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running-with-kn1ves · 1 year

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Walla....kn1ves....genius big brain yandere writer....i just (re)found your Yves work (im sure you saw me freak out in the tags lmao) if you have the time/energy/inspo pls i beg you for a speck, a crumb, a droplette, ANYTHING of my baby Yves x fem!reader. I'm not sure how specific is too specific but I have a truckload of daydreams and prompts for this man dc im down BAD BAD for the way you write him. I'm not sure if this is too specific of a request but can it be yves holding himself back constantly because he wants to *romance* the reader but its so obvious he's itching for more until one day he finally snaps and takes her (specifically him giving her his virginity and whoops maybe going crazy when he finds out she isnt one)? I'm just obsessed with his characterization and want to see him in a ton of situations and feeling/reacting to different things. The stern dom undertones his whole vibe has disguised by a friendly foreign guide 🥵 The drabble of him was sooooo good and such a tease of his personality, it's so enticing hahaha. If that prompt is no good or doesn't inspire you then anything else is fine and ofc if you have no inspiration for Yves at all then that's a-okay too!!! Thank you sooooo much for thinking up that beautiful man and sharing him with us!!! Hope you enjoy your holidays💞💞💞

A/N: Ugh I'm so sorry I took so long in answering 😭😭 I was gonna write like a whole piece but my time has been cut dramatically, so please accept this poor little piece!! I was honestly so overjoyed at seeing your tags, it makes me so happy to see people's reactions to my stuff ┗( T﹏T )┛I wish I could have more time to write for this because I love the concept, I'm a huge fan of the "mysterious foreign guide who's just a little too friendly" kind of trope. Thank you so much for your support anon and I hope you enjoy this!! OG piece here for any of you nerds!

TW: Kidnapping, implied dubcon/noncon, manipulation

It wasn’t hard to notice Yve’s shift in behavior. Well, this shift out of many. When you first met him, he gave off a kind, well-meaning but nervous vibe. He did his best to show you around, to make you comfortable and converse with you in english to the best of his knowledge. That kind persona shifted into something more… desperate; obsessive, once he brought you back to his apartment. He was still kind, still well-meaning and observant to your needs. He apologized profusely when you got upset from how he kept you from leaving, promising that you weren’t missing anything important in class and that he could show you real culture instead! What could you learn from a textbook that would be better than seeing the country itself?

But time and time again, Yves made excuses to keep you inside, to make you stay by his side whether through photoshoots or studying, with him as your “teacher”. You had to learn the basics before taking such a “big” step out into his country, right? Unfortunately for you, Yve’s only taught information on the most trivial subjects. From words like “textbook” to “glass”, you were able to make meaningless sentences that wouldn’t serve you well in conversing with native speakers outside of Yve’s little apartment. Sure, it might help you occasionally, but it got you no where closer to understanding Yve’s rushed mumbling and incoherent rambling.

With your sudden move to his apartment and his new change in conduct, Yves had slowly become less generous. He didn’t make as much of an effort to talk in english anymore, and made far less points to explain himself. You couldn’t tell what caused this new change-- a change that you were soon starting to accept as Yves showing his true colors. The man was still attentive to your needs, still caring and kind-- but the posessiveness that had slipped out almost entirely seemed to be taking hold. And while you’d think that a growing obsession would make it more beneficial to you-- it in fact, made your difficulty increase tenfold. Yves began to direct you on what you should wear, when you should eat, what you should do for the day.

Not only that, but his attentiveness to…more intimate needs were far more prevalent as well. Whether it was bathing, or the need that pulsed between your legs, Yve’s was there to try and take care of it. You pushed him away multiple times, awkwardly trying to tell him that you were fine-- but it never seemed to stick. He always just looked at you with a tilted, confused expression, muttering in his native tongue as if he didn’t understand. So when the foreign guide began to sleep next to you instead of the cot on the floor, and began to press his morning erection agaist your backside sleepily, you knew your protests weren’t having any effect.

You would have walked right out of that teensy apartment the moment you felt he didn’t listen-- if you weren’t so afraid. If you weren’t afraid of the loaded handgun in his locked nightstand drawer, or how easily he could destroy your life at your new university-- which he mentioned offhand multiple times in a casual manner-- you would have walked out. The power he held against you, a foreign student with failing grades and no money, was too much for you to ignore. So, you decided to bide you time. It was only a matter of weeks until he got bored with you, you decided. But his new actions didn’t seem to prove that.

In fact, the lustful, mischievous look he gave you that evening was the complete opposite. His scrawny frame jumped atop yours, hooking his hands behind your neck and leaning in to try and kiss you. He had planned an unusually fancy dinner, lighting candles you had never seen in his apartment before and bringing a bottle of wine with some italian takeout. You tried to question him about the mound of pillows and blankets on his balcony, the sudden romantic lighting, but the male only gave you a broad statement on how it was a “celebration” of sorts.

Yves’ sudden prowling mood after dinner wasn’t a complete shock-- considering you felt his eyes on you the entire evening-- but it still caught you a tad off guard. You tried to reject him, to push him away after each kiss, but it was done with such little effort and such great fear that you stayed silent once he muttered in an annoyed tone in his own language. Yves took your silence as a surrender, friskily lowering his hand under your shirt to caress your abdomen. He rambled against your flesh in half-english as he kissed you up and down, not afraid to let out vocal little noises of pleasure, or grunts of satisfaction ones he heard your breath hitch or a hum of desire come from your lips.

But it wasn’t until he uttered a sentence with a familiar word, did you actually reply to him. You recognized the term from messing around with your friends, when you jokingly learned dirty words from your textbooks and the internet to use when you finally entered the country. You never expected to actually utilize them unless you went to a club or bar and happened to meet someone. One of those words, was ‘virgin.’ A more tame term compared to the bunch you had memorized, but one that you and your friends had idiotically decided to research. Though, it seemed your stupid endeavors had paid off.

As Yves repeated himself, you began to understand the sentence a bit more. The man was seeming to imply… you were a virgin? Something about you both no longer virgin-ing? Maybe he was saying that he was going to ‘virgin’ you? You couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, only mustering up the courage to poorly explain your sexual status to him, first in english and then in a broken version of his language. You tried to repeat yourself, thinking you might have said your statement wrong-- but Yve’s shocked expression and sudden lack of kisses seemed to prove you wrong.

“You have…. Sex?” Yve put a hand to his mouth, eyes begging you to respond.

“Uh….yes?” You said with an awkward expression; you hoped he was asking what you thought.

Yve’s let out a choked gasp, looking as if you had crushed his heart in your palm.

He looked down, voice cracking as he mumbled something incoherent, and likely not understandable to you in the first place.

“I….I i’m sorry?” You tried to apologize, seeing how shaken Yves had become at finding out you weren’t as inexperienced as he. Despite his eagerness, you could tell he was new to trying to initiate something you had already grown long accustomed to, new to being so intimate. It was actually in part of his eagerness that you realized he wasn’t of the same sexual history. He was full of anticipation and desire, throwing caution and logic to the wind to fulfill what he had read in books and seen in films.

Yves seemed to treasure the act of losing ones virginity far more than you had-- but you had only noticed it now. The candlelit dinner, the mood-fitting music-- your first experience was nowhere near as romantic.

Yves seemed shaken, his low, almost sob-filled words growing heavier. He grew more aggressive, seeming to realize something now that he had processed this unexpected news. He had assumed you were just as much of an amateur as him-- that he’d be the one to “deflower” you in an act of passionate romance-- a bubble fantasy that had just been popped. But the male realized-- if he couldn’t have his desired outcome, he’d have to make due with what he had. Which was to make sure you’d fall to your knees, experiencing the best night of ‘passion’ that would make you never want to crawl to another man again.

He was going to claim you-- to make it so those nights you spent with others never counted.

You could only understand a fifth of what Yves breathily moaned into your mouth, once again jumping your bones though this time much more roughly. Before you could say anything further you had felt his quick hands unbutton your pants, his own thrown to the floor. He didn’t listen as you begged him to atleast let you move to the bed, where you would no longer be visible to prying eyes on the balcony. But he didn’t care-- Yves had already taken off his shirt, intent on ripping yours away too. He didn’t care anymore if this wasn’t going to be special for the reason he expected-- he was going to make sure you would be left with a night you wouldn’t forget.

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quickspinner · 1 year

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YOU KNOW WHAT I CHANGED MY MIND I'd like to see Marinette's reaction to finding Luka's notebook and finding out he's written her name all over its pages (all surrounded by hearts of course) 👀

I was having a tough time with this one until @rierse did a little drawing for me. She was kind enough to let me use it and I've embedded it in the story here but please, please make sure you follow the link to her original post and give her the love she deserves for it!

Doodles and Daydreams

It had been one of those days again. Marinette felt like she’d been running nonstop since she got out of bed. There had been the student council meeting this morning, and then an akuma right after lunch, and then she’d barely managed to sneak past M. d’Argencourt on her way back in.

Her mind was still going in thirty different directions as she packed up her things, and she almost forgot that she needed to talk to Juleka in her hurry to get out of the door. Marinette stopped and turned as soon as she remembered, but apparently stop-turn-step was too much for her frazzled brain to combine at that moment.

Her toe caught the carpet and she tripped up the stairs. The bag looped over her shoulder went flying, spilling books and papers and colored pencils everywhere. “Oh,” Marinette sighed in exasperation as she got up. Alya and Adrien were already out of their seats, picking up her dropped things. Marinette thanked them distractedly as she picked up the books nearest her, and then she froze as she saw a notebook lying open on the steps, right at Lila’s feet.

The words “Marinette Couffaine” were plainly visible, along with hearts and flowers and—Marinette’s heart leapt into her throat as Lila grinned slowly, and got up to pick up the notebook, as if she were just helping Marinette out too.

“Oh, how cute!” Lila crooned, and Marinette’s heart went from her throat to her stomach. “Marinette, you have a crush on Luka? That’s so sweet! Don’t you think so, Adrien?” She waved the open notebook in Adrien’s direction. He stared back blankly for a moment and then smiled.

“I think it’s great. Luka’s a great guy.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Mylene said, clasping her hands before turning to grab Ivan’s hand. “Don’t you think so? They’d make such a cute couple!”

“But I thought Marinette liked—” Kim began, before Alya shoved an elbow in his gut. “Ow!”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Ivan agreed cheerfully, oblivious.

Alix took the notebook from Lila and looked at it, then groaned. “Come on, Marinette, you couldn’t go five minutes without a new crush? Can you please just confess this time and save us all a lot of suffering?”

Marinette’s face burned, and she leapt up the steps to snatch the notebook back from Alix. She darted a glance at Juleka, who was staring silently, her visible eye round and her hand hovering in front of her mouth. Rose had her hands clasped by her cheek, obviously lost in romantic daydreams.

“Who’s Luka?” Kim asked, scratching his head. “Do we know him?”

“That’s your brother, right Juleka?” Lila drawled, turning innocent eyes to look at Juleka before she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips. “I hope that doesn’t bother you. I’m sure Marinette wouldn’t make friends with you just to cozy up to your brother.”

Juleka looked paler than usual and mumbled something incoherent.

“Well, it’s time for me to head home,” Marinette declared, her voice higher pitched than usual as she grabbed her bag and shoved the notebook inside, along with the other belongings Adrien and Alya had gathered up for her. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, hahaha! Bye!”

She fled the classroom, ignoring Alya’s calls for her to wait. She didn’t want to talk about this with anyone right now, not even Alya. Not until she’d had a moment to herself to think.

She ran all the way to the bakery and straight up to her room. She closed the trap door and sat on it, burying her hands in her hair as she muffled a scream into her knees.

Tikki popped out of her purse and came to pat her arm. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, Marinette. Nobody told Adrien about your crush for the longest time! I know you’re embarrassed but—”

“No, no, Tikki, you don’t understand,” Marinette moaned. She moved into a cross-legged pose and grabbed her bag, digging through it until she pulled out the dark blue notebook that had caused all the trouble. “This isn’t mine,” she said, flipping open the cover to show the name there to Tikki. “It’s Luka’s .”

Tikki just floated there, seemingly speechless. Marinette opened the notebook. It fell to the same page in her hands as it had in the classroom.

Artwork by @rierse

Despite her distress, Marinette couldn’t help but smile. She never would have guessed Luka was a doodler. It made sense, though, he was so used to his guitar that she could imagine he needed something to do with his hands when he couldn’t play.

He’d clearly been working on something at first; the carefully drawn staffs on the page had music notes and various notations, but he must have gotten bored because halfway down the page his music notes turned into little hearts. Then below that was…her name. Marinette blushed, tilting the cover of the book up just a little so that nobody could see over the top of it. She was alone, of course, nobody was there to look but Tikki, who already knew, but—she felt suddenly self-conscious, looking at her name surrounded by hearts and music in Luka’s notebook. She couldn’t even attempt to convince herself that he might mean some other Marinette, since a passable imitation of her signature flowers were doodled next to the name, the centers accented in pink glitter pen. That made her giggle a little bit.

“You know he likes you, Marinette,” Tikki reminded her, pointing to some familiar words at the bottom of the page. Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody… Tikki sighed at the memory, and Marinette smiled self-consciously.

