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vanderlesbian · 7 months

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daughter of a cop

arthur morgan x fem reader

now playing: daughter of a cop - tv girl

— a short fic inspired by the tv girl song! this is my first actual piece of writing on this blog so i hope you guys enjoy it <3 i think i have a ghost fic planned that ill start working on soon :) (it may or may not be based off a mitski song)

warnings: slight suggestive content/references

masterlist

saint denis was the epitomy of growing industrialization. factories, tight neighborhoods, trolleys that didn't seem to care if someone was crossing the pavement, and most importantly; police. it wasn't a place for a man like arthur morgan to be lingering around, and he knew it. he didn't enjoy the city, anyways. it was congested, and there were far too many rules for an outlaw like him to follow. the constant glares from men in blue uniforms and silly hats irritated him—this was nothing like the west he was used to.

however, within saint denis, there was a spot where the police didn't go. a small saloon hidden within a maze of an alley way, disguised by the neighborhood homes that surrounded it, making it appear as just another residence. it was a place that arthur frequented, but not for any reasons that his fellow outlaws would think. he didn't go to gather intel, nor did he go to have chats with dutch. no, he went because of one thing. or, perhaps one person.

he went because of a woman.

he would never admit it to the others, for several reasons. one, he was simply just embarrassed over it all, but two, she was a woman of higher class. a young woman who wore a new dress each time he saw her, with her manners being rather formal compared to the sloppy outlaw, yet she never found his habits strange or uncivilized.

that woman was you, and you were nothing other than the daughter of a cop.

it was obvious that you liked arthur. from the way you let your hand linger on his bicep each time he made a silly remark, to always hushing him when he began to talk bad of himself, telling him that he was handsome and kind. though, arthur refused to believe that was the case. he tried not to show his own affection and often wrote notes to himself in his journal that he would never meet up with you again, but time and time again he made his way into that saloon, eyes searching for you in the crowd of other outlaws. he would curse himself for coming again, but all of his anxieties were eased the moment he saw you push through the saloon doors.

you stuck out like a sore thumb—or, to put in nicer words as arthur thought he should, perhaps a daisy in a field of clovers? the moon on a clear night? arthur crossed out several made up metaphors in his journal. whatever the metaphor was, you were different from the outlaw men that frequented the hidden saloon. you were full of life, clean, unscathed, and rather innocent. arthur noted the way your eyes widened each time he told you a story about his many days of being what he called "a bad man", and how you would bring a hand to your mouth as it fell into an 'o' shape from pure shock and surprise.

though, you were never scared of him, and that's something that arthur also took note of. you held some level of empathy for outlaws, for ones that come from challenging backgrounds. you had met arthur because he had saved you from a couple of strange men, and immediately you knew that he was a kind man. there was something about him that intrigued you, aside from the fact that you found him to be attractive, and you had made it your goal to get to know him.

"i know a place where the cops don't go." you had told him. before he could say anything, you grabbed his wrist and led him through that maze of alleys, leading him to the saloon that became your special spot.

"how do you know this place?" he had asked you the day you first took him. you simply shrugged and held a hushing finger to your lips. he chuckled, and you felt your cheeks grow hot.

eventually you had told him that you were the daughter of a police man. you expected him to get upset at that fact—and he did, but it wasn't anything serious. he furrowed his brows and questioned in a low voice if you were in on some kind of ploy to catch him, to which you sincerely told him that it was nothing of that sort. your father wasn't even aware of the fact that you were seeing this man with a five thousand dollar bounty hanging above his head. arthur didn't grow as upset as you expected him to because deep within himself, he had already trusted you. it was more of a natural instinct to grow suspicious of you, but immediately felt eased the moment you placed your hand on his knee and told him that you weren't working for your father.

so, arthur continued to visit you. he waited for your letters at his camp, and he also kept each one. the other members of the gang would raise eyebrows at the mysterious parcels, to which arthur would always bashfully shrug off with a "it ain't none of your business" before riding his horse into saint denis. what was originally one visit maybe every three weeks became one visit every week, then two, then the both of you simply began to walk into the saloon any time you felt like it in hopes of seeing the other already there.

both of you knew it was risky, yet neither of you cared. your father began to question where you were going, to which you always had an elaborate excuse. dutch would question why arthur was in saint denis so often, and he would reply with some half thought out lie that made dutch raise an eyebrow in return, but ultimately shrugged off. the two of you had even began spending time outside of the saloon, out in the open streets of saint denis. arthur was rather hesitant about it all, not wanting you to be seen with a man like himself, yet you insisted.

you took arthur to your favorite spots around saint denis; gardens and parks where you sat along the edge of a pond, and to theatres where you would watch whatever event was on that evening. accidental faint brushes of finger tips had become full blown hand holding, and each time before you would hop on the trolley to depart, you would place a kiss on the stubble growing on his cheek. it was this strange stage between the both of you, one where neither of you had admitted your feelings simply because both of you were afraid of the differences in your life, yet the feeling of his lips against yours was no longer a foreign feeling, and it simply kept growing.

