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dreamlandforever · 1 year

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The Devil You Know

(Sterek | Teen and Up | 13k)

AO3 link

I wrote my first Sterek for the "'What‘s a Stiles?" Sterek April event, based on the Prompt "Unhinged Stiles" and "Derek gets kidnapped", I hope you like it!

Summary:

“When was the last time you spoke to Derek?”

He was not expecting that question.

When was the last time he spoke to Derek? They spoke every day. They have spoken every day for six years. Sometimes Stiles calls, sometimes Derek does. But it happens daily, even if it is only for a few minutes.

But the thing is, Stiles doesn’t know what day it is. This case has been the entirety of his focus lately.

“What day is today?”

She doesn’t hesitate, too used to Stiles being…Stiles. “Tuesday”.

Fuck. Stiles missed work.

Wait. If it was Tuesday…

“Lydia.” He speaks as calmly and clearly as he is able to, which is not much. “Where. Is. Derek?.”

Tuesday.

There are a lot of things that Stiles prides himself in. Granted, most of them are illegal and kind of frown upon by the FBI, but he still knew how to get the job done. Research is one of them, and, fortunately for him, is also a skill very much appreciated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Especially because they didn’t know what Stiles’ preferred methods were, exactly.

The red yarn strewn all over his shoe-box apartment seems to belong to another lifetime. The only thing keeping him kind of in the present is the whiteboard he got for cheap on eBay, which also happens to double as the divider between his kitchenette and living room. FBI Stiles did not have to cover his walls in tacks, no, sir. FBI Stiles had a slightly better set up. Also, his landlord is not very fond of holes in the wall. Stiles may or may not have a little issue trying to hang a picture a few weeks after he moved in.

If he took a deep breath, he could really see himself transported back to his room in Beacon Hills. The coffee he was brewing was the same brand he had always used, the feel of the yarn was all too familiar to his hands, the pain on his lower back and the headache caused by sleep deprivation felt just like home. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he slept, but he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. From the state of the table and the marks on his cheek, he had fallen asleep at some point, so good for him. He let himself be transported back to his room, when he himself was a kid, and had to fight the Big Bad of the week, and not an FBI man who had to stop a fucking human from killing children, on top of thinking of the next Big Bad.

Which is why, it took a while for Stiles to realize that the buzzing wasn’t in his head, and he wasn’t just hallucinating it. He looked around his kitchen table, slowly blinking himself into reality. He can’t even tell how long he has been working, but it has been long enough for his blinking to actually hurt, and the pounding of his head has become more constant. With a sigh he finally finds his phone under a bunch of folders he isn’t sure he was even allowed to bring home.

Without even looking at the caller, he answers as fast as he can before the call can go to voicemail. “Hey, Der. I was just about to have dinner, don’t worry. Did you manage to fix that leaking sink? I cannot sleep with that thing, dude, and I am less than a week away from visiting.” He crosses his fingers, hoping he did not miss calls before. Derek does not enjoy when Stiles doesn’t answer his phone.

He is met with only silence. He flinches slightly.

“Breakfast? Was I about to have breakfast?” So maybe he did miss a few calls. And a lot more hours than he originally thought.

“Stiles, I am not Derek.” Lydia’s voice. She is calm and collected. And Lydia is one of Stiles’ comfort people, as well as one of his other regular calls, so he knows that voice.

“What happened?” He never quite mastered Lydia’s ability to remain in control. His voice sounded panicked even to his own ears. He stands up, no longer able to remain on the call while sitting down. His apartment is much too small to really walk away his nerves, but walking in circles will have to do. Was Derek in trouble?

“When was the last time you spoke to Derek?”

He was not expecting that question.

But the thing is, Stiles doesn’t know what day it is. This case has been the entirety of his focus lately.

“What day is today?”

She doesn’t hesitate, too used to Stiles being…Stiles. “Tuesday”.

Fuck. Stiles missed work.

Wait. If it was Tuesday…

“Lydia.” He speaks as calmly and clearly as he is able to, which is not much. “Where. Is. Derek?.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” She asked again, the stress finally showing on her voice.

“Saturday.” His voice came out so soft he wasn’t sure she had even heard him.

He hadn’t spoken to Derek in almost three days. They speak daily. He knows what she is going to say before the words leave her mouth.

“Stiles, Derek is missing.”

The words still feel like lead at the bottom of his stomach. The headache is rapidly turning into a migraine, and it is becoming harder for him to focus.

Derek. His Derek. Gone.

“Since when?” He knows his voice is shaky, but he can’t stop it.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

There is a pause on the other side of the line, but Stiles doesn’t even notice. His head is going a mile a minute, and he cannot focus enough to comprehend simple facts, such as the passage of time. His entire body seems to have gone into panic mode, in a way it hasn’t for years. He is a man now, he is control of himself.

All bets are off the window when whatever is happening involves Derek, apparently.

“Sunday.”

He could hear ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind dissociating or if his heart was beating so hard it was deafening. Either way, he didn’t have time for that, so he ignored it.

He knows today is Tuesday.

Derek went missing on Sunday.

And Stiles didn’t notice.

“Why hasn’t anyone called?” But as soon as the questions leaves his mouth, he knows the answer. Suddenly, he needs to hear it. He needs confirmation. Anger is so much easier to control than panic. Stiles wants to be angry. He wants to break something, he wants to take a swing of someone. And he knows just who.

“He said he would handle it. He benched all of us. And Derek usually keeps to himself, but Stiles it has been two days. He isn’t telling us anything.”

Stiles sees red.

#sterek #jwritessometimes #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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skye-maxwell · 4 years

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Mostly You

Persona 4 | Souyo | Third year, pre-relationship | Rated F for Fluff

Happy birthday, @livefreeordie13! You are my friend, and I like you a lot! \o/

For prompt #6: “I think about you all the time.”

---

It was Yosuke’s turn to call him today, so Souji sat on the floor of his bedroom, patiently folding paper cranes while he waited.

They had spoken to each other on the phone nearly every day since Souji had left Inaba, and Souji was grateful that Yosuke always seemed eager to hear from him. Even if it was just a quick call after school on his way to Junes, or while he was drifting off to sleep after a long day—Yosuke made time for Souji, and that meant the world to him.

The ringtone Souji had specifically assigned to Yosuke started playing, and Souji smiled, like he always did. It was a song Yosuke had shared with him to cheer him up when things had been at their worst, and now Souji knew every word and every note of the track.

“Hey, Yosuke,” Souji greeted warmly, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on his desk so he could keep folding.

“Hey, Partner!” Yosuke said happily, and Souji smiled again. He would never get tired of that enthusiasm. “What are you up to?”

“Cranes.”

“Haha, again? Are you trying to set a world record for ‘most paper cranes folded’ or something?”

“No, but now that you say that, it sounds pretty good. I think that’ll be my goal now.”

Instead of dismissing the joke like Souji expected him to, Yosuke said, “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you. I believe in you, Partner!”

“Thank you,” Souji said dumbly, becoming flustered for a moment before he could think of a better reply. “If I do break the record, you’ll be the first one I invite to the party.”

“The party?”

“Yeah, to celebrate my success.”

“Oh man, a party thrown by you? I can see it now. It’s gonna be a total rager,” Yosuke laughed.

“Of course. It’ll be the most enraged of ragers.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Honestly, it would probably just end up being you and me sitting in a room drinking something like, not even alcoholic, and we would try to clink our glasses together and probably spill lemonade everywhere—”

“When did it turn into lemonade?”

“—and then you’d be all ‘Congrats, Partner,’ and yeah, that would probably be it.”

Souji expected Yosuke to laugh at the image he had created, or to call it lame and throw out ideas for an actual rager…

“I mean, as long as I’m there with you, I’m down for whatever.”

Souji dropped his paper crane.

Why? Souji mentally asked Yosuke, picking his crane back up off the floor. Why must you say such cute things?

Not about to say anything remotely like that out loud, Souji asked, “So what are you doing right now?”

Not seeming to notice the abrupt change of subject, Yosuke answered, “I’m doing homework! Kind of.”

“Are you just doodling in the margins?”

“Not just the margins, Partner—the whole paper! Because, you know, there’s no notes on the page…”

Souji sighed. “Do I need to hang up so you can get your homework done?”

“No! No no no! Please don’t hang up! I’ll actually do it later, I promise!”

“Calm down, I’m not actually gonna hang up on you.”

“Okay, good.”

“That does remind me, though… Lately I’ve been daydreaming in class a lot. Sometimes I’ll just completely space out, and by the time I space back in, I realize I haven’t been paying attention for an entire lecture.”

“For real? Did my bad habits rub off on you?”

“Why do you sound like that? What are you doing now?”

“Finished drawing. Balancing a pencil on my nose. Crap! I dropped it. Anyways, you’re supposed to be the good student between the two of us, man! We can’t both be slacking off!”

“Sorry, Yosuke.”

Before Souji could say anything else, Yosuke suddenly asked, “What do you think about?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re daydreaming all that time—what are you thinking about?”

“Well… I think about last year a lot, and how I wish I was still there with everyone, and I think about recipes I want to make, and movies I want to see, and what I want to do after high school, and… you. Mostly you, actually,” Souji accidentally admitted.

“Me? What about me?”

Now that Souji had let the cat peek its head out of the bag, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to keep the rest of it in the bag for much longer.

“I think about all the crazy and terrible and amazing times we had together last year, and how I wish was still there with you. I think about recipes I want to make for you to try, and the faces you’ll make when you’re eating them. I think about movies I want to see, whether or not you would like them, the discussions we would have after we watched them together… I think about how badly I want to do whatever it takes to have more of you in my life after I finish this stupid third year… Yeah, all the time. I think about you all the time.”

“Partner, that’s… um, unexpected. I’m sure someone like you has better things to think about than me.”

Souji shook his head. “No. I don’t. Not more important than you, no.”

“You’re exaggerating, right? To make me feel good?”

“I’m not. Does it make you feel good?”

“Well, yeah, sure it does. Being on someone’s mind makes me feel special, y’know? Especially your mind.”

“You seem surprised, Yosuke. You really don’t have any idea how important you are to me, do you?”

“I guess not? I don't know, it’s just… hard to believe. Do you know why I always make sure we talk to each other like this? I mean, obviously I don’t want you to be lonely, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay, but also like, I just don’t want you to forget me.”

Souji scoffed, immediately covering his mouth afterwards because he definitely hadn’t meant to do that, even if what Yosuke had said was completely ludicrous.

Forget you? With the amount of running around you do in my mind, how on earth could I possibly forget you?

Souji quickly tried to find a way to convey that sentiment to Yosuke in a less creepy way.

“The only way I could ever forget you is if I had a major head injury, like blunt force trauma, and I forgot everything… or, if I, you know, died.”

“Partner! Don’t say shit like that!”

“My problem isn’t forgetting you; my problem is remembering you too much. Seriously, it’s constant. But actually, yeah, no, I don’t want to think of you any less, not really…”

“Heh, is this what it feels like to be flattered? You’re really something else, Partner. Oh hey, I’ve gotta go; my mom’s calling me for dinner.”

“Okay,” Souji sighed, feeling like he had sort of just poured his heart out (in a subtle yet super vulnerable and embarrassing way?), and yet the conversation had not come anywhere close to a satisfying resolution. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do! She’ll be thrilled, haha. She’s actually trying out one of the recipes you left her, so I’ll let you know how it goes. Don’t worry though; it’s definitely not gonna be as good as when you make it.”

Souji rediscovered his smile, happy that Yosuke would be thinking about him after he hung up—comparing his mother’s cooking against Souji’s own while he ate, remembering the times Souji had made the dish for him, coming up with an evaluation to share with Souji after the meal was done…

“Your loyalty is appreciated.”

“All right, Partner, thanks for talking to me.”

“Yosuke? I’m sorry if anything I said was too weird.”

“All you ever say is weird stuff, man. I’m used to it.”

“Pfft, okay, bye.”

“Talk to you later!”

Yosuke hung up, and Souji finished off the crane he was working on, setting the red paper bird on his desk in a row with several other red cranes. He took a photo and sent it off to Yosuke with the caption: “It’s like your shirt.”

Satisfied with that, Souji stood up so he could go make his own dinner, but a text from Yosuke stopped him in his tracks.

Instead of a reply about his picture, he opened up an unexpected picture from Yosuke.

It was of his notebook, the one he had been doodling in at the beginning of their conversation.

The first thing that caught his eye was a big-headed (chibi?) doodle of himself (the distinct bowl cut was a dead giveaway) in the middle of the page, holding his sword and wearing his TV World glasses. He also appeared to be on fire? Or maybe that was a representation of Persona power?

Whatever it was, it was adorable.

Souji’s gaze flitted across the full page, his breaths growing more shallow as he took it all in: Izanagi and Jiraiya doing cool(?) action poses next to each other, a bento box that looked very much like the ones Souji used to prepare for Yosuke every day, a half-melted snowman wearing Souji’s grey scarf and Nanako’s Loveline hat, a Mega Beef Bowl from Aiya’s and stick figure versions of all their friends drowning in it…

It took Souji a minute to realize it, but every single doodle across the page was somehow related to himself, and the memories he and Yosuke shared together.

In the bottom corner of the page, one doodle was squeezed in that must have been the last one Yosuke drew. It was the two of them standing side-by-side in front of a house (but it didn’t look like any house that Souji recognized?) with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were wearing big happy faces, and one of Yosuke’s arms was in the air, as if he was waving.

The circular sun with squiggly rays coming out of it was in the sky above them, smiling and wearing sunglasses, ironically. There was a thing in front of the house that Souji didn’t recognize at first until he saw the bike next to it; it was a half-pipe.

Then Souji squinted at another part of the doodle and zoomed in on the image, not quite believing his eyes.

In the front window of the house, there was a cat peeking through, big and fluffy just like Souji liked.

Was that supposed to be… their house?

“No way,” Souji whispered to himself.

Then he scrolled down to the caption and completely lost his breath.

“I think of you too.”

And with that, Souji’s fate was sealed—he was going to be thinking about Yosuke—his Partner who he was in love with (who thought about him too!)—nonstop for the rest of his life.

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anxious2dsimp · 3 years

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Everything He's Not | Iwaizumi x GN! Reader | Short Fic

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Flavour: Angst (Reader x Cheater!Oikawa) to Fluff (Reader x Iwaizumi)💔→☁️

Reader: Gender Neutral!

Format: Short Fic (alternating between two sides of the story, y/n and Iwa's)

Part: 1 out of 2 (read part 2 here)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Y/N, has dated the very popular Oikawa Toru for a while, through him becoming friends with his group. However, little do they know about a certain stoic ace's feelings for his best friend's s/o. When Oikawa screws up big time, will Iwaizumi's true feelings finally show? And what will Y/N do when everything goes down?

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, breakups, basically Oikawa x Reader angst turned into Iwaizumi x Reader fluff.

A/N: I wrote this for myself a while back but I edited it into a gender-neutral reader insert on a sleep-deprived whim (sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know!) Ik it's very random, but hopefully someone likes it :)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Your POV

Dating Oikawa Toru was definitely different from what you expected; at first you were weary about the volleyball star, but after giving him a chance you started to see the real him. Yes, he was the captain of a powerhouse’s Volleyball team and had a ton of fangirls, but really he was just a regular guy with dorky interests and an alien obsession, which was the side of him you fell for. It wasn’t all great, dealing with his fangirls was rough; luckily you were safe being from another school, but they’d take any chance they had to try and gain Oikawa’s interest, flirting with him as he did the same back, not with bad intentions, it was just his personality. It did slightly annoy you, but you knew he was clear that we were together and wouldn’t take things further, he was just keeping up his image, and he promised you that was all.

Since your Karasuno friends didn’t particularly like your relationship with the setter (though they did respect it), you two hung out with his Aoba Johsai friends; that’s how your friendship with Iwa, Makki, and Mattsun started. You all became good friends, so they all helped you keep Oikawa in line while at school (especially Iwaizumi). Since you got along so well your friendship became its own thing besides Oikawa, and before you realized it, you and Iwa were such good friends that you chatted almost daily on the phone.

You don’t know what exactly made you bond so much, maybe you were similar in the sense that you were both used to being lowkey, keeping things together behind the scenes; regardless, you both enjoyed each other’s company. That Tuesday afternoon was one of those days, Oikawa had something to do at school, so Iwaizumi invited you, Makki, and Mattsun over to his place to wait for the captain like you usually did since it was the closest to the school.

So, you just chilled like always, laughing and playing video games, talking about whatever came to mind. While you were in the middle of a Mario Kart match, you heard the front door of the apartment open, “(y/n)-chan! I’m sorry for the delay~” the brunette said in a sing-song voice.

“Hi to you too, Oikawa,” said Makki, poking fun at him, to which he just rolled his eyes and walked over to the couch. “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss?” Oikawa asked standing in front of the screen, causing all four of you to start yelling at him to get out of the way, making him pout. “One sec, Toru-chan,” you said, biting your lip while focusing on keeping your first place intact for the last lap. The setter just giggled and got out of the way, walking around the sofa to stand behind you.

Iwaizumi’s POV

‘Eyes on the screen Iwaizumi,’ the ace told himself as he tried to focus on the game, attempting to ignore the way Oikawa kissed (y/n)’s neck while they played, trying to get their attention but failing miserably other than a giggle here and there. Iwa could tell by the way their (e/c) colored eyes pierced the screen that they wanted to win. The boy could see why his best friend liked them, unlike most people (y/n) actually treated Oikawa like a normal person, which definitely got him going. It wasn’t just that though, you all became such good friends because they’re smart, funny and beyond kind; but that’s all you were, friends. So why did it make him moody to see them be all couple-y?

After all, they were together while he was just the friend, the one who kept the fangirls off Oikawa so (y/n) didn’t have to worry because he couldn’t do it himself. Even though Toru was Iwaizumi’s best friend since they were kids, he couldn’t help but think that his friend wasn’t the greatest boyfriend. However, that was the same reason why he couldn’t say anything either, after all, they made him happy and vice versa, so he just kept telling himself to keep his damn eyes on the screen.

Luckily for him, the game was soon over so you all ordered takeout and sat around talking. “Yo, (y/n), there’s this new scary movie on Netflix, we should watch it this Friday night,” Mattsun stated, stealing one of Maki’s fries and throwing it in his mouth. “That sounds fun, but I can’t Friday! Karasuno has a friendly match against a few Tokyo schools this weekend so we leave Thursday after school,” (y/n) explained with a sweet smile, Iwaizumi’s eyes casually wondering over to Oikawa to see him looking upset.

‘Ugh, here goes,’ the spiker thought to himself. Lately, Toru had been restless and uncomfortable because according to him, his s/o was slipping away from him. Oikawa had somehow managed to convince himself that Karasuno had made it their mission to get their manager (y/n) to stop liking him and had been getting increasingly dramatic and jealous lately for no reason.

“But I thought we were going to hang out this weekend,” Oikawa whined as he pouted at his significant other, trying to seem jokingly disappointed though his best friend could tell he actually was upset. “Babe, we literally talk every day and we hung out all this past weekend, and today,” (y/n) said taking his hand.

“Plus, you have friends too, Shittykawa,” Hajime said, trying to get his friend’s mind out of that dark place since he knew he was more prone to make stupid comments when it was there. Oikawa didn’t drop it, insisting on how they were talking less as (y/n) continued to explain that school had been busy and how he also had responsibilities that took up his time. They eventually got him to shut up, but Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the concern that he was being too stupid, and it felt like he was getting closer and closer to making a mistake.

Your POV

You had to admit you did feel guilty when you told Toru you were leaving for the weekend, it was true that you had been way too busy with school and that neither of you had much free time, but you knew that your feelings for him were still strong. So, that Thursday after school you were happy and excited to hear that the trip had been postponed and you’d actually travel on Saturday morning because Sensei had a very important meeting on Friday afternoon. With the change of plans, you decided to go surprise your boyfriend, and it already being late in the afternoon, by the time you got to his place he would be home.

As you got off the bus by his place and got closer to his house, the sun beginning to set, a couple by a small park caught your eye, causing a soft smile to appear on your face. That park was always where you two would hang out when you wanted to be just the two of you. Walking closer, however, the smile quickly disappeared as you realized the “couple” was none other than Oikawa himself with one of his persistent fans he told you not to worry about. ‘Maybe they’re just hanging out as friends,’ or at least that’s what you told yourself as you squinted and kept walking.

Picking up your pace you got closer, now being able to see their faces more clearly in the dimly lit park only to watch them kiss, the girl’s arms around his neck while Oikawa’s hand slid up her thigh. You didn’t know what to do, so you just stood there in shock as silent tears began to fall down your face. Almost as if you were in a trance, you reached into your pocket and took out your phone, dialing his number as you saw the brunette react.

He looked down surprised at his phone screen as he scooted apart from the girl and picked up the call as if it was nothing. “Hey beaut-” he started to say before you cut him off, not having the strength to hear his happy tone. “How could you?!” you sobbed angrily into the phone as his face became anxious. “What’s wrong babe?” How could he try to play it off as if he had no idea?

“You lying, cheating, son of a bitch! We’re over,” you yelled angrily, hanging up right as his eyes met yours. You were close enough to see the horrified and heartbroken expression on his face, but before he could say anything you turned around and just ran. Grabbing the straps of your backpack you sprinted back down the streets, your vision blurry with tears as your (h/c) hair was pushed back by the wind. It was only when you were back at the bus station and were sure that Oikawa was nowhere to be seen that you stopped and realized; you didn’t know where to go next.

