite a few therapists are well, not that empathetic as friends, because they’re so tired from supporting their clients all day they don’t have much energy left to support their friends, lol. I say this as a person who has a lot of friends who work as therapists and psychologists (which is how I know it’s not always true, but it’s sometimes true!))

Something Efnisien could ethically do after seeing Dr Gary (also, Efnisien will still be seeing Dr Gary once this story finishes, lol, getting *some* support in his life doesn’t clear him to exit therapy at all) is send Dr Gary updates or emails about his life sometimes. Or have like a once a year session to just catch up, that’s a lot more relaxed and just going over how things have been. Like just because they terminate therapy, doesn’t mean Efnisien can’t update to say like ‘things are going well, thanks for everything’ and Dr Gary can’t reply with ‘I’m so glad to hear that’ etc.

But overall, the exiting process re: therapy is actually a really important part of therapy! It’s actually even more important if both parties have experienced positive transference (i.e. really liking each other / wanting to stay friends).

I’ve had to wrestle with this a bit myself. Like, in real life. Sometimes it’s really tempting to stay friends with your therapist. But yeah, outside of just daydreaming about it, or imagining it, it’s not something I see happening for Efnisien even though I really love Dr Gary, and I really love the way Dr Gary and Efnisien act together. It’s not something to worry about in the story anyway, we won’t be seeing Efnisien exiting therapy even if he’s really worried about Dr Gary getting rid of him, lol.

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seven-oomen · 3 years

Text

Creator Tag Game

I was tagged by @for-the-love-of-wolves

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works <3

1. Once Upon a Time ( 99.768 words)

(Teen Wolf, The DILF Club, Chris/Peter/Noah, A/B/O)

Summary: Having one soulmate is a blessing, having two is cosmic. Chris Argent left town seventeen years ago under the threat of his family, only returning briefly eleven years later for a funeral. When he left again he couldn't have foreseen the circumstances that led to the Hale fire and yet, he blames himself for it. So when he finally returns with his three pups in tow, he has to navigate a barrage of emotions, old friends and lovers, and murders being committed in the town where it all began.

Notes: I feel like I would be lying to myself if I said that this wasn’t my favorite creation of all time. It’s been SO therapeutic to write, has gotten me through hallucinations, ptsd attacks, panic attacks, and my own worst memories. It’s truly what I consider to be my magnum opus and is still ongoing. It’s a story about found family, about trauma recovery, and rekindling old flames while overcoming your past demons.

2. Once Upon a Time trailer (1:37 long)

What is it? A little video project I made as a trailer for Once upon A Time and it still makes me smile. I’m very proud of it even if it doesn’t have many notes.

Notes: One of the only vids I made this year and it was a blast to do so. If it had done better I might have done more of them. But we’ll see what next year brings.

3. Parachute (8.336 words)

(Detroit: Become Human, Hank Anderson/Connor/RK900/Gavin Reed, A/B/O)

Summary: Staring at his hands, he realized he couldn’t take any of this for much longer. The words kept replaying in his head, like a broken record or a terrible unending mantra. He shook his head, groaning miserably as another wave of nausea hit him. He had to get himself through this. He knew that hooking up in the middle of a revolutionary celebration- or humanities last night of freedom- as he called it, wasn’t the best idea. But he couldn’t have known it would fuck his life up beyond repair. Not unless he got it fixed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Luckily there's three assholes who are more than willing to help him out. Or Gavin Reed's introduction to polyamory and basic human decency.

Notes: Honestly, one of the better written fics I’ve put out this year. I never really finished it as I moved from the dbh fandom into 911 and then into teen wolf as my hyperfixations changed. But I still really love what I have written and consider it one of my better written works despite its unfinished state.

4. The way I tend to be (5.542 words)

(Teen Wolf, The DILF club, Chris/Peter/Noah, Cabin fic, Trans Chris Argent)

Summary: Peter, Chris, and Noah get stuck in a Cabin while searching for a rogue wolf. Oh, however will they keep themselves entertained and warm? Shenanigans ensue. - Fate could be a very cruel mistress when she wanted to be. And often she came together with a little vicious thing called irony.

The last year had been crazy. He discovered werewolves, banshees, wendigos, and werecoyotes were real, and so was whatever Kira was supposed to be. Chris Argent, Allison’s father and Isaac’s foster father, turned out to be a hunter, and the little bane of his existence during his career as a deputy, a certain Peter Hale, turned out to be a werewolf. As was Peter’s nephew Derek and his niece Cora. He still couldn’t completely wrap his head around that one.

Notes: Self indulgent porn with a plot and accidentally aquired a universe to write in. Was supposed to be a cabin fever fic and somehow I already have 3 new fics lined up for this universe. I just have to write them. Very smutty, a bit angsty, and features both a trans male character and bisexual dilfs who fuck each other. What’s not to like?

5. Honey, honey (1.600 words)

(9-1-1, Eddie Diaz/Evan Buckley, A/B/O, Mpreg, I didn’t know we were dating)

Summary: Eddie's been calling him this word for a while now and he can't figure out what it means. So naturally, he asks the internet for help. Specifically, Reddit. What else was he supposed to do?

Notes: Just a really sweet short story based on a reddit post that was going around at the time that I wrote this. Pretty well received, one negative comment, but overal people seemed to like it. And considering I didn’t create that much this year (6 fics and a video), I figured it was a good addition to the list.

And those are my five favorite creations this year. Though honestly, I think despite the type of year that it has been, I think this features some of my best work to date.

I am tagging @msmischief101 @mostly-vo1d @latelierderiot @thoughtfulbreadpolice @mother-shipper @crystallized-iron and anyone else that wants to do it. Also feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do it.

#teen wolf fanfiction #dbh fanfic #911 fanfic #creator tag game #ben says stuff #ben writes fanfiction #creativity he wrote

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

chapter 22.5

When My Phone Turns Off

You can all thank @ciaraparkie for pointing out that this is the best way of doing this particular plot point. You can assume it occurred yesterday after the events of chapter 22, or today before the events of the next chapter.

Jens is glad this is one of the days they’ve planned to meet up with Sander after school so they could all head to the skatepark together. He never thought he’d be so happy about such a thing, but he’s a little relieved to have that extra source of support. Robbe, however, gives him a worried glance and leans in close to him, asking, “Is it okay that Sander’s here?”

Jens purses his lips and nods, squeezing Robbe’s shoulder reassuringly. Sander notices, and obviously understands, asking, “You’re doing that today?”

“Yeah,” Jens sighs, glancing at Moyo and Aaron a few paces ahead. He doesn’t know why he’s worried. At this point, they’ve spent enough time with Robbe and Sander that it’d be impossible to still be secretly hiding any problem with it. At least, he thinks so. At this point, they’re actively supportive.

But for Jens to come out now, months later...he’s worried it’s going to be a little weird. Again.

“Yo, pussies,” Moyo calls back to them. “Are you planning on actually making it to the park today or what?”

Jens flips him off and he laughs, pushing Aaron ahead of him and jogging on down the street. Robbe gives Jens a small smile and Sander gives his back a reassuring pat. Jens takes a breath and follows them.

At the skatepark, he sits at the top of a ramp with Sander and watches the others do a few runs. He waits for Robbe to start showing off, but he’s too busy sending glances at them to try many tricks. Sander watches him in awe regardless, sitting silently next to Jens with his camera at the ready.

“You don’t have to tell them today, you know,” Sander says. “When Robbe asked, he was trying to rush you.”

Jens sighs. “I know. Of course I know that. But I’ve already been not telling them for weeks.”

“Yeah but you’ve only known for weeks. You don’t owe it to anyone to tell them. Not if you don’t want to, not before you’re ready.”

“It’s different, though,” Jens points out. “With Lucas. There’s more to it than just telling them I’m bi.”

“You’re what?”

Jens and Sander look up to find Moyo standing behind them, face surprised as he stares at Jens. Jens can’t see any malice there, any disgust, and yet his chest tightens all the same. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to actually tell them, not have them overhear. Sander sends him a look, worried and apologetic, and Jens simply shrugs. He isn’t going to take it back now, even if it isn’t going exactly as planned.

He didn’t have that much of a plan in the first place.

He catches Robbe’s gaze and beckons him over, watching him collect Aaron on his way. Moyo sits down next to Jens as Robbe jogs up and tucks himself into Sander’s side. Once Aaron’s seated next to Moyo, Jens twists around to face them and tries to be comforted by the knowledge of Robbe and Sander at his back. Moyo’s eyes flit over his face, questioning. “You’re bi?”

