Falling for Frogs- Chapter Two

CW: NSFW, Slow burn, chubby!reader, fem reader, original female character (paired with Haley), side ships, mental illness, anxiety attacks, smoking, bdsm, loss of virginity, online bullying (not in anyway involving seb) A/N: I write Seb a little more confident but he is still brusque and anti-social. Also there will be something that really puts a hold on some of the development in the next chap... let's call it a misunderstanding so if that's not your jam well *shrugs* --- Chapter Two: Whiskey and Water

The bus was steady under your feet. The soft drone of the engine soothed the butterflies in your stomach. You never did this, you never visited other places for extended periods. There was reasons for that though. It disrupted your schedule; you needed a steady schedule to get things done. Usually. That hadn’t been working lately.

The breakdown at the convention last week had been a massive red flag that something needed to change. You’d been pushing yourself to the limits the last few months to try and get everything up to snuff on your game. Yet was it worth it? Was it worth destroying your mental state even more?

Your friend, Etta, or Henrietta to people who didn’t pass her vibe check, obviously thought so too. Since when you were trying to work up the courage to ask if you could visit— and honestly talking yourself out of it at the same time— she made the decision for you.

“Just come here. Stardew, will set you right,” she said with an irritated sigh.

She’d heard the same lines too many times. She’s heard you try and talk circles around this issue too many times.

“I don’t know, Etta,” you murmured into the phone.

“No. We aren’t doing this again just so you can call me again and sob in my ear. I’m tired of it,” Etta said.

You could practically see her pinching her nose in exasperation as she paced her house.

“Just get your ass here. You have a week before I come drag you here myself,” she said, worry lacing the threat.

You laughed, you couldn’t help it, and it was wet from the recent crying. You nodded even though she could see as you looked out of your window at the busy streets below your apartment.

“Do you have internet?” you asked.

The thoughts faded to the back of your mind as your stop began to approach. Your fingers twitched and you puffed out a breath between your lips, tapping your toes as you waited for the bus to slow. Butterflies gathered in your stomach until they grew into a near whirlwind. You schooled your expression though.

“Your stop miss,” the bus driver said, as the vehicle idled.

Your smile was painted on, frozen and awkward. The mask of someone who passed for normal when inside they were failing to tread water. It was only for a few months. You would be fine; Etta would make sure of that.

You stood and made your way down the steps. Your façade cracked a bit as you saw her familiar dark red waves pulled back into a ponytail, somehow pulling off a pair of dirtied overalls with perfection. Her soft features were harshened by a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms. Her blue eyes ripped apart every emotional defense you had, just like they always did, and you forced yourself not to release the grip that you had on your expression. You just pushed your smile to grow, and she pursed her perfectly shaped lips.

“Really?” she sighed, and her hand immediately snatched your wrist. “C’mon.”

“Wait my bags,” you said glancing back.

“Don’t worry about it, miss,” the bus driver waved you off. “It’s part of my job.”

You blinked and felt thrown off until an insistent tug on your arm reminded you that Etta was still there, and demanding you follow her. You shook your head and sighed, yet did as her impatience required.

“You could pretend to be a little more civil,” you hissed.

“Pretend to be nice to someone I may see like twice a month and never talk to? Why? That would waste so much fucking energy and I already expend enough on the town’s people,” she rolled her eyes.

You followed behind with a huff unable to fight the riptide that was Henrietta in all her glory.

“You need to get somewhere private anyway,” she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “You look like you are about to start crying.”

Your heart squeezed, knowing that she was protecting you from exposing parts of yourself you so carefully hid from others. Love, affection, and gratitude swirled through you, batting away the anxiety with ease. Yoba, you’d missed her.

You shifted until you were walking in time with her quick strides and as her grip loosened on your hand, your hand slipped into hers, clasping it tightly. She shot you a soft smile, something secretive and curated just for you.

“You should have visited much sooner,” she said as you passed through the gate of her farm.

You froze in your spot, “I really should have.”

Your lungs stopped working for a moment as you took in all the work she’d been doing. The crops that were carefully and lovingly planted. The barn and the coop were filled with animal sounds. Then a black lab came bounding across the yard to greet the two of you.

“This is Atila,” she said, sweeping her hand at the dog.

You smiled, a real one this time and for the first time in a long time you felt that persistent knot of tension in your chest loosen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.

---

Sebastian pulled his lower lip in between his teeth, flipping his tongue over the hoop on his lip. The pool cue was a welcome weight in his hand as he tried to find his next plan of attack. Sam stood across the table from him, practically vibrating. It was distracting tonight.

That wasn’t normally an issue for Sebastian. He usually could ignore Sam’s inability to sit still. Despite how it never stopped, ever. Yet tonight he wanted to slam his own head into the cue just to stop his eyes from tracking the movement of his friend pacing. Was he moving more than usual tonight? No… it was something wrong with Sebastian.

Maybe it was that he hadn’t heard anything new from his favorite game dev. No updates, no answers about why he hadn’t been at the con when people asked. The game was so close to being finished. It may have been a small indie team but the name, Perish, had grown large enough he could have easily gotten a booth. People had been excited; Sebastian was one of those people.

That game had been keeping him sane lately. He felt like he was still scraping his way toward his future in the city. His savings were only halfway there, especially with how much inflation was rising there. It was oddly inspiring to see such a small indie developer chipping away at a highly anticipated game. It gave him hope, something that was rare for him.

He groaned and stepped back.

“I need a drink,” he glared down at the cue ball that was giving him no answers, he really couldn’t let Sam win.

Sam pursed his lips, “You’re just stalling because I have you on ropes.”

Sebastian snorted out a laugh and waved over his shoulder as he walked out from the game room, “Sure whatever you want to think.”

He made his way to the bar, waiting for Emily to notice, yet she was currently helping two other customers. He narrowed his eyes at them. Henrietta, he recognized, even though it was rare for her to come to the Stardrop. The woman sitting next to her looked familiar but… he couldn’t remember why. The muted colors, the soft curves, and it was just on the tip of his tongue.

Where had he seen you before? He didn’t recognize you from around town. Had it been in Zuzu at some point? From what he could see of you, you were cute. It would be easy for him to remember you on that alone. Especially since your aesthetic wasn’t usually the type he often was drawn to.

He kept rifling through his memories and then you tilted your head, and your face became more visible. He swore his throat closed up and his heart skipped a beat. It was you! The one from the con. You had run and he’d never gotten a chance to get your name let alone your number. He didn’t know exactly why you’d panicked so badly, but he recognized the moment for what it was, sheer terror and anxiety.

You were the one from the café, the one he ran into again, and the one who’d slipped through his fingers twice. How? Why? Why were you here? His body was nearly shaking. He exhaled deeply and schooled his expression, he needed to chill out. He was staring like a creep.

Then your head turned more, and your gaze caught his and Sebastion swallowed when he saw the recognition flash in your pupils. His fingers found his thumb ring, immediately spinning it in the hope of controlling his nerves. He should just go say hi. No, that wasn’t what he did. That would be weird.

You blinked, seeming just as surprised as him. He closed his eyes for a beat, rolled his jaw and then stood. You seemed even more shocked as Sebastian made his way toward you. You weren’t alone, because honestly, he didn’t know why the fuck he was doing this other than he refused to let you disappear again.

His eyes flicked over your face, memorizing the features, the shy smile you gave him. He thought he might have stopped breathing at some point.

“Sebastian?” Henrietta asked. “Need something?”

His attention moved over to her, he didn’t necessarily not get along with her, but he didn’t seek her out. She was brash and sharp and a little too blunt for him to talk to regularly. Yet you seemed close to her. He took in the way you leaned closer to her, your pinky brushed hers as if seeking reassurance, were the two of you together? He hated how his stomach sank at the thought.

“Just coming to get a drink,” he sighed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Emily gasped. “We got caught up in talking about our visitor!”

Emily motioned to you and smiled genuinely.

You ducked your head shyly, “Sebastian, hm?”

The way you said his name, soft and uncertain, had the hairs on his nape prickling. He cleared his throat and nodded to you.

“Good to see you again. I didn’t catch your name last time,” his gaze darted to the side, and he willed himself not to blush.

Your smile curled a little more, became a bit warmer as you introduced yourself, holding out your hand.

“Of all the places to visit, you choose Pelican Town?” he shook his head with a scoff and took your hand.

It was so small in his. No callouses, soft skin, and his mind tried to lead him somewhere it shouldn’t go on the first meeting.

“Well, Etta lives here, and I needed to get out of the city for a bit… clear my head,” you mumbled so quietly he almost didn’t hear you.

But he was so in tune to your answer he managed to pick up the gist. He frowned, so you lived in the city. Why would need to get out of there? What did you mean by clearing your head? There was a hidden meaning to it that you didn’t offer an explanation.

His hand left yours slowly, dragging his fingers down your palm and you shuddered. A slow, languid smirk rippled across his features. His eyes darted between you and Henrietta.

“Be nice to her Sebastian,” Henrietta said warningly. “She’s my best friend.”

Friend. That word echoed in his head, and he pressed his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth in hopes to control his runaway thoughts.

“Of course,” he said coolly, his gaze dragging over you again.

You squirmed.

Emily looked between you and Sebastian a couple times before she finally said, “What will you have?”

“Whiskey and water. Still gotta beat Sam,” Sebastian shrugged.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes. You’d turned back to Henrietta and were chatting much more animatedly. Once the glass was set in front of him, he turned to leave before saying.

“Oh, hey, it was interesting seeing you again,” he said with a smirk before turning.

He’d never met someone who flustered easier than him, and it made something unfurl within him. Something dark and feral that wanted him to see just what he could do to pull out more reactions from you. See more of that bashfulness, see other sides, like the way you looked so comfortable with Henrietta.

His mom would be proud, he’d actually initiated a conversation and he’d said a halfway decent good-bye. ---Taglist--- @queenmimis

my husband’s so handsome i wanna fucking stick my fingers in it so bad

7 Days of Hell

DAY ONE

“This is who you used to date Evan? She seems so…. sorry if this is speaking ill of the dead but she seems like a real bitch. The tight almost painted on clothes, the high heels, that cold look, the mean girl ponytail. Helen seems like the kind of girl who would of bullied me on a daily basis in school. I think it’s healthy that you are finally getting rid of her things and moving on. It has nearly been 5 years since she died and you’ve a completely different man now since her claws aren’t buried in you. I read nightmare stories of what you two got up to. What was that name the papers called you? Heaven and Hell right? Makes me shudder to think of how cruel you two must of been.”

“I’m amazed you hung on to so much of her stuff in the first place. I know you had most of this in storage while you were serving time but still. We can sort everything that’s yours from hers and take what you want to get rid of to the goodwill when it’s open on Monday. Although some of her stuff is so, erm, revealing I don’t know if they would even want it. Plus look at all this jewellery, maybe a pawn shop would be better for all of that. Strange with all the rings, brackets and necklaces she owned she seems to only of owned one pair of earrings.”

“Try them on? No don’t be so weird you know I only wear earrings if I have too. Although I have never wore hoop earrings before, I would be kind of curious to see what they looked like. Ok, ok, stop your badgering I’ll try them on. There are you satisfied? I bet they look ridic- actually you know what? They don’t look half bad do they? They kind of bring focus to my face don’t they? Sexy? You think they make me look sexy? Well I guess they do make me look a bit hotter. You’re still the more attractive one in the relationship. Like look at you. You look so strong and handsome moving those boxes around. Sweat glistening off your skin. Muscles practically ripping out of your shirt. Mmmm hey babe this may sound out of character for me but do you want to do something a little… naughty?”

DAY TWO

“Yeah I thought I’d put on a little makeup just for fun. Do you like? Where’d I get it? Oh Helen had tons so I thought I’d try some of it before we tossed it out. Plus I couldn’t resist her perfume, it just smelt so delicious. Here get close to me and take a sniff. Mmmm I like when you get so close, I can feel your breath against my skin. It reminds me of what we got up to in the basement yesterday. I loved how you lifted me up against the wall as we made love. It was so passionate. There was a hunger in your eyes I hadn’t seen in awhile. Mmmm a hunger I see in your eyes now. Why don’t you lay back on the bed and let me give you a nice gift.”

DAY THREE

“Hey babe I’m back from town. Look at my nails aren’t they so hot. I made sure the lady gave me the longest she had. Why? I don’t know really, they just seemed like they needed be long and sharp. They make me look kind of bad ass. Like no one should mess with me. Like I could crush them under my high heel. Which reminds me I decided we should probably keep Chloe’s old clothes for a bit and sell them instead. We shouldn’t be giving away such beautiful things for free. Plus it’ll give me time to try some of them on and keep what looks good. Like look at this hot little top. It’s tied together so flimsily. Like the softest of pulls could expose my perfect round breasts. Go ahead and give it a tug. Whoops!”

DAY FOUR

“Ok baby you can open your eyes now. Tada! What do you think? Don’t I look so foxy as a blonde? When you called me a dirty bitch when we were fucking yesterday, don’t worry I loved it, I thought to myself how hotter it would be if I looked even more like a dirty bitch and what’s bitchier than being a blonde. Plus when I walked out of the salon I ran into some of girls that used to bully me in high school. They were with their pathetic kids and they looked so jealous and afraid of me it was enough to make me wet. Mmmm just thinking about it again is turning me on. I am already in bed so why don’t you bring that big cock over here and fuck me like you need me.”

DAY FIVE

“I was sick off my hair always getting in my face, especially when I was sucking your dick, that I thought I’d just solve it by putting it in this hot ponytail. Plus you can see more of my gorgeous face now too. You think I look like a mean bitch now? Is that a compliment or a concern? I think I look like a wicked little slut and I think you love it as much as I do. I can see you getting hard right now just looking at how much of a bad bitch I am. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been acting lately either. The way you’ve been flexing your muscles in the mirror, the way you’ve been walking taller with arrogance, you’ve turned into a real bastard lately. It’s enough to turn a girl on. So why don’t you give me a flex to get my motor going.”

DAY SIX

“Babe ditch work for today and come home and rail me. I need my big strong bad boy here. Plus you’re so much better than that job. I don’t know why you don’t just tell them to stuff their job. You’re not paid nearly enough to work there. You deserve every penny that place makes. Hmmmm you know what we could do? We could rob the place after hours. You know where they keep their money and you have the keys. We could empty the safe and hit the road like two sexy outlaws. Fuck it’s getting me hot for your dick just thinking about it. Here I’ll send you a pic to motivate you to get your ass over here now.”

DAY SEVEN

“So tonight we hit your job and then hit the road. It’s making me so fucking horny thinking about the adrenaline rush it’ll give me. I bet your ex was never this bad. What was her name again? Helen right? Pretty hawt name to be fair. You know I’ll need a new identity for being on the run so why don’t you call me Helen from now on. Shit it feels so good on my lips. Call me Helen babe. Mmmm it feels even better coming from you. We have sometime before we do the robbery why don’t you get some practice calling me Helen by yelling it out in bed.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Hey loser how about you and your ugly girlfriend get out of here before me and my husband fuck you up. No this was your car, it’s ours now. Who are we? He’s Evan and I’m Helen but everyone calls us Heaven and Hell. That’s right the same Heaven and Hell who are wanted fugitives on the run from the cops. I know we are even hotter than our wanted posters. Now you two run along before you become part of the news. Wait! It is unfair to not leave you with a souvenir of the infamous Heaven and Hell. Here have these earrings of mine, I don’t need them anymore. Come on babe let’s get out of here. The sooner we go the sooner you can fuck me.