You could go to your Karasuno friends, but you weren’t in the mood to hear “I told you so” and couldn’t go home to not worry your family. As you sat there and looked at the screen blankly, tears continuing to fill your eyes, a notification appeared. ‘Hey loser, how’s the trip going?’ you read as your eyes looked at Iwa’s name by the message. He was your best shot, you were close and he wouldn’t judge, so without opening your phone again and ignoring all of Oikawa’s calls you jogged over to Iwaizumi’s place.

After ringing the apartment and hiding your teary and now out of breath voice in the intercom, Iwa’s mom buzzed you in, and once you got to his floor you were greeted by Iwaizumi looking concerned, more so once he saw the state you were in. “(y/n), are you ok?” Iwaizumi asked as he walked over to you, hugging you as you hid in his arms and sobbed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. It’s Oikawa,” you explained as he nodded and got you inside. He made some tea and brought it with you two to his room, both of you sitting on his bed. “Ok, what did Shittykawa do now?” he asked as he looked up at you and handed over a warm mug. “D- did you know h-he was cheating on me?” you managed to stutter out between sobs, trying to sound collected but being embarrassed by your inability to do so.

“He- wHAT?!” His reaction startled you, and when you looked up from the cup and saw his horrified, furious expression it made you feel less like you were overreacting. “I- the trip got postponed to Saturday morning, so I went to surprise him to his place and saw him in our bench making out with one of his fangirls,” you explained, watching as Iwa’s face became angrier and angrier, realizing how you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this, “I’m sorry I came to you, I know you’re best friends.”

Iwaizumi’s POV

Seeing them like this was already painful, but learning what Oikawa did was too much, Iwaizumi couldn’t believe how his friend could do this to (y/n). The spiker had never cared when he did stuff like this or worse than this to his fangirls. After all, he thought, they were the ones stupid enough to be blinded by his charm, but he never fathomed Oikawa would be able to do something like that to someone as great as you. “What? Hey, don’t even dare apologize,” he stated firmly as he took both mugs and set them by the bedside table, hugging (y/n) tightly and feeling them snuggle into him as they cried. Seeing them like this killed him. ‘Fuck Oikawa,’ he thought to himself, ‘if before I had stayed out of the way because they were good for each other that’s no longer the case.’

“I’m so sorry he did this to you; I should have stopped him. If I had known I would have, I should have been paying more attention,” the ace rambled into (y/n)’s hair as they cried softly, getting angry at himself before being interrupted by them pushing themselves away from him gently to look up at his face. “Why are you apologizing as if this was your fault? Iwa, he’s the one who’s an asshole, not you,” they stated, wiping a tear from their face.

“Because,” was he really going to say this? Screw it, here goes nothing, he told himself before continuing, “I knew you deserved better than him, but I convinced myself he would be different with you because I saw how good you were to him, and how happy you looked.” (y/n) just looked at him, mouth slightly ajar as they seemed to process what the boy had said. He couldn’t take the silence anymore so to avoid the blush he felt was beginning to appear on his cheeks he asked; “so did you dump him?” They nodded, looking down at their cup of tea as they chuckled and replied; “on the spot, over the phone.”

Iwaizumi chuckled back, releasing some of the nerves; “serves him right.” They smiled weakly at his comment and absentmindedly ran their fingers through their hair, My god were they gorgeous, Hajime thought to himself, only then realizing it was the first time it was just the two of them in his room, suddenly becoming self-conscious. Calm down, he told himself while taking a deep breath, looking over at (y/n). 'They just broke up with their boyfriend, being here with you is their last concern,' or so he thought. “Do you… want to watch (favorite movie) and eat ice cream?” the spiker suggested after thinking for a moment, he knew that was their favorite movie, and ice cream helps get over jerks, right?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

#Cassie likes HQ!#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x gender neutral reader #oikawa angst #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi hajime fic #iwaizumi fic #iwaizumi x you

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

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Wonderful Unknown

O’Knutzy AU where Lo and Finn don’t kiss in college, but still become teammates on the Lion, where they still meet Leo Knut and all fall for each other. They become close, Logan actually moves in with them, and they decide to have a late-night skate one night when Logan can’t sleep. There’s mutual pining and mild angst, and it’s possible there’s some romance as well. Did I proofread this? Not really. Do I have any idea how to write a poly relationship? No. Did I try anyway? Hell yes.

So apparently I wrote this in September? And then never posted it? It could be why I don’t remember it. I titled it and everything, damn. But uh, here it is now I guess? Characters from @lumosinlove <333

Logan was on the couch in the living room, the light dim as he scrolled through his phone. It was late, past midnight. Finn and Leo were both awake, Leo puttering about in the kitchen despite the late hour and Finn with a book open on his chest on the other end of the couch. Logan’s phone buzzed just then, a notification from his mom.

He opened at it quickly, a little surprised to hear from her so late, but pleased all the same. But he froze when he read the contents of the message, his mind going suddenly quiet.

“Logan? Are you okay?” He blinked and found Finn looking at him concernedly, green eyes wide. Leo stood still in the kitchen, watching them carefully.

“My sister’s in the hospital,” was all he said.

“What?”

“Sydney, she’s hurt. It was a hit.”

“Well, is she gonna be okay?”

Logan shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know.” His voice broke and Finn knelt in front of him, setting a comforting on his knee. Leo came fully into the room and crouched by Finn’s side. “Mom said it’s her ankle. The doctors are with her now.”

Finn rubbed soothing circles on his knee. “Okay. Well that’s good, it means she’s going to be okay. Ankle isn’t life-threatening.”

“Yeah, but what if she can’t skate anymore?” Logan looked down at the boys, his eyes wide and frantic. “That would kill her.”

“Tremz.” Finn pressed a gentle hand to his cheek, pretending it was purely platonic and comforting and not at all romantic. “It’s going to be okay, yeah? You said the doctors are with her, right?” Logan nodded mutely. “Then she’s in good hands. She’s stubborn, your sister, like you, right? She’ll make it through this, I know it.”

“My mom said not to come. That I have to stay here, focus on the game.”

“And she’s right,” Leo piped in. “You won’t do her any good pacing the hospital. Sydney isn’t going anywhere, she’ll still be there in three days. But we need you on Tuesday, d’accord? We need you.”

“Oui, I know. I’m staying. I just...I feel so helpless just sitting here.”

Leo and Finn swapped a glance before looking back to Logan.

“Why don’t we go skating?” Finn suggested after a moment. “We’d always do that in college, remember?”

Logan smiled a little at the memory. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

And so, that was how the three of them found themselves at the rink a little past one in the morning, ice still roughed up from practice, lacing their skates in silence.

Logan was the first on the ice, heading aimlessly in circles. The only sound was his skates gliding over the ice. Leo and Finn glanced at each other, something unsaid passing between them, before they too stepped onto the rink.

“Wanna race?” Finn asked Logan, who just shrugged aimlessly in response. “Nut?” he asked instead. Leo gave him a tired smile.

“Sure.”

They headed to one end of the rink, Logan watching quietly as Finn counted down to one and they both took off towards the opposite side.

Finn was clumsy on the ice, his feet dragging slowly. Leo didn’t look much better off as he stifled a yawn behind his hand, trying to keep his focus.

“Yes!” Finn crowed as he reached the other side first, slamming into the boards. Leo reached him a moment later.

“I’m sorry guys, you must be exhausted,” Logan said suddenly. They turned and looked at him, hovering a few feet away.

“It’s okay, Tremz.” Leo smiled softly.

“Yeah, but-”

“Lo,” Finn interrupted him. “We’re here for you, okay? Even if we’re a bit sleep deprived.” Leo nodded his agreement, even as he yawned again.

A moment later, Finn and Logan both yawned as well.

“Dammit Nut.” Leo grinned guiltily.

“What? It’s past my bedtime.”

Finn pushed him. “It is not!”

“What? I was up early this morning! All of us were. I am entitled to feel a bit tired.”

“Fine, fine. I suppose we did get up rather early this morning,” Finn allowed.

“Fucking morning skate,” Logan grumbled. Leo rolled his eyes before skating over to him and grabbing his arm, pulling him forwards.

“C’mon Logan!” he called, letting go of him and gliding ahead. “You’re the one that wanted a distraction!”

“Fine,” Logan muttered and followed Leo. Finn followed and soon they were all laughing, chasing each other around the ice and making up silly games.

After a while, Leo stopped them with a laugh and stepped off the ice, going in search of some water bottles. Finn followed Logan around the rink, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Logan was skating backwards, watching him with a soft smile.

“You’re cute,” he murmured under his breath.

Finn froze, only his previous momentum keeping him moving. Logan’s eyes were wide.

“Sorry,” he stammered.

Finn tilted his head, considering him, his sluggish brain desperately trying to keep up. While he looked at him, Logan came to a stop against the boards and Finn stopped in front of him.

“Did you just call me cute?” A small smirk played at Finn’s lips.

“No!” Logan replied quickly. He blushed and ducked his head. “Maybe.”

With shaking hands, Finn leaned out and rested a gloved hand on Logan’s cheek, his other hand settling on his waist. Logan leaned into him just a bit, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric. Finn swallowed hard. He could feel Logan’s breath hot on his face. His brown eyes were wide, uncertain and afraid, but longing lay there too.

“Lo…”

Without thinking, without giving himself time to shy away, Finn leaned forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s.

He had intended it to be quick, just a simple peck. But Logan, after a moment of complete stillness, had gasped into Finn’s mouth and wrapped his arms around his neck. Finn’s fingers dug into Logan’s hip and pulled him closer.

“Uh, guys?” a timid voice asked. They jumped apart and whipped around to see Leo staring at them, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “Sorry. Do you want me to go?” His voice was shaking a bit.

“Knutty,” Finn breathed. His lips were pink and his hair was mussed from Logan’s fingers. But his face fell as he stared at the younger boy, with this head ducked and devastation in his eyes, and something cracked in his heart. “C’mere.”

Hesitantly, Leo skated over to them, looking apprehensive. As soon as he was within reach, Finn grabbed his hand and pulled him in. This of course only lead to them bumping right into each other.

“Oop, sorry,” Finn said quietly. He made to move to distance himself from Leo though, staying pressed flush against him.

Leo stared up at him, shocked, but he didn’t move either. Logan didn’t say a word, watching them with his mouth slightly open.

“Finn?” Leo asked finally.

“Yeah, Nut?”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Finn looked at him with wide eyes, before glancing over at Logan. He had a strange expression on his face that, for once, Finn couldn’t read.

“Um…” Instead of finishing, Finn lunged forward and pressed his lips to Leo. Leo kissed him back, soft and sweet.

Only a moment later, Finn jumped back, wide eyes finding Logan, who had begun nuzzling at his neck and pressing soft kisses to his skin.

“Logan, what-”

Logan huffed, but didn’t say anything.

Leo was staring at the two of them, eyes wide. “I-” he stuttered and both looked over at him. “I need to go.” With that, he hurried off the ice and disappeared into the locker room, leaving Logan and Finn in stunned silence.

“Finn?” Logan asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you kiss me? Why did you kiss Leo?”

Finn ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Dammit, Lo. I don’t know. I mean, how could I do this? How could I like both of you? At the same time? It’s all a mess, I don’t- I don’t know.”

“You like me-”

“I love you.”

“-and Leo? Wait, you love me?”

Finn sighed. “Of course I do, Lo. I always have. How could I not? It just took me a long time to realize it. And an even longer time to do something about it.”

“I- yes.”

Finn frowned. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I love you too, you idiot.” Logan rolled his eyes. “And Leo,” he added, brow furrowing a bit.

“You- you like Leo, too?”

“Yeah. I thought it made a terrible person for so long. I mean, how could I like both of you? Who does that?”

“We do.” Finn pressed their foreheads together, looking down into Logan’s bambi brown eyes.

“I want you, both of you,” Logan admitted quietly.

“So do I,” Finn breathed. Logan looked up at him trustingly, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His mind was on Leo the whole time, imagining what it would be like if he was there, if he even wanted them at all. Logan pulled away.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon.”

Together, they headed off the ice and into the locker room Leo had disappeared into. They found him hunched over in his stall, head in his hands, shoulder’s shaking with silent sobs.

“Nut?” Finn asked, rushing over to him. “Hey, don’t cry sweetheart.”

Leo sniffed and looked down at him where he was crouched by his knee. “Hey, Fish.” He gave him a watery smile.

“Leo?” Logan asked timidly, coming to crouch beside him. “We need to tell you something. We-” he stopped, glanced at Finn- “Well, I can’t speak for Finn, but I’ve been in love with him for almost eight years. But…”

When he didn’t say anything else, Finn continued, “We-we talked, and realized that… that we both really like you too, Nut.”

Leo looked up sharply, gaze darting between them. “You- what?”

“We want you. If you’ll have us.”

“You’re serious? You’re not joking.”

“No.”

“Oh my god.” Leo stared at them, openmouthed. He said again, “Oh my god.” Then he lunged forward and pulled both of them close, his lips finding Logan’s for the first time.

Logan kissed him fiercely, a hand on his jaw and the other tangled in his hair. After a moment, Finn began pressing kisses to Leo’s neck, and then to Logan’s, hands roaming over both of them. Blindly, Leo reached out and grabbed onto Logan’s sweater.

Leo groaned when Finn’s hand pressed to his stomach, lips attached to his collarbone. Logan pulled away from him and Finn immediately took his place, Logan watching them for a moment, his cheeks flushing brighter.

“God,” he whispered. His eyes were bright with desire. Leo and Finn parted and looked at him, all three of them panting hard.

They stayed that way, looking at each other, with their red kissed lips and mussed up hair, hearts beating fast and breaths coming in gasps.

“We should head home,” Finn said eventually. “It’s getting pretty late.” Leo and Logan both glanced at the clock in the corner. It was almost three.

“Wow. We’ve been here a while.”

“Tremz, your mom say anything about Sydney?” Leo asked.

“Oh! I dunno.” He hurried over and grabbed his phone from his bag. He flicked through the messages before sighing in relief. “She’s gonna be okay. It’s a bad break, but the doctors think she’ll be able to make a full recovery.”

Finn grinned. “Oh, good. That’s great.”

“See? We told you she’d be fine.”

Logan smiled at them. “C’mon. Let’s head home.”

“Can… can we really do this?” Logan asked timidly on the drive home. “Be together?” Leo grabbed his hand.

“Yes,” Finn replied firmly. “It’s us. We’ll make it work.”

And Logan’s responding smile was enough to light up the world.

#o'knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #first kiss #injury cw #hospital mention cw

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mrs-hatake · 4 years

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train station shenanigans (1)

A/N: Helloooooo everyone!

As promised, here’s the first chapter/intro of the aizawa x reader fic based on my work life! This is 90% Self Indulgent so just a heads up!

Anyways, enjoy! :D

Ps, not proof read!

Se no!

Demo sonnan ja dame mou sonnan ja hora.

You groaned in protest at the sound of your alarm that blared under your pillow. With your eyes still closed, you slid your hand under your pillow and fished out your phone to quickly tap the stop function. The white numbers of the clock read half past seven in the morning. You let out a whine and cursed the day you applied for a job.

Once you had convinced yourself to stay awake and ignore the sweet calls of slumber, you unlocked your phone and checked your notifications. After spending about fifteen minutes on twitter, you chucked your phone behind on your bed and pushed yourself upwards. You yawned loudly as you stretched your limbs. Lazily, you exited your bedroom and slowly went down the stairs so as to not awaken your mother and baby brother.

Today was your first day back to work after the mandatory lockdown due to the spread of the new virus. Having a break from work was wonderful as you were able to spend more time with your family. It sucked that everything was closed and you weren’t going to lie, it was stressful seeing the death tolls on the news, but you had fun at home. And now that things had finally calmed down in Japan, it was time to return to work.

Despite your whines from earlier, you were honestly looking forward to work. It was fun being at home, especially when you had so much free time to binge watch all of your favorite shows, but that could be entertaining for so long before it lost its charm.

With a soft hum of some random song, you worked on making yourself breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just some frozen waffles that you shoved down the toaster and then later drizzled caramel on top. You moaned at the fluffy texture in your mouth, and briefly, you were reminded of your days in school. When it was the first day and your mother would be up early and making breakfast for you. You missed those days. Life was much simpler back then. You wondered if your baby brother missed the lively atmosphere while getting for school or not. When you swallowed the last piece of waffle, you washed the dish and utensils that you’ve used before heading back upstairs to shower and get ready for work.

You decided to wear a simple yellow sundress for work. The best thing about the company you worked in wasn't being strict with the clothes you wore. As long as they were modest and family friendly, they found no reason to implement a strict dress code. Your senior coworkers decided to stick with the traditional attire of dark colored business suits. As much as you loved black, you didn’t want to wear the dark color every single day.

After you finished dressing up, you applied light mascara and let your dark green, almost black, curly locks gently rest on your shoulders. Spraying some lavender scented perfume, you texted your mother that you were off to work. But not before you snuck into your brother’s room, brushed back his dark green curls and pecked his forehead.

It was strange seeing the normally crowded streets of Musutafu be so desolate. The vast streets that were once filled with cars, almost resembling a parade with its colors and soft purrs of the motors, only had four or five cars on each lane. It was almost unnerving how quiet the streets of Musutafu were. But no matter, at least now you didn’t have to worry about traffic. Sure, you took the bus to work, though it was still frustrating to be trapped in the middle of traffic while freaking out over being on work on time. Not that you ever had been late. You always managed to show up at least twenty minutes earlier than the intended time.

The smell of bleach and lemon wafted through your nose once you stepped foot into the modestly sized train station. Just like the streets of Musutafu, the train station was just as desolate. The buzz of passengers sizzled out to soft mummers. The sea of people shrunk to a puddle. And the cheery atmosphere became somber. It was depressing. Though that didn’t deter you. With your head held high, you went straight to your office that you would normally share with five other people. Due to the new government rule, however, employees who weren’t supervisors, managers or ceos will take shifts and return to work every other day. Meaning you only had to work with three other people today.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Was the first thing that greeted your ears when you opened your office door.

Your boss was...unorthodox. He had long wavy hair that he would put up in a messy bun. Grey circles could be seen under his eyes and a soft stubble peppered his chin and upper lip. If you could describe your boss, then you would use the adjectives: grumpy and sleep deprived.

“Good morning, Aizawa-san.” You replied with a smile. Though, at the remembrance of wearing a mask that was way too big for you and covered most of your face, you dropped the smile. Aizawa said nothing, only nodded his head and continued to type away on his computer.

As you sanitize your workstation and logged into your computer, your supervisor Yamada Hizashi, walked in and bellowed “Gooooooood morning my little ducklings!” You heard Aizawa groan under his breath and tried not to chuckle at his misery.

Aizawa and Yamada were childhood friends and coworkers. It baffled you at first when Nemuri, your co-supervisor, had mentioned it in passing. The two were extremely different. While Yamada was the bright sun on a summer’s day that humans longed for after a long and miserable winter, Aizawa was the moon that people sung praises to with his mysterious aura and charming personality. After working with them for a month, however, you could see how the two were best friends. They balanced each other out perfectly and would always bring out the best side of the other person.

“Must you be so loud so early in the morning.” It wasn’t meant to be a question but Yamada answered anyway.

“Yes, I must bless everyone with my beautiful voice.”

If he wasn’t in a work environment, you were certain that Aizawa would have smacked his head on his desk to end his misery.

A peaceful silence settled upon you and you awkwardly shifted in your seat. Neither Aizawa nor Yamada had instructed you with anything to do and you were starting to feel antsy. Just as you were about to excuse yourself to walk around the station, maybe get some fresh air, Aizawa cleared his throat and called your name. You sat up straighter in your chair and locked your eyes with his.

“Write a letter to the Council of Train Stations to approve the extension of payment fees deadline.” Instructed Aizawa before returning to face his computer.

Blinking twice, You wrote down what he said in your notebook and began working on the letter.

You worked in the administrative department of the train station. The company you worked with, All Might Train Station Management, was infamous in maintaining and developing the station. From managing stores, adding holiday decorations to conducting safety measures and promoting the best image of the station, those were among the many things that you will deal with for the next eight months.

Once you have submitted your letter, you inform Aizawa. Who just hummed at you in return, too absorbed in his own work.

This went on for two hours. Aizawa would ask you to write a letter, you wrote it down on your note and then typed it on your computer and submitted it. Sometimes, you would have to contact other employees from other departments to forward you files that you had to attach to your letters. It was stressful, but not unmanageable.

It was around twelve in the afternoon when Aizawa excused himself to meet with the president of the company, Toshinori Yagi. Shortly afterwards, Yamada also left the office to God knows where. A habit of his that you envied but would never actually do. Yamada had been working two years at the company so he had the privilege to take a break from work and wander around. Maybe someday you could do it too, but for now, You’re stuck in your office.

Noticing that none of them were returning any time soon, You took your wallet and made your way to the mini market for a cold beverage and some snacks. You didn’t want to eat lunch at work - not that you can anyways since the staff room was under maintenance - but you were starting to get hungry and you couldn’t work to the best of your potential with an empty stomach.

When you returned to your office, you spotted Aizawa back at his desk. Yamada was nowhere in sight. Quietly, so as to not disrupt your workaholic of a boss, you sat down on your chair and opened your bag of chocolate animal crackers and stabbed the straw into your mango juice box.

“You look like you’re in elementary school.”

Your head shot upwards at Aizawa’s comment and could feel your cheeks flushing with warmth and you were positive that they had turned a bright red color.