“What?” Aaron asks, mouth dropping open.

Jens smiles slightly and gives them a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Moyo licks his lips, shaking his head, as Aaron blinks at him. “Since when?” Moyo asks.

Jens hears Sander huff a laugh. “Since always, I guess. Since when have I known? A few weeks.

Moyo nods, looking straight ahead. Aaron looks between the two of them before settling his focus on Jens. “And what,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “what made you, uhm, realise this?”

Jens bites his lip, debates for a second, and then says, “It was Moyo, actually.”

Moyo whips back around to look at him, wide-eyed. “Me?” he demands, as Robbe bursts out laughing.

Jens joins him, giggling lightly as he says, “No, not like that. Damn. I mean, when you told us to check out other YouTube channels, I...I found this guy.” Moyo nods in understanding and waits for him to continue. Jens sighs. “It’s kind of a long story?”

Moyo shares a look with Aaron, then shrugs. He offers Jens a smile. “We’ve got time.”

So, Jens tells them much the same story as he told Robbe. He allows himself to go into a little more detail, backtracking when he realises he’s left something out. Robbe points these out occasionally, when Jens gets lost and starts going too fast, but aside from that there aren’t many interruptions. Moyo and Aaron listen intently, as does Sander, taking in Jens’s full account of the story instead of Robbe’s passed-on information. It makes his chest pinch, talking about it again, talking about it out loud, reminding himself of Lucas at all. It also feels therapeutic, more so than when he talked about it with Robbe, when the hurt was still too raw, the wound still too fresh. There’s still a thread of pain there, twined tightly with a spool of anger, all doused in the overwhelming feeling of loss that he’d felt even before blocking the boy, as soon as the realisation had set in.

Moyo and Aaron are silent when he’s done, taking it all in, considering. Jens doesn’t expect to get anything new out of this, doesn’t expect them to give him any reassurance that Robbe hasn’t already.

Still, they try.

“Maybe he is telling the truth, though?” Aaron tries. “About you, I mean. It sounds like he was being sincere?”

Moyo nods. “Yeah, man. Like, why would you go to that much work just for a joke? And why would he follow you, like your posts and shit if he was just playing a game?”

“He didn’t know it was me,” Jens points out.

“When he followed you, yeah,” Moyo agrees. “But after that? It doesn’t fit. Why would he flirt with you, and come out to you and whatever all for a joke? I would’ve been the kind of person to take the piss like that and I never would have gone to that much effort. That’d take like, a seriously sick person. And I don’t think this dude is like that. Really.”

Jens sighs, slumping until his back hits Sander’s shoulder. Sander makes a small noise of protest, but doesn’t push him off. Robbe laughs quietly and says, “I’ve already told you all this, but if Moyo thinks it's sick and wouldn’t do it, I can’t imagine Lucas would. Imagine how much of a dick he’d have to be.”

Moyo flips Robbe off, but also gestures his agreement. Jens smiles, shaking his head at them. “I was hoping you two would be on my side,” he jokes.

“Well this whole not thinking he’s really into you thing reminds me of another situation,” Moyo points out, with a pointed look over Jens’s shoulder. Sander squeezes Robbe closer to his side and drops a kiss onto his head. “And it worked out okay for them.”

“He has a point,” Sander shrugs, purposefully jostling Jens and earning a grumble in answer. “If he really means that much to you, maybe it’s worth fighting for him.”

“Or at least forgiving him,” Robbe adds softly. Jens looks back at him and Robbe gives a little shrug. “You’ll never be able to let it go if you leave it without some kind of resolution. You’ll always either be mad or wondering if you were wrong. Or both.”

Jens really hates when Robbe’s right.

Still, he shakes his head. “I can’t go back on myself now. I definitely can’t be the one to reach out. That’s a whole new level of pathetic.”

Aaron shrugs. “Maybe he’d like you taking pathetic to a new level.”

Moyo looks around him and makes a face. “What the fuck, man? No. He’s not doing that.” He turns back to Jens. “You’re not doing that, right?”

“Right,” Jens agrees quickly. Even if he’s willing to forgive Lucas, or at least hear him out, at least consider that he was honest about his feelings, he isn’t going to go crawling back to him. Ever. Lucas doesn’t deserve that amount of attention from him. But, maybe he could be convinced to unblock him, eventually. To leave the ball in Lucas’s court.

He’ll have probably already moved on by then, anyway.

“What does this guy look like, anyway?” Aaron questions. “Did you do as well as Robbe?”

Jens snorts as Sander grins, but he pulls up a pic of Lucas. “Nice,” Sander says.

Jens twists around to look at him. “Robbe didn’t show you?” Sander shakes his head, so Jens passes him the phone.

Sander considers the last image Lucas posted, complete with his personal favourite black and white filter, and simply comments, “Cute. I understand why you’d watch his videos.”

Robbe makes an indignant sound and Jens laughs, passing the phone to Moyo and Aaron, who huddle together to examine it. They both hum, and Aaron shrugs as Moyo gives the phone back to Jens. “I mean, he’s no Sander, but…”

“But he’s pretty fucking pretty?” Jens finishes. “Yeah. I know.”

Sander reaches around Jens to pinch his cheek. “But not as pretty as you,” he cooes. Jens bats him away.

“Listen, we can’t tell you what to do, but Robbe’s right. I think you should give him a second chance,” Moyo says.

Jens raises a brow. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be so…”

“Supportive?” Robbe offers.

“I was gonna say chill but, yeah, actually.”

Moyo huffs, looking away from them as he says. “I get that last time wasn’t my best moment but...I’m not good at apologising, okay? I know I’m not good at these things. I’m learning. But you know I love you, man,” he punches Jens’s arm. “That’s enough, yeah?”

Jens nods, returning his smile. Since the start of their friendship, Moyo’s been closer to Jens than he ever was to Robbe. Their friendship maybe even improved after everything, when Moyo made it clear that even though he wasn’t sure how to react and didn’t know how to be supportive at the time, he wasn’t willing to lose Robbe over it. Jens is glad the same sentiment extends to him, and that he’s coming out at a time where they’re all a bit more educated.

“It won’t be a problem anymore if you’re all done coming out to me,” Moyo points out, giving Aaron a look. It takes Aaron a moment to notice him, but then he starts sputtering, pointing out that he already has a girlfriend and being hit back with the reminder that all three of the others also had girlfriends.

“Okay but wait,” Aaron says, returning his attention to Jens. “Does this mean you’d fuck me?”

“Man,” Moyo says, as Robbe and Jens start laughing.

“No. Sorry bro,” Jens apologises.

Aaron groans. “Who, out of us then?”

“Obviously me,” Moyo says.

“No,” Jens laughs. “Out of you? Sander.”

“Really?” Sander asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

Robbe moves from under his arm, sitting up to pout at them. “Hey, Sander wasn’t an option last time, it’s supposed to be out of the Broerrrs.”

“Sander is an honorary Broerrr,” Jens points out.

“True, but Robbe’s right,” Moyo says. “Sander wasn’t an option last time.”

“Then Robbe,” Jens says immediately. Robbe cheers, offering Jens a fist bump.

“Seriously?” Aaron gawks. “What the fuck.”

“You’re last again, man,” Moyo laughs.

Aaron protests, “No, he didn’t pick between us.” Moyo rolls his eyes, but they both look to Jens. Jens points at Moyo and Aaron groans.

While they’re laughing, Jens feels at peace. He realises that, for a moment, he’d completely forgotten about Lucas.

#van der stoffels #vds #jens x lucas #wtfock #skam nl #when my phone turns off #wmpto

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jowritesthingss · 3 years

Text

A Fondness for Rabbits

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through late s2 / early s3-ish

Length: 3,538 words

Brief Summary: Jon isn’t particularly keen on the Archive’s new rabbit mascot. (It would help if you read this first! But it isn’t required.)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is annoying!

If he could, Jonathan Sims would absolutely be firing one Timothy Stoker right about now.

Unfortunately, it seems that for the moment, the both of them are stuck in some sort of limbo, working down there in the Archives.

Them and that damned rabbit Tim brought in to work.

Jon is certain, absolutely certain, that Tim only brought the thing into the Archives to bother him. It happened all too soon after they had their falling out and discovered that none of them can physically quit; there’s no way that it isn’t a coincidence.