It's nonsensical, but hear me out:

a film entitled probably Horatio following the story of Horatio slowly falling into insanity after Hamlet's death. the story is hard to be placed in time, but probably happens around XIX century, with Hamlet having been some kind of aristocrat and Fortinbras - an heir to his fortune, thanks to some close yet unexplained ties to Claudius. no specific explanation as to why does it happen, it just happens.

the story opens with Horatio's voice from off reciting the beginning of Sheakespeare's Sonnet 18 (shall I compare thee to a summer day?) as we see Elsinore, a beautiful manor surrounded by clearings and trees, in the daylight. the main plot of the story is how Horatio tries to write his memories of Hamlet and their story together into a book. there is dozens of strange and seemingly unimportant scenes, which can turn extremely symbolical. for instance, there is a repeating motive of Horatio wearing a violet flower crown, Fortinbras keeps on building houses of cards etc.

least to say, Horatio is traumatized. he can't forget about what happened to his lover. it's mentioned and shown multiple times. there's a scene in which Fortinbras invites Horatio to have a fencing match and Horatio falls into panic as he takes the dagger. he drops it on the ground and cries out something like "i cannot fight with that", remembering Hamlet's ill-fated fight with Laetres. many times, Horatio repeats things Hamlet said to him, both these which we know from the play and these unknown. there is, for instance, much emphasis put on the story about how they confessed their love for each other, and how Horatio told Hamlet "i wish we could become one and never separate", or something similar.

almost as often as that, we see his flashback of many different moments he spent with Hamlet. these are both sweet, beautiful whiles and dark, foreboding moments. there's a long sequence with flashback about a situation back in Wittenberg: Hamlet plays some melody on violin and Horatio embraces him gently, and they both look at the sky. this melody later on appears in many important scenes, either as background music or a song sung by a character.

also, the story is being constantly interrupted by Horatio's dreams and hallucinations, in which he is placed in situations Hamlet was in: murder of Polonius, snapping at Ophelia, pretending to be insane. what's strange, in these sequences Fortinbras almost always takes place of Claudius. we see him as Claudius praying and Horatio - as Hamlet - leaning over him with a dagger, we see him as he pours the poison into the cup, we see him as he writes letter to king of England. Horatio, after almost all of these situations, just sits in place for some time, talking to the empty room, implying he sees a ghost (and, of course, adresses him as sweet lord), and then starting to hum the melody Hamlet played on violin.

at the end of the story, Horatio brings the finished book to Fortinbras and wants him to read it. Fortinbras reads a few pages, starts laughing and tells Horatio something like "i'm sorry, Horatio, but this book shouldn't ever see the daylight, for it is just wrong. no matter if Hamlet was insane or not, now he's dead and can't answer this question, so i'll speak in his favor: he was mad as a hatter and as such murdered his entire family, including Claudius, who was so desperate to help him. now, i'll do you a favour and burn this book myself" - as he rips out a few pages and throws them at Horatio's feet before turning around and leaving the room. Horatio picks up the pages, completly devastated with how his entire mission was failed. the ripped pages describe how Hamlet died in Horatio's arms. the moment when Hamlet told him to be there when he'll be gone. to be, because he cannot be anymore.

Horatio reads them and gets up at his feet. he takes a dagger into his hand, looks in the mirror and cuts off his ponytail, which resembles breaking who he used to be. we VERY briefly see the reflection of Hamlet and Horatio's face is not shown as he runs after Fortinbras. the scene glithes with the sequence of Hamlet approaching Claudius after learing about the poison. dramatic, yet beautiful version of the violin melody plays in the background whilst Horatio finally run to Fortinbras and tackles him from the behind.

Fortinbras realizes what is happening just in the last second, turns his head and calls out, shocked "lord H-?!" before his scream is cut shortly. we have a glimpse at Horatio's face and then we realize it's not Horatio anymore. his insanity has taken over. we can't even say if it's Horatio or Hamlet anymore: they're truly one, never separated. music completly silences Fortinbras screaming, camera moves away and we just watch a book which has fallen out of Fortinbras' hand and now is laying on the floor.

music stops eventually. there's a long silence. then, Horatio/Hamlet walks over, picks up the book from the ground, kisses its cover and hugs it to his breast. then, he puts the dagger into Fortinbras' hand, supposedly to make his death look like a suicide, and then walks out.

the story finishes with Horatio/Hamlet laying on a clearing full of violets, still holding that book in hand, and silently reciting the rest of the sonnet, as music silently starts to once again.

We’ll Get Old If We’re Lucky

Summary:

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

•••

After Peter comes home with a bullet in his side, he and Michelle discuss growing old, and if they’ll be lucky enough to get there.

Word Count: 2.2k  

Warnings: Cursing, Discussions of Death, a rant disguised as a fic

Read here on Ao3

༺✦✮✦༻

Peter stumbles home at around midnight, quickly being greet by his wife, then scolded by her for bleeding out on her carpet. Michelle then leads him to the bathroom were he collapses onto the tile, rips off his mask, and vomits all over the floor. With a sigh, she cleans him up, cleans up the vomit, kisses the side of his neck, then leans him against the bathtub. He apologizes a few times and she waves him off, then grabs the first aid kit and asks:

“Where should I start?”

“Ummm…” Peter hesitates, “probably here—“ he points to his side which is steadily oozing blood “—I uh… mighta got shot.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and grabs a rag, “I should really just take you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no, no,” Peter says quickly, then winces as a pain shoots up his side, “no, Em. Just… just pull the bullet out, stitch it up— my self-healing factor can do the rest.”

She chews her lip for a moment then nods, “okay, fine. Lay down.”

“Thank you,” Peter replies gratefully then plants a light kiss on her cheek.

She presses the spider symbol on his suit and delicately helps him slide his arms out of the sleeves, then lets the suit fall to his waist. Then, Peter gingerly lays on his back with some assistance from Michelle. She presses a rag to the wound and leans her weight on it, quickly feeling his warm and sticky blood seeping through. Peter props himself up with an elbow to watch her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Peter guiltily mumbles, seeing her grimace.

“It’s fine,” she grunts.

He shifts his weight, frowning slightly at her stiff reply. She doesn’t notice.

After a few minutes of silence, with the only sound being Peter’s occasional grunt or whimper of pain, the bleeding finally slows to a stop. Michelle stands up and washes her hands thoroughly, her sleeves now rolled up past her elbows. Then, she cleans Peter’s wound with hot water and a bit of soap and places a pair of tweezers in boiling water. The entire time her breathing is shuddering and uneven, and her hands shake anxiously.

Of course Peter notices, and while they wait for the tweezers to cool off, he wraps one arm around her and holds her close. She lays her head on his chest and mutters to him:

“I just want you to be okay. I don’t want you to hurt.”

To which he whispers back: “it’s okay, Em. I’m okay.”

Even with the tweezers ready, he holds her a while longer to ease her nerves. She calms slowly, eventually pulling herself together for Peter’s sake. Michelle ties back her hair into a sloppy ponytail to keep it out of her face then grabs the tweezers and sits on her knees at Peter’s side, hunched over the gunshot wound.

“MJ, I just realized something,” he says, before Michelle can even locate the bullet.

“Let me pull this thing out of you, then you can tell me,” she suggests, “I need to focus.”

“That’s fair,” he hums, “don’t mess up.”

“Babe, please.”

“Sorry.”

She smiles lopsidedly, still not taking her eyes off the wound. Peter let out a small sigh, admiring her sharp focus and attentive expression.

“I can see the bullet, it’s not deep,” Michelle observes after a minute.

“Okay,” he speaks calmly, “then you’re going to-“

He cuts himself off as she visibly shudders. Peter frowns then realizes that the reality of pulling a bloody bullet out of her husband has just sunk in.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “you’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that?” She hisses disbelievingly.

“I’ve done it two or three times,” he shrugs, “and if I can do it-“

“Who’ve you pulled a bullet out of?”

“Cindy once and myself two times— yeah, so three times.”

Michelle sits back on her heels and rubs her face with a heavy sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you about to sneeze?” Peter asks.

“No, dumbass,” she snaps, “I’m stressed out and trying to stop my brain from falling out of my face.”

“Oh,” he swallows thickly, tasting blood and vomit, “I’m sorry, the blood loss is getting to me.”

Michelle brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and huffs, “alright, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter cries frantically as he lunges forward and grabs her hand.

Pain ignites his entire body and he freezes, eyes squeezed shut and expression twisted in agony. He squeezes her hand tightly and it’s almost painful, but she doesn’t pull away. She watches him with wide, worried eyes as she gently strokes the back of his hand, as if she can single-handedly ease away the pain.

“No hospitals,” Peter finally croaks out, his voice weak, “please.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and hesitantly nods, “okay… fine. No hospitals.”

He suspires in relief and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, “thank you, baby.”

She pauses, looking down at the bullet wound then asks: “now, tell me what to do.”

He smiles at her then begins relaying one step after another to her, being as detailed as he can and answering the few questions that she has. She works cautiously and gingerly, pausing when he hisses in pain and waiting for his permission to continue.

When Michelle finally does extract the bullet, coated in crimson and glimmering in the bright bathroom lights, she forces herself not to gag and drops it onto the bloody rag she used to clean Peter’s wound.

“Great job, baby,” Peter praises with a wobbly smile, “told you you’d be alright.”

“I’m never doing that again,” Michelle shudders, “next time we call Cindy or Gwen or anyone.”

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

Michelle briefly glances up at him, “yeah, you’re absolutely right.”

“Like, if you die young it’s like… ‘oh they had so much life left in them’ and when you’re old, now you’re— not my words— ugly and helplessly whatever. And no one wants to be that, y’know?” He rambled, “and then there’s the other stuff that comes with being old, like potential illness, aches and pains— all that. But then if you die young, it’s- like- extra devastating or something because it’s normally really unexpected and sometimes— not always, but sometimes— you’re still in really good health and… and I don’t know.”

“There’s no balance,” Michelle finishes for him, “it’s never a good time to die. But if you live quote unquote ‘too long,’ then it’s not a good time to be alive.”

“Exactly. Or at least, that’s how it’s portrayed,” he flinches as the needle jabs him a little too harshly.

“Sorry,” Michelle mumbles.

“It’s okay,” he sighs. Then he goes quiet for a few moments, and when he does talk again, his voice is soft: “I… MJ, I don’t expect myself to live very long.”

He doesn’t say it sadly. It’s matter-of-fact, like a statement that he’s all too sure of. But even if his tone is calm, his words hit Michelle in the chest like a knife and she instantly finds herself swallowing back tears.

“Peter, don’t say that,” she urges.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” he says unapologetically, “I mean… it’s not like I want to die young I just feel like I will. And maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t understand this- this stigma around getting really fucking old. Like, I hope I get so old I can barely walk.”

Michelle hesitates, “… I hope you do too. I just… I really wanna get old with you.”

He nods, “I do, too.”

“Also, I feel like when you get old, there’s less pressure to look good, y’know?” Michelle begins to think, “like, once you reach a certain point, people kinda except that you’re never gonna look as good as you did when you were twenty or whatever. No one really cares to— or wants to— try getting you to dress in something super flattering or skimpy or pressure you into wearing a lot of make up. You can just wear weird grandma clothes and never touch mascara again if you don’t want to. Y’know?”

“To an extent,” Peter replies, “but I am— obviously— male, and the same standards don’t apply to me.”

She chuckles, “that’s my husband.”

“Yes I am,” he grins, “but I kinda get what you’re saying. I mean, the more physically fit a man is, the more and ‘masculine’ they are, the more acceptable they are by society’s standards. Being old, no one cares and you can just be all shriveled up and… floppy.”

Michelle stops what she’s doing to laugh and Peter lets out a short laugh, before gasping at the pain. Michelle pauses and looks at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

He chews on his cheek and nods slightly, “yep. I’m great.”

She sighs and continues, “similar thing goes for women. When you’re really old it doesn’t matter if you have a nice ass or boobs or whatever. Everything can just sag.”

He smiles, “being old sounds fucking awesome. Fuck society, honest. We’ll be lucky to get gross and old.”

She beams at him then leans forward and kisses his forehead, “yes, we will.”

Then, she ties off the stitches and cuts the thread and wraps a bandage around his torso. He thanks her then kisses her sweetly and thanks her again. She helps him stand up and lets his spider suit fall to the ground, then she tosses it in the bathtub— she’ll clean it later. Then she helps him limp to bed where he gingerly dresses himself in a pair of sweatpants with his wife’s assistance then finds himself in too much pain to try putting a shirt on.

They lay together that night, Michelle reading a book— Chaos Walking Book Three: Monsters of Men— trying to keep her mind away from the place it’s tempted to travel: Peter’s inevitable death. Although, a book about war and death isn’t exactly helpful. Especially not as she reads the sorrows of a “Spackle.”

“I should not be alone…. My one in particular should be here with me…. But my one in particular is not here. Because my one in particular was killed…. brought down by a heavy blade. I way dragged away…. Hated them for not letting me die there and then, when my grief was not quite enough to kill me on its own…”

“Peter, what happens if you die young?” Michelle asks suddenly, snapping the book shut.

Peter looks up from his own book and looks at the one in her hands, “you just lost your page,” he says.

“Please answer the question,” she begs, her voice now wavering.

Peter draws in a deep breath, his gaze trailing away from her as he speaks slowly, “I guess… I guess I’ll be grateful for the years I did have.”

“I mean what happens to me?” She almost demands it, but the distress in her voice is clear and forces Peter to meet her gaze again.

He’s quiet for a few beats, listening to the anxious rhythm of Michelle’s heart and her uneven, nervous breaths. Michelle watches him, hiding her impatience as she’s eager for a response.

“I think…” he finally says, “I think that we shouldn’t think about that. Maybe just… focus on the present and take things one step at a time.”

Michelle chokes back a sob and snaps, “but what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Peter cries exasperatedly, “I know that’s not the answer you want, but I have no fucking idea, and y’know what? That scares me, ‘cause I hate the idea of you being alone!” He pauses and heaves a sigh and sinks into his pillows, “I’m sorry, Em,” his voice is softer now, “I really don’t know…. And I really don’t want to think about it.”

Michelle chews on the inside of her cheek silently, wiping away a tear before it can fall. Peter lets out a shaky breath and looks away, unable to meet her broken gaze.

Michelle isn’t sure how long they’re quiet for, but she slowly feels the knots in her stomach unwind and her clenched heart begins to relax as she gazes at her husband. Her shoulders go from tense to slouched as she takes in his big brown eyes and the freckles that litter his cheeks and his chestnut curls that fall over his forehead.

He’s here, she thinks, he’s here now, let’s just focus on that.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek lightly, “we’ll get old if we’re lucky,” she says simply, “for now, we can do what you said: take things one step at a time.”

Peter looks at her and smiles warmly, “I like that plan.”

He holds the back of her neck in the palm of his hand and draws her into a deep, loving kiss. She sinks into his touch, cupping his face with her hand and gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I love you, Em,” Peter mutters to her as he ousts himself from the kiss.

“I know,” she replies, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest, “I love you too.”

the boy next door bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

i know he has like an actual new york apartment in the show but i thought this idea was cute and kinda ran with it. in this they live in the same building rather than like his town house in the show.

also this might be the only one shot out for a little bit but ill be back soon i hope!

Song: Superman by loaded (duff mckagan)

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Another day another dollar, right? One more day of work before a long holiday weekend away from the office and away from the stresses of life. It was almost worth the salary in more ways than one. Yes I was comfortable now that I'd been promoted but it also allowed me to move into a new apartment over the last two months. Apartment 25, right next door to a very handsome neighbor who id only ever had the pleasure of seeing once.

It was no more than a passing in the hall when I was still moving in. He had nodded his head followed by a soft hello as I was coming up the stairs. My door was propped open and half my furniture was sitting around the kitchen inside the door. I had noticed him glance in, a small smile coming to his face as he dug his gloved hand into his jeans for his house key. The only reason I knew he existed outside of that was the fact that he left his TV on at night. But I knew how that was. Some type of noise to make a lonely apartment seem less empty.

I wanted so badly to go introduce myself, to say hello or invite him over for dinner but it never felt right. I was the new neighbor after all and no one else had made an attempt at introducing themselves either. Besides, I wasn't even completely moved in yet. Two months and I still had boxes strewn about, some filled with books, some filled with kitchen utensils I hadn't needed quite yet. In all actuality it was a mess still but I was working on it. Something I would be fixing during this long holiday weekend.

This is what was on my mind as I buzzed into the main door. Then his smile flashing behind my eyes as I walked up the flight of stairs to stand in front of my apartment. Then the thought faded for a moment. It was one sigh after another as I dug into my bag for my key, a grumble under my breath as they shifted under my wallet. It was already a long day, and now this?

"For fucks sake."

I complained, finally grabbing them in my hand but stabbing myself in the finger rather than retrieving them. I pulled my hand out quickly, hissing at the feeling as I shook my hand out.

"Damnit!"

I furrowed my brow before putting my mouth to my finger. Then I heard his door click. I breathed deeply before shaking my head and reaching back in my bag for my keys. When he stepped out of his door I offered a disingenuous smile.

"Hey 25."

He said and I stood upright, confusion across my features as I stared at the number plate on my door.

"Hey, 23...?"

I said back, looking over my shoulder as he made his way quickly down the stairs. I watched as he opened the main door at the bottom, looking at him like a deer in headlights as he smiled and nodded before disappearing down the street. I just stood there for a moment, perplexed, arm still in my bag but no longer focused on the task at hand. What a strange interaction. Then the door across the hall made a noise, shaking me from my thoughts. I got to work getting my keys out properly this time, without hurting myself, and unlocking my door before they made it outside. Time to get to work.

°°°°°°°°°

When I woke up this morning I knew I should've immediately gone back to bed. Who knew Saturdays could actually be shit. It started with me ripping the collar of one of my favorite shirts while trying to get dressed. Then it was me spraying myself in the face with water trying to do the dishes. And amongst every other little thing like dropping books and trinkets and tripping over boxes on the floor, the air conditioner went out. I had promptly called the landlord but he said he couldn't get anyone to replace it until Tuesday given the holiday weekend. Just my luck.