“Would you like some?” You blurted and instantly winced. It was no secret that you were an awkward person by nature and tended to blurt things out or ramble on when nervous. You tried improving that aspect of yourself at work, not wanting to embarrass yourself at work like you did in college. You wanted to be professional and taken seriously. But it was proving to be a challenge.

Aizawa appeared to be contemplating your offer, half distracted by whatever it was displayed in front of him on his computer. “Sure, why not.” He eventually replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Your heart beat in anticipation as you stood up and crossed the short distance between your desk and his. Your hand held out the yellow bag of animal shaped chocolate crackers and watched as Aizawa dipped his hand and fish out two crackers; a panda and an elephant. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Your reply was soft, almost a squeak. Aizawa just hummed in response and returned to type away at his keyboard. You briefly toyed with the idea of being as busy Aizawa, to the point of being unaware of your surroundings.

The rest of the day went uneventful. Aizawa didn’t ask you to write any letters and Yamada didn’t return to the office until half an hour before work ended. The loud blonde asked Aizawa if he wanted to join him for lunch later and you held your breath at what your boss was going to reply, the thought of him living a normal life outside of these four walls was almost unimaginable. “Yeah, sure.” Ah, to see Aizawa in a casual setting, a privilege that you have to work very hard for.

When it was two in the afternoon, you turned off your computer, signed your name on the attendance sheet and bid farewell to your colleagues.

“Goodbye, my little duckling!” You heard Yamada say behind you while Aizawa grunted a quiet ‘bye’.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa scenario #aizawa x you #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

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redstainedsocks · 4 years

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What’s in a name

Warnings: Torture, sensory deprivation, solitary confinement, electrocution/electroshock therapy, punishments, sadistic whumper, institutionalozed whump, memory loss, identity erasure, noncon drugging, drugs that cause memory loss, hallucinations, brutal treatment, brief beating and manhandling, box boy universe, dehumanization, denial of food

Set during Kit’s training period. I originally wrote this for escape!week and the prompt “relapse” but it didn’t seem right for the tone of that week, so I wrote something else for that and decided to post this on it’s own! Thanks especially to @castielamigos-whump-side-blog for being so enthusiastic about seeing more of Kit’s early time, gives me confidence that this is, hopefully, wanted :D.

This one is particularly brutal, so heed the warnings, and if you don’t feel up to reading it I’m happy to give a quick rundown of the content to anyone who DMs me. But as it’s set in the past, nothing particularly plot relevant happens, so it can be skipped altogether.

This is the knock-off version of what WRU would do during training, if anyone is curious. The made up drugs for this universe that alter memory (among other things) still exist, and I’ve made use of them. Thanks and credit to the other writers in the box boy universe--especially @ashintheairlikesnow and @moose-teeth--for giving me lots of context for their procedures so I could learn the process and turn it into this non-WRU method.

Tag List: @haro-whumps, @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter @slaintetowhump @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi

Word Count: 1.9k

He woke up one day and he just knew.

Maybe they’d let him sleep for too long. Maybe he hadn’t been on the right dose of the drugs. Maybe it had been too many days since his last round of the shocks and beatings that forced his mind to retreat into numb obedience.

Whatever the reason he knew, he remembered.

He used to have a name.

He didn't used to spend his days cowering in corners and obeying orders, looking up at the world from his knees, or on his back, or with eyes ringed with bruises. He didn’t used to be scared and exhausted all the time, just hoping to make it through the day without crying in front of a stranger.

He used to be a person.

And if he knew that, he could fight back. He knew the routines, the layouts, which guards were a softer touch. He just needed an opening, and he’d take it.

When the guard came down the row of cells and knocked their baton on the concrete wall dividing his cell from the next, called him pet and told him to get up—he refused. He curled tighter into the corner and balled his fists and ducked his head.

“I said up, trainee.”

“Not my name,” he growled out.

“What was that?”

“I said: that’s not my name, I have a name.”

“Do you now? Want to share with the class?”

He grit his teeth and glared. Just because he wanted to hold on to it and not tell this violently dangerous man, didn’t make it any less true.

The guard grinned.”That’s what I thought.” A radio crackled and the guard spoke into it. “Yeah, we’ve got a back-slider in row 4, yeah, being defiant again.”

A muffled voice spoke back.

“Will do, I’ll wait right here.”

He frowned, leant forward a little. No, this wasn’t right, when he disrespected them they’d come in and give him a beating, right there and then. And he’d decided he wasn’t going to cower, he was going to use it as an opportunity to get the upper hand. Shit, no, shit, he’d played his card too early.

Three more black-glad guards arrived, one man, and a woman. A trainer too, the mean one who had steel toed boots and a grey streak in his hair. They surveyed him and checked the chart hanging by his cell. He watched them all through the chain link as they talked about training methods, the pros and cons of every course of treatment while he got more nervous by the second.

“What is that you want, trainee?” The trainer asked eventually. “What were you hoping to achieve with this outburst? A little one on one time? Hoping to get more food, jonesing for the drugs we put in there? Come on, talk to me pet, what did that pea-sized brain think was going to happen here?”

“Nothing,” he snarled. “I don’t want anything from you, you can’t do this to me, to anyone! I want to… I want to go home, you have to let me leave.” He breathed hard through his nose and tried to quell the quiet voice that told him he didn’t remember where home was, that he had nowhere else to go. That was them talking; there had to be somewhere better than here.

“That doesn’t sound like something a good pet would say. And you’ve been such a good pet lately, you’re ruining your well behaved streak.”

“I’m not your pet, I’m not anybody's pet!”

The trainer smiled and it radiated such calculated hatred that it froze the blood in his veins. “Now we’re getting to the root of it.” The man gestured at him and turned to his colleagues. “He’s starting to think he gets to be a person.”

They all laughed, and he flinched. They sounded like hyenas, jackals, crows… all out for a piece of him, waiting to pick him apart and peck out his innards piece by piece by piece until there was nothing left but empty space.

“Right, okay. This has gone on long enough, throw him in the hole. We’ll see if that destroys these little illusions.”

His defiance wavered and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees as panic surged through him. The gate unlocked and they surrounded him, hands on his shoulders and in his hair, and batons swinging down on his back and legs. He fought, he fought with everything he had.

Like always, like every time before, it wasn’t enough.

“No! No, wait, please, please. Anything else, just, please, anything else.”

Maybe he was a person, but he wasn’t above begging. Not if it got him out of this.The hole was every trainee pet’s worst nightmare. He wouldn’t go there, he wouldn’t. He clawed at the walls, the metal doorframe, wrapped his fingers around the chain link at the front of his cell and clung until the wire fencing cut into his fingers. His blood made it slippery but he wouldn’t let go. One of them brought a baton down on his hands and he wailed. When they threatened to do it again, and break both his forearms, he finally let go.

****

The hole was nothing but a pitch black metal room. A storage container of some sort, or maybe just a large dumpster repurposed for the use. They would throw you in, slam the door shut, and then it was nothing but you and a black so deep you couldn’t see your own hands.

He slammed his body against the walls until his ears rang from the metallic clangs that reverberated around the room. He couldn’t do this again, the last time… he’d gone half mad.

He wouldn’t cry, the fear was too big to cry. It was larger than his tear ducts and it couldn’t get out that way. He couldn’t risk the loss of the moisture in any case. He had two bottles of water to last him for… however long they planned to leave him.

He paced for a while, one hand on the wall to keep himself steady in the dark. Four steps, five steps, four steps, two steps—cross the door—two more steps. Around and around.

The worst thing about the Hole was the conductive metal. It heated up so much during the day that by the afternoon it hurt to touch the walls and floor. It became so overheated that it felt like the air was sizzling, too thick to enter his lungs properly, pressing on his head until he felt like he’d burst. He laid on his back, tried to keep his bare legs and arms off the floor, so the barrier of his shirt and shorts was between him and the metal. The black swam around him in dizzying eddies as he sweltered and sweated.

Sebastian. Seb. Bas. Sebastian Rogers. That’s me, that’s me, that’s who I am. They’re punishing me just for remembering.

The dark and the heat made his angry behaviour seem even more pitiful. He could have just kept his name to himself, and done what they asked, and he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Relapse, they’d called it as they talked to each other. So he just had to get better again and then they’d let him out.

Getting better probably meant forgetting, letting it go. He wouldn’t let it go, he’d just tuck it safely away where no-one else could touch it. He’d just pretend, and they’d let him go back to his cell.

The day passed and he waited in trepidation for the night. For the temperature to drop until the walls felt like ice, instead of fire. In the few hours in between too hot and too cold he drank some water, and chose a corner to piss in, and then curled up and tried to conserve body heat.

There wouldn’t be much chance to sleep except in the dusk and early morning, when it was neither too hot, nor too cold. He tried, but it wouldn’t come, there was a buzzing below his skin that wouldn’t quit.

Probably something in the water.

He did cry then, a few dry-heaving sobs that turned to yelling, and more pounding on the door. The silence and stillness were deafening. He tap-tap-tapped on the floor just to hear something. Tapped the syllables of his name until it started to sound annoying and repetitive and he stopped.

He drummed out random beats and whimpered and groaned as he started to see white and colourful spots appear in the dark. They’d coalesce into other things before long, and he didn’t want to see; he pressed his hands over his eyes so that he wouldn’t.

Two cycles of day and night—blistering heat followed by icy cold— passed before they came for him, and he was delirious and grateful. Ready to lie and say he didn’t want a name at all, they could take it, he wouldn’t fight. He was willing to do whatever it took. But they didn't give him chance. They strapped him down in the treatment room and attached little nodes to his head and his body and forced round after round of shocks through his system. Pumped electricity into his brain and his nerves in concentrated shocks that made him disoriented and forgetful, stole his memory of where he was and why, for long minutes at a time.

After that he realised that they weren’t giving him a choice, they would take his unruly behaviour from him, not offer him the chance to give it up—they would make him good.

They dumped him back in the Hole, with fresh water, two packets of insubstantial food-paste, and the urine cleaned out. Still trembling from the aftershocks he crawled into a corner and clung to his meager rations. The water tasted funny, and he sipped it knowing it would mix with the shocks and do more strange things to his memories.

Mind warped and body aching, he curled up and tried to remember what had got him in so much trouble in the first place. Something about a name…a person with a name that he wasn't supposed to know.

It barely mattered whose it was, he wished he'd never thought of it all.

Sebastian wasn't worth this. Nothing was worth this.

Twice more he went through the same routine—two days—shocks—two days. Memories obliterated until he was empty headed and dizzy and so very, very sorry.

When they finally dragged him limp and mostly unresponsive from the darkness, he waved weakly to the hallucinations that he left behind.

He was better, he would be better. They asked and he grovelled for the chance to prove it. He’d messed up so badly, but he’d do better. His mouth wouldn’t form real words, just mumbles and groans from a parched throat and numb, swollen lips that he’d bitten to keep from screaming in the void of the Hole.

It didn’t seem to bother them that he was incoherent, that he tried was enough. He cried onto their boots, clinging with fingertips to the concrete so he wouldn’t slip away.

He left more than hallucinations in the dark. He left his defiance, his angry stubborn will. He left his identity, buried under hot stale air, where it would never be seen again. Left it to rot in the dark, where it never served him any good. Abandoned his old self, and knew he was better off for it.

He was a pet, would always be, had always been; he was nothing else, remembered nothing else. The darkness up ate his name so thoroughly, so completely, that he never even knew he’d offered it up to be devoured.

#Kit's Story #dehumanization tw #conditioning tw #pet whump #box boy universe #noncon drugging #hallucinations whump #torture tw #solitary confinement whump #institutionalized whump #sensory deprivation #memory loss tw #identity erasure #people as pets #isolated whumpee #multiple whumpers #withholding food #I keep expecting someone to figure out how I came up with his full name and come into my inbox and call me out for being a dork xD #but it hasn't happened yet...

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tony-is-my-daddy · 4 years

Text

Date me please

So recently I reblogged this post and I know it’s like two years old but it inspired me so here’s a little something I wrote while sleep deprived at 3am. Forgive me if it sucks.

Peter was completely zoned out, barely even paying attention to the lecture because he found his teacher much more interesting than what was coming out of his mouth. He watched as the man walked around, explaining something to the class and while Peter enjoyed the deep tone of his smooth voice, he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

He's had a crush on his Physics teacher ever since he first set his eyes on him so... since freshman year. Well, maybe this wasn't even a crush anymore because his feelings towards the older man have only got stronger and now here he was, as a senior, still having a hard time speaking whenever Mr. Stark asked something from him.

But could you blame him? The man was the dictionary definition of perfection. Handsome face, a pair of deep brown eyes and he could even pull off a goatee that, let's admit it, doesn't look too good on other men. His dark hair was starting to go grey and while that would disgust a lot of people, in Peter's eyes it only made him even hotter. And not to talk about his seemingly perfect body, not too muscly but definitely not what men his age usually looked like. Peter adored the way those shirts stretched around his shoulders and chest and how his pants fit perfectly around the parts he wanted to see the most.

All in all, Mr. Stark looked like a god and Peter was in love with him.

He was snapped out of his trance by the harsh sound of the bell ringing and with a sigh, he started packing his books into his backpack.

"Alright kids, don't forget the test next week. Have a nice day," his teacher said, leaning agaist his desk as he watched the students get up and walk out of the classroom.

"Wanna go to the next class?" Ned asked as he got up as well. Peter looked up, still sitting in his chair as he tried to pack as slowly as he could.

"Um, go ahead, I'll catch up."

"Alright, just don't be late."

"Never."

Ned was one of the last students to walk out of the room, leaving Mr. Stark alone with Peter. When Peter finished packing, he stood up and turned to Tony with a shy smile on his face.

"Pete! Hey kiddo, how are you?"

"Oh um... I'm good. How are you, sir?"

"Just as usual for old people like me," the man laughed. "I saw you kind of... zoned out during the lesson. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Oh yeah, just a bit tired," he lied.

"You know, I've noticed that you do this pretty often but I never dared to ask about it because no matter if you pay attention or not, your grades are always up, so I didn't think it was necessary." Tony pushed himself away from his desk and took two steps forward towards Peter, who did the same. Now they were much closer and Peter had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything inappropriate. "But now I really have to ask, is something bothering you? You know you can tell me anything."

"I-I know, Mr. Stark, but I don't think I should be sharing this with you of all people," Peter said nervously. "Maybe my therapist but not you," he added quietly.

"Woah, is there something wrong at home? Should I call someone or-"

"No! Mr. Stark, I should really go to class now but I promise everything is okay. Please don't stress yourself because of me, it's not worth it, it's silly anyway."

Peter walked towards the door with quick steps, his head hanging low while he murmured curses under his breath. He was stupid, so so stupid. Why did he have to say that, it wasn't even necessary and now Tony thought there was actually something wrong with him. He was stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Wait," Mr. Stark said just as Peter's hand reached for the doorknob. He turned around and looked at the older man. "Your 18th birthday is coming up, right?"

"Y-yes, in two weeks, but how do you-"

"Do you have any plans? I mean, that’s pretty big, you’re basically an adult now. Maybe a party or something?"

“No, I don’t have many friends or a lot of money for these kind of things. I guess MJ and Ned will come over in the morning and we’ll spend the day together. But why are you asking, sir?”

“Well... I know people your age probably don’t want to spend time with people my age, but uh... would you mind if I invited you for a dinner? Just to celebrate, you know.”

His breath hitched and he knew his eyes lit up even though he tried his best to keep on the straightest face possible while his heart was beating out of his chest.

"Y-you want me to have dinner with you?" he asked, trying to suppress a happy smile.

"Yeah. I mean, I know I'm not supposed to have a favorite student but... come on," he joked and Peter laughed. He was Tony’s favorite... "So would you like to? Have dinner, I mean."

"Um yeah, yes, I mean. It's so nice of you, sir, you really shouldn't-"

"I gotta pay back for all those apples you brought to every class of mine when you were a little freshman." Tony smiled at him fondly while Peter was literally on the verge of crying. He remembered that?

"That was because you're an amazing teacher and you really deserved it."

"Well my doctor was definitely happy about it, finally I wasn't only eating things that were fried in a gallon of oil."

The bell rang again, interrupting their conversation and then Peter realized he was late from his third period. "Oh god, I should go to my next class. Thank you again, Mr. Stark, sir, you're so nice for inviting me and you really shouldn't have- I already said that, sorry. So um... have a great rest of your day and uh bye," he sputtered.

"Have a nice day Pete. And don't forget to breathe!" his teacher called after him but he was already out of the classroom, running up the stairs with a huge grin on his face as he played the conversation in his head over and over again.

Tony Stark, the man he's liked for nearly three years just invited him for a dinner.

When his birthday did come around, Ned and MJ came over like they promised and they stayed for a bit longer than expected since they didn’t know Peter had other plans as well.

When they finally left, Tony texted him (yes, his teacher has had his number for years, so what) to get ready for the dinner. He almost freaked out because he had to get ready in such a short span of time and he literally had to look perfect because duh, it's Tony Stark. He didn't quite achieve the look he wanted to, but he didn't look awful so that was acceptable considering how quickly he had to do everything.

When Tony got to his place, he just buzzed in and Peter was running down the stairs after saying bye to May.

The man looked... breathtaking. As always, of course, but now he was formally dressed up in a light blue button up shirt and a navy suit jacket that he left unbuttoned.

"Wow, Mr. Stark I really wasn't expecting you to look... this formal. I should've dressed up more."

"Oh come on kid, you look great. Besides I only told you where we're going half an hour ago so it's good you even had time to get this well dressed." Tony opened the door to the passenger seat of his car and Peter got in after a quiet "thank you".

When Tony got in the car and started driving, the tension between them got even stronger. They were in a moving vehicle together, neither of them could get out nor could they get interrupted by anyone walking in. It was awkward, so awkward because for a while, they didn't say anything, just sat in silence while staring at the road in front of them. Peter's mind was racing, though. He hasn't really thought about what this dinner meant, he just knew it wasn't normal for a teacher to ask a student out for dinner. That was usually a date thing, but they weren't on a date now, were they? They couldn't be because that would've meant Tony liked him back and that would never happen, not even in Peter's wildest dreams.

After a while, Peter decided to break the silence and ask the question that was eating him up on the inside.

"Mr. Stark, what is this? What are we doing right now?"

There was an awkward silence and the boy could see Tony's knuckles gripping the steering wheel go white. "Well, we're going eating. It's your birthday, we have to celebrate properly."

"Do you celebrate each one of your students' birthdays like this?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why am I an exception?"

Tony let out a heavy sigh and cleared his throat to win more time for himself, basically driving the boy mad.

"Look Peter, I only wanted to start this at dinner where I didn't have to pull over in the New York traffic for you to run away from me but... if you really wanna talk about it now then we're going to talk about it now." He kept silent for a while, probably only to push Peter's buttons even more. His head turned away from the road only for a second to find Peter's honeysuckle eyes, then turned back, but that second seemed like minutes to Peter. "I might have misunderstood your signs and if I have, tell me now before it gets awkward but... the way you act around me makes me think you like me."

Peter groaned and buried his hot, red face in his palms. How did he notice, how long has he known, all his questions were left unanswered as Tony kept going.

"You know, you always stare at me during class, I just act like I don't notice your eyes on me because I have to teach thirty other students there."

Peter was so embarassed, he wished the ground underneath him would open up and swallow him whole or the seatbelt around him would choke him to death, anything just to not hear what else Tony had to say.

"Look, Peter, if I'm wrong tell me right now. If you don't like me then please save me from more awkard moments and just say it."

"Y-you're right. I l-like you... a lot," he stuttered quietly.

"Wait, really?" Tony asked again, sounding shocked. But not like a bad shocked, more like a happy shocked. And when Peter finally uncovered his face to look at the man sat next to him, he saw that he was indeed smiling cheerfully. "Oh god, that's so good because, you know, I kind of like you too. Have done for a while."

Peter pinched his forearm hard just to see if he wasn't dreaming. He didn't dare to believe what the older man was saying, it simply seemed too good to be true.

"Say something," Tony asked when he didn't say anything for a while.

"You're... you're not joking, are you?"

"You think I would joke around with losing my job, Peter?"

"No, I'm sorry, I just... this all seems so unbelievable because I've liked you for so long and why would you like someone like me? It makes no sense."

Tony laughed. "You're really not aware of how kind and smart and sweet you are, Pete? You don't see how beautiful you look? How perfect you are?"

"I'm in no way perfect, Mr. Stark."

"I think I get to decide whether or not you’re perfect. And I think you are. Oh, by the way, kid, we're going on our first date right now, I think you can call me Tony," the older man smiled.

Peter felt himself blush a light pink again, his heart almost bursting out of his chest with happiness. "Okay. Tony."

#starker #starker moodboard #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #fanfiction #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #tony x peter #tony stark #peter parker #teacher crush au

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goodtimingz · 4 years

Text

dreaming you would come true

intro. pt1. pt2. pt3. pt4. pt5.

AN: i’m writing these everynight instead of writing my essay. plz feel free to send in your relationship goal prompts c: i’ll write them in this universe or i can do it for another idol!

tags: studentlife, jae day6, fluff, college!au

: the one where you meet jae in your second year of college and it’s basically love at first sight. just little excerpts of what i think a relationship w jae would be like c:

1.7k words

Hi, hello. Every time I say hi to you it makes my heart flutter.

It was Saturday night and finals were over.

On any other day you'd be celebrating, out with the group for drinks like everyone else was. But tonight you just weren't feeling it. Maybe it was the chicken you'd ate at dinner, the fact that you hadn't slept enough or the fact that finals being over meant you had no more reason to meet Jae.