perhaps it was just the both of you being eager and needy, but there were several instances where you had found yourself pressed against the wall of an alley way with arthur's large, calloused hands snaking up the skirt of your dress and running along the bare skin of your thighs. privacy hardly existed within the city which cornered you into sometimes uncomfortable spots, yet you couldn't ride out on the back of arthur's horse, especially with the increased questioning from your father. the blindness of the love you were experiencing with this outlaw had completely shrouded you from the fact that your father had begun investigating your whereabouts—not until the police had barged into that saloon that had stayed hidden for so long.

you saw your father among the uniformed men, making eye contact with his furious gaze. you were the one who had grabbed arthur and ran with him out the back door of the saloon, starting a chase that was probably much bigger than it should've been. arthur had called you insane as the two of you snuck through nooks and crannies in an attempt to make it back to his horse, but there was an obvious hint of amusement in his voice as he said it. you were a woman completely separated from the world of outlaws, yet you were a natural escape artist.

eventually making it to arthur's horse, the two of you attempted to flee the city. the adrenaline was something you had never felt before, and you could hear arthur's thumping heartbeat as your ear pressed against his back while you held onto him. the police held no guns upon your father's instructions, insisting that they capture arthur alive and keep you unharmed. though, their numbers quickly increased, and you began to see the concern growing in arthur's expression.

while guiding him through the streets, arthur suddenly took a different turn than what you had told him. the feeling of his horse coming to a sudden halt made you gasp, and you hardly had time to process as he dismounted his horse and held his arms out to help you off.

"come on." he told you, eyes glancing to the side to check for signs of the law. "you ain't coming with me."

stubbornly, you refused. it wasn't until the sounds of whistles began growing closer that you saw genuine concern in arthur's face, and you hopped off the horse into his arms without a word. however, when you peered back up at him, arthur was smiling; a smile that looked as if he were holding back a chuckle.

"you are one crazy woman." he told you in a hushed tone, lifting his worn hat from his head and placing it on yours before letting you go. "now get on out of here, you shouldn't be caught up in all this."

you immediately knew his hat was a sign from him telling you that he would see you again. it was too big for your own head and blocked your eyes from seeing his horse gallop away, but when you lifted it to look, the law was racing down a nearby street with arthur nowhere to be seen. a large smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you disappeared into the alleys between buildings, taking a complex path back home to avoid detection.

needless to say, your father wasn't pleased when he came home to you innocently prepping tea for yourself. you didn't listen to his nagging words; something about uncivilized people, chaos and getting involved with the wrong kind. however, your interest was finally piqued when you heard that arthur had been arrested.

"it wasn't his fault." you immediately told the man, forgetting about the boiling kettle. your father scoffed, but you continued to tell him that you were the one who made arthur flee. though, he didn't budge, raising his voice as he nagged you for getting involved with such a dangerous man.

the word 'dangerous' seemed to strike something within you, because you had yelled back that arthur had saved you. that evening, those two strange men, the way arthur held your shoulders and reassured you that you were alright; there was nothing dangerous about him in your eyes. you saw your father's expression lose it's anger, and it seemed that was when he noticed arthur's hat sitting loosely upon your head.

"what's that?" he asked, pointing at the tattered leather hat.

you shrugged. "a gift from a dangerous man."

arthur had stayed in the saint denis jail for two days. what he thought was his fellow gang members coming to bust him out ended up being you, a soft smile on your lips as you wrapped your fingers around the metal bars of the jail cell. his hat still sat on your head, making arthur chuckle at the sight of you.

"did you think i was going to leave you in a cell to rot?" you giggled, allowing space for a law man to unlock arthur's cell.

"thought i was gonna have to use other means to get out of here." arthur replied in an amused tone as he stood up from the metal slab that the jail called a bed. the law man cocked an eyebrow, to which arthur raised his hands in defense. "kidding, of course."

your father waited at the jail entrance, arms crossed and a dismissive look sprawled on his face. he was the one that had told the law men to set arthur free, you explained. arthur seemed rather flustered at that information; he didn't want to thank a cop. he figured a nod of the head was enough of an acknowledgement, though it only earned a cold glare from the older man.

"how the hell did you get that bastard—" he cleared his throat. "apologies, that fine man to let me out?" arthur questioned as the two of you left the jail. you playfully hit his arm at the comment, then shrugged your shoulders.

"i was honest. told him you saved me." you answered, lifting the hat from your head and placing it back onto it's owner. you brushed a strand of arthur's long blonde hair from his face and smiled. "there ya go, cowboy."

arthur rolled his eyes, tipping his hat downwards before replying. "you know, i enjoyed that little chase of ours." he told you, holding out his arm for you to link yours with. neither of you knew where you were headed off to; you simply strolled down the street as if nothing had happened. "but don't think about doin' something that stupid again."