There were other little doodles, too. There was a picture of Sass, his Kitty Section mask (the lightning bolt done in that same pink glitter pen), and…a little face with pigtails. More flowers. The ladybug doodle made her pulse jump, but she reasoned he had been thinking about heroes, since Sass was there too. It didn’t mean anything.

And there in the middle of the page, Marinette Couffaine , written with little hearts around it.

Marinette hid her face in the book and groaned. “What am I going to do?” she whispered. She had found the notebook under her chaise, and had meant to give it to Juleka at school to return to Luka, but of course she couldn’t manage even something that simple without the universe deciding to screw with her.

Her phone pinged, and Marinette set the notebook aside to pull it out and tell Alya to leave her alone.

The message wasn’t from Alya, though. It was from Luka.

Hi Marinette. Juleka told me what happened. I’m so sorry. Can we talk?

Marinette bit her lip, and fidgeted as she thought it over. Finally, she texted back, I think that would be a good idea. Can I come over in a bit?

***

Luka was pacing the living room, chewing on a thumbnail, when Marinette came down the Liberty’s stairs. Marinette thought she had never seen him so nervous. Juleka was nowhere to be seen, but the door to their cabin was closed.

“Marinette, I’m so sorry,” he began as soon as he saw her, and whatever embarrassment she still felt over the whole thing was instantly buried under concern for him. He was pale and his hair was mussed. “I never meant—”

“Luka, it wasn’t your fault,” Marinette interrupted. “You left it in my room and I put it in my bag so Juleka could bring it back to you. It’s not your fault I’m clumsy. It was just bad luck. And then Lila had to go and grab it and wave it around in front of everybody. I’m really sorry.”

“It is my fault,” Luka insisted. “I shouldn’t have been so careless with it. And I shouldn’t—” He stopped, putting a hand over his face.

“Shouldn’t be a normal teenager?” Marinette asked teasingly, slipping her arm through his and tugging him over to the couch. “Luka, after all the embarrassing things I’ve done in the name of a crush, I’m the last person to judge you.”

Luka sighed as he let her coax him to sit with her. “Still, it’s different when it’s about you . I mean, when you see someone writing those things about you. Especially when everybody sees.” He bit his thumbnail again and grimaced. “I started painting my nails so I would quit doing that,” he muttered, rubbing his finger over the chipped polish on the abused thumbnail.

Marinette took his hand and tried to think of some way to make him feel better. She pulled the notebook out of her bag and set it on the couch between them. “Really, I’m not mad. Except that you never told me you could draw,” she teased. “You did a pretty good job on the flowers.”

She was delighted to see his cheeks tint pink and his eyes come up to meet hers at last. “I’ve had a bit of practice,” he admitted with a shamefaced grin. “And you wear them on practically everything, so…” Luka shrugged, ducking his head a little further. “I’ve seen them a lot,” he finished lamely, and then groaned and buried his face in his hands. Now that he was reassured that she wasn’t angry at him, embarrassment seemed to be taking over.

“Just kill me,” he muttered, with something so like a whine that Marinette had to giggle.

“How many times have I said that to you,” she teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. “And you never did. Now you can suffer.”

Luka laughed and dropped his hands from his face, only to put them both in his hair and ruffle it vigorously, tugging at it a bit before he finally let them drop in his lap. Marinette bit her lip; his cheeks were still pink and his ears were flaming . It was kind of adorable.

“Any more questions?” he asked, with a sigh.

“The pink?” she asked shyly, and Luka shrugged, looking away though he grinned.

“Rose is always leaving stuff on the boat. I’ve got a few of her pens that got mixed up in my things, and I never remember to give them back. They’ve actually come in handy in class a couple times when I wanted to mark an important note.” He drew a slow breath in, and let it out, fingertips tapping together between his knees. “I’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he said in a rush. “I—I mean, you know, how I feel about you. And this,” he gestured with the notebook and then tossed it aside. “It’s just daydreams. I obviously never meant for you to see any of that, and—”

Marinette put a hand on his arm, cutting him off. “Luka, don’t apologize for your private thoughts. I’m sorry that me seeing them has made you feel bad.” Even if he was kind of adorable, unusually flustered and…vulnerable. She felt a pang of conscience; Luka put so much of himself out there, and it must be absolutely mortifying for the things he chose to keep to himself to be exposed like this.

“They, um.” She cleared her throat and twined her fingers together in her lap. “They all thought I did it. Wrote that stuff, I mean. My, um. My name like that. With yours. We don’t have to tell anyone it was you.”

Luka looked at her sharply. “But—” he began, and Marinette didn’t want to hear what she knew he was going to say.

“No, seriously, it’s fine.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t mind. If everyone knows I like you. And that I’m over Adrien now. I’m okay with that.”

Luka stared at her.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I mean,” she began, and her voice trembled a little. Luka grabbed her hand, and she went on quickly, “I would look a lot less stupid if we were dating. Instead of another pointless Marinette crush. Just, um. Putting that out there.”

“Then I guess,” Luka said slowly, like he still wasn’t sure what was going on, “We better go on a date. Wednesday?”

Marinette giggled. “Friday would be more traditional.”

“Couffaine,” he reminded her, squeezing her hand. “Besides, I can’t wait that long. I’ll meet you at the steps?”

Marinette nodded. “You better hold my hand. You know, so people will see.”

“I can do that,” he agreed. “I think letting go might be harder though.”

“Well, you have until Wednesday to figure out how to explain that to my parents,” Marinette giggled, and Luka laughed, a full, rich laugh that was a little higher pitched than usual.

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered, running his free hand through his hair.

Feeling unusually bold, Marinette leaned up and cupped his cheek, and pressed her lips to his. He made a noise that she could only call a squeak and she giggled against his lips.

“That was not convincing,” he said breathlessly, eyes bright and focused entirely on her in a way that made her shiver.

Marinette grinned. “You try it then.”

He pounced on her, both hands curling behind her head, and kissed her until she was dizzy from it, before finally sitting back to look at her in wonder.

“See?” Marinette teased, turning her face into one of his palms. “You let go after all.”

“Did I?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

They both turned to look as the door to Luka and Juleka’s bedroom creaked open. Juleka peeked out, and seeing them so close with Luka’s hands on her face, and probably both smiling like idiots, she came all the way out.

“So when’s the wedding, Marinette Couffaine?” she mumbled shyly, but with a teasing grin growing on her face..

Luka threw the notebook at her, and she dodged, cackling. The siblings flipped each other off as Juleka went up the stairs, and Luka turned back to Marinette.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, fighting a grin. “I’m totally negotiable on the name thing.”

AO3 Works | Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #doodles and daydreams #lukanette #endgame lukanette #birthday big bang #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ml fics #lukanette fics #pro lukamari

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ad-hawkeye · 2 years

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Hi! I read your blog and you wondered for a Vyn stan's take on his 2nd anniversary card. I am a Vyn stan and I really really love that card. Also, as far as I know most of my fellow Vyn stans love that card too.

His proposal card is an antithesis to his confession card. In his confession, he asked MC to wait as he prepares a perfect time and venue to confess in his personal chapter 4 when MC was about to tell him her feelings. Everything went according to plan, everything was in control. In contrast, his proposal plans were disrupted, he was also going to ask MC to wait as he prepares for their future when MC asked him why he was so busy but then everything went haywire, he panics and he just decided to "fuck plans" and decided to propose on the spot.

His proposal is so endearing and so sincere because he is a perfectionist. For him, everything must be perfect, every situation must be within his control. He has always been calm and rational but when it comes to MC, his emotions tramples rationality. His behavior in this proposal is a culmination of the development Vyn underwent as their relationship became deeper.

During their time together, Vyn has slowly let his guards down. He was afraid at first to show his "imperfect" side but MC assures him that it is fine, that she accepts every side of him; that even if he falls into the abyss, she will be by his side and lift him up. Because honestly, Vyn has issues that stems from childhood. Vyn became more and more comfortable to show his vulnerabilities and to confide his fears.

Their relationship is equal, Vyn supports her as MC supports him. They respect each others thoughts. They always talk about their issues and come up with solutions. They learn and grow from one another.

The bathroom scene is hot but is also symbolic of Vyn's trust on MC.

Even if he thinks that his proposal was not perfect enough, for me, it was perfectly imperfect. It was "Carpe Diem". He was willing to let go of all his plans out of his "desire" to propose not because it is "time" to propose.

An added bonus is we finally meet his mother and see their relationship which adds to his family lore.

Sorry for the long ramble, I just can't help myself 😖 I could go on more and more into detail why his proposal was perfect but I think this is long enough and it'll be incoherent hahaha

I haven't read Artem's proposal card but I'm sad that it was like that. He's my 2nd favorite though I haven't been following his relationship progress. Perhaps they will address this issue in the future?

YES!!!!! THIS IS THE INPUT I WANTED TO HEAR SO BADLY!!! oh my god don't apologize at all, i genuinely think vyn is a fascinating character and this card, like i mentioned a while back, did actually shoot him up on my preferences list. i love it when characters have contrast, so someone like vyn who MUST have control of a situation having his proposal fall to shambles was so SO endearing to me. this type of human error is why artem's older cards appealed to me, so i was so happy to see vyn get similar treatment.

thank you so much for reaching out, anon! i'm genuinely so so happy and thrilled to hear most vyn stans liked it; i was afraid it wouldn't be liked due its departure from the typical "vyn is in control" deal because i really liked how OUT of control he was. for Everything.

even for someone like me who finds it hard to get into fanservice, it did its job character wise, and didn't feel like it betrayed vyn as a character (in fact it matched w the vyn w no control deal), i just wasn't sure if vyn stans felt the same way.

cannot express this enough, i am SO glad vyn got such a funny and endearing card. hoping you get more like it in the future! i'll leave it here since i have nothing more to add, this meta for vyn is so concise and wonderfully written, i adore it.

#asks #anon #tears of themis #tot spoilers #vyn richter #this deserves to go in the tag #what a lovely bit of meta for him seriously #meta

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starglitterz · 1 year

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🍓 🍓 !! <3

hello tumblr user serkes 🤭

OKAY SO HOW DO I EVEN FIT THIS INTO A POST????? bro we have been friends since like the beginning of time and tbh i unfortunately don't rmb how we became moots but THANK GOODNESS we did !!! literally i get so happy whenever u rb my stuff bc u always have 239483498398 reaction pics which are all somehow super perfect??? and also the sweetest compliments??? like HUH how do u even manage that... LOL you're super talented too!! both writing & art & the creation of the most detailed and in-depth three-dimensional ocs of all time 😭💕 also i rmb we used to always send each other incoherent asks screaming abt whatever we were into at the time and honestly that era is making a comeback with how you've been getting into bsd now 😋 so now it's also your turn to rec me a media to get into!!!!!!! waits excitedly and sooo patiently <- lying im actually levitating rn <3 HAHAHA i love seeing u spam post abt whichever character ur currently into its so funny and nice pls keep introducing me to ur s/o's like that i love it 😍💯 OK THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG ilusm i hope everything is going well for u bb mWAHHH <3

#💌 — love letters !#khi💌

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

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“call me when you get home” (b.b)

@the-chocolate-bunny “call me when you get home” over a YEAR AGO. anyway, (incoherent screaming at myself) here it is,,, hahaha. 2.8k words of a lil fluffy first date with ol’ Bucko. 🧡🧡🧡 Thanks for reading!

[28 WAYS Masterlist // Prompts here & here]

When Sam told him what he’d be doing on Saturday evening, Bucky groaned so loudly the couch vibrated.

Come on, man, you really giving up on dating?

He wanted to say yes, Wilson, fuck off. But Bucky only groaned again and reminded Sam that he’s not ready to date. Too busy. Too cranky. Scary robot arm. Last date went terrible and Bucky doesn’t even remember how to talk to a woman unless he’s trying to de-escalate a hostage situation.

Sam couldn’t be deterred. Dude, that was like, a year ago. Just try one time--Sharon’s friend, from work—remember her, Barnes? Steve, you know her. Pretty, funny, real sweet. She already agreed to it, she’s gonna meet you there at 7. Thank me later.

Bucky rummaged through his mind for pretty, funny, real sweet and came up empty. Steve pretended to remember—he didn’t—can’t remember anyone’s face but Sharon Carter’s, the lovestruck idiot—but if she was Sharon’s friend, then Bucky wasn’t allowed to stand her up. So, 7. Saturday. Date.

Fuck.

He’s sure he’s done all the right things: laundered his clothes, showered, brushed his hair, shaved, even.

Sam said to get flowers and hold the door. Make eye contact, share a dessert, pay for dinner, give the girl your jacket and be on the left side of the sidewalk. Follow the script and he’s home free and looking at another date in possibly a week or so— or if he’s lucky, Bucky scoffs internally, no date at all.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have showered.

Either way, he’s off to an awful start because the traffic was worse than anticipated and the taxi got a flat so and he had to walk the last five blocks. It’s 7:40 and he’s barely through the door, the box of chocolates in the crook of his elbow probably melted.

All the flowers looked ugly, Sam. It was either chocolates or a balloon and Bucky’s not It the Clown, so… chocolates it was for the lucky lady.