Tim swears up and down that it’s only at the Institute because his flat doesn’t allow animals, and that it’ll be gone as soon as he can find a permanent home for it, but naturally Jon is suspicious—and rightfully so, he thinks. Perhaps Tim isn’t the one who murdered Gertrude, but that doesn’t free him from all suspicions. Jon still doesn’t know why he applied to work at the Magnus Institute. For all he knows, the rabbit could be the next step in some horrid plan of some sort.

Regardless of any possible ulterior motives, Jon knows one thing for certain—he does not want this animal in his Archives. He wants it gone, and he wants it gone yesterday.

He stresses as such to a seemingly uncaring Tim: “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim agrees placidly, and Jon huffs at that, satisfied enough for the moment.

Oh, but then Martin comes in, and Jon is tasked with the lovely job of explaining to Martin why Tim’s rabbit is allowed to stay when his stray dog wasn’t. And hell, Jon regrets this already.

He stares into the beady red eyes of the rabbit as it slowly, contemplatively munches hay in a corner of the break room. Well.

There’s nothing to do but avoid the break room from then on, yes?

...No. Unfortunately.

As the last person to leave at night, and the first person to get in to the Archives in the morning, Jon becomes the reluctant caretaker to the ridiculously furry animal that has begun to take over his Archives and win over his assistants.

Tim wheedles him solidly for a day, popping in at random times until Jon finally agrees to feed the rabbit every morning when he arrives and every night before he leaves. And Jon would say no, he really would, if it weren’t for Martin, annoying oaf he is with his big pleading doe eyes and his irritatingly effective pout. Jon feels the silent judgement radiating off of him every time he pops in bearing tea.

Of course, even if he can’t avoid the animal in entirety, Jon still tries to make his trips in to care for the thing as quick as possible.

He times it once out of curiosity and boredom while he waits for his laptop to finish a surprise update—he’s managed to get the whole routine down in under five minutes. Considering the routine consists of giving it hay, getting it a scoop of pellets, tossing it lettuce from the fridge, refilling its water, and tidying the litter box, he feels almost a bit proud.

It’s somewhat relieving, honestly, having something normal to express distaste at in between investigating his coworkers on possible murder charges and fighting weird worm people and stabby hand people and other supernatural stuff. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Jon’s not too sure he likes the way the rabbit looks at him, though. It’s a rabbit—it’s not like it’s all that smart, right? But something about it just seems so...so knowing. So otherworldly.

He’ll get the routine down to three minutes, Jon resolves. Anything to avoid the rabbit’s unblinking gaze.

The rabbit becomes Jon Jr, and Jon (now apparently Jon Sr—which, don’t get him started on that bit) becomes irritated. Well, even more irritated than he generally always is nowadays.

And yet...the rabbit seems to sense that it has been named after Jon, almost. It seems to take particular fascination with him, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why.

Whenever Jon is in the break room, the thing follows him everywhere, demanding pets and snuggles and gently nibbling at the tips of his fingers if he lets them drop low enough. So he goes into the break room less and less, expecting for it to lose interest in him or hopefully forget about or ignore him the few moments he does pop in—but the rabbit seems to become even more fiercely attached.

He knows the creature isn’t like this with the others. The rabbit doesn’t particularly like Sasha—it ignores her most of the time—and it outright bit Elias the one time he chanced in on it. It seems to like Tim and Martin a fair amount, but the moment Jon walks through the doorway it bounds over, refusing to leave his side and even trying to follow him out of the break room on a smattering of occasions.

Staring into those empty, beady red eyes, Jon could swear there is something ancient and eternal and knowing. But Tim refuses to get rid of the thing, and Martin would cry, and Sasha or Elias or probably all of them would corner him and lecture him unnecessarily about being too paranoid yet again.

Although, he could always take it to an animal shelter. The rabbit very literally eats into the Archive’s budget—the thing eats an absurdly large amount of hay. Then Martin keeps buying toys for it instead of getting the office supplies Jon has asked for just about twenty times (“what if he gets bored in there, Jon? did you know rabbits can get depression? I can’t let him get depression!”), and Tim’s determined to fatten it up with copious amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables (“only the best organics for my furred son!”).

He’s certain that he could logic it out—that if he reasoned and fought it, Elias would nod neutrally and let him get rid of it. Elias, for all he is suspect in Gertrude’s murder, seems to be the only one with a modicum of sense left in the place. Surely he’ll be on Jon’s side in this.

But when he casually asks Elias his thoughts on the matter, the man adopts an oddly amused expression and says he has no objection to an animal to emotionally support the Archives team (“especially considering the incident involving Jane Prentiss, Jon, it really might help boost employee morale”).

Jon is fairly certain that this is Elias’ stance only so that he doesn’t have to be held accountable for providing his traumatized employees with actual therapeutic aid, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead he angrily bites his tongue and excuses himself from Elias’ office before he says something stupid.

As he goes back down to the Archives and continues about his day, Jon puzzles through his predicament.

The shelter is still sounding like his best option, his coworkers’ opinions be damned. He’s always the last to leave at night and the first to arrive in the morning...perhaps he could wait until everyone is gone and take it to a shelter? Or maybe he could ask around the other departments to see if anyone needs a pet or—well, or snake food.

Although...some very small part of Jon hesitates at the thought of turning Jon Jr over to Artifact Storage or a snake or anything of the sort.

The rabbit seems almost scarily in tune with his emotions—perhaps more in tune than Jon himself—and it doesn’t seem to mean him any harm. Certainly it hasn’t attacked him with parasitic worms or stabbed him with ridiculously long, sharp fingers yet or anything like that. And, well, what could it even do if it did intend harm? Bite him? Pee on his shoes? Steal his lunch?

...Speaking of lunch, Martin keeps spilling chicken from his wrap on his pants. Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the mayonnaise has also started to escape.

Abruptly, Jon stands up from the couch, throwing away his napkin and shooing the rabbit away with a foot as he wriggles his way out of the door to the break room.

It has to be because they named it after him, Jon concludes. That’s why he’s starting to get attached. That must have been their plan, and dammit, it’s working.

He’ll give Tim an ultimatum, Jon ultimately decides as he goes back to his office. Tim doesn’t have to know what Elias thinks about the situation. And he did promise that the rabbit would go when he found it a home. So either Tim finds the rabbit a home by this Friday, or it goes out to a local shelter.

...The rabbit has a home by Friday: Jon’s.

Jon can pinpoint exactly when it happens.

He works himself into a panic when Basira Hussein quits the police force, and he loses any chance he might’ve had at getting the rest of Gertrude’s tapes. And at this point his panic (and his bad luck streak) really isn’t all that surprising, but something about this one particular panic is bad. Really bad.

It’s late at night, and everyone has gone home (except perhaps Elias; Jon has no idea what Elias’ hours look like). Since there’s no one else there to notice him appearing even more frazzled than usual, Jon chances out of his office and into the break room for a glass of water. It ought help his scratchy throat and his shaking limbs and his buzzing head.

Of course, he’s forgotten about the rabbit entirely.

Upon shoving the door open and flicking on the light switch, Jon nearly jumps out of his skin to see the rather unpleasant reminder of the Archives’ pesky little visitor. It’s sitting directly in front of the door, staring expectantly up at him, almost as if it’s been waiting for him.

Unnerving as ‘Jon Jr’ is, the actual Jon’s exhaustion and want for water outweighs his suspicions in the given moment, so he continues forward, shuffling into the break room and very nearly staggering towards the counter.

Once he’s managed to get a cup down from the cupboard, Jon fills it with trembling hands, dropping it into the sink once and nearly dropping it across the counter once too. He turns around and nearly trips on Jon Jr, sloshing even more water out of his cup.

Despite being rained on, though, the rabbit doesn’t seem all that put out; rather, it follows him over to the break room couch, waiting almost patiently for him to sit down and get situated before it hops up and unceremoniously deposits itself in his lap.

“What?” he manages to sourly mutter at it, but he can’t muster up the energy to shoo the thing off of his lap.

So Jon sits there, in silence, drinking his water and attempting to ignore the rabbit.

His attempt does not go well. A few minutes into the stillness, the rabbit shifts, moving to face Jon. It presses its nose towards his torso, wiggling its way under the hem of Jon’s rumpled collared shirt.

Choking on a particularly large gulp of water, Jon makes a startled noise as the rabbit’s wet nose comes into contact with his bare skin.