"i did too, actually." you then admit with a chuckle, somewhat ignoring his nagging. "it makes things fun."

after the events of that rather chaotic day, your father agreed to leave that hidden saloon alone upon your pleading requests, and it once again became your favorite spot to frequent with arthur. the two of you did earn a bit more freedom to roam saint denis and it's outskirts, allowing the two of you to enjoy some privacy, and eventually express your true feelings for one another. however, there continued to be close encounters with the law every now and then simply because of arthur's antics with his rowdy gang, but it always ended in silly laughter and breathless kisses from running so much.

arthur wrote many things about you in his journal, mindlessly sketching portraits of you next to entries about how you enjoyed sneaking around the city after dark and running errands with him whenever possible. though, at the end of his entry, there was a phrase scribbled in his neat cursive:

she was the daughter of a cop.

#music is my biggest fic inspiration lol #arthur morgan #x reader #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #dutch van der linde #charles smith #john marston #fem reader #tv girl #imagine #oneshot

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mellowwfever · 1 year

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— ♡ “ All that mattered. ” ♡

↳ Kurokawa Izana x Reader

— There might be a couple of swear words, mostly from Izana and he might be a bit OOC. Also, the ending is a bit rushed since I didn't know how to end it, but whatever. It's a little cheesy, I can't help myself. Are pet names a warning? This just randomly popped up in my head so I had to write it so it will leave me alone. Not proof read at all.

A/N: I'm madly in love with this man, I just can't help it. I'd sell my sould to him if he'd ask me to. I wrote this at like 4AM. I don't know what this is, don't ask me.

↳ Word Count: 867

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Since you were little, you always tend to pay attention to what people would say about you or how they see you, a habit or, better said, insecurity that stuck to you from your childhood. Your mother would always talk about looking and acting appropriately so that your peers would see you only in a positive light. Appearances and reputation were always something she cared about a little too much, and she did everything just so you would too. All it did, however, was just made you insecure in some ways. There were still things that you didn't care about regarding other people's opinions towards you.

Your relationship with Kurokawa Izana was one of them. Izana was a well-known and fearsome man. So it was simply natural that people would start talking and making up silly rumors when it came to attention that the cold-hearted King of Tenjiku seemed to have a very close relationship with this person that seemingly came out of nowhere. That person being you.

If you were to be completely honest, it all developed pretty unexpectedly for both of you as well. You knew Izana and Kakucho for a long time, meeting them back when both of them lived in an orphanage. You met them by an accident, but something in you seemed to catch Kurokawa's attention, and he quickly proclaimed you as his future spouse. You just thought him to be a little odd and didn't take his words seriously until a couple of years later two very familiar to you boys showed up at your doorstep. You immediately recognized the vibrant lilac eyes of your old friend and didn't oppose when he took your hand, leading you to your new kingdom.

Though you knew exactly what the risks of being with Izana were, you didn't care. You knew of his dangerous temper and violent tendencies, but you decided that it didn't bother you. Admittedly, it was hard to scrab your way through all of his walls and shells, but you still managed to do so in the end, and you never regretted it once. Your heart and loyalty belonged fully to Izana, and you swore that it will always stay that way.

You weren't bothered by the looks and whispers that were occasionally thrown your way, so it was fine. Izana, however, did seem very annoyed by it, and he did offer you to "deal with the lowly morons", but you always just shrugged it off. Your relationship with him was your business only, so who cares what some idiots think about it.

"I just don't see why it bothers you this much." you would always say whenever he'd bring up his frustrations about the looks you were always given. He'd turn to you with a serious look on his face while frowning at your dismissive attitude.

"My darling, I just can't have that ugly dirt disrespecting my precious beloved." he'd state matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. "It seems that a few fools have forgotten their place. That scum thinks they have permission to even utter your beautiful name in a bad manner, so they need to be taught a lesson."

You stiffen an urge to giggle at how serious he looks, his threats and harsh words not affecting you in the slightest. If anything, you find it utterly endearing just how protective he gets over something so insignificant to you. You move closer to him, gently taking one of his hands in both your own. He quickly places his free hand on your waist, subtly tugging you closer to himself. You could faintly recall how he would flinch whenever you touched him without alerting him first back when your relationship was only starting, and it warms your heart how much comfortable he is with your touch now.

"Izana, dear, you know that I don't care what some random people think about me or our relationship. They can talk all they want, it doesn't change anything anyways. I still love you with all of my beings and a few dirty looks and silly insults won't affect anything."

He seemed to actually stop and think about your words for a few seconds before letting out an annoyed huff.

"I know, my love. But I still don't intend to just let that go and ignore the way they treat you. Their behavior does not deserve any mercy. You can't change my mind, darling."