I had almost thought about giving up but I wasn't that kind of person. Instead I dug out a box fan, propped the front door open and kept it on high for the majority of the afternoon. Yeah I was sweaty trying to unpack and fix my living room but it was worth it. I was gonna make this day better if it killed me. Now I was stood on a bar stool, couch pushed into the middle of the room, trying to hang a few pictures. It was a struggle getting the one on the far part of the wall but I was making it work. One grunt and complain at a time.

"Need a hand with that 25?"

I heard from the door, scaring me and making the stool wobble. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I steadied myself against the wall. I closed my eyes and sighed out in relief.

"No thanks 23 I got this."

I called back, recognizing his voice before reaching back over and trying to hang it again. I could hear soft footsteps behind me for a moment but it didn't really matter, the door was open, if he wanted to come in he was more than welcome. Maybe he could give me a hand. And maybe I was overestimating myself. The next second I was losing my footing and on my way to the floor. I screamed as the stool came out from under me, the picture smashing to the floor. I expected to hit the floor after it but instead I had landed in someone's arms, looking up to a smirking neighbor, wide eyes and scared

"Sure you don't need some help there 25?"

He asked again, a little cocky. I just stared at him. My heart was knocking at my rib cage trying to escape and I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I could've just hurt myself severely or even died. But I didn't. Because 25 saved me.

"I guess not anymore."

I blurted out in a panic, realizing that my interior design dreams had just been crunched into pieces against the hardwood. He let out a soft laugh before walking out from behind the couch and placing me flat on my feet.

"You okay?"

He asked and I nodded, frowning at my less than handy work on the ground. The stool was laid on top of the frame, glass everywhere, and the picture itself torn in two.

"Body yes, ambitions no."

I sent him a defeated look and we both laughed. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Thanks for saving me 23. Without you I definitely would have had to take a trip to the ER."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked taken aback for a second before placing his hand gently at my back.

"You look like you've had one hell of a day."

He noted and I looked down at myself before rolling my eyes.

"So it's obvious?"

I asked and he smiled, nodding slowly.

"Just a little bit."

My gaze followed his hand as he tucked some of the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.

"Well I guess for an official first impression I chose to big or go home."

I joked

"You always this charismatic?"

He quipped back and I sent him a look.

"You mean in terms of needing assistance?"

He shook his head in amusement.

"If that's how you wanna take it, sure."

I rolled my eyes playfully.

"No actually. Normally I am very poised and carefully thought out. Today is just not my day."

He looked at me for a moment like he was trying to figure me out or come up with something to say.

"Well I think I'd like to meet poised and carefully thought out."

He said and I sighed out a laugh.

"Is that an offer for a date 23?"

He smiled widely at me.

"James."

"Bucky!"

"Yes!"

He said quickly, getting progressively louder. My eyes went wide as he closed his, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus I'm not usually this awkward."

I smiled at him, placing my hand at his shoulder, him looking at me in a lost puppy kind of way. Then I noticed the chain tucked under his shirt, looking down the the two outlines pressed against his chest. I drew my brows as I tugged it out, the warm metal laying in my hand as I ran my thumb over the dog tags. He just watched me intently.

"Sargent James Buchanan Barnes."

I nodded, looking up to him innocently. He had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip but you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it.

"Well 23, I'd love to go on a date with you."

In a second his smile got bigger, tucking his tags back in his shirt after I let go of them.

"Guess we both made pretty good first impressions."

He said and I nodded, rubbing my hands together as we started walking towards the door.

"Oh, 25, I didn't catch your name."

He mentioned, stepping over the box fan and back into the hall. I smirked at him.

"You buy me a drink, 23, and it's yours."

He let out a short laugh, nodding as he turned his body towards his own apartment.

"Deal."

han’s Entire Thoughts & Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “Odd Eye”

oh mY F UCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

OH MY F UCKING GOD THE SONG WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WITH THIS??????????? DEAD ASS?????????????? THAT BEGINNING SOUND ALONE TRIGGERED MY FIGHT OR FLIGHT AND THEN IT JUST CALMS DOWN YET MY BRAIN IS ALREADY F UCKING LOSING IT- ITS THE GUITAR ALL THROUGHOUT AND HOW I JUST HEADBANG WITH EVERY HIT OF THAT DRUM OR WHATEVER THE F UCK FOR ME- pls calm down okay i just……………………… leez…… ollounder…………… i oWE YOU MY LIFE- the way the prechorus is so FAST???????? like whaT IN THE ACTUAL F UCK the way it hypes me up with that instrumental the DRUMS GOT ME BOUNCIN AND S HIT AND GET SMACKED IN THE FACE ODD EYE I SWEAR TO GOD I FELT A NEW EMOTION AFTER THA- AFTER THIS WHOLE SONG TO BE HONEST-

THE?????????????? LINE DISTRIBUTION?????????????? IS SO SE*Y?????????????? THE IMMENSE POWER IN SIYEONS AND YOOHYEONS VOICES I CANT- ACTUAL SUA RAPPER CRUMBS idc what yall say minuscule sua rapper crumbs THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG AND DAMI LINES IS F UCKING DELICIOUS 😩😩😩 HANDONG VERSE CHORUS AND BRIDGE?????????????? DAMI BRIDGE??????????????? ‘LIVE IT UP’?????????????? BICTH IM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

forgot to do this for boca so imma do it here kinda

YES YOOHYEON START THE SONG

THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG?????????????????? I CANT BREATHE??????????????????????

and ofc her ooOOOooOOO-

sua rapper crumbs idc idc-

YOOHYEON AND SIYEON BEING QUEENS OF CHORUSES AGAIN ESPECIALLY THE LAST ONE GO👏OFF👏

jiu ‘no more utopia’ AND sua ‘no more utopia’ pls took me three (3) tries to type ‘utopia’

LIVE IT UP YOURE SO RIGHT QUEEN YOU BETTER RAP YOUR HEART OUT

JIU AND HANDONG CHORUS

THE F UCKING BRIDGE CHANGED MY LIFE

okay for the dance i will be using the mcountdown fancam BC I DO WANT THE F UCK I WANT 👁👁 I JUST WANNA SAY i lit rally CANNOT believe how stable they are dancing LIKE THAT™ thE POWER THEY HOLD ANYWAY as always the dance always S L A P and is literally impossible to dance to without feeling like youre absolutely f ucking d*ing and out of breath……………… LOVE THAT

THE BEGINNING EYE FORMATION ARE YOU KIDDING ME-

im delusional but lowkey deja vu clown me idc idc-

THE SUA RUNNING OUT OF THERE THE JIU THE COMPLICATED HAND STUFF

JUST👏THE👏CHOREO👏FOR👏THE👏CHORUS👏BICTH

siyeon doing this

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

putting a bullet point for just that one (1) second of dami doing That™

handong right after…………………………………

gahyeons part with the other members doing different moves my eyes liked it

THE ENTIRE BRIDGE I DONT NEED TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE

like jiu and dami with handong ive literally watched that for five hours-

i just like the way they lined up and needed it to be linked here

THE SPIN THAT K*LLED US ALL

THE KICK THAT SENT US SIX FEET UNDER

S C R E A M……………………………………………………… Iconic™

DO YOU SEE THE BUDGET IN THE VISUALS JESUS CHRIST- the f ucking set up all of the effects!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of the lights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of thE GLOWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the black and white set and theyre wearing red…………………… the red and white set and theyre wearing black…………………… that purple and green place…………………… the tree and random nature but everything is so futuristic looking…………………… dunno why yoohyeon is in a graffiti covered restroom but im LIVING for it- SIYEON SURROUNDED BY THOSE TVS DAMI IN THAT TRAIN THAT MULTICOLORED PLACE WHEREVER SUA IS EXCUSE ME- I COULD LITERALLY NAME EVERY SCENE IN THIS DAMN MUSIC VIDEO AND THEY👏ALL👏SLAP👏HARD👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

THE WHOLE F UCKING THI-

jk ill name some😊😊😊again id name everything but ill just show one i liked more than others bc this is alreADY TOO DAMN LONG-

this is self restraint btw

I FEEL THREATENED-

helL YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND IF I CRIED????????????????????????

this is here for no reason other than bc i wanted it here-

OOP-

OOP- x2

………………………………… F-

WHY OFC I HAVE TO PUT THIS HERE

ABSOLUTELY…………………………… ABSOLUTELY

OH F CUK-

it was this or the close up shot either way it k*lled me

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

😦

OH NO-

OOP- x3

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

honestly let me just mention i really clowned and set myself up for heartbreak bc the album is only called ‘road to utopia’ but i assumed theyll find utopia bc thats how trilogies work but then this slaps me in the face- what im saying is im 🤡

T H E M

oK A Y SO THIS POST IS LONG ENOUGH ALREADY LIKE GODDAMNIT COULD I JUST SHUT UP FOR TEN (10) MINUTES PLS- SO HERE ILL JUST SAY ONE (1) WORD………………………………………………

W O M E N™

plus this truly is long enough good god-

JIU

OH BICTH SHE GRABBED ME BY MY NECK RIGHT AT THE START WHEN SHE JUST POPPED UP- lemme just talk about this screenshot for a second the STREAKS IN HER HAIR and THE PIERCING???????? THE JACKET???????GOOD GOD????????? L I S T E N her outfits during the dance scenes the R E D especially jeSUS- its that red one for me im pretty sure some of yall saw me go F E R A L™ on the dashboard about it so i WILL NOT go into it again- and theN THAT DRESS A F CUKING QUEEN LOVE TO SEE IT

SUA

ONCE AGAIN I HAVE TO BRING UP THE VERY START WITH THAT SLOW MO- RED👏IS👏HER👏COLOR 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏  the dark hime cut………………… the choker on both the red and the black is it the same one doesnt matter im d*ad……………… yo her wavy hair and that dress when it looked like she was in some hair shampoo commercial bicth i liVED FOR THAT- and theN T H I S YES THIS THAT IN THE SCREENSHOT the leather and the jacket the writing on her face i waNT HER TO BEAT ME WITH THAT LIGHT-

SIYEON

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IM LITEREALLY CRYINNG

I SWEAR TO GOD I SCREAMED EVERY TIME SHE WAS ON THE SCREEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pls breathe yes i see that orange coat with the collar and her two different colored eyes and how she is sitting in that chair i see her looking so fine in that red outfit especially near the end of the mv oh mY GOD- those pants yall bringing that style back from boca literally let me bREATHE FOR LIKE TWO (2) SECONDS

HANDONG

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LISTENLISTENLISTENLISTEN my eyes legit started tearing up when i saw her so soon in the mv yall DO NOT understand the emotions im going through to rewatch this mv again and again anD- iiiIIIIiiII CANNOT FULLY EXPRESS MYSELF BUT I JUST WANNA DIRECTLY MENTION THOSE CRYSTALS AND HER HIGH PONYTAIL SHE MADE F UCKING SURE TO SHOW OFF HOW POWERFUL SHE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOOHYEON

YOOHYEON WITH BUNS??????????????????? THAT LIPSTICK COLOR RIGHT AT THE START???????? THAT OUTFIT WITH THE RED PLAID SKIRT????????? like when you REALLY look at the outfit the polkadot jacket and the tie makes not a lot of sense but she made it woRK!!!!!!!!! okayokayokay her lip ring and dance outfits lets talk about it to be honest its something about that chain that hangs on her torso that makes it really hit………………… but like the entire outfits HIT™ she ripped her pants didnt she

DAMI

I CANT STAND THIS WOMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell me why for literally one (1) second of that ‘live it up’ it snapped my neck???????? it was HARDLY A FLASH OF LIGHT YET IT WAS ENOUGH TO HURT ME- i prefer her short hair but listen the longer hair is making so many points rn- i think i said that for boca too… SHES LITERALLY SITTING YALL AND YET HERE I AM- the jacket the necklace the gloves and then that dramatic spin and the leaves OH MY GOD- DID YALL👏SEE THE WAY👏SHE KEPT👏FEELING👏HER NECK👏👏👏👏👏👏👏!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAHYEON

GAHYEON THE WOMAN YOU ARE- i wanna start with the black hair and thee stickers look bc i wanna buT WE LOVE NOIR BY SUNMI but like i love that look like overall????????????? she literally wears the same outfit for that and this screenshot but the vibe is so different i LOVE this purple color she got going rn and that black hair IS A STATEMENT imma be more open here about it but lowkey i am genuinely missing her dark hair rn- anyway THAT DESIGN AROUND HER EYE WITH THAT RED OUTFIT BRUH DO I D*E-

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (short thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

IVE NEVER BEEN SO FERAL IN MY LIFE

Wind Blows

this instrumental……………………… holy god????????????? its chill for like a second in the beginning and then it just YEETS you in- imma be real i wasnt sure about that ‘wind blows’ part i dunno why i ……… into it at first but yknow whaT THATS ONE OF THE BEST PARTS DAMIS RAP I SWEAR- but then the prechorus parts are so chill??????????? is it bc its handong its probably bc its handong ‘always be with you like gravity’ siyeon pls- it gives me the same energy as tension and break the wall where i feel like i jusT GAIN ALL THE STRENGTH AND CONQUER THE WORLD yes i saw the dance multiple times it k*lled me every single time

Poison Love

literally what the f uck- when i heard it in the highlight medley i knew i was gonna LOVE this like i cant stand how much i love their sexy bops like dami got me immediately ‘why do you?’ YOURE RIGHT DAMI WHY DO I- you could NEVER go wrong with lower register dreamcatcher NOTHING👏CAN👏GO👏WRONG👏 DAMI AND GAHYEON THEIR RAPS JESUS CHRIST i put my hand on my heart i was so taken aback- maybe i went back to replay it a few times when i was listening to it and then handong……………………………………………………… UH ANYWAY-

4 Memory

JIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE LOVE THE HAPPY AND BOUNCY AND FUN BOP OF THE ALBUM- like ive said this to a few moots that this song just makes me happy and lifts up my mood its the little instrumental parts in the chorus for me i dunno what it is its just pleasant to my ears and then damis rap is so fun like :cccccc cute- like this is a song about the seasons and wanting to be with someone (well jiu help write this is this about like insomnias or am i a stupid clown-) like i REALLY WISH i could express how much i enjoy this song but i would just be repeating myself that its a feel good happy song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New days

DAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE i dunno how to describe the energy this song holds except ‘friendship energy’- its literally the guitar all throughout the song for me LIKE i feel like im just wrapped in a nice hug BUT NOT JUST ANY KIND OF HUG its the kind that the other person opened their jacket and theyre holding me and their jacket is around me listening to this song yall i kinda wanna cry i dunno- everyone sounds so lovely especially jiu pls her voice is so soft and DAMI OFC HER RAP GETS A HELL YEAH™ FROM ME like the ‘find you’ AND THEN AT THE END ‘FOUND YOU’ IM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (if yall cant see its the pleading puppy eyed emoji)

LIKE WHAT A WAY TO START THE F UCKING YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so in awe of everything about this as SOON AS SOON I SAY i saw the very first photo teaser and i COULDNT STOP LISTENING TO THE HIGHLIGHT MEDLEY AND THE TEASER WITH THE SUITS AND THE DRINKS IS STILL LIVING IN MY HEAD- alright alright ill calm down for this part but its one of my FAVORITE ALBUMS FOR👏SURE👏 like i really cant think of any criticisms regarding anything about it!!!!!!!!!!!! since im posting this after promotions are over (odd eye promotions anyway) i will just say im EXTREMELY proud of what we have accomplished as fans and what the girls have achieved during this era!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it was hella wild all around and i am once again saying that im very happy to be an insomnia <3<3<3<3<3<3<3

and ONCE AGAIN JUST ONE (1) MORE TIME RIGHT BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 

IN CONCLUSION: THIS ALBUM TAKES ME TO AN ENTIRELY NEW WORLD AND IM GONNA LIVE IT UP

AND AS ALWAYS:

GKxlgzlhcp MY TAGS ON THE FIC REC POST WERE NOT MEANT TO BE GUILT TRIPPY I PROMMISE i just want to write something stupid good so fucking bad!! And you have rly good taste!!! In your opinion what makes a good iz fic??

no no dont worry i didnt take it as guilt trippy!! tbh the reason space trash isnt on there is bc im.... not caught up on it sdjkfkjsdnf i KEEP SAYING “im gonna read space trash!” and then i do not read space trash. rip that and a bunch of other series i want to read and then just forget to. ive read the first chapter of space trash, fucking loved it, wished there was more Right That Fucking Second, and then when more came i just did not read it because the things i do make no sense to anyone, least of all myself

and ooohhh ok so the main thing that makes a good iz fic to me is dialogue and characterization. like, if i cannot imagine these characters doing these actions, it’s a bust. and really i can suspend my disbelief for pretty much anything as long as the characters stay acting like themselves and their voices are good. my general rule of thumb is if i cant imagine the dialogue in the characters’ voices, its a bust. i try to keep this in mind while writing and imagining the characters’ voices as i go