Coughing violently, Jon tries to flinch away, falling sideways on the couch. His cup flies out of his hands—thank god it’s one of the plastic ones—and water splatters everywhere.

However, the rabbit doesn’t seem to be deterred by the sudden motion and his attempt to get away. It simply follows him, weaseling its way from his lap up towards his face. Its bright red-eyed stare burns into Jon.

Jon flinches as the thing looms in front of his face, sucking in a desperate breath. Oh, god. There’s no one for him to call out to, no help to be had. Oh, god. Is it truly some sort of—of monster—after all? Is this it? Is he about to die?

The rabbit presses forward...

...and begins to lick his nose.

As Jon lies there, frozen into some sort of terrified shock, a vague part of his mind recalls a memory of the rabbits that his grandmother’s neighbor had kept, all those decades ago. Licking someone is a rabbit’s way of kissing them, and licking someone’s nose...that’s one of the ultimate signs of love, isn’t it?

The rabbit continues to lick his nose—nothing more, nothing less. No biting, no clawing, no attacking. Just licks. Just kisses. Just...love?

Jon’s racing heartbeat slowly begins to calm down. He lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and he allows him to fall back into the couch, relaxing his tense limbs.

The rabbit follows him as he leans into the back of the couch, clambering up onto his chest.

For a moment Jon tenses up again, unsure of what it’s planning to do, but all the rabbit does is settle comfortably onto his chest and resume licking his nose. The weight of the animal on his chest somewhat reminds him of the Admiral, back when he’d lived with his former girlfriend Georgie, and it feels...nice. Calming, almost, soothing and lessening the sheer panic he’s been feeling for the majority of the day.

“You’re not....” Jon’s voice cracks; he inhales a shaky breath before trying again. “You’re not so bad after all, are you?” He licks his lips before he cautiously tries out the rabbit’s name. “...Junior.”

Jon reaches a wobbly hand up towards Jon Jr. He stares intently at the rabbit, waiting for any sign of alarm or ill will. Seeing none, he places his hand hesitantly on Jon Jr’s back. When the animal shows no sign of startling or moving to dislodge his hand, Jon slowly begins to pet him in short, stilted strokes that quickly become more confident as the rabbit kisses his nose more fervently.

“I suppose...I suppose you can stay for...just a bit longer,” Jon murmurs into the rabbit’s warm fur. He cautiously strokes Jon Jr’s cheeks, chancing a small smile when the rabbit closes his eyes in pleasure.

And if he falls asleep there on the break room couch, there with the comforting warmth and weight of the rabbit he’d set out to hate and instead fallen hopelessly in love with—well. Nobody was there in the Archives to see it, now were they?

Too much happens all too fast, in a blur of time and terror. Melanie King limps in on Jon acting much too immature (in his defense, Jon Jr is...difficult to resist when he wants kisses), but the worry over whether she’ll ruin his reputation or not is quickly washed away by the cold terror of realizing that Sasha is not Sasha.

Suddenly there’s an axe in his hand and an oddly swirling tabletop in his sights, and then suddenly Tim and Martin are interrupting him mid-swing, Jon Jr nosing around their ankles.

Then they’re surrounded by splinters of wood and the grotesque, distorted yells of the thing that is not Sasha, the thing that was not ever Sasha, and there’s a yellow door, and a thing with too-many-too-long hands holding out for a deal.

And then they’re running.

Martin gets lost, Jon isn’t entirely sure when—was it back in the twisting halls of Michael’s domain, or down in the twisting tunnels of Smirke’s creation? everything is blurring together at edges tinged with fear—

—and then it’s just him, and Tim, and Jon Jr, and the thing that had been, had been wearing his assistant’s life like some sort of costume, and oh. This is it, isn’t it? They’re about to die, aren’t they.

At least Martin will survive to tell their tale, Jon hopes, feeling a rush of remorse at how abruptly and patronizingly he’s treated his poor assistant. He could’ve been—he could’ve been dead and gone, replaced like Sasha, and Jon never would have known. And now—now Jon is the one about to die. Him and Tim.

God, Tim. He doesn’t particularly like Tim. Tim has been satisfactory enough as an assistant, he supposes—had almost been a friend once, back in their research days—and now....

Now they back into a dead end, practically hugging the wall as not!Sasha slowly approaches them with a look of manic glee on its face. And Jon...he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, regardless of how much he does or doesn’t like them. Certainly he wouldn’t wish this end on Tim...even if a small, selfish part of him is glad that he’s not alone in the end.

It’s just him and Tim. Just like it was back with Prentiss.

Mouth falling slightly open, Jon turns towards the man in question—perhaps to weakly comment as such, he isn’t really sure—only to see Jon Jr leaping out of Tim’s arms.

“Junior!” The word is tugged out of him, unbidden. Dammit, he’s grown attached to the rabbit. And dammit, there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as the rabbit obliviously makes his way towards the hungry thing that had pretended to be Sasha. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Only—

Only then, the rabbit isn’t a rabbit.

It happens much too fast for Jon to really get a good glimpse at what their rabbit becomes. But there’s a loud cracking noise, then a monstrous blur of gray and limbs and mouth and teeth, then another crack and then...nothing. Not even not!Sasha remains. Just a smallish white rabbit in the middle of the now-empty tunnel, sitting primly and licking at one paw.

Jon and Tim gape at each other and at the rabbit, but one thing is for certain:

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon murmurs, light-headed.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, and he slumps back against the wall and slowly slides down to the floor of the tunnel. A hand reaches out and snags Jon, dragging him down with, and there, leaning against the wall and each other, the two stare at the not-quite-a-rabbit.

“We’re keeping the rabbit.”

The rabbit-but-not-a-rabbit blinks his innocent red eyes up at them before flopping over to rest, and honestly? Jon thinks Junior has rather the right idea there.

And so the rabbit is kept, and Jon and Tim stagger out of the tunnels minus one not!Sasha but still with one not!a rabbit.

Come to think of it, they’re still down one Martin as well, which is admittedly worrisome.

Neither Jon nor Tim is exactly keen to go back in the tunnels so soon after escaping certain death within them. Jon has never been the most athletic of people—he’s an academic, he’s supposed to be sitting behind a desk all day, for christ’s sake—and his legs feel like jelly beneath him as they debate over calling the police.

Tim is of the mind that they should call the police, or at least Basira, whom he stubbornly still refers to as Jon’s “girlfriend” (and Jon is much too tired to dispute that at this point). Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t think even section thirty-one officers would listen to “we went into a door a monster created in a wall and we lost our coworker in a maze of endless passageways.”

Thankfully, it turns out that they needn’t have worried, because Martin turns up not too long after, dizzy and dragging two other people behind him.

One of them is a familiar face—Helen Richardson, whom Martin apparently had picked up while stuck in Michael’s spiralling labyrinth, and who seems quite content to latch onto Martin and sit firmly in one spot in the center of the place, refusing to pass through any doorways whatsoever. But the second person is an unfamiliar face—an aging, gray-haired man who seems impeccably polite, incredibly calm, and increasingly out of place among the dinge of the tunnels and Artifact Storage.

Then the man introduces himself as Jurgen Leitner, and Jon nearly drops Jon Jr.

But Jon is much too tired to deal with that in the moment, so when Martin tentatively suggests a slumber party of sorts in the Archives to ease his, Helen’s, and Leitner’s worries all in one, Jon gives in without the fight he normally would put up.

As the others assemble bedding and piles of pillows and cushions pilfered from the library chairs, Jon manages to snag the break room couch once more for himself...and for Jon Jr.

Jon has absolutely no idea what, exactly, he’s supposed to do now. There are clearly bigger things at play here—or, at least, Leitner seemed to think so, from the little he said before Tim shut him up and sent him to bed—but as he watches Jon Jr nibble on a cucumber peel, Jon feels a bit better, at least, knowing that one of those bigger things might at least be on his side.

(Or, well. Hopefully he can bribe mister “bigger thing” with enough carrots to stay on his side. That is yet to be seen.)