You missed his laugh already, and the way his elbows hit yours when you wrote notes beside eachother. The bee line for the boba shop that shut at 11pm on Fridays, and waking him up after watching him fall asleep from a 20minute online lecture. You missed him and you felt under the weather.

Wonpil had been hesitant to leave you, your close friend and classmate. You both lived in the same dormitory building and had met on the first day of class. "Y/N are you sure you don't wanna join us?" he had asked pouting, hand already on the door handle. You had to reassure him that you were fine and come up with some lie about needing to call your mom. This was a time to celebrate and everyone deserved a break, including Wonpil who had worked his ass off and probably got all A's.

Your mind wondered to Jae, picturing him out at a bar with his mates. He probably forgot about you right? Maybe he'd been hanging out with you for the past 2 weeks because you helped him study better... (not sure about that since you'd always bother him with deep questions related to your psych class just to hear his voice abit more.)

Stuck in your thoughts, the knock on your door almost sent your soul out of your body. Ever since you were woken up by the staff during a false fire alarm the knocks had always made your heart race. You hauled the heavy ass door open with a sigh, expecting your drunk best friend or another random drunkard knocking on everyone's doors.

Instead you came face to face with Jae. Well, more like chest to face since he was ridiculously tall.

"Ayee Y/N, you didn't think I'd skip a day without you right?" His playful voice and the sweet words were like music to your ears .

Without a second thought you smiled at him and every worry went away, replaced with burning red cheeks. "What brings you here?" You questioned bashfully, opening the door wider for him to get out of the hallway.

"I was thinking you'd be boring and stay in tonight, so I asked your friend Wonpil what room you were in. You know he's in my Music class right?" You roll your eyes and nod at him as he places a plastic bag on your desk.

You couldn't lie, you were beyond surprised and happy he'd come. But it was more surprising to watch as Jae pulled out three bottles of soju and searched your shelf for cups.

"How about we cheers? You've been working your ass off and I need to drink to forget how bad the last exam went. Leshgoo!"

Your eyes widen before you realised you were laughing. "Jae do you honestly think we can finish 3 bottles? I heard from your friend Younghyun that you're a light weight as heck!" Coincidentally (or not), the day after you met Jae, Younghyun had sat beside you in one of your stats classes.

Since then you had been sent a handful of snapchat's of Jae sleeping in awkward positions, so you assumed Younghyun had heard about you through Jae.

Jae looked at you sideways, fiddling with the lid of Soju. "Ehh Younghyun's a machine that's why. Anyone is a lightweight beside him." He was already pouring you both a drink and before you knew it 3 bottles were gone. You were a light weight too, so that was definitely not a good decision.

Jae looked so cute. You're not sure how you got here, sitting on the floor of your bedroom cross legged, facing the cutest guy, but boy were you glad to be.

"Y/N, you always look so pretty, I wonder if I can see you when you don't look panda-ish." Jae mumbled, his eyes smiling sleepily. He was a sleepy drunk, or maybe that's just the 8hrs he slept for the past week. He sure loved the panda idea, and had even drew a panda on your notebook during one of your study sessions.

You laughed at his sweet expression, pushing him softly on his shoulder. "Try again in a month, but I might blind you with my beauty. You should know I'm just like the 9-tailed fox when I’m not sleep deprived."

Yeah, you were drunk, in fact you both were. You tried your best to send him a sexy wink but you ended up laughing at yourself because no matter how drunk you were, you were still shy.

"Does that mean you'll eat my heart? I did not sign up for this!"Jae's cute eyes turned to slits with a suspicious scowl. (You took a mental picture of it, saving later for a rainy day.)

"Only if you let me..." You sent him a suggestive look and laughed as he covered his chest. Anyone looking in would probably think you two were insane. You weren't sure what time it was, and if it hadn't been you're own room you probably wouldn't remember where you were either. There were boxes of chinese food you’d ordered and random things everywhere around the two of you.

"I don't think the 9-tailed fox asked her victims for permission Y/n..." He had a point. "Okay then, mind if I just-" you reached out to his chest, pretending to cut a slit with your nails and reach in to grab his heart while he giggled the whole time.

"WOW, with that precise cut you should've been a surgeon!" Jae teased, his cheeks were so flushed and you took both of his hands in your own.

"You should know that is what I always dreamed to do, but here we are, 2 years into a psychology major. Thank me later when you have identity issues next, I'll be your certified therapist friend." You found the most dramatically serious voice you could while thoroughly drunk, and sent another wink Jae's way before lazily reaching for his hair.

He dodged your hands feigning offence. "OUCH, you friend-zoned me? Well, I guess you won't be able to dye my hair pink anymore, that's saved for my girlfriends."

"GirlfriendS??? As in plural? Wow Jae I should be the one surprised, I didn't know you were a player... But I guess it makes sense since you're so cute."

Friend-zoned? Who was talking about friend-zoning here? You weren't. Jae loosely put his hands up in defence, "Your homeboy is loyal to the day he dies!"

You move his hands out of the way shuffling so your knees were touching. You already knew he was loyal, he had a niche personality that could vibe with others but you never seen him disrespect a women.

"And why would I friend zone you? You're so cute, Have you seen this?" Cheek pinch. "And this?" Nose boop. "And these!" Your fingers brushed his lips, unknowingly a pout had formed on your face. "It's not fair that you always look cute. Save some for the rest of us Jae."

Jae felt his heart beating faster as you moved closer to him. The way you touched him with that smile and then the pout, it was enough to sober him up. He reached out to hold your face with both of his hands, watching as your hands dropped to your sides and your expression grew bashful.

"I think you're one to talk Y/N" He spoke so softly, noticing just how close you were. You looked so adorable, he could swear your lips called his name.

Who was he to deny it?

He leaned forward, gently kissing your lips. They were soft and tasted like peach soju. He could only think of you, if after this you never talked to him, slapped him or acted like it never happened he would accept it. But he liked you, and he couldn't stand denying it anymore.

To his surprise you kissed back softly, tentatively as if you were afraid.

When you pulled away his eyes searched yours, afraid he would find regret. "Will you remember this in the morning?" He asked you nervously.

"Jae, I'm pretty sober right now, and I like you." Your words were so sure and the shy smile you sent his way sent a wave of relief over him. Thank gosh.

"10 points! that's exactly what I wanted to hear because I like you too Y/N." Okay, his pulse had definitely increased to double speed and his hands were sweaty. Even though he knew your feelings now, it still felt so nerve-wrecking to confess. He tried hard to keep eye contact because some dating advice website said it was important, but it was hard.

You let out a breathy laugh before it turned into a genuine one. Was that so hard? Hell yes it was, your heart was beating out of your damn chest. Anyone with ears could surely hear it, which meant Jae could surely too.

"So... we good?" You managed to find words but it felt like trying to speak another language. Suddenly the room looked a mess and you got to your feet, starting to clean. "Of course we're good Y/N, we always are." Jae spoke comfortingly, a bashful smile resting on his lips as he followed your acts. Perfect. You nodded with a grin, taking the bottles from his hands to throw away.

When you turned back to face him, he looked so shy smiling at the ground. He was so Jae, so cute, so your type. You could not resist resting your hands on his neck and pulling him down for another kiss, this time you were sure to let him know you liked him.

When your lips touched everything except Jae left your thoughts. The way his lips moved against yours felt so right. When you two separated his hands rested on your waist and you never wanted them to leave. Up close Jae was so beautiful you couldn't help but smile.

"So... can I dye your hair now?"

Jae laughed at your asking eyes, nodding as he pulled into a tight hug. With your cheek resting on his chest and his chin on your head, a buzz of excitement rushed through you. The future suddenly looked less black and white, and more blue? Yes, rather than pink you think Jae would suit blue.

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notaburgler · 4 years

Text

A fic I wrote for a friend for Christmas. Just a little Dadzawa... (Pardon any spelling or grammar errors)

A twinkling above head and a rough pass of freezing wind jolted Eraserhead from his trance. The winter months made patrol so much less enjoyable for the hero. He tried to bundle up the best he could, but couldn’t pack on too many jackets or sweaters and remain limber at the same time. He was in luck; his capture weapon helped keep the icy fingers of Mother Nature from grazing his neck and sending shivers up and down his entire body.

Eraserhead hated the cold. What’s worse was his roommate, none other than the voice hero Present Mic, kept the windows open and a fan on leaving the house terribly cold all day and night. His sleeping bag was never enough. He layered blanket after blanket and cranked the heat to 100. Trying hard to beat this winter, he would curl up in bed after a long shift; but that cozy thought was still hours away.

No, villains didn’t fall silent due to weather. They didn’t close up shop or hibernate. If anything, the colder the night, the more dangerous it got. Hero’s movements were sluggish and left them less than efficient due to shivering and tingling, frozen fingers.

With his hands tucked in his pockets, he walked the streets in a particularly dangerous part of town hoping if he were to catch a villain in the act, the physical activity of fighting would help warm his body up, if only for a short while.

His fingers tingled and his nose red, the clocks second hand finally marched to the 12 at the top of his watch signaling the end of his shift. The next hero would jump from a rooftop or rush around the corner any second to greet and relieve him. So, he waited. He waited and waited. He was sure he was at the agreed upon meeting spot. Maybe he took a wrong turn?

A light, gentle buzz came from his pocket. He lifted his phone and sighed at the text shining into his tired, bloodshot eyes.

“I won’t be able to make it tonight. Sorry.”

It wasn’t really what he wanted to see. Be late. Be lazy. Be in the wrong location or lost. Don’t bail! Now Eraserhead was stuck working the next shift. And with class the next day, he would be in no mood for anyone’s sass.

The class was rowdy. Aizawa already had a headache, and the events that unfolded during his second shift on patrol didn’t help. There wasn’t anything in particular that happened; just a few evil doers that thought it would be fun to make him stay even longer than he wanted and a store clerk that couldn’t exactly pinpoint the details of the person that robbed him. Sometimes, Aizawa really disliked people.

“Calm down.” His voice was as usual, deadpan and almost monotone. It was how he presented himself that seemed off to the rest.

Midoriya, the observationalist he is, pointed it out first. Aizawa disregarded the claim that he seemed more tired and cranky.

Cranky, huh? He guessed that would be a good word to use to describe his current mood.

It was a bit of a childish word, but who was Aizawa to argue? That’s exactly what it was. He needed a nap that lasted the duration of his 30’s and a nice fluffy bed to cuddle up in while he slept. Was that too much to ask?

He’d been working himself to the bone: teaching class, patrol, meetings, grading homework. Not to mention those kids wouldn’t stop drawing the League of Villains attention. He was on guard at all times. Having another student badly hurt or kidnapped would only make his bad day worse.

He caught himself watching the clock as Mic took to the center of the room. He should have been spending that time grading papers and going over the curriculum. Lunch would start soon and this would be his chance to at least nap for a moment. Why he wasn’t using Mic’s presence to nap, He wasn’t sure. He felt the urge to sleep, but once he curled up in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, the undeniable feeling of dread sunk into him and forced his stinging and tired eyes open.

He sat up and watched the class silently jotting down notes. At least they paid attention when Mic was teaching. So many times had his class become unruly to the point of him having to threaten harm (albeit faux harm). He’d activate his quirk, drying his eyes even more, and pull his scarf from his neck. With a menacing glare they would calm down and he would resume class.

He jumped slightly. A motion he hoped had gone unnoticed by his class when the bell rang signaling it was lunch time.

With a sigh, he slouched at his desk, Present Mic staying behind to check in.

“Rough day?” His gloved hand pressed against Aizawa’s shoulder in a comforting manor.

Aizawa sighed again, letting his eyes fall closed, “Yeah ... rough Day? Night? I don’t even know anymore.” He opened his eyes once more and glanced up at his best friend.

His smile was almost annoying. He hadn't patrolled in weeks and his homework assignments were easy to grade. Yeah, he worked at the radio station and was up early for his show, but it was only a few hours and at least he enjoyed it. Aizawa, at this point, wasn’t even sure he liked what he did. Hero work was one thing, but teaching? Who would want to be a glorified babysitter all day?

Mic huffed gently seeing maybe now wasn’t the best time for Aizawa to have company, “Well, take care of yourself.” He dropped his usual persona; Calling everyone listener, even when they were right in front of his face.

****

“Mr. Aizawa seemed off today.” Uraraka stated with concern in her soft eyes.

“Maybe one of his cats rejected him and he doesn’t know how to handle it?” Kaminari, always coming up with the weirdest of reasons behind people’s actions.

The group of students headed down the hall to the dining area as they spoke. None of them felt quite right about his demeanor. He was normally calm and tired eyed. He’d take every chance to sleep that he could. Some students and staff had found him in the most precarious locations: janitors closets, the rooftop, on the sports field, under tables, the bathroom stalls. But today he was showing signs of sleep deprivation they hadn’t seen yet.

Bakugo huffed, “People can have bad days. I have them.” He slammed to the table.

Kirishima, the sunshine boy of the class smiled smacking him on the back a little rougher than normal, “everyday is a bad day for you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

Uraraka spotted Midoriya talking to himself again. This wasn’t the first time. He had an unusual talent to absorb information like a sponge and made notes of it all in his handy dandy notebook always in his bag. He also had the uncanny ability to creep people out with that same information, not to mention the delivery.

“Deku?” She asked with a tilted head that made her hair lightly bounce.

He shook himself, nervously falling backwards and onto the floor.

As he stumbled to his feet he smiled, “sorry, just going over details I can remember about Mr. Aizawa.” He scratched his head. “He’s smart and logical. So there’s a reason he’s kinda in a sour mood, right?”

****

He should have napped. He needed to nap, but he was so used to lack of sleep at this point that napping was a bandaid on a broken leg. He had transcended into a state of eternal consciousness. Even with closed eyes and a yawn, he would never be able to fall asleep at the school like normal. He needed his bed and his blankets and the soft hum of the street lamps outside. He needed that white noise machine Mic had bought him last year for Christmas to be able to tune out all other thoughts and just sleep. But he also needed to eat; a fact announced unintentionally when his stomach screamed from it's emptiness.

At least the teachers lounge was quiet. Most of them would indulge in Lunch Rushes food, and for good reason. The lounge was quiet, just what he needed. He had a free period after lunch- more time to wind down and stop snapping at the students. The questions were valid and the reactions were to be expected. All morning they had been unusually attentive and calm, and all he had been is a real jerk. He spent the better part of second period explaining to them that he wasn’t their parent and he shouldn’t have to teach them respect and manners all because Ojiro let out a small burp that made the class erupt into laughter.

It was an odd mood he felt so purely. He hadn’t been this irritable and moody since high school, and even then, it wasn't nearly as bad as it is now.

Yeah, he didn’t get sleep. Yeah, he was hungry. Yeah, he was irritated that the pro that was supposed to relieve him last night bailed. All of these things would put someone, anyone into a foul mood. Not even All Might, Mr. happy-go-lucky, wasn’t immune to bad days and poor attitudes.

Aizawa brushed off his mood as a fit of hanger and ate in silence.

As he felt like a calm had washed over him, the chatter of students in the halls just past the frosted glass window on the door brought back his irritation.

Maybe he should have called in today? Maybe he should have taken the day to just stay at home and catch up on sleep? Maybe he should have called another hero last night to take over? Or maybe just bail altogether and hope for the best? It’s not like anything happened that couldn’t have been dealt with later or by the cops.

His lunch ended, meaning his free period was over. At least he got a little time to reflect on his recent actions and words. Calling Midoriya annoying and telling Bakugo he will never be a hero with such a poor attitude (in retrospect, he wasn’t one to talk) was maybe a bit harsh. All Might was with his class, so he hoped to have them calm and listening for the rest of the day. Maybe an apology was due? Maybe he’d let them slack off for a bit? He wasn’t sure, but he’d make the decision once he got to the classroom.

He slid the door open staring at the floor. His eyes a mere slit against the rough features of his face. It figures, now is when he would be able to pass out right on the floor and sleep for days. At least he’d be in the classroom when he woke and wouldn’t need to get dressed in the morning.

His eyes lifted and his hand reached for the back of his head with a nervous rub of his neck. Yeah, an apology was due. “Hey class-“

“THANK YOU MR. AIZAWA!”

He glanced around at the room.

Balloons and streamers strung throughout. A cake big enough for an army to eat— with leftovers to spare. Each student wearing a shirt with his creepy smiling face on it.

“What’s going on?” He tried to hide his excitement.

All Might blew his cheap plastic kazoo right in Aizawa's face, “the students wanted to let you know how much they appreciate you. So they spent lunch putting together a party.”

He glanced around the room at all of the smiling faces.

“Eri,” Midoriya nudge her out in front, “go.” He quietly urged her.

She looked to Mirio for confirmation, and after his nod, she pressed forward with a box in hand, “thank you Aizawa.”

She was adorable. Unable to maintain eye contact, but fighting her nerves and fears to present the man that had been caring for her with his gift.

His first smile of the day was the most genuine smile he had worn in ages. “Why couldn’t we get a picture of that smile instead of the creepy one that looks like he’s about to put an axe through the door?” Kaminari whispered to Jiro.

A new pair of pink sweatpants was just what he needed. Present Mic had adamantly begged the students to get him something other than the dreadful pink sweatpants, but after hearing of how much he loved them, they had to buy them. His smile grew even more sincere as he unfolded them to see them better. A large cut out of what looked like a cat was poorly sewn into the butt of it.

“Eri drew and cut the cat, Midnight helped sew it on.” Mirio smiled with a thumbs up.

The anger. The irritation. The bad mood. All of it wiped clean and replaced with a warm and tender feeling buzzing inside. He felt whole in this class. He felt important. He felt happy.

“Thank you class.” He blinked hiding the small trail the tear had left along his cheek.

Shouta Aizawa may not be their parent. He may not be their real family. But this classroom, and these students, are the only family he really needs.

He whispered, a voice gone unnoticed, even by Jiro, “Thank you so much class. I love being your teacher.”

#dadzawa #shouta aizawa #class 1a #grumpy teacher #hes their dad #prove me wrong #family #feel good #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

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deathfrisbeeinthetardis · 4 years

Text

The Sky Beast, New and Improved

Eeeek I wrote another Mothman Ryan fic!!! All inspired by @q-unsolved ‘s amazing art :D

Summary:

Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn't find anything but Ryan might have brought a piece of the investigation home with him.

Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.

Find it on Ao3 here or read below!

"Eeeeee, last chance!" Ryan pinched his voice two octaves higher, poking his head out the car window to squeak into the woods on the side of the dark road.

"I think you've offended the Mothman." Came Shane's reply from beside him, the words tinged with mirth. Despite the horrid noises that the older man had made earlier for his moth call, he still somehow found Ryan's imitation extremely hilarious.

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan grumbled with a grin, starting up the car again. It had been a long day of shooting, and they were all more than ready to get back home.

If he was being honest he didn't really believe in the whole Mothman concept, and it boggled his brain that Shane could trust these crazy 'enhanced' natural creatures more than he believes in ghosts and demons. His friend was leaning back in his seat, but not tilting it back so much as to be in Mark's way, a self-assured smile on his face.

The hunt hadn't been entirely fruitless, Ryan reminded himself, their calls had attracted something, at least, just many much smaller somethings with sharp canine teeth.

There is a dark shape that appears out of the corner of his eye at night. With his irregular nocturnal patterns demanded by the nature of his work and spontaneous late-night research sessions, Ryan had first chalked it up to sleep deprivation. It is an actual phenomenon proven by science, Shane would have said, when your eyes don't get enough rest they start to bail on their job and show you random shit. But is the phenomenon normally limited to the hours after sunset?

There were nightmares too, way more frequent than what usually follows an especially creepy investigation. The dark shadow was there too, and in the once or twice that Ryan had managed to take control of the dream long enough to look, there would be two bright red spots at the top of the shape, then the figure would shoot off to the corner of his vision again, wings hardly moving despite the swift movement.

And the migraines, so fucking many of them. He just feels a pressure building up in his ears, like they were picking up something high pitched that his brain cannot register, but some primal part of him recognized as wrong, abnormal, dangerous, run . Then the pain would explode through his eardrums and stay lodged in his head for hours. Ryan went to his doctor after the third time he had doubled over in pain, the hospital did all sorts of scans but could find nothing wrong.

It was all stupid, the Mothman trip wasn't even that scary, why the hell was the thing showing up in his head? Why can't it leave him alone?

(two weeks later)

Ryan's alarm goes off at 6:00, and he flings out a hand to swipe it off without opening his eyes. He shifts a little, relishing the feeling of down against his back, keeping away the slight November chill. Yes, this was LA and the temperature never dropped below freezing, but a guy needs some soft fluffy blankets come wintertime, sue him.

The alarm keeps blaring. He tries again. And again. But the damned screen isn't recognizing his fingers.

"Nnurgh." He grunts, lifting his head from the nest of pillows he had curled up with the night before. It was sort of unusual for Ryan to sleep face down, but it had just been the most logical choice at the time. He pushes himself up to his elbows and rubs at his face, while his hand tries futilely to shut his phone up. "Why do I wake up so early." He grumbles to his palms, maybe his phone was broken, yes that would explain why prodding at the screen has been doing nothing--

Ryan stares at his hands, both in front of him. Then he turns to look at his phone.

There is a dark thing hovering over the buzzing device, surface shimmering slightly from the dim light peeking through the curtains. He jerks away from it, letting out an entirely unmanly squeak as the thing moved with him, curling around and behind him faster than he could turn around in his still sleep-relaxed body. A soft warmth closes on his back on the right side, solid and fuzzy in a way that eerily mimics the softness on the other side. Oh god, the thing's on his back.