You sigh but nod. To be completely honest, you didn't expect anything else. Izana was always extremely stubborn and there were very few things that could ever change his mind once he was set on something. So you just lean your head on his shoulder, feeling him pull you even closer to him, almost in a protective manner.

You didn't care about your reputation since you were prepared for that sort of backlash when you accepted a declaration of love from Kurokawa Izana and promised to always remain by his side. But as long as he allowed you to be this close to him, to love him and cherish all of the affection he showered you with, it was all that mattered.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x you #kurokawa izana x reader #izana x reader #tokyo rev fluff #; mel writes ♡#; fic ♡

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upwards-descent · 2 years

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WIP

A knock at the door, at this hour of the night, always spelled trouble.

Amy didn't answer it immediately. 9:15pm was when she wrote down the day's entry in her diary. If she broke away from the page, she'd lose her train of thought and the streak would be ruined. She was a firm believer in the benefits of establishing habits, like watching TV around the same time every night or making sure she did laundry exactly once a week.

The rapping at the door came again, a little more frantic. Who would even bother her right now? Weren't there plenty of other people nearby to bother?

"Coming!" Amy chirped, not too excitedly. "Hold your horses! Jeez, some people have no manners--"

When she opened the door, she nearly barked in surprise. Standing there, looming just a couple inches over her, was Shadow the hedgehog. He looked down at her with barely concealed content before something shifted in his expression to soften it. It was like he remembered to hide his scowl.

"Amy Rose," He rumbled. "I need your help."

"My help?" Panic began to set in. Shadow didn't seek out anyone's aid over nothing. Amy spoke without thinking. "... At this time of night?"

"I apologize for the hour of my visit. I fear judgment if I'm seen around here in daylight."

That was a puzzle. His tone was odd; strained, calculated, like he was rehearsing a script. Shadow cleared his throat into his fist and crossed his arms over his chest before adjusting his posture to cross his arms behind his back. Nerves made his eyes subtly dart all over Amy's face.

"... Sonic's on vacation if that's who you're looking for," Amy replied flatly. "I'd suggest searching for him around China, last I heard he was visiting friends in the area."

When she tried to close the door on him, Shadow's arm shot out and caught it. Amy was significantly stronger than she looked but the unyielding power in the other hedgehog's grip was startling. He was supposed to the be the ultimate after all.

"I'm not looking for Sonic. Yet," Shadow growled. Again, he made a visible effort to keep himself calm. "I'm looking for you."

Amy tilted her head forward, eyes wide. Her silent coercion made Shadow sigh frustratedly.

"I have... Had some time to think," Now he was avoiding her eyes entirely, peering over her shoulder to leer inside her home. "And I have decided to separate myself from the Robotniks, from the Black Arms. I wish to be my own person and as such, I've come to beseech your... Leadership."

"... You wanna... Be my friend?"

Shadow flinched a little. This close, Amy could see the distinct differences between him and Sonic. Shadow's eyes seemed more wild somehow, his pupils shrinking into slits like a cat; his teeth were much sharper and his fur looked coarser. The longer Amy stared back at him, the more alien he seemed to be.

"I want to learn how to be... 'good' I suppose." Shadow nodded once.

"Are you still working for GUN?"

He shook his head. Amy thinned her lips, glancing back inside her house. Everything was neat and clean. Her couch matched the armchair. Mail was sorted on the table. The fruit in a bowl on the counter were exactly ripe. Shadow's life had probably never seen stability. He was created, buried, then resurrected to serve others, at least that's what Amy understood about his life in the modern age. He had no family. He had no constants except for strife and thankless work.

"... You can crash on my couch for a bit," The words came out of Amy's mouth too much faster than she could think. "If you mess with my stuff, you're out. Got it?"

"You have my solemn vow," Shadow laid a hand over his heart. "I don't sleep much anyways."

#I've had this fic in the works for uhhhhh many many years #and i guess i might finally be writing it????#shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #wip #fanfic

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

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a jig in plaited time

Happy holidays, @under-the-blue-moonlight ! I really enjoyed writing up some intrulogical content for you (and this may actually get additional chapters lol, I’m really happy with it).

Here is your @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift!

ships: Intrulogical, background Royality

cw: anxiety, intrusive thoughts, panic attack, mannequins, mentions of food

Why was Remus at the mall?

That was a simple question, with a just as simple answer. He was at the mall for a suit and tie, one he needed for his brother's wedding. It needed to be “salmon” or whatever, with a blue tie.

A much less simple answer was to the next question.

Why was Remus at the mall on Black Friday?

In all honesty, Remus hadn't known about Black Friday until he arrived. He hadn't really had a good feeling about it on the way here, but he'd paid no mind to his instincts. He didn't often have a good feeling about anything. There had been far too many cars for this time of morning on a weekday. What had really tipped him off, though, was the huge sign in the window of Nordstrom's.