(pretty much every fic on the rec list fucking nails this but im gonna shine a spotlight on canvas because if it didnt fucking nail the narrative voice then the entire thing would fall apart because it’s first person and the concept is one you need to get the reader used to, so diving right into it is a risk)

another tenant is like.... ok you know ur tags on that “the tallest r two different people” post? shout out to basic media literacy??? that. some people just extremely miss the mark on the characters so hard it makes my brain hurt. even some really popular stuff imo just, COMPLETELY is off the mark and i cant get into it at all. if i cant tell that you know basic facts about the characters just from reading the text you have presented then maybe it is not very good imo. if i need like, the text and 10 metas specifically about the text and an additional 5 metas to explain the characters in the text just to understand like, one fic, then.... imma keep it real i am not reading All This Shit: By You

(a good example is the ponytail dib au- you CAN read the answers to the asks dissecting the characters and how they do things, but the au itself doesn’t seem threadbare and confusing if you don’t. the motivations of the characters are either very clear, or its clear that they will be revealed eventually. i will refrain from saying what i think is a bad example because i do not feel like dropping a molotov on this fandom tonight)

a third tenant is pacing. i can really get into whatever wack ass plot you want me to get into (barring the first 2 tenants are upheld) but if you try to rocket me there too fast im gonna go “what?? what the FUCK???” ESPECIALLY if you’re introducing new info because i will 100% get overwhelmed if its too fast. or inversely i will get bored if its too slow. if it takes like 10 chapters to actually get to the main plot then i will lose interest, especially if there is zero foreshadowing that anything is going to happen at any point. again this is something i have to be careful with because ANX is like, 95% new information and characters so lets just say i know about this fucking intimately at this point so its like.... really easy for me to read a fic and go “holy shit too fast too fast too fucking fast” or “um.. *checks watch* wheres . the plot”

(ersatz has stellar pacing honestly, the plot moves along and balances out the angst and emotions tremendously. the emotional stakes are there as a breather for the serious mystery plot, the serious mystery plot serves to break up emotions and not have them go stale- ill explain later)

and i have some personal disliked tropes like the trope where zim 100% assimilates into human culture to the point where u cant even tell that hes irken anymore, it feels like he gets so watered down and just becomes.... safe

or when an author makes alternate names for red and purple (which is fine in of itself) and then immediately switches to them in the narrative without giving readers a chance to acclimate. bonus if both names are switched at the same time and im like huh what who where please give me time wha

i do not like tall zim and refuse to read any content with it and thats just a pet peeve of mine honestly

ANGST is a huge thing of mine. ive been writing and reading angst for 10 years now so i have a lot of gripes on how its done. the number one thing i do not like with angst is that at some point, it “goes stale” as i call it. what does that mean? it means the work is all angst all the time, that readers get fatigued to the constant barrage of sadness so it just feels... mundane. 

i also really dislike Sadboy Angst. again what in gods name am i talking about? its when angst is shown with the characters just kinda, schmooping around. again thats fine in small doses but if its most of the work and every character has depression, then it stagnates. hard. 

when the time comes is a bit of a paradox in that zim does schmoop around for a lot of it but dib is a very active character so imo its never stagnant. there’s always a little bit of hope that maybe things will get better...but they dont. (until the most recent chapters it seems) and it never increases too exponentially. 

idk, whump is a bit of a weird beast because the point is to be all angst all the time, but i go into whump knowing what im going to get. if there is an actual serious heavystakes plot and the characters are just sad all the time, im gonna wonder where the hell that plot went. a story with a more simple easygoing plot works a bit better as an angstfest because theres no looming threat or mystery. if wttc had a greater-scope plot id be ripping my hair out at the 3 straight chapters of zim angst, but its a fic about zim and dib having a relationship together and thats pretty much it. 

also this is more a medium thing but schmoopfests in comics and fics are totally different beasts bc at least in fics theres an internal monolouge but in comics its just “zim laying there sadly” and fics update with 1000-ish words per chapter and comics update a panel at a time. in my opinion (and i am NOT a professional at comics) the t92k1 guy was amazing at comic-based angst. fucking stellar. why am i talking about comics this is a post about fics

anyway yeah those r my Rules As To What Makes A Good Zim Fic. i am the ultimate authority and i am also secretly jhonen vasquez pretending to be non-binary and also 20 and from new jersey so you all have to listen to me

in all honestly i have read fics that have broken some of these rules (mainly the one on dialouge) because i just really liked other aspects of them- hell even fics on the rec list dont hit all these checkmarks so my real advice is dont stress about some arbitrary Standard Of Goodness because it doesnt exist, not even with my picky ass. im not gonna look for High Art when i read fics, just when i stumble across something i sing the praises of, ill sing! and even if its not High Art or perfect but it still does some things well, its worth a shoutout in my book

also i will read space trash i promist

How you two meet.

Tuesday, January 13 2018

"We are expecting a rather violent snow storm this evening. Its suspected to last a good three days. Infact its suppose to drop below freezing tonight and its expected to stay that way leading into tomorrow morning..." The women on the small television exclaimed.

"Ugh.. Of all days She could have made me work..." Y/n sighed, looking out the window which reflected no other color but white.

"Well what can you do about it?" You coworker Dokyeom chuckled, mixing the batter.

Rolling your eyes you walked over to the oven placing the empty pan inside and pulling out the cooked bach, setting it on the table turning off the oven.

"Well I could go home b-"

"Then go home, ill cover for you."

You smiled. "..but! You didn't let me finish. I was going to say.. I need this job."

Cocking his brows he reminded you, "y/n you dads a billionaire, you said it yourself he's given you more than enough to buy a nice car, house, and then just sit on your ass all day, for the rest of your life."

"Yes but he's also only a billionaire because of his father and his fathers, father. Should i go on?"

Dokyeom quickly declined your offer waving you off with his towel. "Blah blah blah."

"Haha very funny. Hey can you go tell them they need to leave? Its a minute till closing time."

"What?! Why can't you do it?" Dokyeom complained.

"Because, one I have to stay late anyways remember? Im on clean up duty. Also I dont like kicking people out.. Besides, I think they're homeless.." You trailed off.

Dokyeom sighed. "Fine. But you owe me.."

"대박! 감사해요." (Awesome! Thank you.)

"I see you've been practicing." He commented.

You smiled.

He made his way to the simi-empty dinning room where a young man and a child sat. The man had a smile on his face as he listened to the small child, who from what I could understand was telling him about her day at daycare. I couldn't help but feel guilty. Trying not to think about it, I began throwing out old samples and displays that once sat in the display case, though I over heard Dk politely tell them they had to leave.

"Excuse me, sir.." He started.

Trying my best to make it seem like I wasn't there I slouched down behind the case. Listening to the small conversation between the two men, peaking around the corner. The male looked up at Dk, worry on his face as he pulled the small girl closer. she looked to be around three while the male looked to be in his late twenties. He had short brown hair and what looked to be a faint beard growing. He was wearing an old torn-up off white sweater, ripped black jeans, and a gray scarf. The girl on the other hand had oily black hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She was wearing a hoodie that was three sizes too large for her, an ankle length navy blue skirt, and a red bennie.

"...I'm sorry to say that's its closing time and you'll have to leave." Dk finished.

"Ah, I'm sorry. We hadn't realized what time it was. haha!" The man said. Standing up to pick up the small child only to sit her down and begun putting her winter attire on.

"Okay. Stay safe." Dk smiled and started walking back to the kitchen putting the freshly made batter into the fridge for early shift staff tomorrow and begun washing the dishes.

"Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?"

My breath hitched, and i slowly stood up looking at the child who was now putting on gloves while he wrapped the scarf around her neck. As she looked up to him warmly.

"N-no sweetheart we'll find somewhere."

Once his stuff was on he picked her up and made their way out into the harsh weather with one last glance into the kitchen, making eye contact with me for the first time.

_________________________

"Welp that concludes our shift.. I owe you one Dk. Again."

Dokyeom chuckled putting his coat on. "You sure do. Now if you'll excuse me I have a wife and daughter that are waiting for me. The wife especially." He winked.

"Gross, really Dokyeom? Really."

He smiled before clocking out, telling you to drive safe and walking out the door. I followed his steps only there was no one to tell drive safe and I had the extra step that included locking the doors.

"Shit, it really is cold out here... Doesn't help that my car is halfway down the fuckn' street." I muttered to myself.

Sitting in my car I couldn't help but think back to the man and his child. What she said to him specifically.

'Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?'

Resting my head on the steering wheel I sighed. "Why didn't i say anything..."

Once I was done pondering and beating myself up about the past I started on my way home. Though the road I usually take was blocked off so I had to take the Sketchy way, through the alley and under the bridge. When it was in sight I calmed my nerves with some low-fi music my friend Yoongi produced. As I was driving through I saw someone- no someones. A familiar red bennie was huddled into something. I couldn't help but pull up next to them, driving slowly. Rolling my window down only to be greeted by snow and cold air assaulting my face.

"Excuse me. Do you need somewhere to stay?" I had to yell just to be heard over the yelps and roars of the winter air.

Man stopped and so did I, the little girls grip remained tight on her fathers arm.

"Uh. No, thank you we'll be fine.." He responded looking down.

"Daddy I'm cold.." She said and as a response he begun taking off his coat only to wrap it around her small frame, because she had one of his arms he could only use one to keep himself warm.

"Come on, its suppose to drop below freezing tonight, and if she's gonna have your coat.. You'll freeze... You'll both freeze."

He sniffled before telling her to get in the car.

"Come one Haru, get in the car... Hurry sweetie."

You smiled unlocking the doors, he sat in the back with her.

"You can get in the front."

"No, its fine." He quickly responded.

_________________________

"Here, I'll go make you two some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate! Yay!" The child now known as Haru yelled in excitement.

"Here let me help you princess.." He said taking her shoes and wet clothes off.

When you came back you set the three cups on the table and warmed up some left over egg soup.

"Do you have some dry clothes? Haru's are wet.." He said sounding timid and a bit hesitant.

"Uh ya.. Um, can you keep an eye on the food? You know to make sure it doesn't boil over."

"Sure.. Come here haru, and stop bouncing around on her furniture." He said sternly.

You chuckled walking to your room looking through your night gowns looking for one that was, shall we say appropriate for someone of her age.

"Finally..." You sighed.

'to the moon and back.' It read.

You started looking through the stuff your late husband left behind, and came up with a shirt that said 'proud husband of a kick ass military wife!' And some sweats. Quickly folding them you made you way into the kitchen where Haru and her father waited.

"Oh you could have made yourselves a bowl.."

"Oh, sorry we didn't want to touch anything..."

Making your way to the cabinet s to get them a bowl. "No no its fine im sure you two are starving anyways.. Here are the clothes. I found some for you to..."

He smiled slightly, "I'm Jeonghan by the way.."

"Im y/n. So that's your daughter?" You smiled as he picked Haru up and begun to dress her.

"Y-yes, her mother died at birth and things went down hill from there.."

"Oh, I'm so sorry.."

Jeonghan looked at you "I saw a picture of a man.. Assuming by the shirt you cave me your married?"

You cleared your throat. "Um no he died 2 years ago.."

He stared at you before apologising profusely.

"Heh.. No its fine, I guess I'm over it anyway.. I didn't stop and cry when going through his stuff.." You chuckled.

"No one ever truly gets over the loss of a loved one..."

He looks at you. You shake your head. "That makes two of us.."

Meant To Be

CHAPTER 7- The Wrong Shade of Red

Eventually more and more pictures began to leak in the media, fans posting Instagram’s of Jesse on holiday, a running theme of the same blonde in the background of all of them. Stories coming out about the pair being way too close for someone who already has a girlfriend. Well… someone who once had a girlfriend. You were so done with his bullshit. 

Of course it hurt more then anything but you’d come to the realisation that you were letting someone hold you back, walk all over you, just because it made them feel better. People pieced together that you weren’t in Dubai with Jesse, there was constant paparazzi pictures of you all over every newspaper and website you could name, you could tell you weren’t in a good place. Hair scraped back into a not-so-cute messy bun, dressed in joggers and an over sized hoodie, no makeup, residue of spot cream still on your face as you carried a Tesco’s bag full of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. Some fans were so supportive, checking up on you despite being inactive on social media, but there were also some evil fans who bashed you for what Jesse had did, saying you deserved to get cheated on.

“Okay, seriously this needs to stop” your cousin comes into the bedroom to find you lying in bed, surrounded by pillows, blankets and junk food as you watched The Notebook. “I’m just hurting myself” you sigh as you switched the TV off, “no no no, he hurt you, it’s ok to be hurt, please don’t blame yourself for his mistake! But you have to remember who the fuck you are, Y/N you’re the most stunning girl in the world, he never deserved you, now show him what he’s missing” you smiled at your cousins little pep-talk, she’d been such an amazing support system, and as much as you just wanted to jump out of bed and go slay the world, your heart wouldn’t allow you, times a healer, and at the end of the day it had only been three days. No contact from Jesse, no bullshit excuse of who this mystery girl alongside him was. Your phone began to ring before you could reply to what your cousin had said, you’d both looked down at the caller ID at the same time, “I’ll leave you be” she spoke simply, leaving the room as you answered the phone, “Hey Trent” you sigh into the phone, he’d text you straight away when all the rumours had began to leak into the real world, a constant shoulder to cry on, he truly cared, and you appreciated that more than anything, “How you doing my love?” he asks sweetly as you think for a bit, you wish you could say you were ok, but it felt like such betrayal. The emotions override the control you had over your body, a sob instantly breaking out, “I said to him Trent” you shout down the phone, voice strained with tears, “I said don’t hurt me like you hurt her! But he fucking did it anyway” referring to his previous girlfriend, Jesse always knew you were cautious to begin a relationship with him because of his past mistakes, but he somehow managed to gain your trust, only for him to go and break it again, “He use to tell me his past cheating was a mistake, but I’ve learnt that cheating isn’t a mistake, it’s a choice. And he chose to break my heart” you’re surprised Trent could figure out what you were saying from the state you were in, ragged breaths and broken sobs interrupting your steady flow of words, cheeks sodden with salty tears, you hadn’t even bothered to wear makeup for the past week, knowing the constant tears would eventually ruin it. “You want me to come round?” Trent asks, the softness in his voice instantly relaxing you, a simple “yeah” is his key to leave his house and head down to Manchester straight away, he’d made the same journey several times this past week, wanting nothing more then for you to be ok, to see someone he loved to be in such pain broke him, he wished he could just tell you he’d always loved you, that Jesse never deserved your heart of gold, to be held in your arms, you were there for him through everything, his constant support system, and Trent could see that you loved him with your whole heart, but there were always doubts about Jesse, the way he’d look at other girls when they were away with England for training, the tone in which he spoke about women in general confirmed to him he hadn’t learnt the meaning of ‘respect’ just yet. Trent couldn’t imagine throwing away a diamond for a piece of coal, but that it exactly what Jesse had done. 

His arms had wrapped around you as soon as you opened the front door, lips pressed to your forehead as he rocked you softly. He could tell you’d made an attempt to tidy yourself up, a new t-shirt on that had actually been washed, hair tied up in a ponytail, face bare of makeup still- yet you looked so beautiful. “You wanna go grab some lunch?” he’s asking softly, simply from holding you he can tell you’ve lost some weight, praying you don’t make yourself ill over this whole situation. You nod with a smile, much to his surprise. You’d opted for the same place where you met up for coffee the other week, the snowball effect of the ending, where all this shit began. In a way you were grateful that you’d found out now, you’d only be staying in the relationship in a hope that it would get better. It was the same cafe you and Jesse had your first date, it hurt to look over at the table where the two of you had sat, a bitter-sweet feeling as your mind flashed back to when he once made you feel like the only girl in the world. But you couldn’t pause your happiness for him to carry on his. You wouldn’t put your life on hold over someone that never deserved to be a part of it.

Small talk was made as you both studied the menus, of course you knew what you were having, the same meal ordered every time, the full English. The best one you’d ever had.”What you having pretty one?” he’s asking, still looking at the menu, tummy flipping over from his words, a smile growing on your face, it felt like your skin was ripping, a genuine smile now something so foreign, yet he’d managed to create one from just a few words. “The full English- without the mushrooms” you tell him as he giggles, “thank god you don’t like mushrooms, might have to sit on another table if you had them on your plate” he jokes as you laugh. His smile grows wider as he watches you giggle at his words, heart so genuinely happy, he can tell your getting back to the old Y/N, the one he’d fell so deeply in love with- of course he loves every version of you, through the highs and lows- but happy Y/N was his favourite. He wished he could describe how your voice made his tummy tightened, how your smile made he day- even his whole week, how your laugh makes his heart skip a beat. “I’ll have the same then” he’s nodding in confirmation once the butterflies in his tummy flutter away. Food ordered, arriving quickly to your table as you clap your hands before tucking in, making him laugh, quickly interrupting you to cheers, “cheers to you” he holds up his glass of orange juice as you do the same, “to your happiness, to that beautiful smile that I want to see forever” he finishes the cheers as your glasses clink together. Shooting him a quick wink as you sip your orange juice, making eye contact the whole time, those deep brown eyes holding something in them that you’d never experienced before. 