For a few moments, Ryan can't convince his body to move and just stays half crouched on his bed. The slight chill that glances his front only accentuates his panic. Slowly rising to sit back on his heels, Ryan whips a hand back as fast as he can manage in the attempt to grab at the thing. Do not be afraid, do not be afraid--

The weightlessness hits him hard when the thing suddenly soars up and away until the only points of contact are two spots between his shoulder blades. The rush of air and following pull from those points lifts him clean off the bed, plunging him into blind terror for a few seconds as oh god he is in the air , hovering above his bed with arms flailing. The twin spots on his back strains with the effort as the thing flaps with quiet, powerful whooshes. After a solid five seconds, the thing finally stills, dropping him on his ass onto the bed with an ‘oof’.

What, the fuck.

Ryan gives his weird job all the credit for his ability to maintain the state of calm--or shock, honestly, he wouldn't be able to tell-- enough to climb off the bed and walk to his closet. At least the thing isn't moving now, though he can feel the weight of it on his shoulders. And okay maybe he does miss the warmth on his back, just a little, monster produced or not.

Heart thumping in his chest, he peeks at himself in the mirror, terrified that he'll see the thing's eyes staring back at him. His own hair is disheveled, his eyes wide and beady in the way that would have made Shane laugh. And oh yes, the thing was there, arching off from his back with a terrifying eight-foot span, dark-colored and still shimmering slightly in the dim room. He quickly turns to look at his back, wide eyes not missing the way the tip of the thing curled in to avoid hitting the closet door.

It takes his brain a minute to catch up to what his eyes were seeing.

Wings. He has wings .

"The fuck?"

As if in answer, one of the black wings flips down to slap him upside the head, as if to say: took you long enough you doofus.

"Ow!" He complains, but however he tries, and god knows he did, his hands could come nowhere near the damn things as they moved in every which direction with fluid ease, putting his body off balance in the process when they flapped around.

If this is the result of Shane taunting some demon he is going to kill him.

“Eeeargh! Eeeargh! Eeeargh!” His phone screams from the bedside table. Right. He almost forgot about his damn alarm amidst all the crazy.

Snatching it up from and turning off the awful noise, it doesn't even quite register in his mind as his fingers move across the screen until it was showing Ryan that he is calling Shane. The man picks up on the 7th ring.

"Ry, wha?" His voice is gravelly and scratchy from sleep and Ryan's shoulders lose some of their tension at the familiar sound.

"Shane can, uh, can you come over? Now?" He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, only jumping a little when the wings, his wings, settles against his back again in a warm blanket.

"Now?" A groan, Shane wasn’t a morning person, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Just, come over. Please." Ryan adds, leaning his head against the cool glass of the mirror. His head feels too hot, even when his front is still cold.

"Okay, okay. Hang in there buddy, I'll be there in twenty."

Shane gets there in fifteen minutes. Ryan hears the sound of approaching footsteps from his curled up position on his bed and is wrenching the door open before Shane has the chance to knock.

"Thank fuck." he breathes, grabbing onto an arm and pulling the taller man into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He keeps his back tucked against the door, the wings sparing his body from touching the icy surface.

Shane is studying his face with a perplexed expression and two thermoses of coffee in his hands, hair sticking out on one side in a horrendous cowlick. "Ryan, what happened?"

"You, um, might want to set those down and sit." He says, waving at the steaming cups of energy in Shane's hands, he's totally going to inhale one of those once his nerves are a little less shot.

Shane does so, expression tilting more and more towards worry as Ryan stays at his spot by the door.

"I'm going to show you something, and, and I'll need you to not freak out okay?" Ryan's voice shakes a little, and he holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

"For the record, if you just killed someone, first I will commend you for your productivity at six in the morning; second, I'll help you hide the body."

"Wha--no." Ryan huffs a laugh, the tension momentarily forgotten. They had known each other long enough that his big gangly friend knew how to get him out of panic mode. He gulps down a deep breath, and slowly steps away from the door, coaxing his wings to stretch out on either side of him. He has to admit, once he had stopped trying to grab the things they have been much more cooperative and responsive to his mind.

"Oh."

Ryan glues his eyes on his bare feet, cause he doesn't know what he would do if he looks and sees disgust or, or fear in Shane's face. "I woke up and just had these," the wings flap on their own volition, almost preening, Ryan realizes with mortification, "I-I don't know how it happened, they feel real Shane. What the fuck am I going to do? I don't know if its a demon thing or something to do with Mothman cause I've been having nightmares about it ever since we came back from Virginia--"

"Ryan, Ry calm down." Shane's out of his seat again, gripping onto Ryan's shoulders firmly to stop his rambling, "We'll figure this out, just, breathe."

Ryan let his head fall forward until his forehead’s pressed against Shane's rumpled hoodie, letting the steady beats of Shane's heart slow his own breathing. When he looks up again, Shane's staring at his wings with unabashed curiosity. Then he gets a light slap to the face to bring his attention back down to Ryan, courtesy of his right-wing. Huh, Ryan muses distantly, maybe having semiautomated wings does have some perks. The baffled expression on his friend's face right now is definitely worth it.

Chuckling in surprise, Shane once again pokes his head past Ryan's shoulder to get within an inch from the wings, his eyes crinkling into crescent-moon shapes. "They look less feathery and more, I dunno, maybe like deer velvet? They're quite fuzzy-looking." He pauses for a second deep in thought, and his hand on Ryan’s shoulder twitches like he wants to touch the wings. "The Mothman idea has more traction, I don't think if demons existed they would use their time to do this."

"I still can't believe you think Mothman is real but not demons." Ryan sighs, poking Shane in the chest with a finger. This has the unfortunate side effect of making him very aware that he does not currently have a shirt on. How had he not realized that? Will he have to cut holes in his shirts now? Fuck can he even go to work with wings sticking out of his back--

"Hey, stop that." Shane's hands on his shoulders give a light squeeze, and Ryan makes the effort to stop his brain from running away with his wits and hurling itself off a cliff, for both their sakes.

"Take your own advice and sit down." Shane's voice is gentle, and Ryan let himself be guided towards the couch and smiles gratefully when a warm cup is pressed into his hands. A few sips of the still too hot liquid goes a long way to ground him back into the normality of his morning routine. His wings find their own place to be, which turns out to be draped across the back of the sofa, their tips just peeking over the length of it.

"I-I can fly." He blurts out, and a hysterical giggle bubbles out from his chest, and soon both of them were laughing and wheezing as the potentially fun part of the whole situation hit them suddenly.

"For real though, what are we going to do about this?" Ryan says in between giggles, gesturing at himself in general. "I mean it would be different if I can make them invisible or something but that's not--"

"Ryan," Shane's eyes are wide as he stares at the sofa, and his voice is full of wonder, "look."

Ryan cranes his head back to glance at where his friend was indicating and is, for the second time that day, shocked to hell and back. Seriously, if he is going to at least try to live a decent lengthed life, he's gotta get used to seeing strange shit. He can still feel his wings against the sofa, but they were not there. He reaches his hand back tentatively to where his limbs would have touched, and it's like his hand is passing through a dense, dry mist. His wings, but invisible.

"They're still here." He murmurs in awe, moving his hand along the top of the sofa to stroke along the strange feeling of dense air. "They're invisible now."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun." Ryan turns and with a flicker of darkness, his wings are back in physical form again, his hand resting gently against its fuzzy surface. Shane is full-on grinning, eyes alight with mischief, and he manages to say with complete seriousness, "Ryan, you're gonna be the new Mothman now."

And the strange thing is, Ryan doesn't feel repulsed by that idea. Far from that, the thought sends a thrill through him, awakening an almost primal part of him, the possibilities flitting through his mind faster than he can fully grasp each. He grins back at his friend.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

#mothman!ryan #fanfiction #inspired by another post #I love this au so much #alex writes

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kpopboysreact · 5 years

Text

Wonpil - Stars (Fluff)

Commissioned by @holdmyheart01 I can't thank you enough ❤️❤️

They say that soulmates exist. That the stars in one person’s eyes form constellations with those in the eyes of the one they’re destined for.

He saw her from across the empty coffee shop and felt his heart begin to quicken its beat. A heartbeat, amplified by the silence of the café’s echo off the four small walls. Silence, broken by the faint clinking noise of a dainty metal teaspoon circling a porcelain mug. The mug, steaming hot, lifted slowly to her lips. Her lips, formed into a perfect “o” to blow on her latté, which he had styled into a heart. A heart, how could such emotion be confined into such a small space? Wonpil’s thoughts betrayed him as he leaned a little too far down on the counter and stumbled, catching the nearby napkin holder before it hit the ground. I don’t think she noticed… He thought to himself, feeling relieved as she hadn’t looked up from her drink.

You held in a giggle, having noticed the cute barista trip out of the corner of your eye. You hadn’t seen him before around here, the café you frequent, but there was something about the air around him that drew you to him. You looked up at the counter and the two of you made eye contact. The barista nodded towards you quickly and blushed, then turned his head away and disappeared into the back room.

Wonpil quickly looked out the far window to make sure no patrons were coming up to the café doors, then he took out his phone. He opened a group chat titled “Day6”, and sent a quick message. “It’s her.” “Again?” Sungjin responded right away. “Yeah. She…she saw me this time. Looked in my eyes…” “And??” Jae joined the conversation.

Wonpil smiled at his phone, then tucked it back in his pocket. He took a breath, and exited the room. He casually walked back to the counter, straightening the napkin holder he’d knocked over earlier, then dared another look at you. Wonpil’s phone buzzed in his pocket, undetectable compared to the pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, then walked up to you.

For some reason, the closer he got, the less anxious he felt. And when he stood across from where you were seated, the smile on his face was entirely genuine.

“Hello.” He greeted you, comfortingly rubbing his right hand with his left.

“Hi!” You smiled back. “Are you a new employee? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Ah, kind of. I started a little while ago actually, but I…” I was too shy to make any of your drinks, or to even look in your direction, really... “I work in the back a lot, taking inventory and stock of everything.” You took a sip of your drink and waited for him to continue. “Today, it’s just me, though. So I’m working the front of the house.”

“Well, you’re really good at making coffee!”

“Thanks!” Wonpil looked down and fiddled with his feet awkwardly. “Do you want to sit for a little while?” You asked him. “At least until another customer comes? It doesn’t really look so comfortable standing behind that counter.”

“Oh, um-“

“Plus, I bet it’s kinda slippery back there.” You finally let out the giggle you were holding in. She DID notice…Ugh, sh- “Thank you.” He smiled again and pulled out the chair across from you. His gaze met yours, and slowly you saw both corners of his lips curl into a larger smile.

“D-did I do something?” “You…” Wonpil let out a breath of air, a tiny chuckle. “You have stars.” “I’m sorry?”

“In your eyes.” Wonpil’s gaze held nothing but affection entirely directed towards you. “There are stars.”

You blushed. “Thank you…” A customer entered the café, and you quickly brought it to Wonpil’s attention.

“Oh, thanks.” He half-smiled. “Can you, uh…” Wonpil quickly took an old receipt off the counter along with a pen, and scribbled something on it. “Can you call me sometime? I mean, only if you want to! I work all day today, but I have tomorrow off…” Wonpil bowed to you and before you could respond, he quickly ran off to serve the other customer. You looked down at your coffee and continued to spin it in circles with your teaspoon, watching your reflection ripple as you stirred. You clutched the receipt in your hand and smiled.

That night, Wonpil’s nerves kept him awake. Bathed in moon’s kiss, singing with the stars, Wonpil dedicated his moonlit sonata to you. The buzz of his phone broke him out of his trance, and he turned to check it immediately.

You

“Hey!” You texted him. “This is y/n, from the café.” Y/N…Wonpil thought to himself. I…didn’t even know your name…

He marveled at the text for a few seconds, picturing your beautiful eyes focusing on the numbers he wrote, your lovely hands typing your message to him into your phone, your star-laced eyes checking your phone to see if he had responded…then his eyes checked the time.

“What are you doing awake at 3 am??” He replied, full of worry.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend! I have nothing to do…nothing wrong with savoring the night.” He smiled at your sincerity. “So, you know my name. What’s yours?” Wonpil smiled.

“Wonpil.” He grinned and imagined you saying his name as you read the text.

“Well…it’s nice to technically meet you.” You sent him another text. “So maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the fact that you seem really sweet…but do you want to maybe see each other some time soon?”

“Wonpil?” Wonpil whipped his head around, to find Brian staring at him wearing nothing but boxers.

“Ah, Younghyun…”

“Is it her?”

Wonpil blushed. “W-who?” “That girl from the café. You know, the one.”

“I-I…” Wonpil stuttered. “Maybe…” Brian walked up to Wonpil and snatched the phone from his hands. “Hey!”

“Relax, I’m doing you a favor…” Brian quickly read your conversation before typing a reply and sending it, avoiding Wonpil’s flailing attempts to retrieve his phone as he did so.

“Yah! What did you do??” Wonpil read Brian’s text to you aloud. “Must be the sleep deprivation…because I was actually wondering if I could see you right now.” Wonpil’s eyes burst out of his head. “What?!” Then his phone buzzed with your reply.

“Ah, I’d be down for that! As long as the time doesn't bother you. What were you thinking of doing?” Brian laughed at Wonpil as he stared at his phone, jaw wide open. “You’re lucky I responded for you! As smart as you are, hyung, I think you missed the class on talking to girls…”

“She’s not just some girl, Younghyun…”

“Oh come on, you’ve known her for what, a day?”

Wonpil smiled sincerely at Brian. “She has the stars.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Whaaaatever, bro.”

Wonpil nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He smiled and got back to responding to your text.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Brian sighed and stated mockingly, “Chicks before di-”

“GoodNIGHT Younghyun ah!”

Brian rolled his eyes and returned to his bedroom.

Wonpil waited outside your apartment patiently, checking his reflection in the mirror a good hundred times. It was now 3:30 am, and he honestly felt guilty for keeping you up so late.

A knock on the window snapped him out of it. Wonpil smiled at you and unlocked the door. “I wish I looked that good at 3:30 in the morning.”

You giggled, playing it off naturally, not mentioning how you were fussing over every detail of your appearance for the past half hour. “So, what did you have planned?” You asked, looking at Wonpil in anticipation.

He laughed. “You texted me first!”

“But you’re the one who wanted to go out tonight!”

“Well…what are you into?” You felt the same intensity coming from Wonpil that you felt earlier in the café. You had his full attention, and little did you know, in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

“Well…maybe we could get some bubble tea or something? Just a little sugar to kick the night off, keep us from falling asleep.”

“Sounds good. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Hmmm…I guess chocolate!” “Oh, really? That’s mine too!”

“We should get two really big ones, because we want them to last.” “And...because I’m paying?”

“Well, since you offered…”

Wonpil laughed. “Get the biggest one they have. And a cookie or something, too! It’s not every night you get to have a 3 am date.”

“Well…maybe it’ll be a more regular thing.”

You could’ve sworn you heard Wonpil’s breath catch in his throat, and you’d convinced yourself it was just the wind whipping against the car, until his voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

“Maybe…”

It was 8 am.

You and Wonpil, drunk on sleep deprivation and high off the thrill of connecting with each other, spent the hours conversing on a bench at a park close to the all-hours bubble tea shop. You’d ended up each getting a bubble tea, then the two of you went back every hour or so to replenish your supply of cookies. Now, you sat next to each other on the bench, your heavy, tired head falling to Wonpil’s shoulder as he sang a slow song. Your eyes drifted shut to the soft tune, and you kept them closed when the melody came to an end. “Are you asleep?” Wonpil asked you.

You mumbled. “No…”

Wonpil brushed his nose against the top of your head, then lazily kissed your forehead. You shot up, eyes wide. Realizing what he had done, Wonpil looked at you, m.o.r.t.i.f.i.e.d.

“I-I am SO SORRY! I just-You looked so cute and I-and it felt natural and-and then I-“ Wonpil stopped stammering when you started laughing.

“It’s okay! That was…really sweet.” Wonpil’s cheeks were tinted pink, more vibrant than the rising sun behind him. “Plus…” Now, it was your turn to blush. “I liked it…” You rested your head on Wonpil’s shoulder again, then looked up at him. “Can you answer something for me?”

Wonpil was too embarrassed to make eye contact with you. “Of course.”

“Earlier, at the café, you said…” You sat up and got yourself more comfortable in the bench. “You said something about stars in my eyes.”

“Oh…”

“That was really beautiful.”

Finally, Wonpil looked in your eyes again. “I meant it. I…” I know you…Wonpil wanted to say. I know just from the stars in your eyes that you’re the person I want to give the world to… “I think your eyes are beautiful.” “Really? I always thought they were kinda plain.” “No way…” There was a loaded silence between the two of you. Birds chirped their good morning songs, cars began their morning commute, yet with everything around you, it seemed as though there was nothing but you two in the world. “Y/N…?” “Hmmm?”

Wonpil turned his body to face yours. “I want to…can I kiss you?”

You laughed and nodded, closing your eyes as you felt Wonpil’s nose brush against yours. Slowly, your lips met. The birds’ songs drowned out, the cars’ horns muted, and the world itself seemed to just pause for a minute. As if there were an unknown energy at play, you seemed locked in that moment, only released when Wonpil pulled away.

You took in a breath, a sudden shock away from the moment. “Wonpil, I…” His lips met yours again, this time, more passionate. One of his hands made its way into your hair, twirling it between his fingers while the other found your cheek, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. He pulled back for air, then pushed himself against you again.

The next time he pulled away, he kissed both of your eyelids before pecking you once more on your lips.

“I don’t want you to kiss anyone else like that.”

“Well, that works out because I’ve never been kissed like that by anyone.”

Wonpil chuckled. “You know what I mean…I want to be with you.”

You giggled, keeping Wonpil in nervous anticipation. “Hmmm…” You smiled at his nervousness. “I…” Wonpil sat up at the edge of the bench. “I…don’t even know your last name.”

Wonpil stuttered, “K-Kim! It’s Kim. Kim Wonpil.” You laughed again and planted a tiny kiss on Wonpil’s nose. “Okay, Kim Wonpil. I want to be with you, too.”

Months Later

Sunlight filtered in through your dusty blinds, welcoming you into the aurora of the day. Obscuring your vision was your boyfriend, Wonpil, though he felt like more than that as this point. It seemed weird to awake in your apartment on a Saturday morning, as it had become your couple’s tradition to spend each Friday night awake and sipping bubble tea in the park, sharing earbuds as you binged whatever show peaked your interest. But as time went by, you were beginning to wonder if that was too mundane, too routine for Wonpil. It’s not like he seemed to be getting bored of your weekends together, but you still had that creeping suspicion at the bottom of your gut that you had to do more to satisfy his needs in your relationship. While you remained lost in your thoughts, Wonpil stirred awake, a smile coming to his face the moment he saw yours in front of him.

“Jagiya…” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His messy hair brushed against your cheek, and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine. He snaked an arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him. “How did you sleep?” He mumbled against your skin, voice heavy with groggy awakening.

“Well.” You kissed the top of his head, and he returned with a kiss against your collar bone. “How about you?” “I’m not used to sleeping much on the weekends.” He chuckled and looked up at you, pulling you into a sweet morning kiss.

“Mmm…you should brush your teeth.” You joked.

“Huh, too bad, you’re stuck with me like this.” In a swift movement, Wonpil moved on top of you and pinned your hands down, then hovered his face right above yours.

“I could think of worse things…” You laughed.

Wonpil smiled. “Meeee too.” He kissed the top of your head, then lied down next to you, pulling you closer to him again. “But if my morning breath really does bother you so much, maybe we should crash at my place next time so I can brush up.”

“Actually…” You bit your lip and Wonpil looked at you curiously. “I, um…” Before Wonpil could react, you hopped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. When you returned, you were holding a brand-new toothbrush in-hand, still protected by plastic.

“What’s this?” He asked, sitting up on his elbows.

“I just figured, if you’re going to be around here more often…maybe you should have a toothbrush here…” Wonpil looked at you in silence, which you took as a sign to continue. “I, uh…I’ve also been working on clearing out the top drawer…” You pointed to your dresser. “So you can keep some clothes or stuff here…Only if you want to!!!!”

Wonpil smiled and shook his head. “How on earth…” He held out a hand, gesturing for you to climb back in bed with him. “How on earth did I get so lucky?”

You joined Wonpil, instantly warmed by his loving embrace. “Is this okay? You’re not getting bored of anything, are you?”

“Bored?” Wonpil asked.

“Well, I just mean…we always go to the same park and sit on the same bench…drink the same drinks and watch the same shows…”

“Bored?” He repeated, then kissed you. “Love, that’s the only part of my week that keeps me going.”

“Is it?” “Being with you…in any way, whether we’re at the park or if you’re in my arms like this…” Wonpil was silent for a moment. “Nothing could be more perfect than this.”

“Well…If you promi-“

“I promise.” Wonpil held you tighter. “I promise I will never get bored of you, of this, of us…” He paused. “How could I? After all…” Wonpil kissed you again, a sign of his promise to you and commitment to your life together, a life that was just beginning. “You’re all I need. You’re my now and forever…and you have the most beautiful stars in your eyes.”

#day6 #day6 reactions #day6 scenarios #kpop #Kpop reactions #Kpop scenarios #kim wonpil #wonpil #do you know how hard it was #to write the name brian #without making it all in capitals #guys I did it #might as well screen shot it #because it ain't happening again #unless I get another Day6 commission #because damn I take these commissions seriously

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

According to Sources

Yesterday @optomisticgirl told me she heard about a KHL player who was a coach, but his team had a ton of injuries and there were reports that he was going to play again. We were both, like, huh, that’s very Blue Line-esque and being an adult is very stressful challenge, so to combat that, I wrote nearly four thousand words of exceptionally fluffy hockey dad Killian who loves his kids a lot and doesn’t really want to play in the NHL anymore. Also shout out to @shireness-says keeps reading all my words even when I’m like “I don’t know if I’m ever going to post this.”