Fin

First || Next

I just have so many stupid ideas for this ridiculous AU that I couldn’t just let them live in my head...so I might as well scrawl them out and let y’all enjoy them with me, right? (Or you can tell me to shut tf up if these get too dumb or annoying for you asdhjkl)

But yeah, as you can tell, Jon Jr’s presence will be messing around with canon, because I take any and all opportunities for fix-its. I just really miss my boy Tim and also my wife Sasha ok so sue me

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Love Bites - Punk!AU [Terushima]

ASDFGHJKL oh my god, these chapters killed me. But we’re finally at the actual show for Elixir--hooray! If you haven’t read the prologue to this mini-series, I’ll leave a link for you right here, and if you haven’t read the previous chapter titled Bricks, you can go ahead and click here. Artwork is not mine so if we can find the artist, let me know so I can properly credit them!

Lyrics are italicized and sang entirely in your voice.

Warnings: Cheating and Language. Minor mention of nicotine.

Song Used: Love Bites (So Do I) by Halestorm

Word Count: ~3.5k

A complementary playlist can be found » here

“Baby, wake up,” is the first thing you hear in the morning, brought to you by the raspy voice of Yūji Terushima. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to filter out sunlight, you surrender to your surroundings, opening your eyes one at a time to see Teru resting with his bare back on the headboard of his bed. His serene expression gives you heart palpitations. Even more so when you realize you’re just as bare as he is and that you’re cradled into his chest with your arms lazily resting on his stomach with his around your back and that you’re in his bed, rather than the other way around. No matter what transpired between the two of you, it was an unwritten rule that you never stayed at his house. His parents, though they loved you dearly, had no idea what was going on between the two of you and vaguely knew that Terushima was dating someone else. It was harder for the two of you to keep things a secret under their roof, which was why the rule had even been agreed upon in the first place. “We should probably get the van loaded up at some point.”

“Can we have breakfast first?” The incessant rumbling of your stomach adding further validation to your plea. Terushima let’s out a laugh before pressing his lips gingerly into your hair as if you would shatter from the contact. Honestly, the only thing that could potentially shatter your bliss right now was Minami walking into his house right now, and that was far from likely.

Speaking of bliss, Yūji Terushima is on cloud nine. Even after suffering the cold sweats of coming down from his high at some point in the middle of the previous night, he could say with resounding confidence that waking up next to you was probably going to be the pinnacle of his life. It was probably going to come crashing down after this, he figured, as what goes up must come down as it often did for him. Terushima knows his life patterns quite well. So for now, he was going to soak in every second, every inch of your bare skin, for as long as he could. “Mm,” the blonde hums, “not quite yet.”

In a matter of minutes, Terushima has you on your back, suspending himself with locked arms before his lips latched onto yours. The blonde sucked on your bottom lip, taking the flesh between his teeth before snaking his tongue to intertwine with yours. Slow and steady movements that greatly contradicted the man’s persona was his course of action the tip of his tongue traced over every tooth, every fiber of your being, as he commited all of it memory. He had to make sure this was real. Resting on one palm, his free, ink-laden hand travels down your bare body, feeling every curve your and scar that came with life, down to past the dip of your belly button before cusping your cheek. “You’re really here,” comes his broken warble when he pulls away, as if yesterday was a cocaine-induced delusion.

“I’m really here.” You parrot affectionately, mimicking the action he made with his hand to your cheek, though the tip of your fingers graze the dermal on his left cheekbone. “I’m here, and I’m hungry.” A breathy, half-hearted laugh escapes him as he fights the urge to make a sexual innuendo.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go make food.”

“Actually, I should probably go home and shower and get ready.” A pout forms on the drummer’s face at the suggestion, as if letting you leave would somehow change everything that occurred in the last fifteen or so hours. But as his resolve, and his pout, weaken and falter, a devilish grin comes out to play.

“Or,” immediately, you don’t like where this is going, “I make food and you go load up the van, then we get ready at your place.” Subconsciously, your jaw clenches for a brief minute before relaxing once again, finding no flaw in his logic but one.

“Or,” you copy, “you go load up the van and I make breakfast so that you don’t burn down your parents kitchen.”

“Babe, I’m literally a quarter of a century old, I know how to fucking cook.” Yūji deadpans, making you laugh heartily. You don’t believe him for a second. The two of you are up and getting dressed to move about your day, though your leggings and cut off tee are less than appealing to wear at the moment. Not that you ever scowled at the thought of rewearing clothes but you had been sweaty from practice and there were bound to unfavorable fluids on last night’s clothes. Terushima notices the disgusted grin on your face at the thought. He tosses you a clean, spare shirt and some boxers while the two of you dressed as if you weren’t in some strange, domesticated version of the twilight zone.

“Sweetie, I lived with you for four years. You could literally burn water.” After the clothes were on, you stepped towards the drummer, placing a kiss just under his dermal, before flitting off down the stairs towards the kitchen. Whether he wanted to argue who was doing the work, you won solely based off of the fact that he was left stunned in his room at the sight of you wearing his clothes—his boxers, no less. If this was a dream or he was in fact in the twilight zone, please please please nobody wake him up and bring him back to reality.

Despite you never staying over at Yūji’s house before, you knew exactly where everything was, thanks to you being the unofficial mom of the crew. You grab what you need to make a small meal for the two of you, knowing that time wasn’t necessarily on your side at the moment. While it may still be just before noon, there was still so much to do before arriving at the venue at six. Off in the distance, you can hear Terushima disassembling his drum kit in his basement and, for a moment, an ounce of pride swelled within you—he finally remembered to do that first before lugging everything off to the van. It was a small victory, one that hardly warranted praise but, after so many shows, you’d think he would finally remember to make his job easier on himself.

However, the clattering noises begin to fade into the background as your mind wanders into autopilot mode. Sure, you’re cooking food and your hands are occupied, but the once therapeutic activity seemed to take a back burner to what was currently plaguing you. The only thing that could shatter your bliss at the moment was if Minami were to walk in right now. You tried your best not to think of that very scenario as you finished plating up your meals. “Teru, come eat!” You called out from the top of the stairs that lead to the basement. The blonde hustles up the staircase, stopping briefly to press his lips to yours before chowing down on his food.

Minami could shatter your guys’ little bubble of domestic peace, but she would have to go through you first. And you would absolutely be lying to yourself and everyone else if the thought of her fighting you for the drummer didn’t bring you sick satisfaction.

“The vans all packed up,” Terushima announces in between bites. “So I can grab clothes and shit and get ready with you at your apartment.”

“Yūji, you clingy little shit,” you joke, “maybe I want some time to myself!”

“Do you?” There’s a flash of hurt in eyes for a moment, and you knew that you probably shouldn’t have said it. Considering the fragile circumstances, he was still vulnerable after everything that transpired. Terushima was still afraid that all of this was going to shatter the minute you were free of him.

“No, Teru, I was kidding.” You try to convince him, but he’s not buying it. A sigh leaves you as you set down the plate on the island counter you were standing in front of before you look at the drummer with full, earnest eyes. Reading your body language, he does the same before you grab his hands in yours. As if drinking in every charcoal grey line of his tattoos, you trace up the linework starting from the wrist of his left arm, moving in painstakingly slow glances until you followed where they ended at his clavicle before you looked at him square in his almond eyes once again. “It’s you and I, right?” You ask cautiously, echoing the conversation from last night.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then let’s go get ready,” you do your best to offer a reassuring smile, pecking him just under his dermal once again, “finish up eating. I think we need a shower.”

Yūji has finally calmed down, or rather as calm as he could be, after having a long, warm shower with you back at your apartment. Did it make sense for him to leave his home to get ready when the two of you were going to be coming right back? No. But at the moment, a lot of things between the two of you didn’t seem to make sense and that was okay. By the time the two of you returned, Makki and Kuroo were already present, donning confused looks as to why Terushima got out of your car rather than his parent’s home. In lieu of a response, the aforementioned blonde only shrugged before climbing into the back seat of the van with Makki, leaving Kuroo to drive as usual with you in the passenger’s side. Everyone is situated and you and Kurro are holding cigarettes between your lips, but the gutiarist doesn’t move otherwise. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it,” the driver announces after turning the engine, “we’ve known that you two are boning but this just weird. What’s going on?”

“Oh thank god,” Makki breathes out in reprieve, though neither you nor Terushima speak. To be frank, neither of you really had a clue. You knew that he wanted to be with you and you with him, but there was no clear definition in the sense that there were still a few kinks to work out. Minami, for example. “Are you two, like, actually together now?” Your eyes lock with the drummer’s bronze ones, wondering who’s going to be the first to say it out loud. Knowing his insecurities, you decided it had to be you.

“Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

“YES! Cough it up, Kuroo, you owe me fifty!” The sudden crescendo in volume coming from your normally quiet bassist makes you jump.