The fairy tale was cut short however, the bell chiming signalling someone else had walked into the cafe. Your innocent eyes looking towards the door absentmindedly, not expecting to withhold the sight that you’d just laid eyes on. Heart sinking, appetite ruined, genuine smile fading.

What was he doing here?

Hey There, Hot Tea

A/N: 3k of Dick Grayson/Nightwing fluff in which Nightwing doesn’t spill any tea but Dick Grayson doesn’t know how to keep secrets. 

When I awoke on that fateful Thursday night to the sound of incessant scratching against my bedroom door, my first thought consisted of several profane words. My second thought wondered what ungodly hour the clock read (barely past three, witching hour). My third thought manifested in an agitated grumble of my cat’s name. Rolling out of bed, I cursed at the sudden loss of my warm cocoon. “This is why you can’t sleep in here, Chip. Because you’re annoying.” I told him, opening my door so he could scamper out into the living room. “You play with my heart and make me think you want to cuddle, but no! You wake me up at three a.m. because you want to sleep in your own bed.” I continued to gripe ineffectively through my mouth guard, squinting through the dim lamp lighting at Chip’s canine sister, Dale, snoring blissfully on the couch. “Why can’t you be like your sister, huh?” “Meow.” I chugged half a glass of water and turned to hightail back into my bedroom and snuggly cocoon, only to be interrupted by more scratching. This time, Chip clawed at the front door to the apartment. A flash of panic ripped through me and my thoughts flew to the baseball bat beneath the couch and the butcher knife in wooden block on the kitchen counter. Dale raised her head, ears barely perking up as she glanced towards Chip disinterestedly. When Chip’s ceaseless pawing was met with neither intimidating banging nor a mafia member from the Bronx ordering me to open up, I crept cautiously towards the door. “Dale, if this is how I die, because Chip wants me to let a murderer inside, please tell my mom I love her.” I squinted through the peephole for several moments before concluding that I was blind without my glasses and that there was possibly a man unconscious in the hallway. Though countless horrific news stories of young women being murdered in their homes played through my head, it was absolutely impossible for me to disregard someone in need. You might call it my kryptonite. Perhaps that was why I chose nursing as a profession, not neglecting the fact that I get to wear absurdly patterned scrubs. I ditched my mouth guard for proper vision and fuzzy slippers, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. Once again, I glanced through the peephole to confirm my suspicions. Indeed, there was a man slumped on the floor of the hallway just outside my room. As a matter of principle, I yanked the baseball bat out from underneath the couch and placed it against the wall near the door. Just in case. With a shameful, sheepish smile, I realized that this presented an opportunity to knock on the door of my devastatingly handsome neighbor, Mr. Richard Grayson, for help. The prospect of spotting him in his pajamas – no matter that my own consisted of panda flannel pants and a worn tee that told the world I survived my first trip to Central City – made my stomach lurch. It seemed that in the past few months, I’d developed a mild crush on my neighbor, something that caused me equal parts anguish, fear, and excitement. I scolded myself for it often, but no matter how intently I tried, I couldn’t quite shake the warm affection I felt when he flashed me that sweet smile or told me good morning in his sleepy urban drawl. Our periodic interactions were barely substantial enough to constitute a friendship, but I took what I could get. We often bumped into each other in the mornings, sharing the elevator, equipped with steaming mugs of coffee and friendly smiles. Though I wasn’t much of a morning person, his gregarious energy and charming mannerisms quickly changed my opinion of seven-thirty a.m. for the better. Once, we even got stuck in the elevator together. We were both half an hour late to work, but I embraced that mishap because it allowed me to learn that he worked as a detective downtown, enjoyed old horror films, and substituted copious amounts of breakfast cereals for proper meals occasionally. He was chivalrous and pleasantly flirtatious and very easily filled the spot in my heart reserved for feeling weak around handsome and polite young men. Plus, Chip seemed to adore Dick. This was impressive because most humans offered him minimal intrigue and Chip would sooner bite your ankle than purr and rub his head against your legs. (Dale believed that no human harbored ill-will, but that’s why she wasn’t a guard dog.) I shoved my cellphone in my pocket, should the seemingly unconscious man warrant a 9-1-1 call and took a deep breath, switching on the lights. I cracked the door open slowly, peeking through the opening not unlike a groundhog. The man, lanky yet well-built, was sprawled out against the opposite wall. He was clad in inky black and…leather? His face was angled towards the wall, dark hair tousled. I broke the eerie silence of the hallway. “Uh...hello?” My greeting received no reply, unless you count his heavy breathing. Gingerly, I inched closer and nudged him with my foot. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “He’s like a rock.” His frame was so toned – or maybe it was this suspiciously leathery suit – that the pressure of my fuzzy slipper against his side barely made him budge. Though he could certainly be a serial killer praying on young, independent women, he seemed groggy enough that if need be, I could dive back into the safety of my apartment and call the police. I kneeled down, arm’s length away, and tapped his shoulder, which was also brick-like. And very, very warm. Something about that shaggy mop of hair and sturdy frame was awfully familiar, nagging at the pit of my stomach, but I was still too tired to register the gut instinct – or, maybe, I felt silly for admitting that the unconscious man before me reminded me a bit of Richard Grayson. Inhaling deeply, I leaned over and tugged his opposite shoulder to flip him onto his back. When he groaned, I gasped and stumbled backwards, banging my head against the wall. “Holy shit.” The man in front of me was, in fact, not my hot neighbor. The blue silhouette of a bird nearly glowed against his broad chest. “Well, Nightwing, I guess I’m glad we’re meeting here, while you’re passed out in front of my door. Not because I’m being mugged in a dark alleyway.” I laughed nervously to myself. He groaned again and I jumped again, but his eyes were still shut tightly. His mask didn’t give much away, save for that sharp jawline and slightly parted lips. Hesitantly, I patted his face. “Um. Mr. Nightwing?” Nothing. Forcefully, I shook his shoulder. “Maybe you should get out of the hallway?” I received a pained sigh in response. “Should I, like, call an ambulance? Do superheroes like their well-being treated institutionally? Do you even have health insurance?” I continued babbling, further perplexed about how to proceed. Inhaling deeply, I did the only thing I could do. I pinched the underside of his arm. A startled yelp left my mouth, but not before a strong hand encircled my wrist and I ended up flat on my back in the middle of the hallway, the breath knocked out of my lungs with a sharp wheeze. “No, no, and...yes.” His voice was a low rasp, one that left me reeling, no matter that my head had recently collided with a wall and the ground in the recent past. I blinked up at the ceiling, paralyzed by both fear and embarrassment. “Okay.” I croaked. He appeared above me, hovering. His gaze was warm and sky blue. When he smiled, it lit up his whole face, even beneath the mask. “Sorry.” He apologized sheepishly, helping me sit up. There was that nagging feeling again in my stomach and I shook my head, more for my sake than his. “Oh. It’s fine. Getting flipped over by a superhero? I can check that off my bucket list.” He helped me to my feet, hand lingering for maybe a moment too long against the small of my back, still smiling bashfully, looking much more like a flustered teenage boy than the savior of this city. “Are you okay?” I couldn’t help but snort. “Are you okay? You’re the one who was just passed out on the ground!” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Wait! I’m sorry. That sounded rude. I don’t want to seem mean. Thank you, Mr. Nightwing, for protecting our city.” He chuckled lowly. “It’s no problem at all, sunshine.” Sunshine? I squinted at him. The only other person who calls me sunshine and laughs quietly like that is Richard Grayson each time I end up with him in the elevator. “Am I allowed to ask how you ended up…here?” I quirked an eyebrow, smiling at him shyly. He deadpanned, but his mouth twitched playfully. “If I can get a cup of tea, you might just find out.” I pursed my lips. “Deal. But if you, noble Nightwing, try any funny business, my dog will end you.” His laugher filled the hallway with light. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Hey there, hot tea?” He read off the mug. In spite of myself, I blushed. “It was a gift. Would you prefer the cat one?” “No, thanks. This one is flattering.” I didn’t expect to spend the early hours of Friday in my kitchen conversing with a superhero, but my mom and Disney always taught me to expect the unexpected. The sleepiness had faded, but I still felt a little delirious. Chip was perched happily on his lap, purring like Nightwing had all the tuna world. However, I easily learned that Nightwing smelled more like earth and the stars and gracefully worn-out nylon, not like canned fish, as he leaned across the island just barely dancing on the fringes of my space. “I am not in your building because of villainous activity, if that’s any consolation.” He told me. “Right. Because that explains why you were knocked out in front of my door.” He smirked, glancing down at the mug dwarfed between his palms. “I was just…checking in. But I guess I’ve had a rough night. Little aster, lots of disaster.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine, silvery and dancing. “It’s definitely gotten better though.” Is a superhero flirting with me? I cleared my throat, heat rising in my cheeks once again. I turned to put my own mug in the sink and shrugged. “Glad to be of assistance.” “Want to be a nurse off the clock?” “Of course.” And then I froze, gazing at him with wide eyes. “How do you know I’m a nurse?” He wrinkled his nose slightly, before he beamed and placed his forearm on the table, dark gash caked with dried blood. “I’m just in the loop, you know?” I frowned but grabbed the first aid kit from my cabinet. “Superhero connections and all that jazz.” The memory of Richard explaining his vast knowledge of the best coffee shops in the city and their owners played across my mind. “Nothing can top my five-year-old coffee pot and store-bought cream.” He smiled at me warmly. “You gotta try Duke’s. Or Cool Beans.” “Am I supposed to trust your word?” “Yes. I’ve learned all the best coffee spots. Detective connections and all that jazz.” I felt uneasy, but not necessarily uncomfortable. He rolled up the sleeve of his suit easily, wincing. I dampened a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol. “This is gonna sting.” “I’m sure I’ve felt worse than – OUCH! That burns!” I blew against the wound to dry it faster. “I’m sorry! I did warn you!” He huffed unhappily. This fine specimen, radiating heat and masculinity, morphed into someone boyish when he jutted out his bottom lip and, of all things, pouted. I wrapped his forearm tightly in gauze. “It’s not too deep, but it is long, so try to take it easy, okay?” Nightwing placed his opposite hand over my own as I taped the gauze. His skin was warm, fingers calloused, and I couldn’t help the little shiver that ran down my spine. “Thank you.” His Atlantic eyes bore into my own. A few moments of silence followed, but his eyes spoke so many words, deep and dark. Looking at him was like looking at a word search. I knew if I looked close enough at the letters, I might be able to decipher what he wanted me to know. I swallowed hard. “You’re welcome, Nightwing.” He smiled, but this one was sad. “I should get going.” I nodded slowly. “Right. You should. With a city to save and all,” He opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again when I walk him to the door. “You sure you don’t want to launch yourself through my window? Wait, actually, don’t. That wouldn’t help your arm.” “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted, winking. There was a pause, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Take care of yourself.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “You too, sunshine.” He disappeared down the hallway in the blink of an eye and I drifted to sleep to the sound of his laughter ringing in my ears.

The next time I woke up, it was to the sound of my alarm blaring beside my head. Barely raising my head, I fumbled around before I managed to slam my hand down on the OFF button. I debated skipping out on my morning jog, but Dale woofed encouragingly, and I didn’t want to break the two-week streak I had going. I must have pleased the powers that be, because I had the day off from work. I washed up and almost convinced myself that last night was a weird dream until I walked into the kitchen and the flirty mug was in the sink and my first aid kit remained on the counter. There was a little frost on the window, but once I was outside and running, I found that the cold air was refreshing. I welcomed each deep exhale, crisp air creating a slight burn in my lungs. I allowed the run to sort through my jumbled thoughts, plagued with charming smiles and sparkling eyes. By the time I dragged Dale and myself up to the eighth floor, we were thoroughly winded. “Good work, Dale.” I congratulated her, the memory of the unconscious superhero barely bothering me as I lugged myself down the hallway. Until the door across the hall swung open to reveal a humming Richard Grayson, carrying a basket of laundry and, maybe, the key to my heart. The humming ceased and he looked almost startled to see me. I wondered if it’s because he was hoping to break into song and I disrupted that, or if it’s because I look like a hot mess after several miles of jogging. Self-conscious, I ran a hand over my hair, hoping to quell the disobedient flyaway curls. “Hi, Dick.” I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. The leash fell from my grip and Dale bounded over to him, tail wagging furiously. He set the basket down and leaned over to rub her ears and coo her name. I approached them slowly, praying that I put on enough deodorant. He glanced up at me through warm honey eyes and I froze. “Hi, Y/N. And hello to you too, Dale.” I nodded at his pile of clothes, trying to disregard the plaid boxer briefs at the top. “Long day of laundry ahead of you?” He smiled affectionately and my stomach churned. “Three more loads after this. I’m lucky I’ve got the day off.” “Good. You’re such a workaholic, you deserve the break.” “Says the nurse who works the late shift. What are your plans for the day?” “Nonexistent. I think I wanna crawl back into bed after a hot shower and some oatmeal.” He smirked. “Good. You’re such a workaholic, you deserve the break.” Dick mimicked me and I could only blush in response. I clicked my tongue at Dale. “Dale, let’s leave our nice neighbor to do his laundry.” “Dale, you can keep me company anytime. And your sweet mom, too.” My face burned, and I ducked my head. “Well, maybe, if you’re not busy tonight and you want some company and like Chinese, there’s this – ” I started asking if he wanted to grab dinner, but then I saw the gauze wrapped around his forearm. My mouth ran dry and I could not stop from staring, though I knew I really needed to. He followed my line of vision and cleared his throat. “Chinese is good. You have good taste. I trust your opinion.” I snapped out of it and blinked at him. “I, uh, yeah. Chinese. For dinner maybe?” I sounded breathier than I would have liked, but last night’s events were playing over again in my head rapidly. He smiled, but it was tense. “I’ll let you know.” Disappointment flooded my chest. “O-okay.” We were silent for a few moments. He stared at me, calm and level, but I practically gaped at him. The hallway was empty, and I couldn’t help but wonder. My voice was shaky, but I still asked. “Dick, how’d you hurt yourself?” His gaze remained measured, but his eyes flashed intensely. My insides twisted. “I had a rough night last night.” All I managed was, “Oh.” He straightened his posture, glanced right, glanced left, and promptly yanked me inside his apartment. I yelped, stumbling forward into his chest. Dale sniffed curiously around the kitchen while I stared at my neighbor, paralleling her curiosity – but I was tainted with rising panic. I breathed deeply, all earth and stars and cinnamon. Richard Grayson might be Nightwing. So what? I scolded myself, talking down the instinct to panic. Dick ran a hand through his thick dark hair, stepping back from me only a little. His bangs flopped onto his forehead, cheeks flushed. “When I told my dad that I wanted to get to know the cute nurse across the hall better, this isn’t exactly what I meant. This is a disaster, emphasis on dis.” He told me bashfully. I continued to look at him, perplexed, but then his words registered. “Wait, what?!” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. “Got any more of that hot tea, hottie?” “If I can get an actual explanation, you might just find out.”

Day 7: “No, and that’s final.” w/ Kenshin

Original fiction or fanfiction? Fanfiction

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Warnings/Triggers: Minor violence. Mention of mental illness. Very dramatic.

Authors Note: I thought it would be fun to play with this concept. For the record I love Kenshin very much and I meant no harm towards him or his fanbase while writing it.

“Mother, are you awake?” You were working on a commission that you received earlier that day. It was late into the night now and your daughters voice echoed in the hall.

“Come in Kiyomi.” You set your seamstress materials aside as the sliding door opened up. Your daughter entered the room wearing the new robe you sewed her. Even at only fifteen years old she had the beauty of a woman. Just looking at her made you proud. She wore her hair in a messy side ponytail, the shade the same as yours. She really did look a lot like you. The only difference was her intense eyes, both two different colors like her fathers. “I’m surprised the measurements fit so well, I really thought I might have to mend it for you again later.”

“Yeah, the robe is fine.” She sat down on her knees in front of you. She stared you down with a determined look in her eyes.

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” You stared at eachother in silence for a moment longer. Finally she took a deep breathe and spoke.

“Mother, I wish to visit Azuchi castle with you on your up coming trip.” You were shocked to hear her claim, this wasn’t what you were expecting. “I know what you’re gonna say. I’m aware Father isn’t gonna let me go. That’s why I’m asking you and not him.” You sighed.

“Darling, It doesn’t work that way. You know your father and I come to mutual agreements about all matters concerning you.”

“Oh yeah? That’s why he doesn’t know about the gifts, right? You know, the ones you told me not to tell him about?” Your eyes went wide, you scolded her in a whisper.

“Kiyomi, Keep your voice down! Your father is relaxing just out on the veranda, he’ll hear you.” She glanced at the cracked back door, You could both see his figure lingering in the moon light.