-----

He kept mumbling under his breath.

He knew it. He could hear himself.

He needed to stop doing that. Partially because every quiet question ensured that Peggy’s chin dug further into his chest when she tilted her head up and partially because Killian was fairly certain talking to himself was very likely a sign of impending insanity.

And yet.

He couldn’t understand how this one kid actually moved up the ice, a skating style that wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before and maybe that just meant he was old.

Or tired.

Neither one were very appealing options.

He was very tired.

Every inch of him felt exceptionally heavy, as if his muscles were hanging off the bones instead of what they were supposed to be doing. His mind absolutely could not process the idea of anything muscle related at the moment, could barely stay focused on the video in front of him. His phone buzzed.

Again.

Incessantly.

Killian restarted the video.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, slumping further into the chair in his office. His left knee objected to that somehow, stretched out awkwardly across most of his desk and the vaguely impatient hand he waved over his shoulder when he heard the footsteps approaching his open door was more movement than he was entirely prepared for.

That couldn’t have been good for his shoulder.

Peggy looked up at him again — a chin that was starting to feel like it was actually made of marble and definitely leaving bruises on Killian’s chest. He curled an arm around her, trying to keep her in place, but that was like trying to understand how this kid from Sweden moved and that appeared to be absolutely impossible.

So.

“You’ve got to stop squirming, little love,” Killian said, cheek falling to the top of Peggy’s hair. That didn’t help either. He hadn’t expected it to.

“What’s he doing?”

“Who?”

Her knee joined the fray, clamoring up so she could sit straighter and the footsteps had very quickly turned into a voice that was also a laugh and Killian did not have enough hands to flip Robin off. That was disappointing.

“We’re bringing up a new kid,” Killian explained, Peggy’s eyes narrowing while she watched the film intently. Maybe his heart was just going to explode.

“Because of so many bad things?”

He hummed, tugging her closer to his chest in a misplaced effort to avoid being kicked in the spleen. It didn’t work. And he wasn’t really entirely sure where his spleen even was. “Exactly. Because people like to hit each other—“

“—But the hitting is fun!”

“Oh, God, you’ve created a monster, Cap,” Robin laughed.

“Shut up,” Killian snapped, swinging his legs off the desk in an attempt to look more paternal. That probably didn’t work either. Henry was supposed to drop Matt off soon. “Not all hits are good, Peggy. Sometimes the hits hurt and then the guys can’t play.”

Peggy scrunched her nose, thoughts playing out clearly on her face as she did her best to grapple with the idea of injuries and a Rangers roster that was forced to call up an 18-year-old kid with ridiculous skating abilities because they could barely field four lines at this point.

“So,” Killian continued, “sometimes the hits hurt and then—“

“—They have to go see, Red!”

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

She giggled, burrowing her head into Killian’s shoulder when he peppered her face with kisses. And Robin was moving into the office now. “Will he score lots?” Peggy asked, the words barely that when she kept laughing.

Killian’s spleen was a lost cause.

He tossed the tablet back onto his desk.

“We can only hope,” Robin said, eyes flashing Killian’s direction with something that felt like impending doom. That was very dramatic.

He hadn’t slept through the night in far too long.

Chris appeared to be nocturnal.

“Bonus points if you can say his name,” Robin continued. He pushed the still-playing tablet closer to Peggy, her expression shifting into something that could only be described as Emma-like determination when she looked at the letters on the screen.

Killian sighed. “Why are you here?”

Robin made a face, a shrug and head tilt and it really was far too many bodily movements at once. Something was going on. Killian hooked his chin over Peggy’s shoulder.

Her hair got in his mouth.

“Jarn—“ She grit her teeth when the rest of the syllables got lost in, quite literal translation, and some of Killian’s muscles settled. Rewrapped, or whatever.

He kissed the top of Peggy’s head.

“It was very close. You’ve got to kind of get the emphasis on that a, though.”

“Jaaaaarn-karock.”

Robin clicked his tongue. “Closer. You’re adding extra syllables.”

“Krok.”

“Getting there.” He hummed when Peggy kept enunciating vowels that weren’t actually in the name, digging the toe of his shoe into the carpet Killian only kind of hated. Emma despised it. Vocally. Since he’d taken the job. “And, the new kid does something ridiculous with the back of his skates, I can’t figure it out.”

“Oh, that’s what it is,” Killian nodded. “How does he get any power if he’s not pushing off?”

“The future is now or something.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s sleep deprived, what—“

“—Ok you have to promise not to check me in front of your kid.”

“What?”

Robin held both hands up, widening his eyes. “Right now. Because this is—I have to talk about stuff on TV and you were just waxing poetic—“

“—Who was waxing anything? What are you saying?”

“You’re not making this any easier, Cap.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about,” Killian admitted, shifting in the chair again and maybe Emma had been right for several decades. The seating arrangements in these offices were bordering very close to torturous.

He was going to have to talk to Ariel about the state of his spine.

It shouldn’t have kept popping like that.

“You see a paper today?”

Killian shook his head slowly. That only led to more hair in his mouth. “Just move your leg a little,” he murmured, glaring at Robin when he made another noise. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? You look like you’ve seen several ghosts.”

“Nah, just—ah, damn.”

The latest round of footsteps was closer to a dead sprint than anything else, heavy footfalls and something else that was the undeniable sound of an equipment bag being dragged down the hallway.

Killian’s eyebrows lowered. He’d started breathing through his mouth at some point.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,” Matt chanted, barely slowing down when he all but threw himself through the doorway. Robin leaned forward before he could actually crash into the far wall, curling an arm around Matt’s waist and the equipment bag had apparently been forgotten in a very loud string of the same word screwed over and over.

Henry squeezed one eye shut when he leaned against the doorframe. “I refuse to take responsibility for this.”

Killian genuinely could not move his eyebrows anymore.

“This is not my fault either,” Robin promised. Peggy had started watching other training videos on the tablet.

And Matt was still talking a mile a minute — Killian straining to make out the words like he was trying to translate Swedish again and—

“Dad, Dad, Dad,” Matt continued. He spun on the balls of his feet, barely keeping his balance, an even more impressive feat considering where Robin’s arm still was and—“Is it true?”

“What?”

“Are you going to play again?”

Killian was glad Peggy was holding the tablet. He absolutely would have dropped it.

Henry squeezed the other eye closed.

Like he didn’t want to watch the fallout.

Which was a very good word for it, honestly, because Killian’s stomach felt like it had dropped out of his body entirely, those same muscles that had already been through some sort of metaphorical and exhausted wringer, drooping even more, threatening to yank him through the floor.

That would have been better, probably.

He’d never seen Matt’s eyes that wide.

“Not my fault,” Robin repeated, soft and a little imploring. “Let’s just—we’ll blame the New York media. Like, as a whole.”

Henry nodded in approval. “That seems reasonable. Also, uh, Matt’s team was just—“

“—Just what, exactly?” Killian asked sharply, a quick shake of his head when Peggy tensed. “Not you, little love. What do you think about the kid’s stick handling?”

“He moves really quick. Good wrists.”

He grinned, only a little forced considering the location of his stomach, but Matt was still as wide-eyed as ever, breathing heavily with the almost audible force of his want.

“Is that Järnkrok?” Matt asked, near-perfect pronunciation that wasn’t all that surprising. He probably understood how the kid got power off the back of his skates.

Killian nodded. “Coming up for the Canadian swing.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Matt clicked his teeth — his own nose scrunch that was only a little off-putting because it looked so much like Emma, but then his right hand moved and immediately found the back of his hair and Killian couldn’t glare at Robin and Henry at the same time.

Will was going to be very disappointed he’d missed this.

“Because everyone’s hurt?”

“Yuh huh,” Killian said. He picked Robin to glare at. Mostly because, even in his absolutely exhausted state, he was starting to figure out what was happening and Ruby was going to be furious.

“And you’re not—“

“—No, kid.”

“But Uncle Robin said that—“

“—Matt,” Killian interrupted, glad that his stomach had already dropped. The force of his kid’s sigh was enough to make him actually wince. “That’s—ok, Locksley what did you say?”

Robin groaned. “Can I see the tablet, Pegs?”

That worked about as well as Killian expected it to — cries of frustration and disappointment that she couldn’t keep watching film, which was just…a lot for him to cope with at the moment, particularly when it looked like Matt was actually bent in half and—

“Here,” Henry muttered, holding his phone out and the video was already playing. It was very loud.

Or so it seemed.

God, he was tired.

And with another Rangers player expected to miss time when the Blueshirts head north this weekend, there’s been some discussion about who the team will call on to fill holes. Teenage sensation Elias Järnkrok is expected to get his official call-up from Hartford, but I don’t think we can assume that an 18-year-old will be able to jump into top-line minutes. With that in mind, there have been some reports that front office may turn to a familiar face and recent retiree who could add some experience to the Rangers roster while they try to maintain their hold on a Wild Card spot and…

Killian didn’t hear the rest.

He didn’t want to hear the rest.

Matt was barely standing up anymore.

“No, kid,” he said again, voice hardly that. His throat might have been collapsing too. “That’s—“

“—But you could,” Matt cried. “You could, Dad! You’d—you’d be able to skate and play and—“

“—Did I apologize for this at some point?” Robin muttered.

Killian rolled his eyes. “What reports were you talking about?”

“Couple of tabs. That one guy at The Daily News seems to think he’s got sources.”

“Are you not a source?”

“People are talking, Cap,” Robin shrugged. “It’s—well, you know, Matt’s not the only one who thinks you could do it.”

“I’d have to sign by the deadline. That’s like…in three weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“I have a kid who won’t sleep at home.”

“Also true.”

“And, I—“ Killian huffed, not quite disappointment because he couldn’t have really asked for a better end than another Stanley Cup and his kids on his parade float and—his lips had gone very dry. Probably from breathing through his mouth. “Mattie,” he continued, not surprised when the shoulders got even lower. At least his stomach would have company on the floor. “You know I’m not going to play again, right?”

Matt didn’t respond, but he shook his head slowly and that was, somehow, ten-thousand times worse.

“I can’t, kid.”

Henry sounded like he winced.

Killian couldn’t bring himself to look back.

“It’s—“ He took another deep breath, only to let it out almost immediately and Peggy didn’t move. Small miracles. “Ok, come here.”

Nothing.

“Matthew.”

That got a disgruntled noise and pointed scowl, Henry’s laugh muffled slightly when he presumably covered his mouth with his hand. Matt barely lifted his feet when he walked forward.

“Ok,” Killian started, bending his neck awkwardly to try and stay in the eye line of a nine-year-old who looked like the world as he knew it was ending. “I know you think I could play again and I—that’s pretty fantastic, honestly. But I don’t want to.”

Matt’s eyes bugged. “What? Dad, are you serious?”

Killian hummed, glancing Robin’s direction and he hadn’t been a rookie in a very long time, hadn’t skated in, at least two weeks, but the expression on his friend’s face was reminiscent of both, something like pride and understanding and knowing when to walk away.

Kind of.

He had more film to watch.

And his kid’s practice to dissect. Matt liked to report back. Regularly.

“I played for a really long time,” Killian continued. “And it was good. Great. The—the absolute best, you know that, right?”

Matt shrugged.

“It’s like watching the same person in two different spots,” Henry chuckled, clicking his tongue when Robin sighed.

“But you don’t want to play anymore?” Matt asked softly. “Dad, I don’t—“

“—I know that doesn’t make any sense to you. And it wouldn’t have made any sense to me when I was your age either. But now I—I did everything I wanted to do, kid. All of it and then some, and you and your sister got to see it, so it’s different now.”

“Why?”

Killian’s laugh was part sigh, not quite frustrated, but more understanding because it was a bit like two versions of the same person. He had to shift Peggy’s weight to lean forward, tugging on the team-branded t-shirt Matt had on. “Things can’t be the same forever. They shouldn’t be. Other people have to play. The team’s got to—“

“—Oh, say it’s got to grow,” Robin laughed.

“I didn’t ever actually accept your apology for this. And how did—Matt, how did you find out?”

Matt blushed. “I, uh—one of the kids saw it before the game last night and he asked and I—“

“—There’s a rather large support group for your imminent return to the ice,” Henry finished.

That noise was more frustrated anything else.

Matt’s cheeks got redder.

“I just—“ he started, rocking his weight between his feet like he was getting ready for puck drop.

“I know,” Killian said. “I do. But it’s not going to happen, kid. For several reasons. Mostly that no one has actually asked me yet, so The Daily News should probably check its sources. And also because I—I will literally fall over on the ice if I try and skate that long and then I’ll never hear the end of it from Uncle Will.”

“He’s probably all those text messages you’re ignoring,” Robin added.

“I had film to watch.”

“And a kid to distract so Emma could get some sleep.”

“That too.”

“You’re very gallant, Cap.”

Killian made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, turning his attention back to a suspiciously silent Matt, still shuffling back and forth with extra emotion and energy and—“The only hockey playing I am interested in talking about is this kid from Sweden that you apparently know a lot about—“

“—He’s really good, Dad. That’s just…everyone knows that.“

“—And how that juke move we practiced last week worked out.”

Matt froze. Killian grinned.

His stomach felt like it flew back into his body.

“You score?”

“Dad.”

“Not an answer.”

“Three times that I saw,” Henry muttered, and Killian didn’t have to turn that time either. The force of his smile probably did damage to the paint or something.

“I scored twice before you got there,” Matt grumbled.

Robin threw his whole back when he laughed, Henry’s soft chuckle echoing between Killian’s ears and his lack-of-sleep addled mind and Peggy did not appreciate when he all but lunged forward. His arm wrapped around Matt’s shoulders, pulling him forward as well.

“You make the defender fall over?”

The top of Matt’s hair bumped Killian’s left ribs when he nodded. “And got both goalies to go the wrong direction.”

“Quick wrists?”

“Dad.”

“Right, right, that’s insulting to the reputation of your wrists.”

Matt sneered — and his nose was probably going to get stuck like that, eyes hardly more than absurdly competitive slits when Killian crouched in front of him. His right knee cracked.

Ariel was going to be insufferable.

And even the idea of getting back on the ice was almost comical at that point, but he hadn’t been lying — he had no interest in skating or scoring or doing anything except discussing the state of his nine-year-old’s exceptionally quick wrists and—

“I could score on MD,” Peggy said, one of her feet balancing on Killian’s thigh. Her arms had gone very tight around his neck.

“No, you could not, Mar! That’s not—“

“—Ok, ok,” Killian shouted. Robin hadn’t stopped laughing yet. “What are you doing right now?”

“Probably telling Scarlet to meet us on the ice, yeah?”

“Yeah, that.”

Any sense of lingering disappointment seemed to almost melt off Matt, shoulders rolling back and spine straightening and Killian knew he probably shouldn’t have congratulated himself for either of those things. And yet. Again.

“We’ll make Uncle Robin stand in goal, huh?” he asked, another tug to Matt’s shirt before the kid was halfway to the door and the discarded equipment bag.

“Ah, c’mon, Cap, seriously?”

“Get better sources. Journalism one-oh-one.”

“He’s not a journalist,” Will said, draped over Henry’s body and his hair was still damp from his post-practice shower.

“Did you teleport here?”

“You were ignoring me.”

“That’s not threatening at all.”

Will stuck his tongue out, stepping to his right so he could bend his knees, bracing for impact as soon as Peggy launched herself at his chest. He grunted anyway. “Didn’t I see you like—four hours ago?”

“Uncle Will, Uncle Will, Uncle Will, I’m going to score on MD!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she yelled. Directly in his ear.

“Cap, we’ve got to work on this kid’s diction. And, uh—did we talk about it yet?”

Killian nodded. “How many of your text messages were just gifs of various people laughing?”

“A few animals too.”

“Right.”

“You’re old. Plus,” Will added, hiking Peggy up his side and jerking his head back when what sounded like several sticks were pulled out of Matt’s bag, “the future belongs to the youth or whatever, right?”

“Something like that,” Robin mumbled. He sighed once, resigning himself to being pelted with softly hit hockey pucks for the next forty-two minutes. At least. “Alright, let’s go help the legend of the wrister grow.”

Matt scored almost every time he took a shot — and the few times that he missed only inspired more practice, a streak of determination that was like watching a memory and something else Killian couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Mostly because it was far too similar.

To him.

And a game that wasn’t entirely his anymore, but might have been theirs and that was better than he thought it ever could have been.

The apartment lights were dim when they walked back in, hours later, with Peggy half asleep in his arms and Matt dragging the equipment bag behind him. “Hey,” Killian hissed, a quick shake of his head and that one, very specific glare that almost always worked.

Matt sighed. And grunted when he trudged down the hall, the bag bumping on the wall twice and the side of his door once and for, approximately, fourteen seconds Killian was sure it was going to be fine, precious silence stretching out in front of him and Peggy’s quiet breathing in his ear, but then—

The kid did have very impressive lungs.

“What is that?” Peggy mumbled into the side of Killian’s neck. “It’s loud.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of how it works. C’mon, let’s—“

“—Too late,” Emma announced, moving into the living room with a squirming and crying Chris. “It was a valiant attempt to get him to lift the equipment bag.” She dropped into the corner of the couch, Peggy’s annoyance at the overall volume of her younger brother increasing with every passing second. Emma closed her eyes. “So, like…on a scale of one to complete meltdown how bad was it?”

Killian blinked. “Are you a mind reader?”

“Ruby’s really annoyed with that guy.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“Nah,” Killian objected, all but falling down next to her and his muscles felt more like they were supposed to now, but he was also impossibly sore and, somehow, even more tired. Emma’s head fell on his shoulder almost immediately. “And, uh—it wasn’t that bad.”

“No?”

“No. Easy to dispute totally unfounded rumors.”

“Check that vocabulary.”

“Peggy was very close to pronouncing Swedish last names, so I’ve got to step my game up.”

“You’re funny.”

“Delirious, maybe,” Killian amended, and Emma’s arm bumped his when she laughed. Chris quieted for a moment, but he didn’t actually stop moving and maybe Killian could close his eyes too.

Just for a moment.

“That too. You’re sure, though?”

“Swan.”

“Im serious, I—“ She didn’t lift her head, probably didn’t open her own eyes, but Killian heard the question for what it was — double checking and making sure and his heart expanded enough that he was briefly worried for his ribs.

“No, love. I barely even moved today and I feel several thousand years older.”

“You score?”

“That was more insulting.”

She scoffed, nosing at the curve of his shoulder. “Who’d you get in net?”

“Locksley.”

“Ah, serves him right.”

“That’s totally true,” Killian agreed, shifting a little bit and that made it easier to kiss Emma’s temple and—he genuinely did not remember falling asleep. Strictly speaking, it was a little irresponsible, a tangle of limbs on the couch and another kid who really needed to take his dirty clothes out of his equipment bag, but then Killian’s eyes were fluttering open and that same kid was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, leaning back against the couch with the TV on.

Watching film.

Killian’s smile tugged at the muscles in his face, more absurd biological thoughts. Matt didn’t turn around. He looked very focused, head at an angle and arms moving every few seconds, quick twists of his wrists and a bend to his elbow that was as familiar as anything else.

And it took a moment to realize.

He’d blame the sleep thing.

Killian wondered if he was maybe still asleep.

Because the film wasn’t new, was several decades old and the jersey he was wearing wasn’t Blue. It was maroon. And gold.

Matt was mumbling under his breath, trying to mimic Killian’s college-age self and a goal that won a national championship.

He considered saying something — maybe even suggesting a few goals that were a bit better or more fundamentally sound, but the erratic sound of his own heart thudding in his chest made it impossible and he was far too comfortable anyway. He didn’t want to wake Emma up.

So Killian took a deep breath and let his eyes flutter shut again, certain he’d see that move on the ice sooner rather than later anyway.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line one shots #this is tooth rotting fluff

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ghostyprince · 5 years

Text

Title: momentary peace

word count:3.633 fandom: Critical Role relationship: Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast summary: Caleb has insomnia and nightmares. Caduceus has tea, warm hugs, and soft lips.

author’s note: this is grossly sweet just like everything i ever wrote.

[READ ON AO3]

or read more here

It became a routine of some kind, Caleb showing up at Caduceus' room in the ungodly hours of the night. Neither of them really knew how long it started, a lot is happening in their lives all the time. Though Caleb is sure he stored the exact date away in the back of his mind, few of the information he ever learned was completely lost. That night, he was especially restless, the pictures of the past kept floating in front of his eyes whenever he closed them, he smelled the burning of flesh and the crackling of fire and the screaming of his parents were nearly deafening in his ears.

No matter how what side he turned on, he even tried covering his ears and screwing his eyes shut, nothing seemed to help.

Nott has been curled up at his side, sometimes it was enough, to bring Caleb back from the past. Sometimes she stayed up with him, holding Caleb and petting his hair, because he was her boy, and she’d do anything to make him feel better. Lately, Caleb felt way too guilty about that, so he tried to suffer through his brain’s nightly shenanigans alone. He couldn’t keep her up, Nott needed all the sleep she could get. He thought about just staying up, petting Frumpkin, and reading all night, but he can't afford to be too sleep-deprived either.