“Dude, the fuck?” You look at the driver with narrowed eyes. “You bet against us?”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Kuroo defends, “I just bet that you were going to date someone else first because you couldn’t wait for Terushima to get his head out of his ass.”

“Y’all can fuck off,” You grumble before climbing into the back seat. Your anger was satirical, but at the moment, all you wanted was to be curled up with Yūji now that the cat was out of the bag. However, with the van in motion and you being buckled in the passenger’s seat, you decided to sit tight, flicking the collecting pile of ashes out the window before bringing your cigarette to your lips once again. “Now enough analyzing our relationship, we got a show to play.”

In hindsight, you should have known that being with Yūji Terushima wasn’t going to be as simple as “yes, we’re dating now” and that was no fault on his part. If anything, it’s as much your fault because you’re just as reckless and never check for lose ends before committing to anything. And, in hindsight, you really should prepared yourself in the event that Minami attended your show because, considering last nights events, Teru didn’t even think about telling her to fuck off and not show up tonight.

What a mess.

Even more so when the girl immediately flanked to give the drummer a hug before reprimanding him for wearing a tank top. Yes, a tank top. God did you hate her. From what you could hear of the conversation, Minami had told him to grab a spare sweat or jacket or something to cover up his shoddy, apprentice-done, experimental tattoos and that he looked like he rolled right out of bed. The worst was her asking how he could have pride as a man when he showed up to “work” as a slob, and how she was almost embarrased to be here. But she’s playing coy as she says all these things, her lips curling in a flirty grin to attempt to convince him that she’s just teasing. You knew better. Nobody just says that about their partner nonchalantly and if they did, they were just a bit fucked up in the head. “Hey, Yūji, we’ve got to go set up.” Your voice is soft yet direct as you try to all but pry her away from him.

“Yūji?” Minami has never heard you call him by his first name, you realize.

“That’s his name, isn’t it?” The retort left your lips before you could stop it, earning you a nasty look from Minami. It didn’t matter, you decided, before putting a guiding hand on your drummer’s shoulder. “C’mon, we’re running behind.” Without another word to Minami from either of you, you bring him to the back of the venue and into the staging area. He didn’t need to say it, nor was he going to because the sudden anxiety piling in his chest was drowning him, but he was thankful for your intervention. Each comment his girlfriend made cracked his tempermental heart just a little bit further, even if her opinion didn’t necessarily matter to him because he couldn’t help but wonder if you had felt the same way she did. Terushima shakes away the idea instantly. You were the one that always stopped the nagging voices in his head, the ones that told him that if Minami could speak such things about him into existence then it must be true. You were his peaceful meadow in the middle of a storm. Its just another thing he’s indebted to you, he supposed, one he hoped to be able to rectify by the end of the night.

It’s hot.

It always is when you play a show which usually contributed to the fact that you and Terushima always wore tank tops when performing, despite the conversation you heard earlier. Coincidentally, the two of you were matching with white tanks and ripped up black jeans, accented by a thin red tie that had no place being worn except to hide the hickies the two of you had given each other the previous night. It was a coincidence, but was not a detail that the audience, specifically Minami and the other girlfriends, had overlooked.

“How the fuck is everyone doing tonight?” Growing Pains, the third song in Elixir’s setlist, has just ended, meaning that you were a third of the way through your set. At your question, the audience, which was larger than normal, you gathered at screamed in response. The sheer volume made you smile and laugh with the small fan base that you had as it reminded you that, at the end of the day, whether you four were successful or not, you still touched people’s lives. “That’s what I like to hear! You guys seemed to be having a lot of fun with our newer songs and we thank you for that, but right now we’re gonna throw it back real quick.”

After your brief intermission and the introduction of your next song, Terushima gave his starting count in addition to a few hits on his cymbals, leading the rest of the band to start the snappy rhythm of the next song. As the opening lines begin to swirl in your head while listening for the moment you were supposed to jump in, it dawns on you that this very well could turn catastrophically ugly—the thought excited you.

Don’t listen what your girlfriend says

You had written this song for Yūji so long ago, never once considering that maybe, just maybe, one day performing this song was going to come back to bite you in the ass. And yet, considering Love Bites was one of your most revered and streamed tracks on your band’s Spotify, you can’t find it in yourself to feel an ounce of remorse. Especially as you lock eyes with Minami for a brief moment and you swear she knows. She knows exactly who this was written for, and she knows the war you’re declaring, and she knows you don’t fucking care.

I know a thousand ways to help you forget about her

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about her opinion as you pace around the stage, your hair swinging wildly as you cradle your microphone to add to your stage appearance. For a moment, you take a look at your guitarist, watching the way Kuroo’s knowledge and expertise of the riffs he had played time and time again came to life on his signature Stratocaster. The raven-haired man was grinning, tongue peaking out a little bit and he licked his dry lips—he was in his element.

Love bites, but so do I.

You bring your attention to your bassist, Hanamaki echoing your vocals as you did so. He looked calm as ever with a knowing, glassy look in his stoned eyes. Knowing, in the sense that he could tell you were a little more enthusiastic than usual due to the nature of the song. Knowing, like he was preparing for trouble because he could practically rip the ever growing tension straight out of the atmosphere between you and Minami despite dozens of people standing between you.

You’ve suffered in the darkness I’ll suck the pain right out

And finally, you bring your attention back to your drummer. The matching outfits, that were coincidental, were a nice touch. Terushima is bobbing his head, mouthing words in sync with you as the red tie around his neck is swishing back and forth wildly like a pendulum as he moves. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes, prompting you to give a mischievious smile before transitioning to the second chorus.

I kiss you in a way you’ll never forget about me

Coming full circle, you were faced with the crowd once again. Though the others in the band may not have felt the same way, or maybe they did, you weren’t entirely sure, one of the most satisfying feelings in the world to you besides having Terushima’s arms around you, was watching your audience lose their shit. The way young teens and adults would fight for the front closest to the small barricade of the venue for your attention; the way crowd surfers were thrown on stage, their lips moving in sync with yours as they sing along before flipping back into the crowd in a stage dive; the way everybody was just having a grand old fucking time—there was no greater feeling.

I was down and out, got up and said, “hey love I’ve had enough” I’ve felt pleasure without pain

It wasn’t often you did this—this being you jumping off stage, microphone still in hand, and walking on the safe side of the barricade while Kuroo did his little guitar solo. At the first line of the final chorus, you weren’t even singing; not alone at leasst, and Yūji would be lying if he said it didn’t cause him to panic in the slightest. He knew how crazy the crowds could get and even with security, people could still push on the gates themselves and hurt you and oh god Minami was right at the edge of the stage and what the fuck were you—

The blonde’s mind was reeling as you sauntered over towards her corner off to the side of the barricade but he had never in his ten years of knowing you seen you so confident with your movements as you veered away from his line of sight. Not even in the way you told him you loved him time and time again, not ever in the way you held him countless times while he was in a bad high. You had never been so sure of your actions as you swiped a finger under Minami’s chin, singing directly to her, serenading her.

Love bites, but so do I

You were goading her, aching for her to swing. The fire in her eyes as the realization set in Minami’s little brain—you’d been dying to see it, dying to do it. You’d had enough of the way she treated Terushima, the way she knocked down the most wonderful person you knew. No more. No more taking this shit lying down—he was yours and you wanted to make sure she understood that.

Yūji Terushima: the twenty five year old man covered in shitty basement tattoos with more healed over holes of retired piercings who still lived with his parents so he could live comfortably and chase after teenage dreams, was yours. And as much as you wanted her to react, the song was over and you needed to make your way back to the stage and move about with your day.

As soon as the song finishes, Terushima stands up from his drum set while the audience is giving their applause. As wonderful as it is to hear that sound, he was panicking at the fact that he wasn’t able to see everything happening down below as soon as you had moved out of his line of sight. He’s standing before you, his hands gripping your forearms, eyes in a deadlock with yours to make sure you weren’t hurt. Laughter flickers in your eyes before a smile works it’s way to your lips, thinking of other ways you could make your declaration loud and clear.

If Minami didn’t know then, she knew now by the way you pressed your lips onto Teru’s with your fingers threading into the base of his undercut in the middle of the stage.