Bucky scans the room and groans— possibly his default sound for anything now. Leave it to Wilson to suggest this kind of restaurant—it’s all candles and floral centerpieces. There’s even a live orchestra in the corner. He’s severely underdressed.

The hostess taps her pen, “Sir, do you have a reservation?”

Oh. Shit.

He looks over her head, hopeful at a row of empty tables and booths. “Can’t I just, get put on a list or something? It’s two people. She might—already be here.” He surveys again, dodges the hostess trying to block his view, but can’t see anyone sitting alone.

Sam told him your hair color, described the little freckle above your eyebrow, something about your face being symmetrical and how sweet your smile was— but that could be anybody. People’s faces are naturally symmetrical, aren’t they? And Bucky certainly can’t make out a freckle from this distance.

“No sir, we’re booked all night—”

“Hey!” A hand unexpectedly lands on his arm. “Bucky! Oh my god. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Bucky follows the hand to its wrist, to its arm, to its shoulder, collar, neck, finally, then, to its owner.

He remembers you now. A couple of times—dropping off packages at the compound, dossiers and flash drives, saying hello and goodbye but not much of anything else.

Your mouth hangs open tonight, sucking in deep breaths, baby hairs slick on your forehead. 7:45 and you’re off to an awful start, too.

“Tried to get a coffee on the way—spilled it—” a gesture to your blouse and the offending blotch glares deep brown from sky blue cotton. “Ran into a kid on a bicycle, made him fall. Scraped his knee. You wouldn’t believe how long a mother can yell until you accidentally tip over her kid--” You pause, looking at the hostess’ annoyance, then at Bucky’s bewildered face, and put two and two together.

“Ma’am, we’re booked all night.” The hostess’ pen taps after each word in emphasis.

You narrow your eyes and Bucky defensively reels back, expecting you might start yelling at him for forgetting to reserve ahead of time until you shake your head.

Sharon Carter is a Cotillion debutante and private nearly to a fault— she speaks carefully, keeps everything close to the vest, old-school formalities when it comes to courtship. So, when Sam said Sharon’s friend, Bucky expected someone similar. When he stepped into this extravagant restaurant severely underdressed, he expected someone similar.

Symmetrical faced, sweet smiled, freckled somewhere, but demure, maybe. Prim and proper.

But then—you groan, loud and annoyed, and ask:

“Do you like burgers? Do you mind the grease?”

And god, Bucky thinks. God bless Sharon Carter.

Hell, it’s a mess.

There are tears rolling down your cheeks. Bursts of gasping breaths, wheezing in-between shrill noises. The coffee stain on your shirt found a good friend in a diagonal line of bright yellow egg yolk and you’re laughing so hard people are starting to stare.

The burger you’d gotten—medium rare, double meat, bacon, fried egg, all toppings between—has completely fallen apart in a splat back onto your plate. The first bite was tragic—right into the yolk and it popped like a water balloon all over your chest.

He fumbles for napkins—for cold water? But you wave his worries away, licking your fingers before diving in to deconstruct your food.

“Sorry—I promise I have my shit together.” Another giggle, “Not making a very good first date impression. I hope you like the place, at least?”

“Yeah,” he grins, “I do. And, uh, I think you’re doin’ great.”

The words slip out before he can catch them and Sam’s slew of dating advice comes hitting him like a ton of too-late bricks. Keep it mysterious, Barnes. But what else should he say, he’s having loads more fun at this diner that smells like a thousand packs of stale cigarettes than he would have at that uppity potpourri scented Italian restaurant serving entrees the size of his thumb.

Around a mouthful of tater tots, you thank him, and then you take a breath, and he can literally see you winding up for another enormous bite.

“Sorry,” you pause sheepishly, “I had a really busy day at work—skipped lunch on accident.” You take the enormous bite he saw coming, and then, “Also doesn’t help—mm—I’m a nervous talker.”

Bucky chews on a fry and slurps his soda, entirely forgetting his courtship manners. “Nervous ‘bout what?”

“Aw, c’mon…” you roll your eyes emphatically as Bucky tilts into his straw. Another slow sip with his mouth around the plastic and you swallow a noisy gulp of tomato, “Come on.”

“What?”

The burger gets placed back on its wax paper, now small enough to return to its prior state, you rearrange it carefully on the plastic lattice bowl, staring at him the entire time.

A disbelieving scoff leads, “Imagine this, Sharon comes sashaying into my office—okay, not sashay, march—marching into my office and says are you interested in going on a date Friday?” You wiggle your head, tilt your head down and purse your lips staunchly. A pretend flip of hair over your shoulder and you whisper, “She’s perfect; this is what perfect women do, trust me.”

Bucky suppresses a grin at the sight. Steve would be jumping to defend her honor if he were here.

“She says, I know your last few weren’t the best… but this one-- And I’m drowning in paperwork, okay? Drowning. I’m stamping files, eating goldfish crackers, nodding along—anything to get her out of my office—”

“So you agreed…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…to go on a date…” he mulls it over, “… to shut her up?”

“Hell yes.” And then, “Oh!” You start shaking your head wildly, “No. No, no, no. No, not like that—I told you I’m a nervous talker—I didn’t know it was you until about fifteen minutes before I left the house! I would have never said yes if I knew it was you.”

Bucky frowns at that, but then you come full circle, rolling your eyes another time. A mustard-smudged hand points from the top of Bucky’s head down to his chest and back up again.

“Have I said ‘c’mon’ yet?”

“Once or twice.”

“Well, yeah. Come on. You’re—please don’t make me say it.”

He looks on, not quite sure what you’re going to say at all. It’s a toss-up between “a legend”, “an Avenger”, and “a murderer”. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you pop a French-fry into your mouth and mundanely announce, “Bucky, you’re handsome.”

He blinks.

You blink.

He blinks again.

“No, listen,” you urge, “You’re obscenely good-looking.”

His face is so hot that he thinks someone must have thrown a fire into him. Maybe he would have preferred being called a murderer?

“Is it some kind of superhero requirement, you know? Before you get green-lighted to save the world, you’ve gotta win America’s Next Top Model. Or in your case, an international season of ANTM takes … Soviet Russia?”

The reference is lost on him, but he gets the point well enough.

You place your hand in front of him like a running marquee, “I can see it now. Tyra Banks announcing, James Buchanan Bucky Barnes. Eyes: blue; hair: brown; height—” a pause as you consider his posture before continuing, shockingly precise.

“6 feet; 245 pounds; measurements: 42 chest, 33 waist; bicep circumference: 17 and a half inches.”

Bucky crosses his arms in embarrassment, and then uncrosses them because he’s thinking too closely about his biceps now. ��Didn’t read that in a museum. You get it from just looking— look away, damn it.”

You quickly do, trying to suppress a grin and failing miserably. Bucky is too, shifting in his seat, opening his mouth to say something and then unable to get anything out other than a disoriented and amused, “Shit.”

Sam would never let Bucky live down that his first date in six months eyefucked him well enough to get his bicep measurement. The jokes would be endless. He can practically hear cackling in his ear.

A beat passes and he tries again, now at the end of the meal and the stain on your blouse starting to sink in and spread, heavy enough to dip toward the skin beneath. “Do you want to take your shirt off?”

You choke on soda and add another splatter down your chest, turning into a proper Jackson Pollock canvas.

“You can wear my jacket,” he clarifies. “Give it back next time. I mean, if you…” He frowns. “Uh. Um.”

Sam’s putting up tallies in Bucky’s head. Another scratch indicating he’s forgoing the mystery, which should have been easy for him since he’s an international assassin with at least one dead president under his belt.

“Of course, Bucky, I’d like that,” you say, saving him for tripping up over any more words, smiling slow and shaky. Different than the impish grins and all-teeth laughing, still lovely— but just, different. Like you’re pinching down a too-sweet thought about him with the corners of your mouth. It goes big and again when you tack on, “And I won’t even eyefuck you next time.”

It’s his turn to choke, sputtering as he blushes. 6 feet, 245 pounds, 17-inch circumference biceps, reformed murderer going napalm hot under a pretty girl’s eyes. Jesus wept, he really is hopeless.

He can’t believe it’s past midnight already, or that the two of you walked the length of Central Park and then looped back around about two more times.

You changed out of your shirt after dinner, ducking from the diner’s restroom bashfully, your old blouse in a crumple inside his pocket. His jacket hung a bit loose, but zipped up all the way and it was a good enough cover for a while.

The night cooled enough to where you weren’t too hot, and he wasn’t too cold, and neither of you seemed ready to leave just yet. Central Park was a perfect place to dodge the city’s unavoidable crowd and occasional sewage gust, so the two of you wandered aimlessly, stopping here and there to rest, even splitting the liquefied chocolates on a bench.

You get smudges of it on your cheek and Bucky figures it’s just a personality trait at this point. He laughs when you stick your tongue out, trying to find exactly where it is before giving up and asking him to thumb it off.

He shoves his hands in his pocket afterwards, thumb jammed inside his fist like a souvenir, keeping it there the rest of the walk, all the way up to the iron gate of your apartment complex before he wonders if he should have been trying to hold your hand instead.

Maybe not. It was only the first date, after all.

By the pin pad, you rock back and forth on your feet. “Thanks for dinner,” you say, looking up at him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And the chocolates.” A beat passes. “And the walk… and jacket, too. It’s really nice… comfortable and, uh, smells... good. Like, motor oil and… a nice body wash and… trees.” You make a nauseated face and close your eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose uncomfortably as Bucky looks on.

Oh, he realizes. You must be nervous.

Oh, he realizes. Should he kiss you?

He can’t remember if Sam mentioned this or not. Does mystery assume no kissing? Is it too soon for that? He thinks he must have kissed a few first dates in the past, but he’s not really sure if it’s too bold now. He’s really does start to sweat. Bullets.

The easy conversation and laughter from the past two hours is nowhere to be found. Bucky goes mute and you start fiddling with your phone, clearing your throat loudly and then pointing to the rectangular outline in his pocket.

He gives you his number immediately, tumbling over the area code and string of digits, so empty in his brain that when it vibrates in his grip after you text him, he almost jumps.

“Call me when you get home?” Your voice is small and hopeful, and you look like you’re biting your cheek.

“Sure,” he replies dumbly. You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before turning and unlocking the gate. One final long look at him, his face, his mouth, his fingers, and you tug on his pinky shyly before heading through and toward your door.

Bucky reflexively makes a fist, entire limb tingling up to his elbow, the tiny gesture burrowing into his chest. Suddenly, he forgets entirely the modesty of first dates. He steps out of his body for a minute, staring at his still cupped palm like he’s holding a flame.

Rules be damned.

He taps the green icon next to your name, watching you suddenly pause a few meters away.

“Hey!” he blurts too-eagerly when you pick up, confused and turning to find him still where you left him on the other side. “Sam said I should wait to call. At least a day.”

“Oh yeah…?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky nods, “Said it’s a bad look—guy being too excited. Gotta—I don’t know. Make the girl anticipate a little. Keep her interested.”

You retrace your steps, walking back, “What if the girl’s already interested?”

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, warmed up. “Not a bad look?”

“No. You look good to me.” Eyes travel up and down, peeking through diamond shapes of the iron gate, “Sharon told me something similar, since we’re on the subject of what’s good or bad.”

“What’s that?”

It should feel stupid that he’s been holding a phone call with someone who’s barely two feet away from him. Inches now, and you step slow, nose almost up against the frame. A metal clank and the gate slowly unlatches, opening up. You tuck the device into your back pocket, and Bucky does the same, barely registering the disconnecting click, heart racing with adrenaline.

Then, you smile.

Fuck. That smile.

“Said it’s not good to kiss on the first date.”

Mischievously, you lean in, touch him soft on the lips and every beat of his pulse seems to be reaching out for the sweet breath in your mouth. “And I shouldn’t invite you inside, but we both seem to be … not good… at following dating decorum, so…” Your eyes light up teasingly, “You wanna come…in?”

Bucky makes a noise like a whimper. Wow. International assassin with a Kennedy under his belt and it’s a dirty joke that does him in.

You kiss him again, longer than the last, giggling softly and tugging on his bottom lip like you could pull his entire body toward you with just that. “I’m sure we could find a few more first date rules to break.”

“Yeah,” he says, ducking for another one, lips increasingly impatient. “I’m… in.”

You pull away with a laugh, yanking on his shirt, grabbing his hand. As Bucky’s towed along, he can’t help but think of two things:

First, god bless Sharon Carter.