'BLACK FRIDAY SALE!'

Even at that point he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. It became far more clear when he entered the building to find it absolutely packed. Well, there could be an upside to this. Maybe there would be a sale on the suit he needed.

Remus hadn't been this close to someone since he was in the womb, and he could not say that he was very comfortable with it. Remus didn't care much for close spaces and touching people, he hadn't since middle school. It just made him feel sort of icky.

As soon as possible, he ducked out of Nordstrom's, only to find that the rest of the mall was in a similar condition. JC Penney actually looked worse. Normally when Remus was feeling overwhelmed, he'd sidle into Hot Topic or somewhere else with obnoxiously loud music. By drowning his feelings in the noise, he generally was able to recollect himself. The mall was certainly loud, but not in a good way at all. Even if he tried to find someplace with music, he wouldn't be able to enjoy it with all these people.

Remus was stressed. But he needed this suit, seeing as his brother's wedding was literally tomorrow. Why did he leave it this late? Well, Remus knew he was nothing if not a master procrastinator. He also knew he couldn’t be the only one.

Remus waded his way through the crowd to a relatively people-free corner and wiggled his phone out of the pockets of his definitely too-small jeans (not that he'd admit they were too small out loud—his brother had told him they were on every occasion he wore them) and texted the wedding group chat.

Remus: hey im at the mall. anything yall need?

Robro: Why are you at the mall on black friday?

Patty-Cake: ooh can you get me a pair of sunglasses? Mine broke last week

Remus: sure. stuff for wedding?

Robro: idk. Let me ask mom

Remus shoved his phone back in his pocket, then extracted it again as it buzzed a moment later.

Robro: Yeah mom says get some classy decor or something

Ant: I don't think remus knows what classy means

Remus: shut up i got this

Toby: wait what's going on? It's like 10am why are you all awake

Robro: idk if you knew this tobes but I'm getting married tomorrow

Toby: shut up man

Ant: even Remy knows

Sleep: even i know loser

Remus: toby do u need help

Toby: I hate it heeere

Patty-Cake: Aw Toby that isn't very nice! And good morning everyone!

Robro: hello sunshine!! <3

Sleep: i need you both to not start that

Remus: get a room dorks

Okay, classy decor. Sunglasses for the groom. Pink suit. Blue tie. Probably some dress shoes. A wedding present. Dress socks too. Did Remus need to have a tie pin? He'd ask later. Napkins, definitely. No one ever had enough napkins at events. Did he need to have a pocket handkerchief?

Remus checked the list of what his suit needed that Roman had sent him a month or two ago. Yes, a blue pocket square. This was a lot.

Remus swallowed back his sudden panic and took a few deep breaths, jamming his still-buzzing phone back into his pocket. He could do this. Sunglasses first, there was a Sunglasses Hut within eyesight. All he had to do was fight through the crowd.

He reached the kiosk with few incidents and surveyed the sleek glasses for five minutes before seeing a pair that were shaped like a cartoon frog. Patton would love those. And if he didn't, then Remus just got a neat pair of sunglasses! He purchased the glasses and moved on to the next place to conquer.

By the time Remus was back at Nordstrom's, he was completely out of energy. Nordstrom's had two levels, and so much stuff, and so many people. He still had to get the suit and socks, and the wedding present. Maybe it seemed like he hadn't done much, but he had actually done a lot, considering how busy the mall was. He'd barely escaped a fistfight outside of the electronics store. The fact that he'd been able to get shoes and so-called 'classy decor' and napkins? Remus was pretty proud, all things considered.

Nordstrom's was even busier than when he left, which was certainly distressing. Remus couldn't even see any clothes. Was that a mannequin or a really tall lady? Was that the escalator, or a bunch of people climbing on top of each other?

What if I set off a bomb right here? Would the whole tower fall down, the ones on top not actually hurt until they hit the ground?

Remus shook off the intrusive thought. This was getting bad. It was already almost one—that meant that not only was he stressed, but he was getting hungry. His thoughts would continue to devolve until he got out of here and got some food.

I could eat that man! That would certainly clear the place out, and I'm sure he's delicious!

Remus groaned. He needed to sit down, but there were no seats free anywhere. He hefted his bags higher on his shoulders and forged on. He had to get this suit, or else the wedding would be ruined. The man in question (who was fairly attractive) bumped him, and Remus had to close his eyes to fight his brain. This was getting out of hand.

There was a little square cut out in the wall where a headless mannequin stood, no doubt showing off the latest in boys' fashion. Remus ducked between its legs and pushed his back up against the wall, knees drawn up close to his chest. He pulled out his phone with some difficulty.

Remus: hey so ro does my suit need a tie pin

Robro: Don't worry abt it, mom got matching tie pins for everyone

Sleep: ree babes are you buying ur suit now?