He tried, for a while, thirty minutes, then an hour. Sleep never came and the memories only got worse. Seeing Trent's face again, his scars started faintly aching and that's all he could take. Before his thoughts could spiral down into a panic attack, he sat up, careful to not wake Nott. Frumpkin was curled up between them, purring softly. When Caleb climbed out of the bed, the cat opened his eyes, and looked up at him curiously, waiting for an order.

"I'll be back shortly, go back to sleep." he whispered, and ran his hand along the spine of his companion, he could feel the familiar magic thrumming under his fingers.

Frumpkin laid his head back on Nott's small hand and shortly fall back to sleep. Caleb wished it would be that easy for him too. He headed down to the communal area but halted to a stop when he reached Fjord's and Caduceus' room. The door has been left ajar, and the smell of flowery fresh tea hit his nose. It was a welcome change after the smell of burning flesh that seemed to get stuck in his nose from all those years ago.

Caleb automatically reached for the door, but he stopped himself. Maybe he shouldn't. He shouldn't bother the firbolg with his problems. Fjord could be there too, and Caleb really didn’t feel like dealing with more than one person at the moment. Or anyone at all, for that matter. Before he could turn on his heels and go down, Caduceus' voice came from the room, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Would you like to come in, Mr. Caleb?" it was a gentle offer, no malice in his voice, there was never malice in Caduceus' voice. Yet, Caleb still felt his heart hammering in his chest. "Run, run, run" started the low chant in his head, like it often did in battles. He could still just go away, and they'd never have to talk about this.

Caduceus wouldn't even think it was really him, right? He would just think it was someone else, Caleb could–

Before he could stop himself, he was already pulling open the door. He saw Caduceus alone, sitting on the floor, back pressed against one of the beds. Fjord was not in the room, probably drinking downstairs. Caleb did not ask, he didn't say anything.

Caduceus studied him, standing there, and he thought Caleb looked awfully lost.

"Can't sleep? I have tea if you would like some, perhaps. It always helps me."

Caleb took a shaky breath, then a moment later nodded, stiff. His whole being was impossibly stiff as he shuffled over to Caduceus, sitting in front of him, leaving them both with a big bubble of personal space. Caduceus smiled at him but got nothing in return. It didn’t discourage him though.

After he fetched another cup for Caleb, he poured hot tea for both of them. Caleb grounded himself, breathing in the flowery steam, and carefully took a sip. The tea was too bitter, for his taste, but nice nonetheless.

"Would you like some honey? Or I could go down–" Caduceus wanted to offer to ask if they have some milk downstairs, but Caleb's quietly interrupted him.

"Ja" his voice was raspy and so tired, Caduceus almost frowned, concerned. Eventually, he just put some honey Jester gifted to him, into Caleb's cup. He kept the kind smile on his face, just like he often did with the grieving people he consulted at his home. He learned that some of them are not looking for sympathy, even if it's coming from a good place. His wizard friend didn't seem any different.

Caleb thanked him, pointedly avoiding eye contact. They were quiet, for long-long minutes. Caleb stared into his tea, taking small sips and Caduceus really felt like he should say something, but he didn't want to disturb the moment and risk Caleb running away. So they just sat there, until Caleb finished two cups of tea, in absolute silence.

However, Caduceus noticed how the stiffness slowly seeped away from his body with every sip, and he looked a tad more at peace than when he walked in. That was good. He gave Caleb a big, pleased smile, just as he looked up, and caught his gaze for a second. Just as quickly, Caleb tore away his eyes, standing up somewhat abruptly, feeling the heat climb up his neck and ears. It might not have been because of the tea.

"I think I took up enough of your time, I'm going to bed now and you should get some sleep too. Thank you for the tea, Mr. Clay." They both knew Caleb had meant something else too, not just the tea.

"Don't worry about it, I was awake anyway. And you can come anytime. I always have tea." Caduceus smiled at him again, not unkindly and Caleb hurried out of the room.

From then on, it became a tradition. Every other day, Caleb would just show up in his room, or Caduceus would deliberately sit downstairs if Fjord was in their room. They'd drink tea, without a word at first, then Caduceus filled up the silence with stories, of his home, anything that came to mind. Caleb listened, secretly grateful for the distraction.

One day, he'd sit next to Caduceus, instead of across the table and he'd start talking. Quiet and unsure, then just like he did usually when the rest of the Nein was present. Sometimes he'd bring Frumpkin, scarfed around his neck, or letting Caduceus pet and study him. He loved Frumpkin, musing about his soft fur and the patterns of it, and chuckling when Caleb made him blep, or dance on his hind legs.

Sometimes Caleb would help him with reading, pronouncing and explaining the more complicated words. He'd even joke around and bark out a laugh, which was a very rare sight, so Caduceus drank it all in, with delight. Trying to remember every aspect of Caleb's face when it was pulled into one of those genuine smiles, only for Caduceus to see.

They always made his heart flutter and like beetles were buzzing around in his stomach. He hasn't felt anything like this in long seasons, so it took him by surprise. He had a lot to think about.

Caduceus started paying for his own room whenever they stopped in an inn, just so he and Caleb won’t have to sit down in the communal area. When the others wondered why he just said he liked to stay up late and meditate, and he needed the quiet.

There were times when Caleb was especially in a bad mood, on those nights he got quiet and closed off again, putting his shields back up again, the ones Caduceus carefully peeled away. After a cup or two, Caleb finally spoke, telling him he had a nightmare again, he hadn’t had those in a few weeks, not since their daily meetings. Usually, by the time Caleb got back into bed, he was exhausted and just passed out.

He didn't mention any details about the dream, and Caduceus knew not to ask. Caleb’s hands stopped shaking after a while, but he was still in a foul mood when he stood to leave. So Caduceus blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Why don’t you sleep here? You can take the bed, it’s a bit small for me anyway.” Caleb froze and stared at him warily. Caduceus tried to be as genuine as possible, he really didn’t want Caleb to back to his room and be up all night. Maybe he wouldn’t visit Caduceus again, seeing how talking didn’t do much anymore. He found himself quite anxious over the possibility, realizing he’d miss the time they spent together more than he thought he would.

“That is very nice of you, Mr. Clay, but I wouldn’t want to bother you, I’m perfectly fine.”

On the contrary, Caleb’s hands were clutching at his worn coat, knuckles white.

“It wouldn’t be a bother at all, maybe the change of atmosphere would do some good.”

It was a bullshit excuse, and he knew Caleb saw right through it, but no other reason came to his mind. Relief flooded Caduceus when Caleb shut his eyes and nodded, shifting over to the bed.

The floor was mighty uncomfortable, his pillow and cover gave very little comfort, but Caduceus didn't complain. He listened and he could tell Caleb wasn’t asleep either, breathing uneven and somewhat frantic in the dark room.

Caleb desperately wanted to summon Frumpkin there, already missing the loud purring resonating through his chest, and petting the cat’s fur to keep his hands busy until he eventually passed out. That might wake Nott, though, so it wasn’t an option.

He wondered if Caduceus was asleep, a faint idea formed in his head, to ask him to climb next to Caleb. It would be a tight fit, but at least he wouldn't feel so damn anxious all night. It was discarded quickly with a mental scoff. As if he would ask anything like that out loud.

"Are you still awake?" Caduceus whispered when minutes passed by.

"Yes."

There was a pause and then Caduceus spoke again, carefully choosing his words.

"Would you mind sharing the bed? Maybe we both could sleep better. Only if you're comfortable with it, of course."

Caleb started to suspect that Caduceus is some sort of a mind reader, but that was another problem for another day. He didn't answer, and Caduceus was about to give up and keep trying to fall asleep, the uneven floor decks digging into his side, when a very faint "Ja, okay" came from the direction bed. If his hearing wasn't so excellent, he probably would've missed it.

Without saying anything more, Caduceus stood and crawled into bed, while Caleb shuffled to the side, as far as he could, nearly falling off. Caduceus smiled at him in the dark, apologetic.

"I'm sorry, this is a tiny bed for the two of us," he muttered, as he found a comfortable position.

Caleb laid very still and was mindful of not touching Caduceus in any shape or form. It's a miracle he even fell asleep. Caduceus watched him a little bit after his breathing evened out, Caleb looked so much more peaceful than he did when he was awake. The permanent frown disappeared, smoothing out his features. He wondered when the last time Caleb shared a bed with anyone except Nott was. Caduceus suspected the answer would sadden him quite a bit. But then again, when was the last time he shared a bed with anyone? A soft sigh escaped his lips, he missed his home and family quite a bit.

Caleb, to his surprise, had slept better than he had for months. It felt vaguely familiar when they shared a bed with Nott for the first time, but it was strangely different also. There was no point overthinking it, he supposed. (He would, later.) From then, when Caleb visited, he usually spent the night there, easing up to the presence of Caduceus next to him gradually more and more. It was a silent agreement between them.

On particularly bad nights, full of negative thoughts, and painful memories, Caleb scooted even closer, after Caduceus was fast asleep, and nestled against his side, seeking out warmth and comfort. He picked up the habit of stroking Caduceus' arm, only gentle touches to not wake him. His fur was coarser than Frumpkin's, but it felt just as therapeutic. And if Caduceus woke up and slipped his other arm under Caleb's waist, to pull him closer, none of them spoke a word about it.

Early in the morning, Caleb always slipped back into their shared room with Nott, to not alarm her with his absence. He did feel a tiny bit better after every night spent with Caduceus. It wasn’t a cure, it never would be and Caleb hadn’t expected it to be. He still felt miserable most of the time. Those nights were merely something to look forward to, one more reason to make him keep going, and there wasn’t a lot of those, so it was alright.

The problems came when they'd travel for a while, only stopping to camp on clearings. Most everyone would notice how tense Caleb became when they hadn't visited an inn in a while, but none of his friends really questioned it, he's been like that before. They thought he just had a bad week. Even if Jester or Beau would try talking to him, Caleb would shrug them off, assuring them that everything was alright. He wouldn’t even talk to Nott about it. Getting used to sleeping with Caduceus every other night mellowed him out a little, but all of that was gone as soon as they couldn't do that anymore. And Caleb hated himself because he missed it so much.

So to compensate, he tried to avoid Caduceus as much as he could. Now that his brain was going all day and night, Caleb started overthinking his relationship with Caduceus, coming to the conclusion that they need to end this. It was quite intimate at that point, and it wasn't something Caleb deserved at all.

Of course, Caduceus noticed being ignored, he always picks up on everything, and it’s not like Caleb tried to hide it too well, he was too frustrated and sleep-deprived.

Caduceus started sleeping closer to them than he did before. Nott was immediately suspicious, but he excused it by saying it was getting cold, and he's very big, and Caleb is pretty thin so they could share body heat more easily.

He didn't expect Caleb to protest and tell him blankly that they're going to be fine, but thank you Caduceus you're very nice. He felt a pang of disappointment but slept a few feet closer anyways. Just in case Caleb changes his mind. He had done that for days, persistently.

Until one night it happened. The others were already asleep, Caduceus being the only one awake, taking watch. It wasn’t necessary since Caleb came up with the protective dome, but Caduceus liked to listen to the sounds of nature. There was something peaceful in sleeping under the stars and feeling the grass on his palms and feet. Being so close to the Wildemother gave him hope that everything will be just fine. He heard Caleb toss, and turn, huffing, irritated with himself. Then he spoke, in a hushed tone. Caduceus needed a second to realize he was actually talking to him.

"You can come here if you would like." Thrilled, Caduceus did just that.

Next time they were in an inn, Caleb snuck into Caduceus' room again, who was waiting for him already. The tea was made of the Forestbrow family this time, and it was nice and minty. Caduceus hadn’t known them, but he imagined they were good people. Tea made from bad people was not great at all. They were both sitting on the bed this time, Caleb with his back to the bed frame, and Caduceus in front of him, knee brushing against Caleb's pulled up leg. They were practicing reading again, pressed close to each other, the book propped up between them.

Caleb by then was pretty comfortable with being this close to Caduceus, but still got a bit flushed when their hands would brush, or by Caduceus' soft voice would be too close to his ear. They were doing good progress though, and when Caduceus pronounced a particularly hard word with no help at all, Caleb beamed up at him, feeling proud.

Their eyes met for a moment and Caleb forcibly tore away his gaze, jerked back to reality, suddenly self-conscious. He's been red as a beet, he was sure of it. Caduceus' hand sneaked up to his shoulder, then the back of his neck, without warning. Caleb shivered, and looked up again, though only at Caduceus’ lips and chin, wondering what the pastel pink beard feels like against his skin. Or if the fuzz on his nose is the same softness as Frumpkin’s.

The sheer want, to just stretch his neck a little and close the distance between them took over him, punching the air out of his lungs. It was so sudden, he almost gave in, but Caleb was still a big coward. The fear of breaking whatever this was between them numbed him. Thoughts going miles per second, they managed to convince him out of doing anything at all. It's a bad idea, you will regret it, he's too good for you, too caring, youdon'tdeservethis.

Before Caleb could do something stupid, like stand up, and sprint out of the room, Caduceus's lips brushed over his and his mind abruptly turned off. It wasn't long, Caduceus pulled back just far enough to look at him, after a few seconds of Caleb being completely unresponsive.

"I'm sorry, I may have read the situation wrong." He sounded hesitant, still searching Caleb's face for any sort of reaction, good or bad, but he had nothing to work with.

Finally, Caleb inhaled and slowly closed the book between them, same blank look on his face. He placed it on the table next to their neglected cups because books are sacred, and he wouldn’t let it get squashed between them. He's ridiculous.

And Caleb's been traveling with these weird-ass people for long enough, so he supposed he can be a little brave sometimes. So he proceeded to tug on Caduceus' shirt and press their lips together more firmly this time. They both only had their undershirt on, Caduceus's armor precisely folded next to Caleb's coat at the feet of the bed. Caleb still had his books strapped to his chest, it made him feel safe, acting as the last of his invisible shields between them.

Caduceus let out a puff of air he didn't realize he was holding, and couldn't help grinning into the kiss, as Caleb pulled him even closer, one hand on his cheek already. The bugs were buzzing in his stomach again, and he had to grip the bed frame with his free hand as the feeling of Caleb's tongue running along his lower lip suddenly made him a bit dizzy. Wow.

He was rather overwhelmed, but curiously mimicked Caleb and the way his breath hitched when their tongues met was delightful. Caleb's already pretty long beard felt unfamiliar against his jaw, a little scratchy, but it felt good. Caleb's hand was busy exploring the soft fuzz on his cheek and then brushing past one of his ears that twitched under his fingertips, while Caduceus experimentally but gently, tugged on a fistful of his hair. Caught off guard, Caleb groaned into the kiss, it felt like his whole body was on fire and for once it wasn’t freaking him out, in a bad way.

After long minutes, they had to pull away for air, both of them heaving, Caduceus stared back at him, and Caleb was expecting everything but the wonder and excitement on his face. His ears were just as flushed as Caleb's whole head has been probably, and now he was the one touching his cheek, lightly. Caleb couldn't help the crooked grin that overtook his expression, for once feeling content and his brain was blissfully quiet. He couldn't help touching his mouth like he was trying to make sure all of this was real.

"That was... Really nice." Caduceus hummed, expression melting into a pleased grin.

Caleb nodded, sheepishly. "Indeed."

Neither of them really knew what to say after that, and the quiet would soon become awkward if Caduceus hadn't leaned in, and they started all over again. Soon, he pressed Caleb even more into the bed frame, peppering his face with kisses, and going down his jaw and neck to bury his face in there, inhaling deeply.

He let out a happy sigh, breath tickling Caleb's skin, making him shudder once more. Caleb smelled mostly earthy, and like the outdoors, and maybe a bit smoky. For Caduceus, he kind of smelled like home. He started pressing kisses on Caleb's neck too, experimentally, enjoying the quiet, rumbly moan he got when using his tongue again.

They had an awful lot that needed to be talked about, eventually. Maybe days, or even weeks later.

At the moment though, words were overrated.

#clayleb #critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr #cr2 #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #fanfiction #cr fanfiction #mighty nein #m/m fiction #g a y

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wonhoetryme · 6 years

Text

Night Owl

Heart and Brew Coffeehouse (x)

... Despite the upcoming finals and the extravagant workload on his back, B/N makes an attempt to get it all done in a long night at the Heart and Brew Coffeehouse, where his best friend (and oblivious crush) Y/N works...

Genre: slow-build fluff

Words: 4.5k this got kinda long

A/N: I WROTE THIS WITH MY BEST FRIEND because I got block (which is why it took so long) but she saved it and she’s great, I love her. Shoutout to Merci. Also, Y/N sounds so against all them espresso shots, but I personally down a 10 ristretto-shot honey latte before I start cramming for any test, so... #teamcoffeebuzz ‘knaw mean?

(cc)

Despite the watercolor sunset that glosses the tables, and the pink-orange sunlight that soaks in from the windows, the coffeehouse is still filled with people. Though the rush has long passed with the coming of the evening, students and teachers stay hunched over study sheets, essays, and paperwork, populating the tables of the lobby. A calm hum of whispers can be found underneath sounds of espresso machines and steaming milk, mixing with the studious sense of anticipation.

That calm is brought to an abrupt halt, stopping everything in your track when an incredulous request gets your attention at the register.

“Wait B/N, you said how many espresso shots?” You say, not even attempting to write down this order in case you heard wrong.

Your question is met with a blank stare. “Eight.”

You blink at him over and over, as if he were asking for something ridiculous. And he is; it’s nearly seven o’clock in the evening, why does he need that much of a caffeine buzz?

“I want eight, Y/N.”

Good thing you and him are best friends, or you’d probably get into trouble for questioning his order so loudly.

“Are you looking for a heart attack?” Your brow wrinkles the middle of your forehead, showcasing the confusion you have for this boy. “That’s a lot of caffeine, not to mention a lot of… bitter” your nose scrunches up, kind of disgusted at the power that many shots could have.

He just just rolls his eyes, an audible scoff shot your way under the pretense of a chuckle. “ Oh whatever, I’ll be fine. I get this all the time, I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”

You shoot him the look™ and turn to your coworker, conveniently making drinks right beside you.

“Does he really, though?” you ask your coworker, pleading for some kind of disagreement out of your concern for B/N’s heart rate.

“He really does...”

“See?” B/N exclaims, sharing a playful nod with the barista at your side.

You glare at him, still not convinced it’s healthy to have so much caffeine this late, or that it’ll taste all that good. He looks at you for a long moment, watching as your face scrunches up.

How cute. He smiles. “Just let me buy my drink Y/N, you got me holding up the line.”

There’s only two people behind him, and they look like they’re still trying to select their study refreshments, but you won’t mention it; it’s bad enough you’re arguing with B/N. And, if your manager sees you holding him up anymore you’ll probably get into trouble.

Begrudgingly, you ring up his order. Iced americano, eight espresso shots (whatta mad man), with grapefruit and and a splash of coconut milk.

Before he walks off to the end of the coffee bar where his otherworldly caffeinated drink will greet his buzz-deprived circulation system, he gets your attention once more.

“When do you get off, again?” B/N slips his change into the tip jar while you check your watch. He’ll always tip the coffeehouse, even if you do interrogate him slightly. Only when you’re here though.

“In like, half an hour.” You’ve practically been here all afternoon, and the line out the door from earlier had you practically done for the whole day. Maybe you were the one who needed eight shots of espresso.

He nods, taking a quick note how your voice changes pitch with a friendly “Hi, welcome in!” as you greet the next customer. A smile sneaks along his lips as he goes to wait for his drink. Adorable.

--------

You first met B/N in your morning physics class.

Turns out, the only open chair left in the classroom was next to him, so you had no choice but to set down your cup of coffee on the table before sitting beside his sleeping(?) figure.

“That coffee smells really good” he whispered to you, lifting his head from the desk and looking tired as ever. One look at him, he needed it more than you did.

“If you don't mind me asking, where’d you get it? I’m new here, and I don’t know any coffee places nearby.” He took a moment to ruffle his (obvious) bed head. “I should really find one if I have to do physics this early.”

You heard his chuckle the first time then. It’s got an odd ring to it, but it’s deep and very...attractive. It sounded like a laugh from a moviestar, handsome and boyish with the grogginess of 8am.

He definitely got your attention then. He was new to town, coming to school from out-of-state. You had actually been the first person he talked to since he moved in. That is, except for the bus driver.

“Oh, If you’re looking for coffee, I actually work at the coffeehouse down the road. Heart and Brew? It’s practically the study hub for this school if you ever find yourself there.” You found his smile to be warm, even if he did look like he just woke up.

“Really? Would you mind… maybe showing me?” He blushes a little, realizing he didn't mean to sound so flirty. “S-Since you work there. I mean, if you don't have anything to do after this.”

One thing you always note him on, is that he’s bold. That first day he met you, it was like he had the confidence to ask you out despite his perfectly-tousled bed-head and cotton long-sleeve.

“Yeah, I’m free. I’ll take you” You nodded, trying to take him in as platonically as possible. You didn't wanna get your hopes up if he was just trying to learn his way around town, but he looked so... huggable. Seeing him every morning for the next semester makes 8am physics a bit more appealing. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

He opened his notebook as the professor started handing out class papers. Smiling at you, he reaches, asking for your hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m B/N”.

Later, over shared jokes and a quick look over the syllabus, you two became inseparable. With two classes paired together, and his open love to mess with you, becoming friends was easy. You’re still not sure if that first coffee together was a date or not, but you two became best friends, bonding over Newton’s Laws of Motion and Chemistry.

---------

B/N sits comfortably in his booth, laptop on one side and a slew of papers on the other. His iced americano may practically be finished, but his homework? Nowhere near.