And second… well, maybe he will thank Wilson for setting him up, after all.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff #marvel #fanfiction #mcu #reader insert #28 WAYS

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whorefordazai · 3 years

Note

Heyy can you do wounded chuuya and dazai for soukoku? I think its really sweet of them to take care of each other!

soukoku: taking care of each other while wounded

ft. dazai x chuuya

genre: fluff, comfort, crack

warnings: mention of injury

notes: hi i am SO incredibly sorry this took literal months to do 😭 i actually loved this idea but never had the motivation to start it rip </3 i did hcs for each one of them hehe *kinda established relationship* so i rlly hope this isn’t too ooc :D

dazai

if chuuya was the one wounded, it’d be the same as what would happen when he’d use corruption.

dazai would carry him on his back, while chuuya would mumble incoherent nothings into his shoulder. stuff like:

“eh? who took my wine…”

*two seconds later, as realization hits him*

“DAZAIAYAA PUT ME DOWN 🤬!!”

a minute later he’d fall back asleep and mumble “mhm, you smell good.” and unintentionally brush his cheek against the back of dazai’s neck.

cue blushy dazai !! he is used to chuuya saying stupid shit while passed out, but every time he gets complimented—he just can’t help it 😭 he’ll just pretend to grumble and say “shut up slug 😶” and continue walking.

now, bandaging up chuuya is a different situation because he’ll have to be awake for dazai to tend to his wounds.

chuuya will be sitting on the bed while dazai brings a wash cloth to wipe off excess blood. it’s actually one of the few times he acts gentle with chuuya cuz he knows his body is in really bad condition :/

with a gentle smile, he’ll tilt chuuya’s chin up. “look up chuuya. i need to clean off the blood.” of course the redhead will be reluctant (he finds it a little strange how dazai isn’t cracking jokes) but he’ll oblige.

if chuuya winces from pain while dazai is dabbing his wounds, the brunette will immediately feel bad. even tho he’s witnessed chuuya getting hurt so many times, the image and history they have together always comes flooding back.

he won’t outright say it…he just feels a slight pang in his chest.

“…ow…that hurts, dazai.”

dazai looks chuuya in the eyes. he gently places his hands on chuuya’s cheeks, making the redhead look up. placing a soft kiss on chuuya’s forehead—he ever so slightly rests his chin on the redhead’s shoulder.

“i know. i know it hurts. just a little more. i know you’re strong, chibi.”

it becomes silent, because chuuya doesn’t know how to react to genuine affection from dazai (and neither does dazai tbh)

so they suddenly both feel awkward (even tho they’re boyfriends 🙄) so chuuya attempts to crack a joke.

“PFFFTT i’m not a little kid. just hurry up mackerel 😐”

“HAHAHA yeah. i’m hurrying up now.”

chuuya

now if dazai was the one wounded, it’d be a whole different story. chuuya does get extremely worried, regardless of how he acts.

because he knows yosano won’t be able to help dazai. he really only has a human body.

with dazai’s arm over his shoulder, he’ll take the both of them back to extraction base.

“eh? looks like you’re the one taking care of me now, chuuya.”

“shut up. don’t waste your energy.”

“fufu…so worrisome you are~”

when he’s wrapping dazai’s arms in bandages, dazai is silent. almost too silent. but that’s fine because chuuya knows he is the only one dazai trusts with seeing his bare arms.

the two mostly stay silent, except for when chuuya speaks up.

“…does it hurt?” the redhead asks.

“no.”

despite his short words, dazai’s face tells a different story. his bangs seem to hang over his face and his eyes are red. when chuuya looks closer, he can see water on the brim of them.

chuuya gulps. he moves closer to dazai, gently holds the back of his head and pushes it into his chest. a gloved hand slowly runs its fingers through dazai’s hair. the brunette closes his eyes. it feels so nice.

“liar.” chuuya mumbles, the two still in a hug. dazai hugs back, his arms slowly grasp chuuya’s waist. he brings the redhead closer.

“thank you.” he quietly says.

he really means it though.

if dazai is badly injured, he definitely won’t be able to take care of himself (not like he does it on the daily anyways 😞) so chuuya will help him out.

stuff like help him bathe, cook him meals (or attempt to 😭), brush his hair, or help him change into new clothing. because he knows dazai really struggles with that.

“oya oya, look at this. chuuya wants to help me bath myself?—oh! and cook me meals too?! OH!! and help me with sleep as well?? WHAT IS THIS PHENOMENON—!!”

chuuya grabs dazai’s chin, making the brunette go silent and look up. the redhead cocks an eyebrow. he’s looming over dazai. “i’m literally your boyfriend 😐”

dazai’s face flushes a little pink, but he brushes it off with another remark. “fufu~”

they sleep in the same bed—or more like dazai is on top of chuuya, crushing him to death. the redhead is severely annoyed by this (false information btw 🗣)

“OI !! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? LET ME BREATHE godDAMN—”

“nope!! if chuuya wants to stay with me, i’ll just give him what he wants 😋!!” dazai wraps his arms around chuuya’s torso, making the redhead cough from lack of air.

“FINE FINE—but i can’t breathe, bastard!”

dazai only smiles, getting off of chuuya. when the redhead thinks he’s finally got room to breathe, he feels something go up his shirt.

it’s dazai !! he lifts up chuuya’s shirt and ducks his head under it. his face pops out of the top of chuuya’s shirt, making the redhead’s eyes widen.

“UM?? HELLO??—my shirt isn’t big enough for the both of us !!”

“aw, but it’s so warm in here! and you smell so nice…should i really leave?” he pulls out his brown puppy eyes. chuuya stares at him for a moment before letting out an obnoxious groan.

regardless, he runs his fingers through dazai’s hair, making the brunette rub his nose against chuuya’s neck. “yay~”

tag list: @uwu-monster101 @dai-tsukki-desu @cross-crye @starglow-xx @dazaianti @asthepetalsdance @pickleisrandom @luftdum @its-chuuya-bitch @ijustwantfreenetflix @atsushisgf @coveringthebiconissue @the-wholesome-ranpo @missshrek @todorokichills @astreankitsune @kyoks @spoopy-fish-writes @fyodamn @missrown @trashykawahq @scul-pted @gogolyouwhat @i4gumi @ranposlover @shadyteacup @mushroomplantasia @dazais-belladona @fashionablyfailing12 @dazailiones @chuuyasboots @bsdparadise @alittlesimp @requiem626k @smadhuman-animebitch @bsdwhore @3-am-depression @14th-century-homosexual-spirit @mars-bakery-shop @rirk-ke @knjksj0301

#bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd imagines #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai #dazai x chuuya #chuuya x dazai #soukoku #bsd soukoku #chuuya imagines #chuuya headcanons #dazai headcanons #nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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aokuro-san · 2 years

Text

The inconsistency of people from my point of view (or just me complaining a little more. I'm sorry if anyone is offended).

Literally, does nothing (April 26) Sanzu confirmed that what happened with Mikey's plane was only Senju's perspective and that neither she nor the readers know half of what actually happened that day... and there is already someone who has released a video (April 29) that this whole topic is "the worst shit in anime" and that "Mikey's dark impulses were born by the plane". But what...? Although, well, I see that he often messes with the manga on his channel, so I don't know if he's really reading it from a certain perspective or if he just messes with it because now ""everyone"" hate it and that's what gives visits (?).

Another little thing that I have seen is that they say a lot is (without continuing with the youtuber above) that: "they ruined the ending of the play" or that "TokRev should have ended in Tenjiku". Seems like all the TokRev naysayers are hell-bent on this lol. Guys, that the work does not have the ending that you want or did not stop at "the good future" (this is something superlative, since neither Draken nor Takemichi were too happy, from my point of view) doesn't imply that it will have a bad ending (we will judge that in due course. But, come on, I see that people love to put shit in all the current endings, so...). Do you know what a bad ending is? SOMETHING WITHOUT COHERENCE WITH THE STORY OR ITS CHARACTERS. In my opinion (and having gone through the manga a few more times; I don't hesitate to do it again, because it's becoming one of my favorite works), the story is consistent with itself and its characters: Takemichi said he was going to save them all and saving ALL of them, involves saving Mikey. That, in turn, implies some consequences because Takemichi is not perfect, like any person, and he makes as many mistakes as the others throughout the manga. Wanting to do good doesn't mean that everything will turn out well for you, boy, that's real life!

Another nonsense is to think that Mikey killed the manga ... God, the character is consistent with himself and it is clear that, from the beginning, he was not a stable person who keeps many mysteries that we hope to solve in this last arc. Later, stories that are bad made up, they defend them tooth and nail, hahaha.

Do you know what is the worst for me? That those people follow the manga JUST TO HATE IT. THEN, THE INCOHERENT IS WAKUI WITH HIS STORY xD

Anyway, I needed to let off steam for a moment. Sorry for the inconvenience (or if I seemed intense to you, which could be, hahaha) and that.

#commentary #comment #tokyo revengers #the haters of tokyo revengers #haters tokyo revengers #the inconsistency #from my point view #my point view #tokrev #manga #discuss #i'm sorry

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prismatales · 3 years

Text

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Mirio Togata x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Fluff fluff and more fluff, Mirio being a nervous wreck, little pinch of insecurities.

Hello there! It’s been a while but I’m back with some BNHA Fluff starring the sunshine boy himself! This is my entry for Anilysium’s sfw Collab. This month the prompt was “Accidental Kiss”, you can find the masterlist with everyone’s works here!

This idea has been sitting in my wips since September and it was the perfect opportunity to work on it! Hope you guys enjoy it! Special thanks to @vivianvampyric for beta reading, I loved all of your suggestions, baby!

No matter how many times you thought about it, every single time was just as hilarious.

How can somebody as brave, cheerful and fearless as Mirio Togata be as nervous as his childhood friend, Tamaki Amajiki, at the idea of a confession? The same guy who faced the head of the Yakuza without hesitation is currently sitting beside you with rosy cheeks, looking around the park nervously while one hand brushes the back of his neck.

“So, you wanted to talk about something, right?”

When he asked you to meet him in the park during the weekend, you never expected this outcome. It’s almost like you’re standing before a completely different person as he continues to look away.

“Ahaha… it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Ah, yes it is.”

The way Mirio avoids the question confuses you, but it’s the way his hand clutches his knee anxiously, the way he coughs lightly, and the way his eyes avoid you to watch the children playing nearby, that makes your eyes widen slightly.

Could it really be what you think it is?

The more you look at him, it becomes more obvious that he’s having a hard time expressing his thoughts.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” He stated simply as you nodded in response.

“Yeah, remember the first time we met?” He groans as you giggle at the memory. During your U.A. entrance exam you ended up in the same testing area as Mirio. He could almost hear your shrill cries of embarrassment after he used his quirk in front of you for the first time. “Talk about first impressions, huh?”

Neither of you can stop laughing at the memory, thinking of all the good times from high school as well as the bad, which only helped you grow stronger.

You both went through hardships, providing each other a shoulder to lean on. But maybe you could be more than that one day…?

“You’re sweating a lot. Mirio, are you sure you’re okay?” He just nods quickly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that suddenly feels awfully suffocating. Despite all the emotions running wild through his head, he never stops smiling, which is something you will never stop admiring, no matter what. It’s exactly that optimism that made you develop feelings for him in the first place.

“I’m fine, I'm fine! I just… There’s something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time.” He stays quiet for a short period. Once he takes a long, deep breath that soothes his nerves, his whole attitude shifts instantly.

With the confidence of a thousand men, Mirio rises from his seat on the bench to stand before you with a determined look on his face. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s more than enough to make the heat in your face grow within a matter of seconds, paralyzing you in place as you stare back at him with the fabric of your sundress clutched tightly between your fists.

After taking another breath, Mirio finally gathers the courage he needed to speak.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, and you’re also one of my closest friends.” Did he just friendzone you? “You’ve always been there for me, from the moment we walked into the same classroom, to all those times we needed help watching Eri. And we never stopped talking even after graduating, and I love having you around.”

What is this weird aching inside your chest? It’s almost like there’s something crawling its way through your ribcage, slowly approaching your heart to crush it in a deathly grip.

“Ahaha… yeah, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it?” You almost want to whimper on the spot, feeling like a small child after being scolded by their parents: Small, sad and vulnerable. It’s too good to be true, isn’t it? That the guy you’ve had a crush on for years feels the same way about you?

You snap out of those negative thoughts when he takes your hands in his own. They’re much bigger than yours and covered in scars; you can feel the texture of each and every single one, all proof of all his hard work and dedication.

“The thing is,” his thumb traces small circles on top of your hand, making your heart beat faster against your chest. “I want to be more than friends with you!”

It’s incredible how a couple of words have such strength, enough to make the hammering in your chest intensify at a deafening pace that you swear even Mirio can hear. The words stay jammed in your throat, unable to come out through your trembling lips, which you lick nervously.

You’re so nervous that all of your senses feel like they’ve been amplified. Everything sounds so far and so close at the same time. The pounding in your chest, the lively chirping of the birds, the children playing behind Mirio: they sound closer than before, the noises blurring together into an incoherent mess.

“I love how you help everyone around you. How brave and fearless you are. That little scrunch of your nose whenever you’re deep in thought. That cute laughter of yours. I want to—!”

The sound of a loud smack can be heard in the distance, followed by a surprised shout from Mirio. All of sudden, you feel a blunt pain on your forehead as Mirio is suddenly pushed forwards and his face smashes painfully against yours. At the same time, a soft pair of lips come crashing down upon yours and his blue eyes are wide open as they stare into yours. There’s a shrill ringing in your ears as you’re trying to process everything going on.

Mirio’s body is draped over yours, one of his hands pressed firmly against the back of the bench to stop the fall. Neither of you move from the shock, caught off guard by the sudden change of events. Your mind is a cloudy mess when Mirio’s lips finally part from your own, leaving you both in a daze.

“I’m sorry sir!” A small voice snaps you out of it as Mirio turns around in surprise. One of the children from before is standing nearby, holding a red ball with an embarrassed smile. Are they sorry because they hit Mirio with the ball or because they interrupted?