“Mother, these men you tell me about are like your family right? You still see them every few months and they send me gifts on my birthday every year. I want to meet them and thank them for myself. Please.” You grimaced. As much as you wanted to say yes, you knew Kenshin would never allow it. “I’ve even come up with a plan, when you’re leaving and fathers bidding you farewell I’ll sneak around the other side of the castle and follow you out. I know he’ll probably be angry when I get home but it’ll be worth it-” the room grew a few degrees cooler.

“No, and that’s final.” Kenshins deep voice reverberated through the room. His face looked as cold as stone. he stood there glaring at the two of you and If you weren’t mistaken, you could see pain behind his eyes. Kiyomi narrowed her own in response. As close as they were and as much as they loved eachother, when the two of them argued it was a match made in hell. “I’m ashamed that after all I do for my own wife and daughter the two of you would still go sneaking behind my back.” He took a sip off his sake glass.

“Kenshin, That was never the intention” You spoke quietly, guilt filling your chest. You didn’t want to lie. In fact when Kiyomi was first born gifts were being sent and Kenshin knew about them, and year after year he’d destroy whatever the item was. It didn’t matter if it was just fabric for some clothes or a baby’s toy. You had to write letters telling them not to send anymore until recently when you knew your daughter could keep a promise between the two of you.

“This isn’t your business. I was asking Mother a question, not you. If she says I can go then I will be going.” True to her character, your daughter bit back.

“Not my business? You are MY DAUGHTER.” You haven’t seen Kenshin this angry in years. He was burning with the flames of betrayal. Having you leave to Azuchi was one thing, you’d lived with them in the past and he knew the two of you wouldn’t work out if you didn’t have your freedom. But this was his little girl we are talking about. She had always been beside him since the day she came into this world and he wasn’t about to let that change. “Has your Mother ever told you the story of how she came to be with me in kasugayama castle?” His eyes glazed over with a phychotic glow, in the way you hadn’t seen since all the circumstances in which he was referring too now.

“The dungeon? How you were a complete monster to her and she somehow fell in love? What of it?” You flinched. She didn’t really mean what she was saying, the embers of anger fogged her filter. However, what was said had been said, nothing could change that now.

“I can say in a way you’re right.”

“Ah!-” he snatched her by the arm causing her to screech. A flash of regret passed his eyes but he stayed on course for what he was about to do.

“But like you said, she did come to love me still. Maybe if I do the same with you I’ll get lucky and you’ll share the same fate. You will learn to love and respect your own father!” The door into the halls was ripped open with the tip of his sword. You could hardly move your body, waves of horror rendered you paralyzed. They were halfway down the corridor before you forced yourself to your feet. Racing to rescue your daughter.

“KENSHIN!” You grabbed at his shoulder, trying to stop him but he easily shook you off.

“She will learn MC.” Your daughter stumbled to keep up with his fast moving footsteps and you continued to grab at his kimono with the hopes of reasoning with him.

“You know this isn’t the way!” Your voice cracked with despair as your daughter kicked and screamed her way towards the dungeons. Once again you could see hesistation in his eye but the illness didn’t allow him to faulter. You heard footsteps running your way. Sasuke, Yukimura, And Shingen appeared.

“My lord?!” Sasuke was just as alarmed as you. “What’s going on?”

“Shut up!” He pointed his sword towards Sasuke.

“Uncle!” Kiyomi cried. Yuki stood up to him next.

“I don’t know what this is about but you need to stop, this is madness!” Kenshins eyes were large and blood thirsty.

“I’ll kill you all if you take one more step towards my family!”

“Kenshin that’s enough.” Shingen pulled out his sword and stepped between Sasuke and the blade. “Must it really come to this?” Kenshins sword clattered against Shingens. A gut wrenching scream came from Kiyomi.

“ILL GO! ILL GO WILLINGLY JUST PLEASE DONT FIGHT! PLEASE!” Your heart was braking, tears streamed down both of your cheeks. How did things come this far over such a small request. Surprisingly Kenshin dropped his sword first and looked at Shingen.

“You heard my angel. Now move.” Reluctantly he did. You all stood just above the underground dungeons and heard the cling of steal bars shutting. When Kenshin emerged once more, he was alone. “I promise, she won’t be there for long. She just needs to learn.” He walked past the four of you. Not looking back even once.

Ticci Toby - Origin Story

Screaming. Screaming. A tall man with no face. He looked like a lamppost. Something was wrong. Screaming. Then black.

The ride home was just as cold and unforgiving. It felt as if it droned on and on, like it had been hours of just sitting, head pressed against the window. The houses lit warmly gave an envious feeling in the kids chest. An ill feeling that wound around his stomach a drill.

There was only him and his mother in the car. She was a beautiful older woman. Dark brown curly hair, that was pulled into a ponytail. She had light green eyes that usually stood out like gemstones, but now they looked dull. Lifeless. Her arms were shaking and her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Occasional stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She made no noise, not a sob, not a deep breath. She was completely silent. Her makeup was running, so there was no hiding her true feelings. She had gone through something truly painful, and the black wet lines upon her cheeks were the proof.

Her son behind her wasn't quite as stunning, no, his skin was pale, grey from anemia. His hair was mousy and grey, and sticking up in every direction, long enough that people could mistake him for a girl. He had dark circles under his eyes that mimicked the look of bruises, he was wearing a slightly bloodied white t-shirt and blue scrubs, as his clothes he wore just before the accident were tattered and too ripped to stay on. The right side of his face bared quite a few cuts and bruises, a slit through his eyebrow and another through his bottom lip that required stitches. His arm, chest, and stomach had been covered in wounds, areas where the glass and sharp metal had entered his body.

The injuries looked painful upon inspection, but you would learn they were like a mere paper cut. The kid had incredibly high pain tolerance, some could say it was unnatural. They found this out when he had broke his arm in the 4th grade, and he didn't cry. The doctors say it's a marvel, and that he's lucky he can't feel the impact of the injuries. The doctors at the hospital practically knew him by name, since he visited so often. This wasn't the only hospital he frequented, the mental health clinic also knew him by name. He had seen every therapist in the area, which really isn't saying much since it is a small area after all. He used to go to emotional therapy once a week and cognition therapy once every other week. He had a certain 'quirk’ to him. He had little tics, fidgets. He would flap his hands, or his eyes would twitch, or he’d crack his neck. He'd do these throughout the day, ranging from one every hour to multiple in a matter of minutes. Sometimes they were involuntary and happened like a sneeze, sometimes they were voluntary, and he did it to express himself. Either way, it led him to get mocked out in public. His high school peers bullying him into submission. The nickname that stuck the most was 'Ticci-Toby’. When the bullying turned physical, his mother resorted to homeschooling.

Toby Erin Rogers was what was written on the band around his wrist. He kept eyeing at it, the name felt foreign. Every bump, every turn made his stomach sink, and his head duck down. Every time he saw a car approaching theirs, he began to panic. That is because last time he was in a car, it had crashed. They say you remember every moment of a car crash, but it was all a blur. A black flash, and then sirens. That was the last time he saw his sister. Bloodied, dead.

Toby closed his eyes, once again pressing his forehead against the window. It was cold against his hot skin. The image of his sister replayed in his head. Her screaming. The sudden stop of her screaming. He silently wept, big round bubbly tears fell from his eyes.

The time passed as he thought, and they arrived before he knew it. For a while there he didn't recognize where he was, but then realized that his mother had taken the back roads, to avoid the crash. Connie, his mother, pulled into the driveway. The neighborhood was cute, a simple neighborhood, mostly filled with nice old people who made sweets for their fellow neighbors. The thing that stood out to Toby was the black Subaru parked outside of their house. An immediate sickness overthrew Toby, a rage. His vision reddened. His father. His father who wasn't there.

Before Connie could step out, Toby gently grabbed her arm, tears welling in his eyes.

“Why is he here?” Toby said through his teeth, his mother opening the car door and gently pulling Toby's hand off.

“He-” Connie searched for the right words. She knew Toby had a distrust for his father, and she didn't want to feed into it. “He's here to talk to you….To apologize”

“Right, because that can be fixed with an apology” Toby said furrowing his brows. He opened his door before his mother could for him, and stepped out. This stance was uneasy but he tried to hold himself strong against his father. His knees felt weak and shaky, and the world was spinning.

Toby's father, Ron, walked towards Connie and Toby with open arms, expecting an embrace, but the two continued walking forward, ignoring his opening. Connie kept her hand on Toby’s back, guiding him inside.

Ron's face dropped, and he let out a sigh.

“Toby?” He called out, Toby turning around at the call of his name, and letting out a little grunt in response.

“You'll understand when you're older. I just couldn't have made it, it wasn't safe for me to drive. This is all just a big misunderstanding and-”

“You don't seem to understand” Toby choked back tears as he spoke. “You could've taken a bus, or gotten a ride. You could've done literally anything and it would've been better than nothing. What about a phone call!? What about a TEXT!?”

Ron stayed quiet, his face twisting from a seemingly apologetic one to one full of anger. He clenched his teeth, and balled his fist.

“You say it like I didn't TRY you ungrateful little shit! You should KNOW better!” Ron stood tall, fists still balled.

Connie began walking again, leading Toby to the house.

“And don't pretend you aren't fueling this! Let the kid walk by himself, he's sixteen for fucks sake”

“He's seventeen” Connie said, staring ahead of her as she unlocked the door. She attempted to guide Toby in, but he stood his ground.

“No, no, I'm sixteen. I can walk myself” Toby said sarcastically as he stormed into the house and up the stairs. He slammed the door, and locked it from the inside. Letting his emotions take over him, he screamed and kicked. His fit slowly changed from rage to sadness, and ended with him crying on the floor.

His room was cluttered with toys and collectibles and posters, yet lacked anything 'adult’. He had nothing sharp in his room, and everything lacked organization. What was clean though, was his desk. Which had a small laptop, a handheld game system, and a picture of his family on it. It had all four of them, before he grew a hatred towards his father. Before he grew distant and abusive. Before he would scream at Toby's mother, before he would hit Lyra. Toby never minded the punches his father gave him. But it was what he did to Connie and Lyra that built his hate. Lyra, taking her last breath, and his father being the only one not to rush to her side, was what broke the straw on the camel's back. He should've been there.

Toby got up from the floor, and walked to his window sill, he pressed his forehead against the window, and peered out. It felt good against his skin. He scanned the streets down, looking at everything below him. At first he saw what he thought was to be a lamp post, but it was in the street. His vision fizzled and he shook his head, looking back down. The figure was gone. He glared down at the street for a minute, contemplating if what he just saw was actually there. After a few minutes of wracking his brain, he remembered he hasn't been on his meds for a few days, since he was in a hospital. That could probably be the cause of it.

Dinner time came and went, Toby wasn't hungry. Instead he watched his father eat. Toby had a habit of staring at people, even when it got awkward. His father banged his hand on the table and said “Would you quit staring like a freak?! I'm just eating!” which caused Toby to jump, and look at his food.

His mother walked him to his room, stepping over the piles of clothes and toys on the floor. He curled up in his bed, and she sat on the side of it. She looked down at Toby, who was facing towards the wall with his back to her. She ran her fingers across his back, which startled him at first, but he then relaxed. This reminded him of when he was a child, and she'd rub his back every night.

“It's hard right now, I know. But it'll get better, and you'll feel better.” She said with a shaky tone. Almost as if she was unsure of her words.

“When is he leaving?” Toby muttered, ignoring her positive words. The niceness of the words but the uncertainty of her voice made his stomach hurt.

“I-...” She let her gaze drift to the floor, and stopped rubbing his back. “I don't know. For all I know, he's staying”

Toby didn't respond, and Connie didn't add anything. They sat motionless as the silence ate away at them. Connie closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, then stood up. With a “goodnight”, she walked out, and shut the door. Toby knew he couldn't sleep. Every time he tried, the image of her played. It should've been you, the voices played. Her scream repeated. It should've been you.

Toby rolled and jerked in his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Anxiety raised in his gut like a dragon blowing fire, it burned. He screamed into his pillow, wailing into the soft cushion, which muffled the noise. He cried and cried, kicking his legs, howling. His tears were hot and stung his eyelids. He clenched his eyes shut and panted. After a couple minutes of straight crying, he threw the pillow across the room and sat up. He took deep breaths, calming himself down as he arose to his feet. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he stepped to his window and peered out. Immediately he noticed the figure. The faceless, lamp-post like figure, with a long black body. The world grew colorful like holding a magnet to a TV, glitchy. A few crackles crawled through his ears, and something began ringing. He couldn't look away. The thought of looking away never crossed his mind. It's like it made him draw a blank. The ringing grew louder as the world grew distorted. Something pulled him down by his back, slamming him onto the floor. Everything went black.

Toby awoke on the floor, and the blank was still there. It's like he had hit his head, and his thoughts were muffled and censored. Stumbling up, he stared at the wall. He had tunnel vision, and was dizzy. Staring at his hands, he began making it out of his room, knocking into the door, for he forgot it was closed. He opened it and made his way down the stairs. His mother was cooking in the kitchen, as his father had a beer in hand, watching TV. He slowly walked over to his mother, and stood behind her.

She jumped as she saw him out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh! Good Morning,” she gave a soft smile and stroked his hair, her fingers getting caught in the tangles. She gently pulled them out. Toby looked behind her at the oven clock. It was 12:37 pm.

“I made breakfast, but it got cold. I didn't want to wake you, so I figured I could just reheat it” she said concerned, as Toby had not said a word.

Toby turned around, walking towards his father on the couch. He sat next to his father. It should've been you…..it should've been him. The voices repeat. If his mind wasn't so scrambled, maybe he'd take his meds. Or realize that something was wrong. But instead, he splayed out his fingers like a fan, and robotically reached out for his father's arm. He gently pressed his hand against the arm. It was warm, but Toby barely had time to register it, as his father smacked his hand away.

“Don't touch me boy!” He was obviously drunk already.

Toby flinched, and Connie spoke up.

“Hey! That is the last thing we need right now! He didn't mean any harm by it!” She raised her voice. Toby didn't respond, and just stood up and walked to his room.

Toby began displaying behaviors similar to ones he used to show as a child. Before he started seeing therapists and psychiatrists and taking meds. He began isolating himself more and more, pacing in his room day and night. When he was outside of his room, he began showing signs of relapse.

He would ramble about hallucinations he's had, or delusions he's had. He began twitching and flapping more. He began dissociating and moaning and spacing out while talking. Something was wrong. His mother grew increasingly worried.

Ron began relapsing as well, falling deeper and deeper into his abusive routines. Get up, stay sober for a few hours. Start drinking. Watch TV, yell and scream and hit if anyone interrupts him. Connie began to fall into the routine too, becoming more submissive and tied to his demands.

In his room, Toby would mess with his old radio. He would tune it between two channels and press it against his ear, volume blasted all the way up. He'd draw images of the man he'd see outside his window. He'd draw and draw until his room was filled with sharpie fumes and he’d black out.

Connie thought it'd be good to bring him out, so she stopped leaving him in the house alone. Anytime she went to buy groceries she would bring him. They were out in the vegetable isle and the lights of the grocery store began flickering. Toby's brain began to glitch, the dark seemed darker and the light seemed brighter. He clapped his hands over his temples and began groaning.

“Toby? Toby what's wrong?” Connie gently grabbed Toby's arm, causing him to flinch and yank away.

“THE-nnGG,” he huffs and twitches rapidly “THE L-LIGHTS,” he said covering his eyes with his hands and stumbling back right into someone picking out some peppers. Connie grabbed Toby and guided him back to their cart, looking at the lady and bowing her head down.

“I am so sorry, are you OK?” she spoke with an apologetic tone in her voice as she rubbed Toby’s shoulders.

“Yes i'm OK, but is your daughter alright?” The woman said innocently. If Toby was even paying attention it would've been like a punch in the gut.

“Y-yes I think he's OK,” Connie didn't bother correcting her. “Thank you,” she began guiding Toby into a different isle, as he kept his eyes covered.

Over the next few days Toby's sensitivity to bright and flashing lights grew. Ron grew more and more annoyed with the fact they had to keep the lights dimmed or off. Connie came home with a pair of light dimming goggles, both to benefit Toby when he went out with her, and to calm down Ron and keep him from throwing a fit.

Toby would wear the goggles regularly. It helped with the flashing lights he almost constantly hallucinated, but they isolated him further. His mother could never tell what he was thinking and the strangers at grocery stores and gas stations thought he was weird and freaky.