“Damn, B/N. What do you still have left to do?” You, off the clock and out of your apron, slide into the seat across from B/N.

The wholesomely comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee beans finds it way from your clothes to B/N’s senses, awakening the parts of his heart that espresso had yet to reach. He drinks it in as your unspoken introduction.

“Well, I have a science history project, that physics worksheet, an astronomy essay, and our lab write up”. He lists a few more things, noticing as you release your hair from it’s classic updo. It falls softly across your face, causing B/N’s fingers to tingle with the urge to tuck it behind your ear. And he could if he leaned forward a bit further. The top of your collarbone is a bit exposed when you start to rummage through your bag, letting him only innocently imagine the softness of the skin there. The lighting above the table does wonders for you, by the way.

“Geez, B/N.” You say. He’s taking a few more higher-level classes than you, so your load was nowhere near as heavy. But still... you finished all your classwork days ago, while he’s still got assignments due. “Is all this due before finals?”

“Unfortunately.” He sighs, finally looking away from you to run a hand through his hair. His tresses look just as fluffy and perfectly messy as they had the first morning you met him. That was months ago, yet you still see him the same: effortlessly handsome.

“B/N… you know finals are in… two days, right?’ You reach your hand out to land atop of his as if you were bearing bad news.

“Yes,” he laughs, “I know”.

He tries not to focus too hard on the warmth of your hand that rests atop his; he forces himself not to think about how softly your thumb is caressing underneath his palm. His chest suddenly feels warm. So soft and innocent a gesture, yet it exploded fireworks withing him. Don’t think about it.

“I may have… procrastinated a bit…”

You suddenly squeeze that hand you were holding so dearly, making him jump slightly. “What the heck, B/N! You have to get these done before tomorrow night, then!?” You give him the furrowed look™ for the second time tonight.

“Ugh, I KNOW.”

“If you plan to participate in the movie binge tonight, you gotta get all that” you release his hand to dramatically gesture to his mini pile of notes and readings, “done tonight.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t want to binge movies alone, you’ll help me finish these.”

He knows that he’s got you there, because you both know movie night isn’t fun without your best friend. He also knows that you really don't like doing anything alone. That’s why he even came during your shift tonight, because you were working after sunset and ‘wanted someone to walk home with’.

He is one for deals, and the deal was that he agreed to walk home with you as long as you would sit with him while he finished up some work.

...You didn't think he had so much to do though, sheesh.

“B/N, you’ve only got five hours left to get this stuff done before the coffeehouse closes.”

There’s a pause. He’s trying not to get too panicked, looking down at his hefty packet of worksheets and readings.

“Okay Y/N, bet.” He leans forward on his elbows, proposing what sounds like another deal to you. “If you help me, five hours is NOTHING. I got this.”

Ah, there’s the bold B/N you like so much. Except he was probably trying to convince himself more than you.

“What do you need me to help with first?” You reach over the table and grab hold of B/N’s hoodie that was laying on the table. The coffeehouse was relatively cold once you’re away from the espresso machine and steam station.

He just nods, watching you slip the fluffy large maroon thing over your head. It practically drowns you, since it’s even too big for him. That looks nice on you, he thinks, keeping the adorable vision at the top of his head and close in his heart.

“Um, can you just review this? Make sure my formulas are correct on this worksheet.” He hands you his physics papers. “And try to not be distracting this time? I’m finishing the lab report.” He takes a sip of what’s left of his iced americano.

You noticed right away that his hands were shaking, probably because of the overload of caffeine.

“Try not to be distracting, huh?” You chuckle, knowing that there’s been multiple study sessions where you’ve run him off course and now he’s calling you out.

“Yes,” he chuckles, and you feel the same warmth in your chest everytime he laughs. “My sweater looks good on you by the way.”

Your cheeks get red and you feel noticeably warmer now.

“Oh um… thanks.” You’ve worn his hoodie multiple times and he usually scolded you for not bringing your own, but a compliment? Whoa. Get him caffeine more often, he’s the one being distracting.

“You should’ve brought your own though, the temperature is falling.” Nevermind, there’s the scolding.

“The start of winter is coming soon. Days are getting shorter. When is the solstice again? Isn’t that the day of the light festival?”

“No, it’s in late December, I think? Or maybe-” He catches himself mid-sentence, “See! This is what I mean. I need to focus on this lab report, Y/N.”

You laugh at his antics. “You wanted my help, so there’s definitely no way you can get everything done in 5 hours”.

“Or you can stop teasing me and just help. ‘Cause If I don’t get this done, you’re on a very lonesome one-person movie binge tonight.”

“Hmph. Why though? What’s in it for me? I mean, besides your pleasant company.”

B/N glances up from his lab report for the third time in forty seconds. His fingers tapped against the grain of the table, his eyes soft though his mind hyperactive and calculating.

“Fine, if I don’t get everything done, you’ll have to kiss me.”

“Huh?” Where did that come from?

“Yep. SO we either get this done, or things will get hella weird.”

Caffeine does weird things for sure. He’s bold like espresso alright, but this was so sudden. You were at a loss for a witty retort.

“You’re the one that’s hella weird...”

His responses were getting quicker, and his knee bobbing up and down started to shake the table a bit.

“Yeah, so look over the worksheet please?”

“...Can we bet like lunch or something instead?” You weren’t gonna subject yourself to a caffeine-formulated bet.

“What, do you want to binge scary movies all alone?” He looked up from his papers, turning on the bold part of him again. “Or is it that you don’t wanna kiss me just yet?”

Yet? That cheeky bastard.

That scrunch of your nose assured him that you agreed. No answer would be a correct answer in your case, but you knew truthfully what you would choose.

“Here.” He passed another worksheet your way, shuffling the leftover stack in his hands. “Would you mind getting me another americano, too?”

Your head shot up real quick. “What? No! You’re already buzzed enough, over here making wild bets.” You notice the papers practically trembling in his hands. “Trust me, you don’t need anymore caffeine than you already have in your system.”

He pouts, nudging your foot beneath the large mahogany table. His hand brushes the top of the table, casting a shadow over the layout of homework he has left.

“Look at everything I have left to do, Y/N. It helps me study and not fall asleep.”

You thought about how else to deny him, because there is no way any of that is healthy, but you decided to only get him two shots in the americano. Water him down, let his mind clear.

He still holds your gaze, watching you look for another excuse. But you fall short in this staring contest, and his eyes crinkle with his laugh. With a sigh, you groan and roll your eyes at him, sliding out of the booth to get you both some coffee.

---------

Once you came back with your coffees (his having a significantly lesser amount of espresso), you both returned to your frantic work over the stacks of papers. Few jokes and teases were thrown at one another, coffee was sipped and refilled again, and eyes traversed over many, many lines of words and numbers while time ticked away.

And B/N still couldn’t help but watch as you help him with his homework.

The way your eyes squint as you work on some math to check over his formulas, or the way your forehead wrinkles and how your eyebrows shoot up when you read over his paper and find some horrible grammar mistakes. And when you bit your lip trying to comprehend something on the worksheets... ooh you’re just so adorable.

Sighing, you lift your head from the endless scrawls on the paper and raise your arms above your head in a long stretch of your body.

“You okay there, Y/N?” B/N said as you shook your head to wake yourself up, tresses of hair falling around your face. Just perfect.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost closing time,” your coworker said next to you. They were cleaning off all the tables and counters, indicating how late it was getting. “You’ve been here a while”.

Looking at your phone, the time read 11:01 p.m. -- one hour left before Heart and Brew closed.

“You still gonna try to help me finish the last few papers?”

You roll your eyes at B/N and take a glance at the work that you had already completed. You did pretty well, you just need to complete two or three more worksheets.

Then you look over to B/N...

You aren’t sure if he pulled out more work to do from thin air, if he was slow to work, or if he just sat there the entire time doing nothing. Maybe it’s a combination of the three, 'cause he still had a considerable amount of papers to complete before he could consider himself finished.

“What the hell have you been doing this entire time, B/N?!”

“Wha- I… I was distracted!”

“By what? Do I have to take your phone away like your mom?”

“No, I was being distracted by you! It’s your fault!”

“But I wasn’t even doing anything to you except your homework!”

“Yeah you were! You were just sitting there...looking cute and shit.” His eyes avert from your own to the stack of papers in his hands.

As B/N trails off in his accusation, your face blossoms into a soft rose petal pink and your fingers clench around the ends of the long sleeves enveloping your arms. You furrow your eyebrows, sticking your tongue out at him to show how upset you are with his continuous procrastination... and flustering excuse.

“See! You’re distracting me now. How dare you.” The playful glow returns to the apples of his cheeks, and he almost forgets how obvious his flirting is.

“Oh, shut up and do your work.”

With a sly grin knowing he’s gotten on your uwus, B/N spins his pencil between his fingers. With a content sigh, he pulls himself to focus his eyes on the task at hand. You huff and follow suit, returning to the papers on the table.

Once you finish the few sheets you have left over, you drop your pencil onto the table and cross your arms, dramtically slumping further into the booth.

“Done. I’m not helping you anymore.”

“Fine, then be alone for your movie marathon.”

“Hell, after this, I’ll be perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, need to learn how to do your work on time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned.”

“No you haven’t.”

“You know it.”

Seriously, how much work did these advanced courses give? Or was he just this bad at managing his time? And it’s not like you can help him with the rest of it either, you don’t have these classes.

You check your phone for the time, hearing your coworker putting away the chairs in the distance. Forty minutes have passed since you last looked; you guys really should get going.

“Well, you lost the bet, B/N. Pack up your stuff and let’s go.”

“Not yet! The shop hasn’t closed yet!”

“Just let them go home,” you whisper, pointing your thumb to your coworker who was now behind the pastry counter. ‘I mean, if you still want that damn kiss…’ you think, hoping he doesn’t figure out that he’s won that part.

B/N rolls his eyes and lazily lolls his head to look at the papers he has left to do. He looks so cute when he pouts.

You gather up the papers and tap them on the table, straightening them out and setting them down neatly in front of B/N. In a silent response, he takes the stack you offer and places it on top of his completed sheets.

Damn, didn;t get eveything done. He thinks. Then it registers in his head and he smiles a bit.

With a smile, he lifts his backpack onto the table, zipping it up all the way and patting it for good measure.

You clean your stuff up as well, the pencil, the eraser, and your phone all going into your small bag accordingly. It’s as if you’re still working when you pick up your empty cup, taking B/N’s as well to the trash and dumping them.

B/N stands up fully and straps on his backpack, waiting for you to join him as he strides toward the door. When he turns to see you catch up to him in his oversized hoodie, a smile lightly graces his face.

The garment practically swallows you whole; sleeves reaching past your palms, the torso going past your own and treading down to your hips. You look so good in his hoodie.

“Ready?” you ask, seeing his dazed expression.

He lightly shook his head, trying yet again to get you out of it. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Stepping into the cool autumn night, you flinch from the cold air that sweeps instantly around you, pulling yourself tighter into B/N’s hoodie. However, this didn’t escape B/N’s attention. He pulled his eyes away from your form and faced forward, hands in his pockets.

“Man, I just can’t believe we didn’t finish in time.” [Lies, he totally believes it, he made sure it happened.]

“You mean you didn’t finish in time. And you’re not that broken up about it because you just wanna kiss me.” You’re just as quick on your toes.

“Pfft, not broken up about it? Finals are in two days, Y/N.” He conveniently skips over the second part of your accusation. But yeah, ‘losing’ the bet is on his mind too.

“Whatever,” you sigh.

The conversation fades after that, the sounds of walking and rustling trees filling its place.

“So are you going to continue with that movie marathon without me?” he asks after a block or two slinks pass.

“After doing all your homework for you, I’m too exhausted to have a movie marathon. My brain is fried and I just want to go to bed now.”

“I mean… I could join you~”

“Shut up, B/N,” you laugh, nudging him with your elbow.

“But I could keep you warm!”

“Yeah, while you have the lamp on doing the rest of your homework? HAH I don’t think so.”

“...I don’t hear a ‘no’.”

You exasperatedly roll your eyes and keep walking. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind, but you refuse to give into him so easily. It’s not fun to give him what he wants immediately, ‘knaw mean?

The atmospheric melody returns once more as the walk to your home becomes shorter and shorter. The wind blows occasionally, making you shiver underneath the comfort of B/N’s hoodie. Absentmindedly, your face snuggles deeper into it, catching a full whiff of B/N’s smell: spearmint and cedar cologne. Like a calm walk through the woods, or like an aromatic sunrise. He bodies that well, you think.

Hopping up the steps of your home, you unlock the front door and retreat inside. B/N respectfully stands at the door, waiting for you to pop your head back out and tell him good night. And just as he anticipates, you do.

“Have a good night B/N. Walk safely.”

“You, too Y/N. And thanks for the help, by the way.”

“I would say ‘no problem’ but it interfered with our movie marathon and now I’m sad and tired.”

“Oh, shush and go to bed already, we can do it tomorrow night.”

You chuckle, gifting his ears one of the most pleasant sounds he’s ever heard (besides your wild out-loud laughter).

“But I’ll be collecting on my bet though, don’t think I forgot.” Dramatically, you roll your eyes at him, smiling at the sound of his chuckle. Inside though, he is a little disappointed he hadn't gotten to it sooner.

You bid him a good night and close the door, cutting you both off, alone with your thoughts in the semi-awkward atmosphere left between you two.

With the light of the moon high above him and the wind caressing his nape softly, B/N stares at your door for another moment.

The evening’s events cycle like a slideshow in his head; the image of you working behind the counter when you were still on the clock, then clips of you leaning over papers whilst reading and scribbling. That time when you released your hair from its binds and how your locks fell around your peaceful face. You in his sweater.

He’s forgotten his sweater.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening grabs his attention, and he looks back up your steps to see your figure greet him once more, backlit by a warm yellow light as if you were a goddess stepping out of her home.

He glances up at you expectedly, thinking you have something left to say.

“Hm? Y/N, I thought you were going to bed.”

With a sigh, you walk carefully down the steps. “I will, eventually.” You get closer, getting B/N to think you’re pulling him into another goodnight hug.

“Then what are you-”

He stops as you take hold of his shirt collar and bring him down to eye level, looking him dead in the eye. He was surprised for sure, since this time you were the bold one. Amazing, the things late night coffee can do.

You’re close enough to whisper into his lips, noses barely touching.

“But I can’t sleep knowing I have a debt to pay, now can I?” You ask, smirking as it registers in B/N’s head. He smiles too, because he’s getting what he wanted.

Ever so softly, you lean forward. Your lips lightly meet his, like feathers landing on the ground after delicately gliding through the air. It’s innocent, yet long-lasting. He smiles into your lips as a gust of wind blows around you. He pushes a little further, letting his hands find home on the hem of his own sweater.

The soft sweater paws that held his collar slowly retreat with a teasing scroll down his chest. He takes a second to open his again as you pull away from the consolation kiss. Once they open, he watches as you slip off his hoodie in the cool breeze. He would be thinking about how effortlessly nice you look, but his whole being is floating, at the moment.

Though a warm blush decorates your face, you still have the courage to tease him a little more.

“Thanks for walking me home B/N, but next time, try not to lose a bet you know you aren’t ready for.”

And just like you had appeared, you disappear just as fast. B/N stares at your closed door in disbelief, his eyes wide and mouth slightly gaping in awe.

That just happened.

He looks down at his hands, seeing that you placed his hoodie in his open arms. With a slight laugh, his fingers tighten around the cloth, reminding himself of how cute you look in it. He might just let you keep it next time.

And with that thought warming his cheeks and a smile growing on his lips, he backs away from your door.

There are many things he thinks about on his walk home:

He has so much homework left to do

You kissed him, and he feels hella fantastic, not hella weird

He’s starting to get a headache from his caffeine intake tonight

He can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning during physics.

An all-nighter was worth it if he could lose a bet like this against you again...

Post Note: Me first trying the drink in this fic *per my journal lmao*: “It’s actually quite good because you get the welcoming (yet slightly overpowering) bitterness of the espresso, but it’s fantastically mellowed out by the coconut milk and met with a sweet after-tang of the grapefruit citrus. I’ll be up for the next few hours, but I’d definitely get this again. *finishes the pre-presentation course notes for the upcoming week* IT WORKS GUYS, I SWEAR” lmao YES I actually drank this 8-shot americano. Plz appreciate the struggle, good luck on midterms!

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killingmebtob · 6 years

Text

The Photo Booth // Optional Bias

Author: @killingmebtob // Chi

Title: The Photobooth

Characters: Reader and Bias

Author’s Note: I'm back from the dead.

Summary: He found a photo strip left in a photobooth.

People are allowed to be sad.

They always say that but once they see that you are sad, they'll either stay away from you because you give them bad vibes or they call you a drama queen/king for being sad over something you shouldn't be sad about (in their standards).

But that's not my case. I mean, being sad. I think I've already gone beyond that.

It went on for days and sometimes I could go a whole week without feeling like that. Until it came to a point where I just shut everyone in my life out.

I don't know when it started. I just woke up one day and I was feeling okay. I even thought that I must've gotten enough sleep that I could conquer any kind of obstacle that will be thrown at me the whole day. It was all sunshines, rainbows. and the birds chirping on the trees. As the hours passed, it felt as if dark clouds started to form inside me. It would be more understandable if something bad happened that made me like that but that's not the case. The events of the day are still good but my chest is heavy and I didn't want to talk to anyone. I felt like my whole existence was a big joke and that I just weigh everyone down. I felt that I am unworthy to even breathe.

I wanted it to end. I want everything to stop.

"Tickets for how many?" The guy in the ticket booth looked at me impatiently. His brows furrowed as if he's been saying the same thing over and over again.

"Just one, please." I said to him as I handed the money. I also tried to smile at him.

The bright lights and the simultaneous laughter welcomed me as soon as I entered the carnival.

I am having another episode and I wanted to push it out of my mind. Truth is, I can't stand people at the moment but I want to get over this somehow so I decided to come here and maybe amuse myself.

I went around and tried the booths but I just can't seem to find any happiness in it. I can't smile nor take my mind off of it. Nothing seems to be working so I just sat on a bench nearby to set my mind straight.

There is still that dark cloud inside me. It's clouding all the sunshine in my heart and choking me to the point where I just want to scream to get it all out of me. But I can't. I am voiceless and it feels like my whole body is paralyzed and I can't do anything to help myself out of this pit.

Chatters of people going around filled my ears.

They are like bees buzzing that start so calm but they grow louder and louder and I am drowned by their words. My chest tightened.

You are a failure... You’re not good enough... A disgrace...

I can't breathe. I need to get out!

"Miss..." A tiny voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

A little girl with doe eyes wearing a bright yellow dress is standing in front of me and smiling.

"For you." She said and she handed me a string with a blue balloon floating attached to it.

I was about to ask her where it is from and who it is from but she already ran away from me, giggling.

I stared at the balloon and found words written on it with a permanent marker:

Your existence is a wonderful miracle in this world.

My heart dropped at those words. Simple words but it made a special impact in me that my tears started to well from my eyes.

I don't know where it came from or who gave it. Maybe it wasn't really meant for me and the kid just confused me for someone else but those words sparked a small sunshine in my heart. A little ray of light that peeked from behind the dark clouds sending warmth throughout me and creeping up to my face summoning the smallest, and the most genuine smile that I've had for a long time.

---------

Bias' POV

That's her. I can't be mistaken. Her face is recognizable even in the sea of people.

It's her eyes. I'm sure of it. Those eyes filled with sadness that tugged a string in my heart.

No, I don't personally know her.

I came to this carnival because I wanted to gain inspiration for my photo exhibit and I thought that coming here would help.

I was snapping random photos of children playing around and of people enjoying themselves when I came upon an old photo booth and saw a strip of photos someone left there. I looked around to see if anyone was coming to get it but there was none.

That's when I first saw her--her face. She took a photo by herself but left the pictures here.

Even through the grainy quality of the strip, I can clearly see her eyes. In my years as a professional photographer, I've observed many people and I know that a person’s eyes hold different stories. Mostly those unspoken by people and are kept in their hearts.

Her eyes were empty at first glance but when you look deeply, you'll realize it.

I know it. I have seen people with that look. I know what they are going through. A silent battle with themselves that no one knows.

I kept the picture and carried on with work while still intrigued about who she is. And then, I saw her.

In the middle of the crowd observing everyone while trying to blend in and smile.

I followed her and I before I know it, I've been snapping pictures of her and catching the look on her face when she looks at all the smiles around her.

I was drawn to her. She's like fire, frozen in time, caged by herself and the flames inside her are restrained. She's a flower in a pot placed inside a room deprived of sunlight.

I saw her sit down and I observed how everything about her changed. To the eyes of the others she looked normal, but I know that there is something inside her that was eating her up and I knew that I had to do something.

I have to. I want to.

"Hey, little girl." I said to a little girl sitting beside me eating icecream.

She looked up to me with her doe eyes.

"I'll treat you to another ice cream if you give something to that lady over there." I said pointing to the woman sitting alone on the bench.

I bought a balloon and wrote the first thing that came to my mind.

I watched how the girl gave it to her and I watched the confusion dance on her face. When she read the words, I watched how she reacted to it and how a small smile danced on her lips.

My heart skipped a beat and I know that I would keep this in my mind for a long time.

Her smile.

I wasn't able to snap a picture of it but it is forever etched in my mind.

I hope I can always make her smile.

#btob imagines #optional bias #kpop imagines #eunkwang imagines #minhyuk imagines #changsub imagines #hyunsik imagines #peniel imagines #ilhoon imagines #sungjae imagines

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