Remus: shut up

Sleep: on black friday?

Remus: no

Ant: did you even know it was black friday

Remus: ...

Toby: wait the wedding is tmrrw

Robro: Believe me tobias I'm aware

Remus: yah ik im not buying the whole suit just shoes

Robro: Good I almost had a heart attack, you almost certainly wouldn't be able to find one

Now truly panicking, Remus dropped his phone onto his stomach and buried his fists in his hair. How was he supposed to find a salmon suit and a blue tie, as well as nice socks? Plus a wedding present? Especially in this crowd, when he had no clue where to even look for a suit. And he still had to go to the party tonight, then the wedding tomorrow, and it was so loud. Everyone was yelling over each other, and Remus couldn't even hear his own thoughts—except the bad ones. Why did he have to put this off so long? He needed out, he wasn't going to be able to get any of the stuff, he was going to ruin the wedding, like he ruined everything—

“Hello, may I help you?”

Remus looked up—at least, as up as he could look, with a mannequin just above him—to see a bespectacled store clerk looking down at him. 'Logan', his nametag read.

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again before a string of curses could come out. He really wasn't doing well. There was just too much, too much everything.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling a bit—or maybe it was the thunder of people in the shop. Whatever it was, it made Remus's stomach drop a little.

“Um, uh, pink!” If Remus had any shame, he would have slapped his own face. As it was, he started trying to pantomime a suit while stuck in a tiny hollow in the wall. Logan watched kindly, his face not betraying the disgust he was probably feeling.

“Pink what? Shirt?” Logan guessed. Remus shook his head, running his hands down his legs. Pants too, pants too.

“Pink . . . coat? Shorts? Pants?”

Remus traced back over his arms, almost crying. Here he was, bothering this poor clerk with his stupid non-verbal self.

“A pink suit?”

Remus jumped for joy, hitting his head on the crotch of the mannequin, instantly shuddering at the thoughts that flooded into his head. Logan held out a hand, and Remus took it, allowing himself to be pulled out of the wall.

“I can direct you to the suit section, right this way.”

Remus let himself be led by Logan, who occasionally looked back to make sure he was still there. The man had a curly mop of dark hair, and was slightly shorter than he was—not that it was a problem. Or anything important. Remus wasn't looking for a date. He was inconveniencing a store clerk on Black Friday. Although, he did need a plus one for the wedding. . . .

No, it was out of the question. He didn't even know this man. Roman would be upset if he ruined the wedding even more by showing up with some rando who would probably jump in the wedding cake or spill food all over the nice tablecloths or turn out to be really ugly because he was just wearing a mask made of someone else's face.

“Here is where the suits are. Do you need anything else?”

Remus stared at him, his mouth opening and shutting a few times. He wanted to say something stupid, like yeah, I need those eyes in my life, or something far more obscene, but he was okay. He could do this. He could survive peopling.

Logan gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can help you find the right suit, if that's what you require.”

Before he could stop himself, Remus was nodding. He let Logan pull him past a crying couple and two arguing families to a rack of suit coats that were red.

“Will these suffice?” the clerk asked, gesturing at them. Remus frowned. They weren't pink. Was the man messing with him? Seeing his look, Logan checked the tag and groaned. “Apologies, I'm colorblind. I could have sworn these were pink. Hopefully the last customer who I pointed this way was not upset.”

That was a joke, right? Remus almost laughed, but knew if he did he would start crying. Logan led him through the crowd with seemingly unending patience, occasionally smiling gently at him. Remus felt his heartrate spike every time one of those smiles was sent his way, but for a reason completely unrelated to the overpowering noise and crowd.

Logan found him a probably very nice pink suit—Remus wasn't really looking at it. Then Logan was kind enough to let him into an employee restroom to try it on, seeing as the dressing rooms had a line that ran all the way to the front doors. It fit nicely, tight (though not as tight as his jeans) and sleek, accompanied with a blue tie that Logan had found while he was changing.

“That looks very sharp on you, sir,” Logan informed him, as Remus blushed.

“Remus,” he blurted out. Logan raised his eyebrows.

“After the character in Roman mythology?” asked Logan, his tone betraying something like excitement. Remus nodded, then looked down at the tie.

“We—didn't look at—at ties yet,” he stammered, trying to make his voice work. “Where—?”

“Ah, it happens to be one of mine,” Logan said. For the first time, he looked a little uncomfortable. “I keep one in my locker for emergencies, and I thought it would look nice on—it would look nice. With the suit.”

Remus finally found the courage to smile back. “Thanks, Specs. Uh, sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'll just buy this, it's dope.”

“Oh no, I do not at all mind assisting you,” Logan said quickly. “At least I don't have to deal with . . . whatever is going on.”

“You could assist me by being my date!”

Logan stared.

Remus clapped a hand over his mouth.