You don’t know, but keep staring silently at their small frame as they run away with that ball clutched in their tiny hands.

“Hahaha...Talk about unexpected.” Once again, Mirio’s scratching the back of his head, chuckling as he looks away in embarrassment. But hearing those familiar giggles of yours makes him look back at you. “Everything okay?”

“You know, people usually start dating first before sharing their first kiss. But that was nice too.”

Mirio blinks repeatedly, processing your words over and over as you stand up from your seat, trying to smooth the wrinkles in your dress after clutching the fabric so hard.

“Does that mean... what do I think it means?”

“...Yeah, it does.” Your head is tilted gently to the side. “I like you too, Mirio. And I feel the same way.”

“Good,” He grabs your hands again, slowly lacing your fingers together. “Good. Can I… kiss you again?”

“Mhmm, just be careful of flying balls this time.”

Taglist (If your name is in bold I couldn't tag you.)

@bnha-ra @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @pixxiesdust @hawks-senseis @yikerb @definitely-yours @khemz1312 @sadskater25 @ruinedbyatrashcan @lemonadencran @honeytama

#bnha imagine #mha imagine #mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #boku no hero academia #mirio togata #bnha fluff #it's been 84 yeaaaaars #🎮.mirio togata

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mxdnightlvers · 4 years

Text

Cold- A Saeran Fanfic

----------

Game: Mystic Messenger

Story: Another story

Route: Ray route 8th day

Character: Suit Saeran

~~~Please read these warnings

-NSFW

TW; Slight exhibitionism, slight dumbification, choking.

(They're all consensual.)

These topics can make you uncomfortable so please dont read if you know this isnt your cup of tea.

~~~End of warnings :)

BTW SAERAN DOESN'T WEAR SOCKS WITH HIS SHOES AND I??? LIKE WHY DUDE.

Thanks alot to @sensetenou for this idea!

*contains spoilers for Ray route :)*

----------

My bed, it remained the same but now became too uncomfortable to sleep in. The sheets falling off, blanket tossed to the side, the pillows being the only item that's neat. The light from the window that usually was the start of another fun day soon became unwanted as the days became painful to endure. The clouds passed by slowly, in harmony with the wind. The birds chirped and the garden was visible from my window. It looks, peaceful.

The long walk down the hallway that soon revealed a gorgeous garden. The cold air that made me shiver a bit. Ray noticed that and offered to give me his jacket. He smiled brightly as he fitted it onto me and he toured me of the garden.

I stood out in the garden, looking at the flowers that reminded me of Ray. I haven't seen him all day and didn't seem well in the chat rooms either.

"Who's there?" I hear from behind me and turn around to see Ray.

His sobbing broke my heart as he spouted insults at himself. I wanted to tell him that he isn't worthless and that he is such a kind and caring person. I wanted to hug him and take all of his self hate away.

"Ray! Stop please!" I spoke up, my voice cracking halfway.

"I don't hate you! I really really like you! So can you please look at me?"

His eyes met mines and I pulled him in for a kiss.

My room was now off limits to all believers. The room that was prepared by Ray now had a suffocating atmosphere to it. I gazed outside the window, trying to relive my memories with Ray. I wonder if I escaped to the outside, I would be peaceful once more. The thought quickly disappeared myself as I reminded myself of Saeran.

"Saeran..." I mumbled to myself.

I turned my attention to my room and gazed upon the sight. The flowers that Ray gifted to me has now wilted, the stems barely holding the flower up. Those flowers were all I had left of Ray as I tried to hold his memory on for long as possible. I opened the chat room to see that V announced that the party was going to be on hold. I took a deep breath as I had an idea of what was going to happen to me. I was scared but I can't give up just yet.

The thought of Saeran crosses my mind again. Just, how much did he suffer to turn into this? I want to run away from this place but I want to stay, for Saeran and Ray's sake. The warmhearted man that would care for me was now someone who used anger as a shield for them. It was something hard for me to get used to. I did not want to accept any of this. I don't want to believe that he had been hurt so much to make him like this. Maybe if we escaped together he would finally find peace in his heart. I held onto the hope that we would soon escape this place as it was all I had.

"I need a break." I sighed looking at the clouds.

I weakly stood up and made my way into the bathroom. I turned on the sink to splash some water onto my face. I dried my face in the mirror and looked at how frail I had become. My color had faded from my face, my eyes being the only color visible. However, my eyes could barely keep themselves open, yearning for me to rest.

"Princess..." A voice I know all too well called out for me.

The room changing to a suffocating atmosphere and I took deep breaths, anticipating what's going to happen next.

Slam!

The door was forced open and in its entrance stood Saeran. His eyebrows furrowed, mint eyes staring through me. His stance was tall even though he was only a few inches taller. His tie was slightly loosened and his clothes weren't ironed, making all the creasing visible. Just the sight of him made me feel timid.

"Tch! The RFA's attack is so lame with V canceling the party." He scoffed, looking at me in annoyance.

"V said that the party will be on hold-"

"Hahaha! V is just tricking you to keep you hoping. Do you honestly believe that man? What an airhead." He taunted, making me look down at the floor.

"Ugh you and V piss me off so much. Seriously, how can you be such a useless toy."

My eyes stayed fixed onto the bathroom tiles, my back leaned against the sink countertop and my hair falling forwards. His words would always tug at my heart but I always reminded myself to not let it get the better of me. Even if he is to call me names or to hurt me, he would eventually get hurt in the end. Either way, it's not healthy for the both of us. However, I cannot let myself be swayed by his actions and words as I hope to escape this place safely with him. I took deep breaths in this suffocating atmosphere, the tension rising more between us.

"Hey, princess. Are you ignoring me? Do you think you have a right to ignore me?" He snapped, my eyes directing their attention to his body.

"Such a boring toy, do something to entertain me!" He shouted almost hitting his hand on the wall.

"This is annoying. Such a useless toy! This is annoying. This is annoying. This is annoying!" He screamed.

His voice cracked as he desperately tried to insult me.

"Do you know why they cancelled the party? Because you screwed everything up not me! This is all your fault!" He scolded along with a loud thump against the wall only to see that he slammed his fist against the wall.

"Saeran that's enough! You'll just hurt yourself!"

"Shut up! Who do you think you are to tell me that!"

With that sentence he grabbed me by my waist and pinned me down onto the cold bathroom floor. My head pulsed from the impact, my eyes squinting from the pain. I tried to gain my focus back and looked at the figure above me. His hands were over my shoulders and legs beside mines, my legs falling onto the floor. His eyes seemed to be brighter through his hair, a smirk plastered on face. I moved my legs, pushing my body away from his but he pinned my arms down, pulling me back to him.

"You're the worst. You piss me off so much and you're so boring, should I just get rid of you here?" He cursed at me.

"Saeran please..." I pleaded, not sure what else to say.

My head still ached but I barely paid attention to his insults. He noticed that and gripped onto my arms tighter. I flinched and looked at him. He shouted at me to answer him but my words came out incoherent. He started holding me tighter, his nails hurting me a bit.

"Saeran stop." I winced at the pain.

It wasn't expected but he released his grip from me. His hands still held mines firmly but he wasn't hurting me anymore. His eyes were wide, seemingly shocked but he quickly removed any signs of worry.

"Ugh such a boring toy can't you do anything interesting?" He taunted.

He seemed somewhat timid a few seconds ago and now he's spouting insults at me again. Whenever he showed any form caring, his actions will always revert to his anger. His anger was a shield for him, he gets angry because he's scared that his hope will turn into despair. The small details meant a lot, which made me more aware of his feelings. I just wish I can somehow save him from this pain. He grabbed my head, pulling me out of my thoughts as he realized that I was spacing out.

"Tch! don't ignore me! Are you trying to provoke me?" His voice ringed in my ears but I managed to keep my eyes away from his

"Oh? You are ignoring me." He remarked as he realized my actions.

"Haha well? Make me mad! Mess with me Come on, try it hmm? I'll play with you." He yelled, his words echoing throughout the bathroom.

His face was inches away from mines. The feeling of his breath ghosting my skin, which raised goosebumps everywhere. I placed my hands on his shoulders, anxious of what's to come. He unexpectedly pressed his lips against my neck in places he had previously marked me. He bit down on my skin but not enough to hurt me. My eyes widened and my jaw opened at his actions not knowing how to react at first. If we were mutual about our feelings for each other this would be a pleasurable feeling but in the end he was just taunting me. I took deep breaths in, the feeling being somehow wanted and unwanted at the same time. My hands were still on his shoulders but my push against him became weaker. My eyes shut as I tried to redirect my thoughts.

His lips were placed on my neck. He was now gently nipping at my skin. He's above me but his hands that held onto me loosened. His grip onto me weakened. I questioned him and even, myself. My feelings were conflicted with my thoughts in a battle of 'yes' and 'no'.

"Tch!"

He suddenly pulled away, and I opened my eyes to realize that my hands has unknowingly creeped into his hair. He was now towering over my body that was still laid out on the floor. I tried to gather my thoughts, confused by my own actions. Saeran looked down at me frowning but, it was not at my gesture but at something else.

"Didn't I tell you this already? This smell of yours been getting on my nerves." He insulted, mentioning the unknown smell once again.

"Don't tell me you don't even know how to wash properly." He scorned.

"But I don't know-" I replied standing up but quickly getting cut off.

"Do you want to know, hmm?"

I looked at him and thought about my answer.

"Hah! Did you think you actually had a choice even if you answered?"

He smirked at me, his devilish smile showing his intentions. He kicked off his shoes and walked towards me. My thoughts were immediately cut off when he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the shower, my sandals falling off in the process. He turned on the cold water and pushed me into it. The feeling of cold water made me flinch and I quickly moved out of the water. Saeran however did not like my actions and dragged me back into the freezing water, soaking me in my clothes. I brought my hands as close as they can be, trying to create some sort of warmth as I trembled underneath the water. I pulled and twisted my wrist to be freed from Saeran's grip but the cold water made me weaker, keeping his grip firm onto me.

"Haha! Hahaha! I'll tell you. I'll tell you how much you need to wash before you see me." He laughed hysterically at my struggles, running his hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling.

His smile wide, forming creepily on his face and his messy hair that covered his wide eyes. He was pretty dry, only a few drop of water stained on his suit.

"Stop please!" I yelped, his eyes focusing their attention on me.

"Ugh, should I just mask your mouth or something. I'll listen to you after you're tamed." He looked at me with disgust, his glare making me timid and forcing me into obedience.

My back suddenly hit the wall, arching at the impact. He had his hand around my neck but they fell to my hips to keep me in place. The pain I felt quickly disappeared as he made no haste in attaching his lips to my neck again. My hands reached to his shoulders to push him away giving me no time to process the situation. I wriggled in his grasp, my legs brushing against his now, wet clothes. He bit my neck, any words that I tried to say turning into small yelps. He was rough, his teeth biting at my skin, sucking and licking at places. He got what he wanted as I couldn't say anything but incoherent whines. Even if I wanted to say anything, I don't know what I could say. Seeing Saeran react like this was very new and shocking to me. It may be to taunt me but he would never take advantage of me, so why would he go this far? His left hand trailed down my body and rested at the edge of my dress. My legs closed at the feeling but his hands gripped my thighs and forced them open.

"Please please please." I repeated in my thoughts, my eyes closing again.

I did not want to think about what's happening but my mind redirected itself.

I did not want to think about the way he kissed my neck so rough but so gentle. The feeling of his teeth gently nipping at me. I did not want to think about his hand loosening their grip on my hips and moving to the back of my waist and pulling me closer. His hands also gripping my thighs but loosening to circle his thumbs against my skin.

"Why?"

"Why am I thinking this way?"

"Why am I paying attention to the small details?"

"Why is he being gentle?"

"What does any of this mean if it means anything?"

"Why do I feel myself getting hotter despite the cold water that previously splashed on me?"

"I'm not supposed to feel this way."

"But... why does my body disagree?"

My yelps slowly became into soft sighs and whines. My body that was tensed slowly became melted under his touch. I did not want to give in but my body disobeyed. My breathing fastened as I became needy for him. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to struggle away but I also yearned for him. Even if I did try to push him away my grip would always intentionally weaken. It felt wrong but it also felt so right. I felt conflicted, being between pushing him away or giving into the temptation. His actions became gentle and he tried not to hurt me. Even though he's mean towards me, I couldn't bring myself to despise him. The small details meant so much more to me. He is rough at first but his actions became gentle and caring. I did not understand why and I don't think he realized it either. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, my body and thoughts would always direct me to one answer. Slowly, my hands that were pushing him away, started gently pulling him closer. I moved my hands to entangle into his hair but he pulled away at my gestures.

"Who do you think you are to do that? Are you enjoying yourself too much?"

When he pulled away I did not bother to think about my actions as I had already decided on what I wanted. I paid no attention to his words and instead I studied his figure. Even though its wet, his suit seemed to fit him more attractively. His tie was loosened around his neck. His lips red and mouth slightly ajar from kissing me. His cheeks were tinted red and his eyes lost any traces of anger in them. He looked as if he was slowly losing his persona. If only I could pretend that nothing happened in the past few days and rush to him right now. The sight of him warmed my heart, hoping for him to hopefully find himself again. I could feel his gaze on me as if he was studying me as well. He lifted my chin up and I tried to avoid eye contact with him. I was sure that my cheeks were blushing and I was still breathing heavily. He understood my actions and softly chuckled.