Toby’s thoughts would wander, but none of them were coherent. They were about his imaginary friends, or the sharks in the sink. He'd try and talk and sometimes disjointed words would come out in a random order. Sometimes he'd go days without talking. He began chewing on his fingers as a way to cope with the numbness. He would chew and chew until they bled, and then start on a new finger. He'd also chew on the insides of his cheeks, and pick at his face. His mother walked in on him destroying his fingers, and had nearly called 911. She bandaged up his hands, and tried to talk to him about it. But nothing that came out made sense. That night, toby had a panic attack in the bathroom. He took a razor to his head, cutting off his long hair into a buzz cut. He couldn’t stop looking at himself, he looked so much like his father with short hair. He took his hand and punched the mirror, over and over, until it broke. Screaming, he continued to hit the mirror shards. They punctured his knuckles. Connie woke up and ran to the bathroom, finding Toby on the floor, cradling his glass filled hand and screaming.

Connie set up an appointment out of town with a new therapist. She didn't know what to do, and every day Toby grew worse. He began drawing distorted figures, tall lanky figures with long arms and no face. He would ramble about seeing figures at his bed. At them holding him and calling him in. Calling for him. She was scared for him. She didn't know what to do.

Before stopping at the therapists, she took him out clothes shopping. Making sure he had his goggles, and something to play with when he got too nervous. He had one of those little fidget cubes from the internet, and kept that in his pocket. They walked into the store and Connie said he could pick out anything he likes. That made him excited, or as excited as he could be. It felt as if there was a big blanket over his emotions.

Toby picked out a brown and green striped hoodie, some big black boots, a skull mask, and a new white and blue baseball cap. He’s wanted this outfit since he saw it online, and his mother finally let him get it.

They got back in the car and headed out of town, they talked, almost as if everything was normal. They told jokes, and laughed, and got coffee. Connie felt as if things were really looking up. Parking the car, the two got out, Toby had his new shoes and mask on. The mask covering one part of his face, and the goggles covering the other park.

She walked in, one hand gently guiding Toby into the building. She walked up to the desk. “I have an appointment for Toby Rogers” she spoke trying to sound as professional as she can.

“Yes, right this way” The woman at the desk got up and walked to a wooden door, unlocking it with her key card and walking them to a room with three chairs in it. There were puppets in a basket and a salt rock and some toys in the corner. Toby sat down and stared blankly at the salt rock.

“Toby, i'm going to wait out here, OK?” His mother said. After Toby looked at her and nodded she walked back to the waiting room.

After about a minute or two, a woman in a black turtleneck and a green skirt came in. She was holding a cup of coffee and a clipboard. She smiled at Toby.

“You're Toby, aren't you?” She asked sweetly. Her voice was young and soft. Toby nodded. She had light blonde hair just like Lyra, and his own hair if he was healthier. Toby opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him, not realizing he was going to speak.

“I like your outfit, very…..Punk alternative,” she said with a supportive tone. Toby looked down.

“Thank yo-you,” he said politely as he made his way to the chair. He swung his feet and looked around, absorbing the room and everything in it. There was a watercolor painting that said ‘do what you love’ and a picture of snoopy that looked like a child colored it.

“Do you always dress like that?”

“Sort of? The ma-a-ask is ne-ew, the-e goggles he-elp with my pani-ic attack-cks.”

“Hm, I see. Is the mask just a fashion thing?”

“Yea-ah”

They continued to talk like this for a while, dancing around the truth of why he's here. She talked to him about his panic attacks, and light sensitivity, and other minor things. Toby got bored, and began looking out the window as he answered. That's when he saw it, the creature. Its following him out of town. He jumped, but he couldn't look away.

“Toby do you think you could look at me when I talk to you?” the therapist asked nicely, but all Toby could hear is static and ringing. He could almost make out voices, in the static. It sounded like Lyra, like she was calling out to him. He could see her, behind the creature. Body in a golden light. He began breathing hard and heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“Toby? Toby look at me,” the therapist said in a concerned tone, standing up and walking over to Toby. She sat next to him, but he didn’t even notice. “Toby, please-” With a worried look in her eyes, she gently touched him on the shoulder. He twitched and swung around to look at her.

Her face was disfigured, right jaw disconnected and hanging low, her left ear completely ripped off. Blood splattered onto toby's face and her eyes turned white and dead like a fish's eyes. Her jaw moved and hung open, and she gargled. Blood splattered on his goggles and he clenched his eyes shut and began to scream. He felt his body go limp, and everything went black.

The next thing Toby knew was that he's in the passenger seat of his mother's car, he was violently shaking. He began crying into his hands. Connie reached out and touched his shoulder gently, rubbing his shoulder and neck.

“It's gonna be ok, thi-...whatever's going on, it's going to go away,” she said desperate to believe it herself. Toby had no idea how he got there, or if what happened was even real. He cried and cried, barely able to breath.

As they got home, Toby walked inside and set his things on the table. Taking off his goggles and setting them with his hoodie and mask. He didn’t eat dinner, his father glared at him, and groaned when Toby refused to eat dinner. He said something about needing a drink, but Toby’s ears were full of static. He went upstairs around nine, and headed straight for bed.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, instead he counted the bumps of the popcorn ceiling above him. His mind was absent, void of any real substance. His eyes were glazed over and tired, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much of anything. What he could feel was himself drifting off into an unconscious state. His eyes began fluttering, as he felt himself fall into slumber. Until he heard footsteps, small ones, running down the hall. He shot up from his slumber and looked around. Nothing was in his room making noises. In fact other then the very obvious footsteps that creaked down the hall there was no noise at all. He got to his feet, and walked over to the open doorway. He slowly reached out to grab the handle, but the door quickly slammed with the force of ten men. Toby fell backwards and let out a scream, eyes wide open, chest pounding.

“Hello!? Dad?” He called out, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice. He slowly got up again, and stared at the knob of the door. Reaching out, his bandaged hand grasped the knob and carefully and oh so slowly opened it. The door squeaked, but it opened like a regular door. Toby peered outside, and quietly took a couple steps forward. Walking out into the middle of the hallway he began to pad at the bandages on his hands. The sound of small footsteps circled him, spinning him. He could hear the faint noise of children laughing.

“Mom?” He called once again, still no response. It was eerie and cold, the hallway stretched and grew and Toby stared down. His stomach felt wrong, like it was doing flips and that he was about to throw up. The door quickly slammed right behind him, and locked shut. Toby jumped and let out a yelp, spinning around towards the door and backing up, until he backed up into something soft and cold. He heard a moan behind him, like something from a horror movie. He slowly looked behind him, not wanting to see what it was, and what a horror it was.

It was his sister, looking exactly how she did when she died. Blood soaked, hair pulled into a long messy ponytail, missing patches of her hair. Her eyes looked like dead fish eyes, milky and white, her skin pale and grey with gashes dripping dark red. The right side of her jaw ripped clean off, she groaned and gurgled like she was drowning in her own blood. Her clothes bloody ripped and dirty, she gently put her hand on Toby's shoulder. Toby stumbled back and began to scream, tripping over his own feet and slamming backwards onto the floor, his head knocking against the hardwood floors and caused the world to spin and ring. Toby let out a groan as he touched the back of his head, blood, just a little bit. He stammered up. Lyra reached out again for him, trying to touch him, but Toby slammed her against the wall, running past her and screaming. Not looking where he was going, he ran into another figure. The tall faceless man he’d seen multiple times before. He never got this close to it. He took a few steps back, staring at the creature. Tears welling in his eyes as he stuttered over his words.

“B-b-b-buh-” Was all he could get out before his vocals shut down as he started crying. Children, creatures, with dark black eyes and bloody faces, missing pieces of skin and limbs. They had twisted smiled on their faces. Toby felt soft, cold hands wrap around his shoulders in a back hug, and a whisper in his ear.

“Give in,” Then everything went black.

Toby woke up with a scream, sputtering and coughing, crying. His face was wet and hot. Wiping his eyes with his bandages hands, he let out a sob. He sobbed and sobbed, then slowly, he stopped. He stared at his floor without moving. He could hear the TV playing from downstairs, his father must’ve fallen asleep watching it. He felt something control his body, stumbling towards the door. His thoughts were nonexistent, like he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t Toby. Who was he.

Toby made himself through the hall, and down the stairs, and he felt the same hands from his dream. But this time, fear didn’t follow. Instead, comfort. The hands were warm this time, and Lyra’s voice played through his head. She comforted him, telling him everything was OK, that he was safe with her, as long as he listened to her. As long as he did exactly what she told him. He believed her.

Lyra stepped in front of him, skin repaired. She looked as if she was an angel, warm and golden. Her hand gently took Toby's, and she lead him to the kitchen. Smiling, she lead him to the counter, and pulled the drawer open.

“Take it, Toby, Take it. You want to, I know you do.”

Toby took the knife, holding it in his bandaged hands, staring at his reflection in the newly sharpened knife. It was clean, so very clean. His hands were shaking, but he wasn’t scared. He felt calm, comfortable, and safe. Something he longed for since her death. She gave him a soft smile, and he couldn’t see her eyes.

He followed her movements, walking through the kitchen and into the living room, where his father slept. Toby stood, staring at the older man. Toby couldn’t help but think about how ugly he was, how disgusting he looked. A neckbeard and a wife beater. He slept, stomach rising and falling. He looked like a cliche alcoholic. A hatred grew in Tobys chest, he felt it rise like bile and felt like he was going to throw up. He drew his eyebrows together in disgust, snarling quietly. Lyra stood next to him, and grabbed the hand that had the knife in it, pushing it close to Toby's chest. She continued to smile.

“Do it, I know you want to. You’ll feel better, You’ll feel safe.”

Toby believed her, and a smile crawled across his face. Never, never again, will he have to deal with his father. He will never see his mother get hurt, or beat, or screamed at. He’ll never feel his father's hands around his throat, or his knuckles against his face. His smile grew wide, and his eyes grew wild.

Toby let out a little giggle, and plunged the knife deep into Ron’s stomach, which woke him up immediately. He let out a howl, and grabbed Toby by his throat, tossing him to the ground. Stumbling up, then toppling over onto his knees. He grabbed the knife out of his stomach and slashed at Toby, cutting him on top of his thigh. Toby let out a loud yelp and grabbed his father by his hair, and threw him to the floor. Ron weakly reached for the knife.

“CONNIE!! CO-” He began coughing up blood, and inhaled to start screaming again. Toby wrestled the knife out of Ron’s hand, and won. He stabbed his father in the throat, then multiple times in the chest, stomach, and shoulders. Once Ron stopped moving, Toby sat on his body, breathing heavily and flapping his hands. It was quiet, so quiet. Lyra pet his hair. Then the silence was broke.

“TOBY!?” Connie screamed, she was in her pink robe and slippers. Eyes welling in tears “T-TOBY WHAT THE FUCK,” she screeched, she ran towards them.

“Run.” Lyra commanded. Toby backed away from the body, then ran through the kitchen, grabbing his hoodie, goggles, and mask, before running into the backyard. Connie chased after him, but wasn’t fast enough. She went for the next best thing, and grabbed the landline, dialing in 911.

Toby ran around the house and slammed open the gate, running into the garage, grabbing something to protect him and lyra with, an old red hatchet, a box of matches, and a gasoline tank. Then bolted out of the house. He stood at the front lawn for a few seconds, until he heard sirens. His stomach twisted and turned, and he felt giddy. Lyra pet his hair once again.

“We need to go.” She said calmly.

“Rig-right,” Toby swallowed hard. He kicked open the gasoline and lit a match. It spilled everywhere, getting on the grass and road, as he dumped it out all over his neighborhood. He threw the match down and ran as fast as he could. As he made it towards the forest, He tripped over a small cliff in the woods, falling and smashing his head upon a rock. He rolled down the hill and landed at the bottom, in a puddle of mud. His pants ripped, his arms cut up, the right side of his head bleeding. His vision went blurry, and he began to cry.

“LY-LYR-” he wheezed and sobbed, “LYRA.” was the only thing he was able to get out. He felt a cold, dead hand on his back, which promptly picked him up, his knees buckling and he almost falls, but something holds him up. The tentacles of the figure, the limbs. It stares at him, and he makes contact with it, brain going blank as he fell into warm nothingness. It glitched, squealing rang through his ears. But it was calm, it was nothing. Void.

The next thing Toby knew, was that he was outside a large mansion in the forest, the only thing he could remember was the murder of his father, a guardian angel, and his own name. All he knew was that he was never going to let anyone hurt him or his sister again.

HEART BREAK EPISODES (Intro/Childhood heartbreaks)

There’s many times in life our heart breaks, sometimes it’s disappointments in ourselves, our failures and some are relationships. I can’t honestly remember the very first time my heart broke. Was it the time my first valentine declined my card (ill talk about him later)? Or maybe the first time I moved as a kid? I can’t remember. Even though they all had an impact on me and all hurt one way or another it isn’t clear which so instead i figured I write journal entries on my first experiences of different kinds of heartbreaks. So here it goes.

CHILDHOOD HEARTBREAKS

“I honestly wish I was a kid again”, “kids have it great”, “what could be your biggest worry as a kid?” are all phrases you hear everyday. I don’t get it though what’s so great about being a kid? Do people really have pain-free childhoods? I’m only 18, i guess technically i’m a kid too but not for long. I’ve honestly never found the point of being a kid again, i’m so glad I don’t have to go back. Besides the obvious 13yr old tragic memories, even as a kid life wasn’t easy. Sure I didn’t have to pay bills ( Rather work and pay then to deal with Society sometimes), I mean maybe back to when I was 3 or 5 since I don’t remember those memories, but I remember being 10 as if it was yesterday. I was a small, didn’t even grow tall yet. I was so young, how could I have already experienced heartbreak? Well it doesn’t take much heart or years to be honest. As soon as puberty starts hitting like the plague, it’s like all innocence is ripped away, the filter that keeps our small minds so clean is starting to fade. Everyone around me was getting taller, more grown, some even already had deeper voices, and then there was me. 10 year old girl with messy ponytail in the gap shirts. I wasn’t growing tall, I wasn’t getting my period like some people, nor did I start wearing small Bras girls wore. Heck some girls were even wearing mascara and lipstick already! I’ll tell you what I did get, hairier, yeah go ahead laugh now it’s funny now but it wasn’t then. I was already an easy target for being chubby and messy haired. I was beginning to grow hair on my arms a lot and my legs. I felt so ew but my mom swore it was normal and that it’s okay. I didn’t see it as so wrong either but I guess for others it was abnormal. I always wore pants and jackets to school to hide how chubby I was, but one day my mom  got sick of my outfits and demanded I go to school in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. “It’s too hot outside for you to look like that.” Even mad uncomfortable i still went to school, anything to make my mom happy. Little would I knew this would be the day I learned how cruel the world gets. As soon as people saw me the whispered to each other. My first day in this new elementary was not so great (oh I didn’t mention this was my first time in Eagle Nest Elementary). I was introduced to the class and took a seat in the back. I wasn’t pessimistic naturally before. I sat next to a girl I said Hi and she raised her eyebrows and looked away. It’s lunch time and I had made no friends, regardless all the times I said Hi to people just to receive giggles or be ignored. Recess came and I sat at the swing by myself. No one wanted to be my friend....but why? was I really that hard to want to get to know? What was wrong with me? Someone has to want to be my friend right? A little girl finally approached me she sat next to me on the swing i smiled at her no matter how hard it was to act like I wasn’t a little sad. She looked at me and then back at some little girls standing a few feet away giggling. She was trying not to laugh and she asked me if i knew what a razor was, why are my legs so hairy? she bust out laughing and the other girls did too. A little boy just feet away kept laughing saying my dad was probably chewbacca. I tried to laugh with them maybe this was just a harsh joke. “we’re laughing at you not with you dummy” he said. I tried to act like I didn’t care but I remember my heart dropping. Why were they  so cruel to me?.. I never had really noticed my legs like that nor my arms. I thought i was normal. In class people started to whisper jokes, pass notes some even drew me pics of a chewbacca looking creature and left them on my desk. It was everywhere and everyone knew. I wore pants the next day but it only got worse. I had never seen myself like that. I know i didn’t have princess perfect hair but I didn’t see myself as so ugly. School was becoming torture to attend. I remember I began crying in the bathroom during lunch instead of facing the kids teasing in the cafeteria. I had for the first time learned to hate myself, to hate other kids. I begged my mom to let me shave but she said not till im 13. I wore pants but nothing satisfied them. I was forever labelled as an outcast. It’s crazy how so young I began to un-love myself. My parents had always told me im beautiful, or taught me to love and now I was losing it. I remember sitting in that damn bathroom stall trying to be as silent as could crying. God forbid someone heard me. I was shaking standing on top of the toilet seat waiting for the bell that meant I had survived halfway through this shitty place. I was literally that girl you see in movies that you pity. That shit u see on screens really does happen. Here I was first hand experiencing it. My heart was breaking every day a little more with everyone’s word, but the most painful thing was knowing I believed them...I learned to not love even the small things about me because of someone else. I loved learning but now hated school. I couldn’t even ask my parents for help or they’d just say ignore it...this was the beginning to not just not liking myself but also to realizing the world wasn’t as kind as I thought, and I didn’t think I was going to not love life anymore. But this was the beginning also the beginning to the hatred in my heart that caused my depression, that later would come to much worse side effects.