“. . . What?”

“Nothing, nothing nothing,” said Remus. “I just—um—you need to get your tie back right? And I—if you let me, of course—I could just wear it, save money and all that, and you could come and then take it home so that I don't steal it or whatever?” He scrunched his eyes up, turning away so as to catch no sight of Logan rejecting him. Why did he have to say that? The noise pressed down on him again; despite still being in the staff restroom, it was almost too loud to bear.

“Wear it . . . where?”

Remus would already be curled up on the floor were it not for the very un-purchased suit he was currently wearing. “Um, my brother's wedding tomorrow?” he chanced, hands clenched over his eyes.

The utter disbelief in Logan's voice was clear as a bell. “You are buying a suit . . . for a wedding . . . that is tomorrow. On Black Friday, of all days.”

Tears choked Remus's throat. “Y-yeah, I'm really bad at planning.” Why was he even asking this cute clerk out anyway? Just because Roman kept teasing him for not having a date to the wedding? Or did he actually have a crush on Logan?

He searched his feelings briefly, and found almost instantly that he for sure had a crush. Okay, that was a lot to deal with right now. They had just met! It was just . . . the way he smiled at him, the way he didn't abandon him even though he'd been having a panic attack for about an hour at this point, how gentle and kind he was. Not to mention how put-together he was. And his hair? That was just hot.

Now though, just seconds after realizing he liked Logan, the guy was going to reject him because he had run his stupid mouth. Remus cringed. The silence had gone on for far too long.

“Well, I expect you to pick me up an hour before the event begins. I do not currently have my own means of transportation. You are quite fortunate that I do not work tomorrow.”

Wait.

What?

“You—you really—?” Remus's voice broke. He jumped as Logan lay a warm hand over his own, which were still pressed into his eyes.

“Of course,” Logan said kindly. “I know very little about you, but I rather feel that—and no offense meant—you will be distressed at such a large event as a wedding. I would love to continue to assist you.” He coughed, then added, “Also, the streak in your hair is very attractive.”

Remus almost sighed in relief. This was okay. He let Logan pull his hands away from his face, then ran a sleeve over his eyes and nose. Logan froze.

“Well, now you have to buy that suit,” Logan said. As an aside, he muttered, “At least it looks good on you.”

“Aw, Lo, you think I look hot?” Remus asked shakily, managing a smile. “What about my jeans? Think I look good in tight clothes?”

Logan turned away, unfortunately letting go of Remus's hands, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Are you always this insufferable?”

Remus slung an arm around his shoulder. “Yep! And you're stuck with me for a whole date!”

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose. “If it doesn't work out, we can just pretend we never met, if you like. We will both move on with our lives. There is no obligation that comes with this date, we are both free to back out at any time.”

Remus quickly retracted his arm from Logan's shoulder, then nodded. That made sense. He did like Logan, and he didn't want to upset him. Shameless flirting was definitely on the table, though.

“When's your lunch break?” Remus asked, as casually as possible. Logan snorted.

“I only have a twenty minute lunch today, they don't want me to leave them without as much help as possible.” Logan went to open the door and exit the restroom, then glanced back. “One o'clock. I plan on getting a sandwich at the Subway in the hall outside of the store. It would be wonderful if someone would wait in line for me and order me an Italian BMT and a bag of potato chips, so that I am not late in returning.”

Remus grinned. Easy-peasy, and just like that he would get to spend some time with Logan before the wedding.

Logan made to leave, but Remus grabbed his arm. “One sec, hot stuff,” he said, butterflies racing through his stomach at Logan's blush, “not to bother you any more or anything, but do you have any suggestions for a wedding present?”

The utter disbelief on Logan's face completely wiped out any blush that had been there. “The wedding is tomorrow, Remus.”

Remus's breath caught. Logan said his name. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. If a heavenly chorus had been singing around him at that moment, it would have been dull compared to Logan saying his name.

Logan sighed. “Of course I have some ideas. Do you need anything else?”

Remus pulled himself together, then grabbed his phone from the pile of his clothes on the floor. He checked the list, ignoring the notifications from the group chat.

“Uh, yeah. A pocket square to match the tie, and some nice socks.”

“That's doable. Tell me about your brother and his partner while we find those items. Perhaps you and I can put together an ideal gift.” Logan stepped out of the restroom to give Remus privacy while he changed back into his clothes. Remus shucked the suit off as quickly as possible. All the intense stimulation had blurred into the background, Logan being the only buzz he needed to keep going.

Remus didn't often have a good feeling about anything, but this? Oh yeah, there was definitely something good here.