"Oh? Haha Haha," He chuckled softly, "You are enjoying yourself aren't you princess? My my, such a naughty girl."

"Maybe you'll actually be good girl for me hmm?" He hummed in delight.

He leaned into me again and his hands ran up the sides of my body and stopped at the neckline of my dress. His hands played gently with the lace and my heart fastened at his movements. His gentle moments stopped and I was jerked forward towards his body. A loud tear echoed throughout the bathroom as peices of fabric fell off my shoulders. He had ripped the lace part of my dress, enough for it to fall off my shoulders. I gasped at my clothes that was now useless. He forced the dress off me and tossed it outside the shower. I was left in my underwear that was soon to be removed. He stayed put and made no haste in tossing my bra away as well. A blush became highly visible on my face and my hands crossed over my chest in embarrassment. He forced my hands to my side, my body on full view again. His movements were quick which gave me no time to react. He was rough but this time, I welcomed his actions towards me.

He pulled my underwear down along with his body and he looked up at me. My face reddened more and he chuckled at my reactions. We exchanged no words, our actions being enough to tell eachother what we wanted. He bit the inside of my legs and trailed his tongue up to my thighs. I gasped at the feeling and my hands moved aimlessly, not knowing what to do. He kept eye contact as the water flickered back and forth onto his face. His glare was intense and his eyes were now filled with lust. I tried talking but my words came out as soft gasps and sighs. He stopped at my thighs, leaving hickies there. He barely touched me and I was already going crazy. My hands moved from my sides and into his hair, tugging it slightly. He trailed his tongue further up my thighs, his breath ghosting where I needed to be touched the most. I held his head and pulled him closer, but again, he pulled away. I pouted, upset that he stopped his actions. He did not say anything and pushed me against the wall again. He stepped back and looked at me up and down clearly enjoying the position he had me in. He bit his lip and I crossed my hands over my chest and closed my legs, feeling shy once more. He frowned and placed his hands on my hips. This gesture made my hands fall to my sides but my legs remained tightly closed. He scoffed and roughly forced my thighs open. I tried to close them again but he shoved his knee between them.

"Ah ah princess. A toy like you dont have the right to be shy. You're just a useless toy who needs her master to train her hmm?" He whispered teasingly.

"Y-yes." I breathed out, his words at actions making me dizzy.

"Good girl."

I dont know if I obeyed him because of how needy I was, or the way he talked to me. Either way, his pet names and actions only made me want him more. I closed my legs around his knee, trying to create even a little bit of friction. I was desperate for even the slightest touch which he starved me from. He held my hips and I slung my hands around his shoulders. He kissed my neck, his teeth pulling and nipping at my skin. I seemed to long for oxygen more with every kiss.

He did not hesitate at all to mark me as his. He was rough, but also gentle with his actions as he claimed me. With every second that passed, I wanted, needed more of him. He held my hips with a bit more force and his nails dug into them slightly. Everytime I felt his teeth agaisnt my skin, small gasps and sighs escaped my mouth. He detached his lips from my neck and smirked at the marks he left on me. He then kissed me roughly which made it harder for me to kiss back. I was breathless as our mouths slid against eachother, my hands trying to grasp wherever I can on his body. He bit my lip, asking for entrance but I denied him. He mumbled something against my lips and suddenly rocked my hips back and forth against him.

The sudden pleasure made me gasp and he forced his tongue inside me. I tried to kiss back but it was almost impossible to. I pulled on his hair as his tongue slid agaisnt mines. He pulled away, letting me breathe and my head fell back in pleasure. He pulled me further onto him and forced my hips to grind against his clothed thigh even more. I whined, enjoying the feeling of finally receiving pleasure. My hair covered and stuck to my face but through the strands I saw him staring at me, enjoying the sight. His cheeks were tinted but his actions weren't flustered. I leaned forward, my head resting on his shoulder and I bit gently onto it. He flinched at first but surprisingly didn't push me away. I closed my eyes and my whimpers turned into soft sobs against his skin. I slowly started moving my hips in rhythm with his hands He loosened his hands on me, allowing me to move at my own pace. I started moving faster, my legs trembling against his as I approached my high. He realized I was close and removed his leg from my thighs. I whined at the loss of contact and the loss of my climax. I lifted my head up and pouted. He chuckled and pushed me completely off him.

"Look at you. I've barely touched you and you're already a mess for me." He cooed pointing out at my hair that stuck to my face and body.

He stepped back, smirking at me,"Such a messy princess."

His smile was somehow sadistic. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed seeing me want him and he loved not giving me what I wanted. He then started removing his clothes at an annoyingly slow pace. His first removed the chain that hung around his suit, then the buttons on his blazer. He was intentionally slow in his actions as he tossed his blazer outside the shower. He removed his tie but kept it hanging around his neck. He then started unbuttoning his shirt as he teased me with every action. One button. Then the second. Then the third. I waited slowly in anticipation, digging my nails into the wall to keep me from running towards him. The anticipation and pressure of his teasing got to me and I couldn't help but look away. He quickly snapped his fingers at me to direct my attention back to him.

"Look at me." He commanded.

"This is what you wanted right? Why are you looking away princess? Do it again and I wont let it pass so easily." His voice was stern but it also had a hum to it that reminded me that he was still teasing me.

I listened to his demands and forced myself to keep my eyes on him. He made me into his toy now. With every command I turn into putty and obey him and he loved it. He loved having control over my actions and using me how he pleased. His words were sharp but his tone always softened which made it apparent that his intention was not to be mean. He finally got rid of his shirt and tossed it aside. His body was littered with scars which made me guess where he got them from. The thought sunk my heart but I quickly shook them off as he walked closer to me. He was still in his pants, his bulge being highly visible. I bit my lip and crossed my legs tightly, the heavy feeling of arousal returning. He placed his hand against me on the wall and grabbed my chin to kiss him. I ran my hands down his chest and felt him flinch a bit by my movements. I ran my hands down to his pants trying to unbuckle his belt but they were quickly swatted away.

"Such a greedy princess. Did anyone tell you not to touch what's not your property?" He scoffed fully removing his belt.

He removed his last peice of clothing and my cheeks reddened at the sight. His body was on full view for me to admire. He stroked his cock a few times, small grunts escaping his lips. I placed my hands against his and guided his hands along his cock. His hand found it's place on the wall as he grunted with every stroke. He looked down and his hair fell forward as he sped up his movements. He stopped his actions but I didn't and continued to stroke him. His eyebrows were knitted and beads of sweat and water dripped down his forehead. He whispered at me to stop before swatting away my hands. His hands then found my waist again and he pulled me closer.

"Jump." He whispered.

I obeyed and jumped, wrapping my legs around him in the process. My hands were around his neck as he backed me against the wall once more. I felt his tip slide into my entrance but not the rest. He looked at me, a hint of worry showing as if he was asking for permission. My breathing was uneven and I was slightly panting from just wanting to get fucked by him. I slightly nodded and he slowly guided himself into me. I softly moaned at the feeling I longed for. My hands grasped tightly onto his shoulders as he slowly started to rock his hips. He pressed his lips against mines, his soft sighs more audible against me. He started thrusting faster into me and I whimpered against his lips. Every stroke made my body shudder in pleasure which made moans and whimpers slip from my mouth. I pulled away from the kiss and tried to catch my breath. My mind was hazy from the pleasure, my moans slipping more from me. He leaned into my neck, grunting at the pleasure. I raked my nails down his back feeling him wince a bit. He gripped my hips with more force, his nails digging into my skin. He pulled me closer onto him and the sound of skin slapping against eachother became louder than the shower. He bit down on my neck and my hips bucked towards him in pleasure. I tilted my head back which gave him better access to my neck. My eyes rolled back, my words coming out as incoherent slurs and whines. I was dizzy from his actions as I was only able to feel the mind numbing pleasure he gave me. I slowly lost any energy as I only wanted to feel him fucking into me. My grip loosened around him and I struggled to hold myself up against him. His thruts then sped up which snapped me back into reality, regaining my senses. My moans became increasingly louder and Saeran became more audible. I moved my hands to brush his wet hair out of his face.

"If you keep being this loud the other believers will hear you." He grunted, barely able to keep up with his words.

"I really don't care who can hear us." I breathed out, my words mixing in with my moans.

He chuckled and pulled me back in for a kiss. He kept his rough pace with every kiss, our teeth clashing together and his tongue pressing against mines. Our kiss was sloppy, both of us moaning into eachothers lips. He suddenly pulled out of me and set me down on the ground. Everytime he pulled away it killed me. I was dumbfounded by the pleasure that I never wanted to stop. He then spun me around, his hand firm on my ass and the other one wrapped around my neck. He quickly found his way inside me again and resumed his pace. My hands were placed against the wall for support, slipping and sliding off because of the water. He bent down to me and gently bit down on my shoulders. His teeth made me whimper and I bit down on my lip to try and subdue my moans.

His hand quickly tightened around my neck and pulled my head back to him, "Mmm princess you dont care who hears you right?"

I tried to reply but my words came out as whines and gasps. Instead, I nodded my head repeatedly.

"Well...? Don't hold them back princess, let everyone hear how good I'm making you feel." He chuckled and loosened his grip on my neck.

He started fucking into me faster and I allowed my moans to helplessly fall from my mouth. He removed his hand from my neck and held my wrist tightly as he focused more on his thrusts. I felt my orgasm approaching and I started pushing myself back onto him, chasing after my release. His grip however, tightened around my waist and forced me in place. He slowed down his thrusts and started moving at an agonizingly slow pace. I became impatient and tried to force my hips back onto him but he quickly pulled out of me. I whined but he gave me no response and started teasingly sliding against me.

"You're close arent you?" He hummed in delight. I just whimpered in response while nodding my head.

"Well beg for me princess."

His command startled me which made me hesitant but I complied regardless.

"Saeran please I..." I sighed, my words trailing off.

"Mm? I can't hear you." He teased me further.

"Saeran please I need you!-" I screamed but my words were cut off when he spun me around and picked me up.

He slammed himself back into me, thrusting as fast as he can. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into him, my moans being muffled by his shoulder. I felt my orgasm approach again and he thankfully didn't stop.

"Saeran...fuck...I." I whined as I tried to warn him but my words wouldn't form.

He got the hint and pushed off his shoulder. I quickly grasped onto his shoulder, a string of curses falling from my lips. My legs trembled around him and I repeated his name desperately as I came around him. I panted heavily as the fatigue dawned on me but he kept thrusting into me. He leaned into my neck, mumbling incoherent words as his thrusts became sloppy. His words were nothing but incoherent mumbles that got drowned out by the water.

"Saeran, please cum for me." I begged, hoping to push him over the edge.

He mumbled a quiet 'fuck' before slowing down. His hands tightened around me and he bit harshly onto my shoulder as he came. He kept thrusting until he became over sensitive and pulled out.

My legs were still wrapped loosely around his waist as I was too tired to hold myself up properly. He kept panting from his orgasm as he tried to slow his breathing down. I slumped down onto his shoulder and closed my eyes. His hands remained on my hips but they twitched, as if they wanted to let go but also hold on. We stayed there for a moment, not saying anything to eachother. I wanted to say something but I was too tired and breathless to do so. I tried to stop myself from falling asleep but my eyes refused to open.

I felt him shiver against me, the water making both of us cold. His words were incoherent to me as I drifted in and out of sleep. His tone was recognizable however and his words had a gentle undertone to them. The sound of water stopped and I was being carried somewhere. I was then freed from his embrace when I was placed on my bed. I felt the blankets shift around me but they fell back onto the bed without covering me. Saeran scoffed and the last thing I heard was his footsteps fading away before drifting off to sleep.

The End

-----

Written by Dangerousfellowshoe.

