Ideas for fics, i guess

• mentions of sex, mentions of child abuse, physical abuse

Your life wasn't ideal. Living in the slums of germany with no parents and only one big sister who worked her ass off to keep you both alive wasn't the most comfortable way of living, but it was alright. You knew it could've been worse. You could've been one of those girls. The ones who wandered around, offering their bodies for some dry bread. Or one of those men with missing limbs and lifetime of trauma shaking them awake at night and ripping gut wrenching screams out of their throats.

Or you could've lived like that boy with the blonde hair and blue eyes, who constantly had bruises on his face and stole for his father. Sometimes, when you were at the grocery store with the list and bit of money your sister had given you, your eyes met. Yours, curious and unpressed by anything, cause of all the messed up stuff you'd already seen in your short life and his, full of fear and pain, just waiting to escape that shit hole he had to share with his father.

You could always see something flash in them, when he looked at you - jealousy, admiration, curiosity - you didn't know. You just knew that he would end up being something. No clue what. Just something. And that childish thought of yours somehow motivated you to follow him around when he was out again wandering like a stray cat.

"What do you want", he finally snapped one day, turning to look at you with squinted eyes, after days of you regularly following him around. "Nothing", you just replied, looking at him with an fake bored expression, trying your best to hide the excitement he tickled out of you. "Then why are you following me like a lost puppy?" You clicked your tongue "You seem like a lost puppy too. You keep walking around without any destination"

He clenched his jaw, hands forming into fists on his side. "So why do you keep following me?", he choked out, obviously restraining himself to not jump you right then and there. You just silently looked at him. You didn't know. At one point you were inside the small apartment you lived in, looking out the window and catching the blonde boy on the streets again, and in the next moment you were already following him around on a daily basis for three or so days.

"Okay. Freak", he grunted, after realising, that you wouldn't answer. And eventually things went on that way. You always looked out of your window to see if he was already out and then quickly ran downstairs to follow him to whatever stupid place he wanted to go again. You would accompany him when he stole things, just standing next to him, not helping, not snitching, just standing there and watching what he was doing. Sometimes you'd earn irritated glances from him or a mumbled "As long as you don't tell the cops", but never a "Go away" or "Fuck off" never a command to leave him alone

He eventually told you his name, and you told him yours. Later he eventually told you about his father too, but it wasn't as big of a secret, Michael thought it was, cause everyone in the neighborhood knew about the abuse he had to endure. If the almost daily yelling and screaming of an old man wasn't clear enough, then the bruises, which were just part of his looks, were. The part where his mom was a beautiful actress did surprise you though, although you always wondered from who he got those good looks, cause it obviously was not his dad.

You eventually also told him your story, which was by far less spectacular, since it was just your parents dying in an accident and your sister taking care of you both ever since. You both eventually grew inseparable. People started asking where 'the other one' was when you were alone. You'd take care of his wounds, when it was a really bad and he'd take care of you and cock something light for you, when you were sick and nobody was home to do it for you.

One day you two even got beat by his father, after he saw you at their front door, yelling something about if you ended up pregnant, Michael couldn't take one step inside his house again. It was ridiculous and it would've been completely valid if you didn't wanna hang out with him anymore, but somehow that ass whoop you two received that day didn't bother you at all, in the contrary, actually. It felt like something only you two experienced, something he had and would never experience with another girl. It made you feel special. Something you never were.

Of course your sister wasn't happy when she saw the bruises on your body, and because she then told you that if she ever catched you with him again, you could go and live on the streets with him, Michael one day ended up finding an old hospital building and told you that it was you two's secret place from there on.

You would regularly sneak out to meet him there. You'd play card games he stole, play hide and seek and other childish games you two never got to play, decorate the old, scary place so it looked a bit more cozy and sometimes he would also fuck you on the old mattresses, while kissing you and telling you, you were the only one who made him feel 'human'. Till today you still think that was the peak of you two's indefinable relationship, which was a mix of friendship, love and two naked bodies keeping each other warm during cold nights.

Then that one incident happened. Some guys robbed a jewerly shop and when the police investigated, they dragged Michael in the dirt with them. You cried, yelled and begged as they dragged him out of his house, while he was protecting that soccer ball you gave him on his birthday, with the money you shamefully stole from your sister, like his life depended on it.

The next few months and years were rough for you. Michael was gone and an incredible emptiness and lack of joy in anything you did, said or thought got left behind. You never visited that old hospital building ever again, leaving the blankets, pillows and card games there for maybe other kids who needed a place to escape to or for the dust to cover them in a thick layer, depending on the universe's mood

After years of recovery and your sisters pressure, you started to take care of your education. Being attentive in school, keeping a stable social life, all the things you needed, to be able to escape from the slums, cause there was no prince charming taking your hand and telling you he'd keep you safe.

Well atleast you thought so, until one day, a man stood in front of your door. He was tall, had a horrendous hair cut and a rose tattoo on the side of his neck, but you would've recognized that handsome face three miles away, even without all the bruises. "Hey y/n", he said softly smiling at you, only then did you notice the old, worn ball tugged underneath his armpit and only when his finger went forward, grazing your cheek softly, did you notice the tears spilling out of your eyes.

Omfg OP i have the FUTURE version of this idea stuck in my head. Like, post-him rescuing you and pulling you into a semi-normal life, you continue with education while living with him. He takes care of the money stuff now, which is crazy to both of you but you manage to accept it. That closeness resurfaces—talking with no space between your bodies, even when the topic is only 'what do you wanna watch on TV'. Michael having his hips pressed to yours whenever he can, not even necessarily as a sexual thing, just a way for him to keep close without having to be tradionally vulnerable. Its like.... being a couple without the label?? Just some liminal love in between? Like soulmates who never needed letters to spell out what they meant to each other.