Sins Of The Father Pt 2

Summary: 10 years after the night of your birth and the death of your mother an old family friend asks your grandfather for help. 

 Warnings: mention of animal death 

 Part 1 

Everybody won't be treated all the same

England- 10 years later

The Heartbridge Mansion stood amidst a forest of trees; it had been many years since anyone would call it grand but it was home for you and Lloyd.

 A few workers from the local village would come to the house through out the years but Lloyd's social circle was very limited.

There was only a few people who came to the house who had become important enough for you to get excited at their arrival. One being the Midwife or nanny as you had come to know her, she was strange and quirky and you loved her as though she was of your own flesh and blood.

And she was the only other one beside Lloyd who comforted you after your 'episodes'.

She would tell you stories of her own childhood and a few brief snippets of your grandmother and mother and on occasions when Lloyd was away for long periods of time, she would tell you of some of the monsters she help defeat beside Lloyd.

Skipping along the hallway you glance over the stone handrail; the main hallway was always cold and the one year Lloyd had placed a Christmas tree in the corner you had woken to find it nearly frozen over.

It was because of this you were surprised to find Lloyd standing as tall and stern as he always appeared, at six foot three some times he seemed like a giant. But he seemed to tower over the man in a dress suit more than usual. To you anyone over the age of sixteen were old people in your eyes.

But standing there Lloyd seemed to tower over the younger looking man and for a moment you felt pity for him but then you remember that Lloyd always told you that people would find a way to use your kindness against you.

“Sir” the younger man seemed to start but the cool glare from Lloyd made him rub the back of his neck and advert his eyes.

“You understand that The Coven don't answer to me; we work together” Lloyd stated and the man nodded eagerly before risking a look up at him then quickly away.

“It's just”

“S.H.I.E.L.D thinks that myself and The Coven deal with human monsters? We do not” Lloyd was firm and you watch amused as the younger man lowered his head and muffle you giggles when you see a twitch to Lloyd's shoulder.

“We believe he is called the winter solider” the man snapped his mouth shut when Lloyd's hand shot up.

“I've heard of him; I was also a solider in the second war world and I know what human monsters look like. Besides by now he has already completed his mission and will not be found again” and just like Lloyd was done with the conversation and you slipped down and moved closer to the stairs.

“Thank you for your time” Lloyd moved in a way that broke no argument, and the door slamming was your sign that you could come out. Besides being a stern man Lloyd was also very protective to the point that only a few people knew of your existence.

“(Y/N) really thought I taught you about eavesdropping” the stern face made your foot halt before coming down of the stone step, your head hung forward and your hair floating from the messy ponytail you had dragged up into that morning. You missed the small smirk that flicked across Lloyd's face when he saw the far too big NASA jumper and space skirt.

“It's rude and not lady like” your nose scrunched up as your eyes lifted to Lloyd's face, a small pout pulling your lip out.

“Very correct; please come here” Lloyd ordered as you trudge down the steps with heavy steps. You drag your feet when step off the last step and find your self standing in Lloyd's shadow. Using the toe of your brown boots poked at the floor while you refused to look up.

“(Y/N)!” the warning was clear and you quickly lifted your head and met Lloyd's eyes. Sighing you let your shoulders relaxed and you offer up a small smile.

“I didn't mean to... I was coming down stairs to go the green house. Nanny said I should keep check on the flowers” you quickly rush and Lloyd simply smiles at you. His hand ruffling you hair causing you to squeal and duck back.

“very well.... I guess this old man will forgive you” Lloyd admits gaining a full smile from you as you bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Nanny also promised to stop” you bite off because you agreed that maybe it was best to not tell Lloyd about the more intense 'episodes' you had been going through but by the way Lloyd stared at you and studied you, you might have let the cat out of the bag.

“Did she come back?” Lloyd demanded and you let out a sigh. Among the few people who knew of you existence there was one that you hated and loved.  

For many years you were convinced the voice you heard was an imaginary friend seeing as you rarely interacted with any other children.

But when you were six years old your 'friend' had told you she was more a sister than a friend and  you blacked out only to find Nanny humming to you while her Coven Sisters stood around you chanting and filling you with dread.

That was when you were gifted with your ring, a simply knotted silver ring with a gem that looked like the night sky had been captured and melted into the silver. It was only a few nights after that 'episode' when Lloyd took you to his study and showed you a picture of your mother and your father. What was weird was that you mother looked so alive while your father did not. In fact his skin looked so sunken and held a tint of grey that it frightened you and you cried in bed that night.

She was rarely spoken about, which annoyed you some times as she was there, always there but you feared that if you did speak about her then they would take her away from you.

“She just wants to play” you try to reason but Lloyd shook his head firmly and clenched his jaw so hard that you thought it should hurt him. The last time she wanted to play you had awoken to all the plants and few field mice that had sought warmth dead.

Her playing was dangerous.

“Nanny will fix your ring” Lloyd ordered causing you move your hand from his view and shook your head without noticing.

“She only wants to play.... please don't take her away” you plead feeling the tears swell on your bottom eyelid and threaten to slip over.

And before Lloyd could speak any further a loud and hollow knock sounded from the door and Lloyd glared at it as though it was the cause of all his ills.

You slip away from view to a hidden closet by the door; you knew each and everyone of the hiding spots through the house.

You miss the concern look Lloyd sent to you as he turned towards the door and settling his face in to that of almost stone he pulls the heavy oak door open.

“Before you slam the door in my face Lloyd at least hear me out” a familiar voice ordered and with out a second thought you rip your way out of the closet and sprint towards the door and the waiting woman.

A huff came from above your head as you wrap your small arms around the figures frame and the chuckle that follows warm you.

“Aunt Peggy” you breath against Peggy Carters stomach causing the older woman to laugh more warmly and wrap her arms around you.

“Is the old man being grumpy?” she question with a glint that caused you to laugh when you pull back to look up at her.

“Agent Carter now is really not the time” Lloyd ordered as you felt your head hang forward and your arms slip away from Peggy and hug around your stomach.

“Another Episode? It really can't be that bad Lloyd” Peggy questioned reaching for you and you easily went to her. She was the grandmother you wished you had and had on more than one occasions attempted to make Lloyd see how beautiful and wonderful Peggy was. But that had resulted in a talk about a man that Peggy loved a long time ago.

“I've been pushing her too hard in her training; Nanny will return and strengthen the ring and she will remain where she deserves to be” Lloyd snapped gaining a heavy sigh from Peggy.

You glanced from one to the other; you were so use to being spoken about while you stood between them.

“S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't deal with just monsters; human or otherwise” Peggy stated causing Lloyd to roll his eyes.

“Stark can barely reign in his own son; she is not becoming a science project nor will I'll allow that agent with one eye to use her as bait” Lloyd snapped his hand twitching to reach out for you.

“And me? You really think I would let anything bad happen to her?” Peggy sounded angry at the very thought that she would stand by and allow anything happen to you.

“You have your own family; neither one of us is young any more Peggy and I know you still look for him” the words made Peggy heave a sigh and hold you closer for a moment before smiling and pushing you towards the stairs.

“Darling girl why don't you go and play while I speak to the old man” with a wink Peggy smiled and then turned towards Lloyd, the smile falling. You glance to Lloyd who nods and you head with a heavy feet towards the kitchen and the door leading towards the greenhouse.

When you slipped into the kitchen you turned and watched the adults talking.

“She's strong but.... but I think the other one is getting stronger and I don't even think your S.H.I.E.L.D will stop her” Lloyd declared with a pain filled voice that for a moment you looked at him and knew that he was right.

But you simply assured your self that she just wanted to come out a play.

You shudder at the memory of the dead mice.

trust issues

jungkook x reader | yoongi x reader

w a r n i n g s: smoking, eventual use of alcohol, explicit language

word count: 1.9k

a/n: may not be the best but oh well

Your POV

2:43 AM

You sat on the small set of stairs on your extremely small balcony, your lighter and a pack of cigarettes sitting on one of the stairs as you light the small stick barely hanging from your mouth. Putting the lighter away as you take a hit, watching the smoke drift away until it was no longer visible.

You sit on the stairs until your finished with your cigarrete, tapping it on the edge and watching the ash fall to the apartment level below you- you knew it was rude. Yet you did it anyway; you had just moved in with your friend, Seokjin. You didn’t really know anyone aside from him and five of his friends.

You sigh and walk back into your apartment, almost forgetting your pack of cigarettes and the lighter- going back out to get it before walking back inside. You yawn and let your belongings drop on the kitchen counter as you walk by it, leaving your phone in your hand as you walk to your room, closing the door behind you and letting yourself fall back onto your bed, letting sleep take over your body.

You fluttered your eyes open, to your immediate surprised Jin was standing at the door, his body casting over the doorframe as he rolled his eyes. ‘’Thank god, i thought you’d never wake up.’’ he joked, ‘’hEy’’ you yell back, the annoyance obvious in your tone. He laughed at your reaction as he walked towards the kitchen. ‘’I made breakfast so get your ass up if you want it.’’ you basically drooled at the idea, Jin’s cooking was the fucking best.

You walked into the kitchen, not caring that all you were wearing was a oversized shirt and shorts. ‘’You know its ten right?’’ he said as he plated the food he made for you, setting it down in front of you. ‘’I am solemnly sorry that I don’t have as much commitment to waking up, unlike you.’’ you said, sarcastically. He laughed with you as you took a bite from the food he made. He raised his eyebrow as if he was asking you if it was good or not, ‘’you need to teach me how to cook.’’ he laughs,

‘‘I’d love to, but later. I’m meeting up with Namjoon for coffee.’‘ you smirk at the mention of his name, yes, you knew about Seokjin’s little crush on Namjoon. He rolls his eyes before grabbing his keys. ‘‘I know what your thinking y/n. And no, it won’t happen.’‘ ‘’Mmhmm’‘ you hummed, ‘‘suree’‘

You were scrolling through your old text messages with Yoongi, laughing to yourself at the dumb shit you two would argue about sometimes, seeing he was typing you quickly scrolled back down to look at what he had to say

Yoongi

Today, 10:48

Hey y/n

Hey, your up earlier than usual

hEy I like sleeping okay

Bahaha calm down

I’m calm. 

Rightt

Hdhdhghds just shush, wanna get something to eat with me Jungkook and Tae?

oo, whos Jungkook? 

hes a friend of mine hes like taller than you and hes got brown hair and black eyes 

wow, i totally have a great idea of what he looks like

i try y/n i try

well try hArdER

aish, ill pick you up at 12

okayy

Jin 

Today, 10:52

How’s your date going?

Y/n for the last time i am not on a date

Oh right right, sure

I will stop cooking for you

*Gasp* you wouldn’t!

Oh i would

Finee, ill keep it to myself

Better than nothing, i need to go now hes back from the bathroom

Hehe, good luck jin

I hate you so much

You know you love me

11:04 AM

You walk to your room, placing your phone onto the bedside table and letting in charge as you run a hand through your hair.

Agh fuck, i should shower.

So you did, getting into the hot shower as you let the hot water massage your back before washing. You got out of the shower, watching the steam gather up onto your mirror and distorting the image, you sigh before using your hand to wipe off a small window so you could at least see your face. You took your towel off the rack and dried yourself, wrapping it around you before attempting to dry your hair fully, without burning your hand. Or head.

Fuck.

You can never dry your hair without burning yourself, its fucking impossible. It was half dry, so you shrug and decide to let the rest air dry as you went to go get something to change into. Going out to eat, god okay. So not too casual, and not too formal. You give up and settle for your thrasher shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, going along with your vans. Edgy. Eh, fuck it. Leaving a small bit of concealer and mascara on as your makeup as you tie your hair into a messy ponytail, not really caring about your hair that much. It looked cute messy. 

11:58 AM

You were already starving, you practically bolted to your door as soon as you heard the door bell, you opened the door being greeted by one of Yoongi’s many gummy smiles. You smile back as you close the door, making sure it was locked before you followed Yoongi down the stairs.

‘‘Tae and Jungkook are meeting us at the cafe’‘ he explained, you nodded. ‘‘can i see a photo of Jungkook atleast?’‘ you asked raising an eyebrow to yourself as you walked down the stairs of your apartment building.

‘‘Ahaha, no.’‘ He laughed, before suddenly stopping- ‘‘what, why?’‘ you question, ‘‘because I love to torture you.’‘ his comment made you roll your eyes, ‘‘Whyyyyy” you whine, he opens the door for you. ‘‘Get in the car, Taes waiting.’‘ he laughs as he motions you to get in the car. 

Yoongi held the car door open for you as you got out, thanking him with a smile as you started to walk towards the cafe. You walk inside and hold the door open with your foot for Yoongi, his silent nod thanking you as he walked towards his friends. He walked towards Tae- who was currently sitting alone, he smiled at the sight of you, you return the smile and sit down. And before you could ask, Yoongi did. ‘’Where’s Jungkook?’’ He questioned, ‘’Oh- he’s in the bathroom right now.” Tae replied. Oh, okay. You thought. You looked around the cafe, the corners of your mouth forming a grin as you spot Jin and Namjoon sitting one of the tables. Both of them were laughing at something that was inaudible to you from the other side. You smile as you turn your attention back to the two boys you were sitting with.

He makes three.

Jungkook came and sat down, and holy fuck did Yoongi do a terrible job at describing him. He was tall, toned as fuck and had one of the cutest smiles. ‘’So I’m assuming your Jungkook.’’ He nods at your assumption. ‘’And your Y/n?’’ he smirks, making your heart melt- but you kept your straight face. ‘’Oh god, you two stop flirting.’’ Tae scoffed, which Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh at. You try to hide your rosy cheeks from Taes comment, Yoongi raising an eyebrow at you as you shook your head and impatiently waited for your food.

You glance over to Jin and Namjoon, fighting your urge to text Jin and tease him about it, seeing that Namjoon was rubbing his leg against Jin’s under the table. The sight made you want to scream, you’ve always shipped them but Jungkook’s laugh turned your attention right back to the conversation you zoned out on.

‘‘Y/n why do you always zone out?’‘ Tae groaned, you shake your head and smile, ‘‘just habit, sorry.’‘ he rolls his eyes at your answer, unsatisfied with what you said. He goes back to his conversation with Yoongi. You feel a hand on your thigh from under the table, you look up from your phone straight away and look across from you. You spot Jungkook with a devilish smirk plastered on his face as he begins to run his hand up and down your thigh. Making your stomach do all sorts of flips and jimps. You were trying your best to keep your eyes on your phone and hide your face, you were blushing like crazy.

His grin grew wider as he found out you were blushing, letting his hand slide up your thigh even higher as he made himself look like he was on his phone waiting for food- news flash, he wasn’t. You bite the inside of your cheek as he started drawing circles with his thumb on your thigh, the fifteen minutes of you four waiting for your food felt like hours, they said fifteen- it’s been eight. He slowly started moving to your inner thigh, almost making you scream at the feeling.

The eight minutes that passed felt like an eternity, consisting of Jungkook continously drawing circles on your thigh, Yoongi raising an eyebrow at you seeing you were blushing like crazy. You shook your head and look back down at your phone. You sigh in relief as your food finally arrived, for a cafe they had a shit ton on their menu.

When you ate it was pretty quiet, the silence being filled with occasional conversation between Jungkook, Yoongi and Tae. You, staying your quiet self and waiting for everyone to finish their food, after everyone had finished the silence was filled with chatter once again. Casual glances across the table between you and Jungkook.

The sound of his chair shuffling alarmed you, you wondered where he was going. He motioned for you to follow him, so you did. Receiving looks from both Taehyung and Yoongi as you left the table, Yoongi rolling his eyes before turning back to Tae.

Yoongi’s POV

Why is it never me?

You’ve liked her for ages now, you met her eighteen years ago in Daegu, Y/n was your first and only friend and she was the only one who knew you before puberty and shit- so yes, she had acess to practically any photo of you as a child- shit. 

You started developing a crush on her when you were around Eighteen, you both moved to Seoul at that time so that basically was a huge jump in trust for your friendship with her. 

But jesus fuck, you’ve liked her for six years.

You were there for every single boyfriend, every asshole or (kind of) decent boyfriend she had. Yeah, it hurt like hell. But as long as she was happy, you were too.

Your POV

You felt a sudden tug on your arm, causing you to crash into a chest that was unknown to you until you looked up, Jungkook. He had pulled you into a little path in the middle of two restaurants that was pretty empty at the moment. He smiled at you, the nickname ‘’Bunny boy’’ was sure as hell clear to you now, seeing his smile upclose. His arm snaked around your waist, making you blush as he pulled you closer- not caring you were in a public area. You were practically touching noses at how close you were, he leaned in to kiss you but all you did was bring his bottom lip in between your teeth- grinning before you pulled away. 

‘‘You just met me Kook, at least have some decency.’‘

pt2?