#suit is really hard to write #also smut sucks but its okay #saeran #mystic messenger saeran #saeran choi #saeran x reader #mysme saeran #mystic messenger smut #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger #mysme

190 notes · View notes

chicago-reeed · 4 years

Text

Detroit Evolution

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

#fun game: watch the film and try to guess what each of these crazy ramblings is referring to #im still reeling from all of that #I think I need to watch it again #yes that sounds like a plan #this is kind of like a review #if it were written by an emotional crackhead who got zero sleep last night #also #happy easter babes #if u celebrate it of course #what did we do to deserve this film #jfc there are still tears in my eyes #I need to watch it again asap #Detroit evolution #octopunk media #reed900

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hopespurity · 3 years

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incoherent ramblings

i wanted to type this out as my boyfriend and i were on a call and they left to eat dinner and this is probably one of the least destructive ways i can let my emotions out. trying to rationalize my thoughts is not always an easy task, but i find joy and almost a sense of pride when i believe i’ve adequately delved into the mystery that is my brain HAHA. not to sound edgy or anything, every human brain is complicated in its own unique way. i might as well start this off by explaining my thought process behind my username. you may roll your eyes or scoff at the ostentatiousness nature- or maybe you don’t care at all. but maybe if i explain myself a bit you’ll understand haha! my life, in general, is rather sucky. i don’t have any (positive) discernable qualities that differentiate me from the rest of common society, and i’ve come to terms with my own insufferable insignificance and have decided at a young age to dedicate the rest of my time i have on earth to those worthy and who have the passion inside of them to reach their full potential. the “hope” in my name doesn’t just refer to my own hope- that’s the beautiful thing. no, it would be quite selfish for someone of my nature to seek out a hope just for myself. my hope is- as stated before- helping those around me lead a future full of success. they’re the worlds salvation- and maybe, if i do a good enough job, they’ll see *me* as their salvation. that’s a distant fantasy right now, however haha. but the mere thought of it is enough to send shivers down my spine. the truth is, when i’m off my meds at least, i tend to partake in rather self destructive tendencies. i do things without thinking in an attempt to distance everyone around me- i dont deserve them, so they shouldn’t be near me. but i realized the more i do that, the less i am likely to conquer that dream of mine. i can’t let myself get too close to them though. that won’t work either. the reason is long and rather macabre so i won’t explain. i just want people to revere me when i’m gone. maybe make a statue hahaha. every day seems to blend in with the others. and that just won’t do. i need to make each and every day count as i don’t have much time left. i will admit, i am scratching my brain to think of.... hmm socially acceptable things to put in this paragraph? it’s hard to think of those when your brain gets clouded by grotesque thoughts more often than not. yesterday, or maybe it was the day before that, i thought i had seen a figure in my room but it was just my brain playing tricks on me o_o. to be fair, it was pitch black in my room so it was probably just a result of phosphenes. i bring it up though because my brain saw it, registered that it wasn’t real, but still got freaked out regardless haha! funny how minds work sometimes, am i right? your mind is the core part of your identity and yet it can be so, so cruel to us. not to say that some people don’t deserve that harshness, as i’m one of them. but i just find it ironic that we can’t live without our brain but our brain makes us not want to live. i miss my partner now >:O. they’ve been eating dinner for a while. ahahah maybe it was just ‘terminological inexactitude’. that’s a fun phrase to say, huh? but i digress. i suppose it’s time to close off now. if you read this, thanks :)

#rambling #hope #idk #insignificant #ramble

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reylo-love-theme · 4 years

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Post TROS Meltdown

Disclaimer: these are my personal feelings for the series and may not reflect your opinions. I just need a space to say them. Thank you.

I went into TROS completely blind and with no doubt that Ben would live (due to reading hundreds of fan analyses and predictions based off TLJ and TFA) and I have to say I'm emotionally unsalvagable. Anticipation for this movie got me through the roughest year of my entire life and this heartbreak and loss is what I'm supposed to end off on?

Like the entire movie came out of the left field and body slammed me into the ground.

They did so many fake deaths that I stayed waiting long into the credits for Ben to come back.

I kept hoping for an final scene...

COME ON EVERYONE and I MEAN EVERY mainish or even side character GETS a HAPPY ENDING EXCEPT THE TWO PEOPLE THAT NEEDED IT THE MOST. THE PROTAGONISTS.

What is supposed to be the moral of the story here.

Star wars is a space fairytail about HOPE and LOVE. IT was supposed to be reverse anidala!!! THE BIG THING ABOUT THAT SHIP WAS THAT IT WAS A TRAGEDY.

THE MOST SIGNIFICANT IMPACTFUL REVERSE IS TO GIVE LOVE AN HAPPY ENDING.

DO YOU SEE THE HOPE IN MY LITTLE EYES. DO YOU?!? *incoherent sobbing*

(Please don't read if you are just going to counter it in the comments. This is solely a personal opinion meltdown and not an attack on anyone or anything. I'm not a words smith and this might come out like senseless rambling but this is a meltdown post hahaha *cries* )

The cinematics and the fighting choreography were incredible. But I went to see the HEART of SW. I went solely to see that happy reylo ending.

Don't even get me started on what they did with Rey (the whole point of her arc was that a nobody can still be stand tall, love, and be a hero)

And Kylo/Ben (can redemption is rewarded with non-death for once?!?) It wasn't even a necessary death! He didn't have to die saving Rey!! They didn't even get like 5 minutes together without fighting?!? Like TLJ set it up perfectly! (Ben defeats Palp with Rey's help and Rey is by his side as he turns back to the light)(How come she called him Ren the entire time until the last scene?! Wasn't she the one who believed most in him?!?). His death had little impact on the audience!! Because there was no previous set up of romance!! There wasn't even happy moments like anidala or hanleia had... There was just...an end in death.

And it wasn't even mourned properly. We only see Rey grieve for all of 2 seconds?

The kiss scene was amazing! The way Ben crawled back to his love was so emotionally powerful! HIS EYES WERE IN SUCH PAIN. Rey grinned! He GRINNED BACK! THEY KISS! HE DIES!! How come no one cared about him afterwards?!? Why is Rey just being like "eh alright thats cool dude".( in the theatre I was so ticked off when someone laughed when he was legit trying to crawl back with broken ribs and a leg) I think it came out so left field for the people who weren't reylo! There was like barely hints that they loved loved each other. (Literally Poe and that girl had more romantic time together!)

Or there were hints on Kylo's side but NOT ENOUGH ON REYs. She juat attacked him and attacked him for the whole movie. (Yes I get that she was "struggling with the dark side" or whatever but Kylo was struggling too and he physically never hurt Rey (beyond unintentionally emotionally)) it made me question if Rey even loved him anymore and that was a huge blow. I couldn't sense this girl at all. Like I thought her tears were for Leia and Not BEN who she Literally Just stabbed. That was how shocked cold I was.

(WHY WAsnt he allowed to "love" rey from the begining of TROS instead of just going back to TFA Style KYlo) (It felt so forced and awkward from how he was in TLJ, I kept feeling like Adam tried to salvage it but he had so few lines it was sooo hard (he did a great job with showing his love and redemption of Ben even with the lack of lines though))

NOW HERE IS WHERE IM TRUELY MAD.

What message am I supposed to take away from their love story?

That broken characters do not deserve love? That trying to change results ultimately in death? That you can only been redeemed in death? That your family is willing to help a random member from their enemies bloodline but not their own kid who still loves them very much he literally dropped his saber when his mom died and gets stabbed and he still turns back because of his dad's last words even though he's been mistreated and neglected by his family and manipulated and abused by palp! What was the point of Leia putting down her lightsaber if not to save her son's life?!? Not end it by letting Rey pick it up?!?

Its 2019! Stop making redeemed villains die because you are too cowardly to give them the hard recovery journey afterwards!

As an abuse victim I related personally to his character and I felt cheated because of how cheap his death was treated. The message I had hoped to take away from this work was that it's not too late to save yourself! You get to decide who you want to be, not destiny, not family, not a skywalker curse! You can change your life! Recover from your abuse and heal your damaged heart. Find your found family in someone who believes in you and loves you even when you are flawed. Your bloodline is irrelevant to how you are. You don't have to pay the price for your family's crimes because you are not an extension of your family's will. You are your own person. Keep your love even in dark times because your heart will save you. (Wasnt that the whole point?! Ben solo had a heart! HE HAD A BIG HEART. That was the cause of the whole internal conflict!?? What does it mean that his love for rey killed him(I dont care that its symbolic or whatever, he still died. Thats not a good ending because he literally wasn't shown with his family or even with Rey, he just disappeared ?!?)

Like okay maybe there is a "tenth movie" or book to revive him. Like the openness of the movie leaves that space. But it was a hurtful move because no one would expect that since the trilogy has ended. Everyone fully expected a happy ending to wrap up NINE MOVIES OF TRAGIC LOVE. I mean I'm all for redeemed Ben solo and I'm so glad they at least gave him that and Rey's kiss. I'm only going to rewatch those parts from now on. For me the movie ended when he smiled.

#the rise of skywalker spoilers #the rise of skywalker #reylo #long post #post tros screaming #tros spoliers #tros #spoilers #rey #kylo ren #ben solo deserved better #rey deserves better #wyv rambles

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flyswhumpcenter · 4 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled.)

[SPOILERS FOR SWORD & SHIELD START HERE].

Oh Hop, my sweet, sweet summer child.

I've used a similar setting in three fics already. Time to get original bitch. Anyway! This story was a test run for a Postwickship fic for me and it's a success: I've had tons of fun. This is supposed to be set post-game but in an AU where Shieldbert and Swordbart or whatever their Eng names are didn't show up to steal old rusty held items idk. I just really wanted to write hurt/comfort for them lol I headcanon the player character and their crew as 16 in SwSh so they're 16-17 here. I wouldn't puncture the lung of a 10-year-old, jeebus. This could be a little incoherent because I wrote it in more than one sitting and while doing some research on the side at times, so I hope this is satisfying to someone out there.

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Anima Curanda (A Soul Who Will Be Cared For)

Summary: Hop tries finding his way back to civilization after a trip field gone wrong, Gloria finds her best friend injured in Postwick and the air surrounding them is filled with unanswered questions, undisclosed pain and concerns. A lot of concern.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword and Shield Ship: Pre-rel Hop/Gloria (Postwickshipping)

Wordcount: 3.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Hahaha, it hurts! It just hurts!

What hurts? Too much to keep track off, frankly. He just aches all over, from head to toe; from the migraine of having barely slept to the pain of having walked and biked for days and days; from the dark thoughts he tries to keep buried from the outside world and the hazards on the ground that he stumbles over when he starts to overthink things.

Despite how many times he’s been curb-stomped to the ground, how many times he’s flown in the air after the shockwave a move can make, and how much all of these hurt afterwards, he’s kept rising to his feet over and over again. He’s lost to his rival ten times already, he’ll never shine as bright as his brother or the friend he spent his childhood with, unbeatable as they are and ordinary as he is. He’s nothing special, nothing shiny, just nothing.

Portraits of Lee decorating the living room and countless discussions between his own family aside, there’s a lot of other things that tell him he’s the inferior product. A lot of other little, tiny things – of details, even – that ache to think about, that pinch his heart to the point of being slightly nauseous.

Everyone on his team has fainted, aside from Dubwool who’s courageously fighting the hail with him. He regrets having ever taken his first partner, his most loyal one, away in some PC box out of the sheer mass of his insecurities, of that constant will to improve despite nothing good ever coming from that. He hangs onto its Ball as firmly as he can, the strength of it making him afraid he’ll make it shatter if he clenches it too strongly.

He’s actually surprised he feels this strong to begin with. After trekking for days, fighting everything he could, trying to find new members to reinforce his team, it’s surprising he can still think of himself as strong enough to do that. If it wasn’t for the pain bolting in his chest, he wouldn’t be clenching that ball as if his life depended on it.

And what a pain it is! It started with the missed Psycho Cut of a wild Gallade, whom Corviknight had narrowly the assault of shortly before getting taken down itself, hitting right into the left side of his chest and most likely at least making some internal damage in there. That was around two days ago, if he isn’t wrong, and it’s shown no sign of hurting less anytime soon.

It bruised rapidly, or so he thinks compared to those he’d often get when he was younger (and also not unlike the ones Lee got during the Eternatus incident, on second thought…). Pressing a hand against it too strongly makes him yelp in pain while his skin keeps worsening in colour around where he got it. He was lucky for it not to have bled on the spot, but that doesn’t make anything much better: it still hurts a ton and he still has trouble breathing because of it. If it’s not getting better after a couple days, when will it do so?

At times, black dots appear all over his vision, for some reason, and he starts swaying and staggering until Dubwool catches him back with its fur. He used to apologize verbally, the first times that’d happen; but he’s found himself having less and less breath to give his excuses with. Sentences became a couple words, words some syllable.

It doesn’t help that he’s constantly lightheaded and easily gets dizzy. If he moves a little too rapidly, his vision goes for a swim and may not come back. If it wasn’t for Dubwool fending off the Sneasels that take interest in them at times, he’d have been a goner for sure. He has the feeling this is all related to his injury, to that toxic-looking bruise that’s festering under his miserable layers, but doesn’t see exactly how. Well, that’s not entirely true: he can easily suppose it’s because that injury makes it harder to breathe, so much harder, because of the pain it fires up in him every time he tries to speak and breathe.

The city is in sight. Wyndon’s lights and tower are in view, and he finally feels some relief, Dubwool seemingly bleating in agreement. However, right as he charges his legs to rush there, he trips over some ice, his damp sole gliding for a split second, losing his balance and falling again. Dubwool doesn’t have the time to react properly and stop him, so he falls right on his chest from all of his height, a sickening thumb resonating with his fall. The air gets propelled out of his lungs in one fell swoop, dizzying him even further.

He has no time to lose, especially not what he’s that close to the city, so he tries getting up on his arms. The pain that has been dully brushing against his ribs is now acting in an even fuller swing, the black dots not leaving his line of sight, almost preventing him from breathing altogether. He could stop to take a taxi, but what if he’s to pass out before it even comes? No, no, he has no time to lose…

His legs have endured a beating of their own before, decorated with scratches and bruises from the rocks he didn’t see coming and the claws of the local wildlife, tired of pushing on themselves to make him keep going. As a result, he has to use Dubwool as a support, failing to rise up once or twice before managing to finally regain a footing and continue his route to Wyndon. He’ll be there soon, he’ll be able to know what’s wrong and to finally give himself actual rest. Arceus, doesn’t that sound amazing?