[ Bricks « Love Bites » Critical Mistake ]

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pickingoutchinapatterns · 4 years

Note

What are you working on at the moment? What do you consider to be your greatest writing achievement? Do you use a favourite word/saying/metaphor often? Whose POV do you prefer to write - Mulder or Scully? How do you feel when you write - do you experience the same emotions as the characters? How do you know when a fic is ready to post? Link us to three fics you've written that are your personal favourites and tell us why you're proud of them.

Thank you so much for sending this to me @frangipanidownunder!

I’m currently working on a little fic pre-One Breath featuring Mulder and Maggie. I hope to post it sometime soon (just need to write more than a few sentences). I also have another that I started (featuring jealous Mulder and Charlie Scully) that I want to finish. I also always have my long fic still going, though it hasn’t been updated in ages.

I haven’t posted many works, but I’m still blown away that I still get the occasional like from my (I think) first fic I posted “Red.” I find writing difficult so honestly I feel anytime I post anything to be an accomplishment.

Probably do have a fav, but nothing comes to mind at the moment (I haven’t analysed my work to really see).

I find it easier to write from Scully’s POV, though I think lately some of my fics have been from Mulder’s.

I do sometimes feel their emotions, when I’m in the right mood. I had developed a writing phobia years ago, so fic writing, when I can get past that mental hurdle, is very therapeutic. (Luckily I tend to have a million ideas...it’s actually executing them that I find difficult.)

Honestly, I usually just post a fic right after I’ve written it. I’m impulsive that way and many of my fics would benefit from editing.

Three of my fics

Nameplate, actually my first fic according to ao3. A huge reason why I love fanfic (mostly reading and discussing it), is that it gives me a chance to witness canon being fixed. This is my take on one thing that I thought needed fixing.

Red, also on ao3. I didn’t expect it to get the reaction it got (I don’t have many followers, so the fact that it got 40 kuddos on ao3 means a lot). I got the most thoughtful and touching feedback message from someone from this post and really that’s why I picked this fic. (I still remember that message.)

TBAAH, (honestly, I hate the title and will change it when I post all of the chapters). It was my first time at FanExpo (first time I saw GA, waiting in line for her panel). I was talking to another fan and it was the first time that I brought up my idea for this story, even though it had been percolating in my mind for years. It’s still a WIP, but I have been able to flesh out other aspects and ideas slowly over the years (such as December 1989 and other little bits of fic developed in your writing workshops). So this one does mean a lot to me bc it’s been with me for a long time. (I just don’t think the little that I have written do it justice yet....and that has to do with my impatience of just posting instead of going back and editing). Mostly I’m proud of all of the ideas I have for the story.

Thanks Vicki!

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mentalpolaroids · 3 years

Text

CH | 17. here for you

CH 16

🔸

Kevin took Dustin home after making sure I was fine. I wasn't, but I had to pretend to be so my brother could give me some space. The fight with Noah kept replaying in my head, making me keep fighting the tears from falling, even if I was alone to cry all I wanted. I hated being mad at people or having people mad at me and the fact it was happening with Noah was making it very difficult to process. I refused to accept that my best friend disappointed me and it led to me yelling at him and feeling angry with him. It was a feeling we both have never experienced before and it was hitting me harder than I could ever imagine. I cleaned the house while Kevin was gone, not only because it was messier than I thought it could be considering the five of us didn't leave the couch all night, but also to try and distract myself. I could wait for my brother and have him help with the cleaning but I was in a desperate need of keeping my mind out of Noah and our fight. Our first fight. It almost sounds like we're a couple. We're not, but it hurts as much. I had just finished brooming a corner by the couch when Kevin entered the front door. My back was turned towards him but I could feel his eyes on me, unsure what to say or ask or even if he should say something at all. I was unsure either. I wanted to cry and vent but at the same time I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to talk about the fight and relieve it over again. I've done that enough in my head and it was killing me slowly.

"Do you need help cleaning?", Kevin's voice was soft, as if I would break if he spoke louder or arsher. I probably would.

"No, thanks. I'm pretty much finished." my head was low as I spoke, still not looking at my brother now standing behind the couch.

"I'm gonna make us something to eat, ok?"

I didn't answer but I think he knew I was grateful for his gesture and company, my body language showed it. I put the broom back in the laundry room and went to sit by the kitchenette counter waiting for the food Kevin was cooking, enjoying it's smell that was honestly calming me down. After a few more minutes, Kevin sat a plate of pancakes in front of me and a cup of hot chocolate. I smiled lightly at the view in front of me and at how well my brother knew me.

"All vegan, as you like it."

I looked at him and smiled wider while he sat next to me and dripped some caramel on top of my pancakes. He put some on his too and we started eating quietly. I was just waiting for him to drop the question and I was mentally preparing myself to answer it. He probably heard some of it but I knew my brother: he wanted the words to come out of my mouth. It was something he always did to help me stop keeping everything to myself and suffer in silence. I hated the process of it because sometimes it was really hard to talk about some things but, in the end, it helped. I just hoped this time it would help too.

"So,", here we go, "what happened back there? Dustin and I were making up conspiracy theories of why on Earth were the best couple of best friends to ever exist having a fight."

I couldn't help but laugh at his dorkiness and I started imagining the two guys talking to each other jokingly but with a serious face about what Noah and I's fight was about.

"Friends fight too."

"Yes, but not you two. You've been to hell and back for each other and never once did I see you two fight, not like this."

"Did you hear what it was about?"

"Not really."

I took a deep breath and a sip of my hot chocolate before dropping the bomb.

"I found a pack of cigarettes in Noah's bag."

"Oh."

And so I told him every bit of our fight and why I was so mad at him.

"I just don't want him to go down the way Dylan did."

"Yeah, me neither. But, even though I understand why you're mad at him I still think fighting is not the best way to talk him out of smoking."

"Kevin, we've been through this before..."

He interrupted me.

"I know, that's why I'm saying fighting won't solve anything. You're mad because you're scared and Noah is smoking because he's scared too. He's not doing this to hurt you, he's doing this because he is hurting and this is how he copes with it."

"He promised me he would talk to me anytime he felt like smoking when he was feeling down."

"And do you?"

I looked at him questioningly, genuinely confused with his question.

"Do what?"

"Talk to anyone about how you feel or about your problems when you're down?", I looked down, not wanting to admit he was right, "You keep things to yourself because, as you say, you don't want to bother anyone with your shit, even after everyone tells you they're here for you no matter what. Noah is just doing the same."

"Yes but this is different..."

"Is not that different, sis. You should talk to him, like, really talk to him. Make him feel like he can be the most vulnerable with you. Noah... fuck, he loves you, Kelly. I know he will open up to you whenever he's ready, he doesn't trust anyone else as much as he trusts you. He's there for you and is patient with you no matter what, you just need to be patient and be there for him as well. I know you love him enough too to do that."

A tear slid down my cheek and Kevin immediately cleaned it up. He was right, I was being harsh on him for something I'm also to blame for. I guess we really are a great pair because we're both stubborn asses. I lean closer to Kevin and hug his torso. He hugs me back tightly and kisses my forehead.

"How about you call him later, huh? I hate seeing the second hottest couple ever not talking to each other."

I blushed at the couple thing but then I looked at him grinning teasingly

"Who's the first hottest couple?"

"Dustin and I, obviously."

"No way! For real?!"

"Yup."

"Oh my God, Kevin, I'm so happy!"

I hugged him again and he laughed at my enthusiasm. I was really, really happy, I've been waiting for them to get together since they met each other and it was finally happening, so containing my excitement wasn't even an option.

"Me too, sis, me too."

After teasing Kevin a little, something I just had to do, we both finished breakfast, me in a much better mood than I was before our conversation. Kevin insisted on me taking a shower instead of helping him clean the kitchen, since I didn't take said shower I was supposed to because the fight with Noah made me forget about it. The water helped me relax completely and clear my head. The remains of negativity and fear in my mind were washed away and I felt ready and determined to make things work with my best friend and call him later. Until then, I wanted to spend time with my brother, have the day for the two of us, it has been a long time since that happened and I missed teasing him and making fun of him. I knew he missed doing the same to me too. I went to the living room dressed in my favorite pair of sweatpants, a cropped sweater and my black sleepers. A comfortable outfit to match my relaxed state, which was rare lately and especially after that morning. Kevin was on the couch with the tv remote in hand scrolling through Netflix, so, as the good sister I am, I sat beside him and yanked the remote from him. I tried hard not to laugh at the bitch face he made my way.