He suddenly coughs violently, not even having the time to say anything or even put a hand in front of his mouth. He’s left gasping for air, unable to really make oxygen enter his chest anymore, especially once he sees what has just gotten out of his system, spread on the snow like an unremovable stain on an immaculate carpet. This is it: he has to go forward now or he’ll never see the light of day again.

With tremendous efforts, he makes it to Wyndon, out of breath; legs shaking in instability and arms tired of holding a hand against an injury that most likely doesn’t get any better from getting pressed. He’s still coughing, even if it hurts him even more to do so, and he’d just like to laugh it all off. He’d have done that if the pain wouldn’t get even more excruciating from such a gesture alone. The Centre is very much near now, and he can get there if his chest doesn’t give up on him too. Still, there’s another sight that makes him stop for a few seconds, and a shiver goes down his spine.

In the distance is his childhood best friend, his journey companion, his (former?) rival, waving at him vigorously. She’s smiling, grinning even, as he runs towards him. It’s only when she notices the hand clutching the hurtful part of his abdomen that Gloria drops the smile and immediately worries. It’s kind of hard to say for sure when most of his vision is blurry from the tears that are flooding it by the second.

D-dammit, he doesn’t want to worry her of all people!

“Hop, are you alright?” She asks, voice hesitant, in a tone he hasn’t heard in a little while.

“Y-yeah, I… I should be… real soon…!” He’s breathless and speaking hurts even further; yet tries smiling, only for his face to follow his chest.

“You’re sure about that? You look like you’re in pain!”

“It’s nothing…! I pro –”

Before he can pronounce his false oath, he starts coughing again, despite all his best efforts not to. The thing building up in his airways gets out anyway, no matter what he wants, and his vision starts swimming again. He’s afraid he’ll blackout before he can reach the Centre, so he should quickly stop that conversation and…

“Let me see.”

He stares at her for a millisecond, eyes squinting. He was just about to grab a tissue and clean the inside of his palm.

“Hop,” her voice strengthens, reminiscent of the Champion who’s beaten his until then undefeatable brother. “Please, Hop, let me see. It really doesn’t sound right.”

He reluctantly gives her his hand, the black dots dancing around them like will-o-wisps. She doesn’t respond to it, her reaction instead cementing itself in silence. That is, until she finds what words she wants to put on it. It drops in a glacial, no-nonsense tone, raw and undignified:

“…I’m calling for help.”

Before he could interrupt her attempt at doing so, the quick move he tried to pull off to do so makes itself felt and he collapses on his knees, the pain in his chest unbearably intense. It’s like he’s been kicked in the abdomen, and then someone was twisting something inside of it. Breathing is becoming impossible, or at least barely, from how painful it is to inhale and exhale, from how difficult it is to simply focus on that with such a hazy mind. He wants to cry, but that sounds like choking himself even further…

Gloria seems to be over with her call rapidly, as she next kneels down to his level, her warm hands on his cold shoulders, then on his forehead. Her touch is delicate, as if she’s stroking crystal, while he’s busy not strangling himself with whatever’s happening inside of him at the moment. She gives him soft words of reassurance, shelters him with her arms from the rest of the world, tells him he doesn’t have to lie or suffer anymore. He likes that. He wishes his arms could do the same for her, but she simply is so much stronger than he is, and there is nothing he can do about it. Maybe, one day, he’ll be able to pay her out…

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon,” is the last thing he hears before his vision fades to black.

Gloria wishes she could have been waiting with Dubwool by her side, both so she wouldn’t be alone and because it’s her best friend’s closest partner; but, naturally, that’s not possible in a hospital, so she instead fumbles with its Ball.

She tried calling Leon and Sonia earlier to warn them about what had happened, but neither of them responded. If she’s to assume, she’d say Leon is busy with managing the Battle Tower and Sonia is head-deep into her studies, may have had a sleepless night and is now snoring over her desk, left unable to be awaken by her phone (which she most likely put on Plane Mode anyway…). She’ll have to wait for them to pick them back up and call her back, then. Ah, that sort of stuff happens. Plus, they can’t have known.

They really can’t guess what happened.

She can’t quite put back the pieces, at the moment, because of how little she knows about the sequence of events that brought Hop to Wyndon, on a fairly sunny day with cold air, with most of his party fainted, an exhausted Dubwool and, most of all, a couple broken ribs. If Hop can communicate with Dubwool, then she really can’t, even if she’s never wished that much in her life that she could understand bleating. She hadn’t even considered the question until today!

What worries her the most is the blood he was spitting when he was trying to talk to her. Is that a symptom of broken ribs? She can’t remember having ever broken such a bone in her life, or known someone who did. Truth be otold, there may have been that one time where that could have happened, but she never got to know why. A few years ago, the neighbours suddenly went to Wyndon for a week, taking Hop with them, and Mum just kept saying that things would be back to normal soon. She didn’t lie, but the sketchiness of it all makes her suspicious… It doesn’t help that, that year, the Gym Challenge finals got postponed.

Still, there’s something inside of her that just knows something’s gone terribly wrong. She can’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or if it’s even possible that such a feeling could be right. All she knows is that she’s having an awful impression of it all and that her heart is beating in overdrive. Winding out is not exactly the easiest thing to do when she’s stuck in a waiting room, having to choose between pacing indefinitely or sit on a chair and play around with her fingers or her phone.

She’s tempted to go outside to wait for the news to be given to her, absolutely; but she’s afraid that, if she does so, the doctors will have nobody to give it to if she’s still outside by then. That’d be underestimating how much she wants to see him, to know what exactly happened and how she, as a Champion and as a friend worthy of such name, can fix things. That’s part of her missions as Leon’s successor, right?

Set on staying here until someone gets out of the operation room, the bright red light of the “In Use” sign sitting over the doorframe whose direction she regularly glances at still shining over the daylight pouring through the windows, Gloria settles on studying her surroundings yet again. The walls are still white and pristine, with barely any spot or stain to be noticed. The floor is covered by a layer of grey linoleum, as boring to comment on as it’s functional. If she can guess such a room is regularly cleaned, she can also tell there’s been a couple stretchers that have wheeled through it to the operation room today already. The lines and stains left by these, unlike the walls, are still visible.

The room is empty and, aside from her unnerved breathing and impatient footsteps, silent. The soundproof walls make it so she can’t hear a thing, even if she puts her ear against the wall, morbidly curious, trying to keep herself from dipping into some seriously messed-up thoughts that have been trying to assault her mind ever since Hop started showing signs he wasn’t as fine as he’d have liked her to believe.

In a way, it’s funny that he’s doing exactly the same thing as his brother. They both said “I’m fine, don’t worry” at times where they knew they weren’t. Still, she doesn’t think that Hop did that on purpose, now that he’s tried freeing himself from Leon’s shadow. It’s more of a thing that she sees herself doing… As hypocritical as that may be, and as much as she dislikes knowing he purposefully lied to her thinking it’d be the right thing to do for her sake, she can understand it. She can understand it and that has to be why she hates it so much…

Gloria’s back hits the wall as she glides down to her feet, crouching with her forearms on her knees. Time’s too long and she’s getting nauseous from the anxiety that keeps piling in her throat and chest, heart throbbing. Trying not to cry is already a behemoth task in itself, so she focuses on that, only for her thoughts to change back to what could be happening and questions she can’t have an answer to.

She snaps back to reality when the red light turns off and the door finally opens, revealing a gurney getting wheeled to the other side of the room and a surgeon, still wearing his stained scrubs, walking up to her. She stands back up, rising herself on stiff and yet trembling legs, and lies back against the wall, gulping. Her mind rings and burns with a thousand questions; but her voice can’t catch up, not even a whisper exiting her mouth. The man gives her a tired, yet soft smile back:

“Your friend will be fine. Absolutely is the brother of the former Champion, his fighting spirit showed in the OR…”

She has to retain herself from hugging the man right in front of her and give him a waterfall of thanks. Instead, she remembers for a split second she’s the current Champion, shakes her head and keeps the waterworks from unfolding for a little while longer:

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

There is a silent horror seeping in her veins from being here. Everything about the room is eerie: the slow, somewhat regular beeps of a monitor; the oxygen mask sitting there, accompanying an otherwise soothing breath; the abnormal serenity of the air around her, the whiteness of a room that reminds her of the snow and the smell of antibiotics.

She remembers waiting in a lobby with Hop decorated like that in Hammerlocke, his hand clutching hers while he tried not to bit his thumb or cry in stress, the both of them tired and battered yet the lucky party of the fight against Eternatus. She remembers the horrified yet relieved look on his face as they discovered in what state his brother was. She remembers the words that got out of his mouth, how he found it so creepy to have Lee lying there, almost lifeless.

Surely there is some irony to be found about Hop now playing that role.

It hurts to be there, to see the time standing still yet again, as she waits for him to wake up. A part of her does like him to be resting after the nightmare he must have endured to end up like that. With the injuries he’s sustained, it’s only normal he doesn’t wake up immediately. She’s trying to combine that with the effect of sleeping gas, but as a girl who’s never had a surgery, it’s hard for her to estimate such a thing. She’s got to wait and…

“Gl…”

She’s about to drift off when she realizes Hop’s head is now turned towards her, the faintest smirk on his lips. He looks beyond tired, exhausted by the experience and the trauma of the surgery, pale all around, but he’s still here, safe. The light press she feels on her hands makes her realize she’s been holding his all along. That’d be embarrassing if she wasn’t trying to get her priorities straight.

“Hop, you’re awake!” That’s beyond obvious, what’s the point of saying aloud like that? Maybe it’s just from the sheer happiness of this being a fact…

“T-thanks…”

His voice is weak, low and raspy, barely more hearable than a whisper; quite the opposite of the roaring tone he’d usually speak in. Still, that’s his voice, that’s him being able to breathe yet again, and it’s more than enough for now. Of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish deeply for his recovery to happen soon; that’s just settling down for a sustainable goal for now. Better not rush things in, for she has a feeling that may have happened to her good old friend over here…

“How are you?” She asks, keeping her own voice down.

“Huh… Sore…?”

“Better than gone, I suppose.”

“…Yeah…”

Hop inhales deeply, wincing slightly when he does. A slow hand strokes the left side of his chest, trying to calm something down.

“A-again… Thanks for… y’know… saving me…”

“That was nothing. We have to look out for each other, don’t we?”

“Ha… Yeah…”

The mood sinks with his smile, dragging her heart with it.

“Sorry for… that…”

Gloria doesn’t reply immediately, letting a silence settle itself, uncomfortable and thick.

“You’re having problems breathing, right?”

He nods.

“No wonder you do, with what you got for yourself… How did you even go for that long with these injuries?”

“I wanted to… make sure my… team would be safe.”

“The good news is that they’re safe, now. Dubwool seemed really worried about you when I found you two!”

“He’s such a great ’on, right…?”

“He sure is.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. I meant to ask you to be easier on yourself from now on. It was really heart-breaking to see you like that struggling to even breathe.”

“Sorry for being such a klutz… Got hit by a Gallade… Slipped on some ice…”

“…and pierced your lung.”

He freezes.

“So, as I said: don’t do that again, okay? You deserve a lot more than dragging yourself like that, Hop.”

He looks aside.

“You… think?”

“Of course I do! What am I to you, a liar?”

He almost laughs until his pain catches back to him, causing the fit to immediately stops in its tracks.

“’t wasn’t what I meant…!”

“I guessed so.”

It’s to Gloria’s turn to look aside and feel something burn inside of her, scratching her chin with her finger.

“I meant to say, you’re amazing, Hop. I don’t want to see you go like you almost did. What’s a Champion without her rival?”

“Huh…”

“That’s right, not the same person! You matter very much to so many people! So, please, can you take care of yourself?”

Hop still doesn’t reply. He looks like he’s lost his words somewhere along the way.

“Not for anyone either. For yourself. I… I hope you’ll one day understand how important you are.”

She can understand she’s being confusing and emotional. Trying to pull strings together is harder than usual.

“I’ll try that, then…”

“Good.”

The two of them settle in a comfortable silence. She’ll have to ask him when he’s better what happened to him in case such a disaster is to happen again (which she really hopes it doesn’t). For now, he’ll recover, and she’ll be by his side as he does so. Too bad for her Battle Tower scores and public interventions, some things just matter more than clout and fighting experience.

You know, once she’s sure they’ll be safe and sound, she can tell what’s truly on her mind and heart. It seems like he still doesn’t have a clue as to what’s hiding under the rocks…

“Hop!!”

Busting through the door, not even waiting for a yes or a no, Leon enters the room his baby brother is stuck in. Soon, however, his intense concern turns into a sort of awkwardness and utter surprise when he realizes he’s facing his brother and his best friend sleeping against next each other, their hands fiddled together.

Before he can mellow out and smile at the sudden sight of safety and softness, Sonia’s voice comes from behind his shoulder.

“Let them sleep instead of screaming like that, you big idiot.”

He has to agree with her, so his shoulders untenses as he lets her enter and closes the door behind them.

#pokemon swsh #postwickshipping #hop pokemon #gloria pokemon #hop's dubwool #hurt comfort #emotional hurt comfort #Angst with a happy ending #injury #feels #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2 #broken bones

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