"Oh hell no, it doesn't work like that.", and with that, the remote was yanked from my hand and it was my turn to make a bitch face that, by the entertained expression on my brother's face, was a pretty good one. Kevin selected a random movie while I tried to get the remote back and I guess I was really in need of a chill day because it didn't take long for me to give up and accept whatever Kevin chose. Through the movie, we would comment about everything and anything and make jokes with each other and laugh our asses off, even though the film wasn't even that funny. I missed having these moments with my brother, it reminded me of when we were little and he would watch my favorite movie with me over and over again. Oncd, we were watching it in the living room and he made a joke about a specific scene of the movie and I laughed really hard. I remember thinking it was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my 8 years of life and, since then, every time I felt like watching that movie, I would make him watch it with me so he could tell that same joke, and I would laugh as hard as the first time I heard it. We were making our own jokes now and I was having the best time. It was therapeutic.

"Doesn't that woman look like an older version of Camila?"

"It does... wow, she's going to be a MILF. I'm jealous." Kevin laughed.

"Speaking of Camila, I ran into Julio the other day, he even paid for my coffee."

Remember the good, great, amazing mood I was in? Yeah, it died. My body tensed, my smile faded and my mind started racing. Kevin noticed and paused the movie.

"Kelly?"

I didn't answer at first, my brain was still processing the unpleasant thought of Julio and all the uncomfortable situations he has put me through. My brother called my name again.

"Hmm?"

"You ok?"

I opened my mouth to say Yes but I quickly changed my mind. It was time. I didn't want to ruin the amazing lazy day we were having but it was time to tell my brother what our best friend's boyfriend was like.

"I have to tell you something about Julio.", my voice was low, compared to a few seconds ago, "You're probably going to get mad at me for not telling you sooner but Noah knows and he's been helping me..."

"Sis, what are you talking about? You're scaring me."

And so I told him everything. The first time I saw him outside the restaurant with a woman, when he paid for my lunch, the times he was outside the company, the night at the club... Everything he did, said, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel and how Noah has been helping me and keeping me safe.

"Fuck..."

"Yeah."

"You have to tell Camila."

"I know."

"Seriously, Kelly, that's really fucked up. And how the hell did I not notice? I mean, I remember you acting weird that night we went out but I thought it was just the sexual tension between you and Noah..."

"Kevin!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm... I just wasn't expecting that. Shit."

Kevin's body was leaning hard against the couch and his leg was bouncing. He was getting anxious.

"When are you planning on telling Camila?"

"I don't know. I had some opportunities but I always chickened out or wasn't sure if it was just me acting paranoid."

"You're not paranoid, Kelly. Fuck, if Noah noticed too and even saw him waiting for you outside... Jesus, that's messed up.", his voice trembled, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could help too."

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, really. It was because of the same reason I didn't tell Camila, and also because you weren't at your best when this started."

"Right.", he looked down and I grabbed his hand that was anxiously fidgeting with the other.

"Hey, don't go blaming yourself now, I'm fine. Noah's been helping me and taking care of me."

"I know, I believe that, trust me. The dude would kill for you."

I rolled my eyes but the blush was inevitable. Besides the weight of Julio's presence in my head, I felt even more safe and relieved now that Kevin knew. It took us some time to put this subject aside but we managed to go back to the movie, this time watching it a little less enthusiastically.

I was about to take my sweater off to replace it with the oversized one I use to sleep when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but I picked up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Kelly?", a man's voice answered on the other side, a voice I couldn't associate with anyone I knew.

"Yes?"

"It's Dylan."

"Oh, hi."

To say I was surprised, mostly shocked, was putting it lightly. First, I had no idea Noah's brother was already out of prison and second I totally didn't expect him to call me. Everything about this call was unexpected so it took me a few seconds to process.

"Look, I know it's late but can you please come over?"

He sounded like he was in a rush and desperate, if the emphasis on the please was any indication.

"Are you at Noah's?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, especially because I know you probably weren't expecting me to call but I...", he interrupted himself to take a deep breath, like talking was making him tired, "I think he needs you. Can you please come over now? I'll pick you up if you want."

"No, it's fine, I'll drive. I'll try to be there in five."

"Thank you so much, Kell. See you soon."

"See ya."

I rushed to put some sneakers on as I left my room. I only had time to grab the keys to Kevin's car and take my phone out of my sweater's pocket to text him and let him know where I was going, since he was already in his room and I didn't want to waste time explaining to him why I was going to Noah's so late, especially when we weren't exactly on speaking terms. Driving, my mind kept making up reasons why Noah "needed me", what the hell happened, why Noah didn't call me himself and the fact that Dylan was free. Like, the later alone was enough to make me confused and anxious, and it showed by the constant tapping of my fingers on the steering wheel. It took me exactly five minutes to get to my best friend's house. I rushed to the front door and rang the doorbell. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel my entire body shake from it's pulsation and my mind was racing with thoughts and possibilities of what I would find on the other side of the door. I just wanted to know what was going on. The door opened a few seconds after and there was Dylan. I almost didn't recognize him from our high school days. He looked older but in a healthy way and his posture, besides shaken up, was more mature. Nothing compared to the troubled boy I used to know. Dylan looked kind of surprised to see me too and that was understandable. Puberty did me good, I admit, and I wasn't as shy and timid as I was before, which reflected in the way I presented myself. I was more confident and sure of myself, even though I was an anxious mess at the moment.

"Hey, you got here fast.", he said, his voice tired, matching his eyes.

"Yeah, I did.", he let me into the house I knew so well and turned to me, closing the door behind me, "It's good to see you."

"You too, Kell.", he smiled weakly and I mirrored it, feeling the familiarity of the nickname.

We stood there in an awkward silence just staring at each other. We both changed a lot and I guess we were having a difficult time taking it in. I cleared my throat and broke the silence.

"So, what happened?"

"Right, I'm sorry again for dropping this on you this late."

"Don't worry about it, it's fine."

He took a deep breath.

"Well, as you already noticed, I was released from jail.", he looked down, shame in his eyes, "And I asked Noah to pick me up. He didn't know I was being released today, nobody knew. I wanted to surprise him and our parents but... I didn't get the reception I was hoping for."

He looked up, his eyes averting mine, but I saw them shine with tears wanting to fall.

"My dad was livid. He didn't want me coming home, let alone unannounced, so he tried to put me out of the house in a not so nice way..."

"Dylan..."

"He was about to punch me but Noah stepped in front of me. I tried to stop him but I think he was drunk and Noah was trying to defend me and then I tried to defend him but... he just took everything and I could barely do anything to stop it."

The tears fell and his eyes finally met mine.

"I'm so sorry, Kelly, I didn't want this to happen, I..."

"Dylan, it's ok, it's not your fault. Are you ok?"

He nodded.

"Where's Noah?"

"He's outside.", he pointed to the door that led to the backyard, "I know you guys had a fight this morning but, please, Kelly, just talk to him, he's definitely not ok." I took a deep, shaky breath and, after hugging Dylan, I went to the backyard. I stepped outside and the first thing I noticed was the broken pieces by the grass. It was from a ceramic vase Noah had on the wooden table that was situated in the middle of the yard. I presumed he broke it when he arrived home in an attempt to get rid of some of the frustration. Then I looked to my left and saw him sitting on one of the wooden chairs that matches the table. His elbows were on his knees and his head was between his hands, that were gripping his hair. I felt nervous, for a lot of reasons. One, he looked mad and I hated when he got mad. Two, I didn't know how to approach him without scaring him. Three, I didn't know what to say or do because we had a fight and had yet to talk about it. But I guess that could wait, all I wanted was to hug the hell out of that man and fix him. So that's what I did. I walked in his direction and kneeled in front of him. He looked at me in a quick move, not expecting anyone to be there. I froze when I saw his face and, honestly, I just wanted to do the same to his dad (as if I had the chance, but my anger towards him was burning). He had bruises near his left eye, a cut on his lower lip and I could tell he bled from his nose but cleaned it up messly. He also had tears in his eyes that grew closer to falling as soon as he saw me. As if his state was a force calling for my help, I hugged him tight, my arms around his neck and one hand holding his head and massaging his hair, afraid he would disappear if I let go. Noah didn't exitate to hug me back, pulling me closer with his arms secured around my torso. He hid his face in my neck and broke down in tears and sobs.

🔸

CH 18

#cold hands #story #original story #angst #romance #oc #mentalpolaroids #noah centineo

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