#sanders sides gift exchange #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts #remus sanders #ts remus #logan sanders #ts logan #sanders sides fic #remus is a disaster gay #he also has social anxiety which influences his intrusive thoughts #i wrote a couple of my own habits/mannerisms into him #like the fact that when he gets really anxious he plays loud music to drown it out!#it's such a calming thing that i rarely see people write about #and it feels sort of weird that he gets anxious when the surroundings are too loud #when he uses loud music to calm down #but that's just literally me #projection city: population me #also ash i sent you an ask forever ago trying to sound out if you wanted an au or canon-type fic #you said au!!#so here we are #if i end up writing more it'll probably be the wedding from logan's pov #anyway i hope this is something like what you wanted!#happiest of holidays to you!#and anyone else reading!#much love -mas

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Note

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

#wow this got long #thanks for the prompt i loved writing this!#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #my writing #my fanfic #writing #fanfic #prompt fill #season four

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indecisiveartform · 3 years

Text

Zukka smoking neighbours AU-Befriending my smoker neighbour, so my apartment doesn’t smell like cigarettes anymore:

Sokka and Zuko live in apartments right next to each other.

Zuko is a smoker, bad habit he picked up when he was younger and still does in stressful times.

The stressful times being moving to the city and being alone for the first time, on top of Zuko’s usual issues.

He used to live in a neighbouring city/the suburbs with Iroh while working at the jasmine dragon and studying

It takes like 1h to go back by car, and like 2h15 min by public transport, but Zuko doesn’t have a car or 4h30 to spare to spare to visit his uncle every week like he’d want.

Filled with the stress from a new job, the start of his master’s degree, as well as his newfound loneliness, his smoking habits come back full force.

Sokka suddenly has to deal with his apartment smelling like cigarette smoke due to his new neighbour, that he has no idea what he looks like.

After a couple week of this, Sokka decides to leave a note at his new neighbours door where he wrote: “ Hi, welcome to the building, I hope you are enjoying it this far. I know that the building allows smoking inside, but I was wondering if you could please try smoking on your balcony instead. The cigarette smell passes through to my apartment and isn’t very enjoyable. Thank you, it would really mean a lot to me.”

Zuko receives the unsigned note and not wanting to bother anyone, starts smoking on his balcony.

Sokka sees that his neighbour appeased his request when he notices a new ashtray filled with cigarettes buds on the next door balcony.

Sokka is glad his neighbour isn’t an asshole and started smoking outside but unfortunately the smells still gets into his apartment.

Sokka decides that there isn’t much more that he can do and accepts the fact that from now on he’ll just always have scented candles burning in his apartment while at home.

That is until he’s on a date and he realizes that his nice shirt took to the scent, making him reek of cigarette smoke.

After driving home from his unsuccessful date, their profile specifically asked for non-smokers, he checks the rest of his clothes finding that they all smell like smoke and decides that he’s going to go downstairs to the laundry room to wash his clothes at 11:30 on a Saturday night and try to think of a solution to his problem.

Zuko was feeling particularly lonely tonight, his uncle was hosting a little get together at the jasmine dragon for Azula, celebrating her new job, all his friends and family (the ones that mattered) were there. He couldn’t make it because he had an assignment deadline to meet and when he was done the celebration would be over in the 2h15 that it would take for him to get there. So he was stuck alone at home.

In an attempt to relax he took a bath resisting the urge to smoke, out of respect for his neighbours, instead settling for a glass of red wine. He got out and went to get ready to watch a movie in bed. In the process of doing so he spills wine all over his only sheets.

Zuko, not expecting anyone else in the laundry room at 11:40, stays in his pyjamas, only to find a very attractive guy wearing a dress shirt and slacks, doing his laundry.

Zuko just stand there holding up his wine stained sheets staring at the man. Only when the man looks up, makes eye contact, smiles and starts talking is he snapped out of his trance.

Sokka smiles at the man in pyjamas, see the stained sheets and comments

“ Fun night? ”

“ What? Oh ! Um... not really”

...

“ I wasn’t really expecting anyone else doing laundry at this hour. ”

“ Me neither ”

“ Hence the pyjamas ”

“ Hence the pyjamas... I was right about to go to bed and spilled wine on my only sheets”

“ That’s rough buddy. No backup sheets ?” he says in a playful manner

“ Hey, I’ve only been here like a month.”

“ Okay, okay. What floor are you on ?”

“ Um... I live in 19D”

Sokka realizes that the man washing his sheets is his smoking neighbour, neighbour that smokes. Suddenly the obviously clear solution to his problems, that any normal person would think of, become evident.

He needs to befriend his neighbour and help/get him to stop smoking completely.

“ Bro, we’re neighbours ! I live in 20D. I’m Sokka by the way.”

“Oh, um, I’m Zuko”

After around 2h of talking in the laundry room, They both head back to their own apartment.

Zuko sits in bed and think that today wasn’t so bad.

This AU just randomly came in my head for no reason at all, especially not because my room reeked of smoke because of my neighbours. Except my neighbours is an old lady. Anyways this is my first time writting/posting something like this and I don’t know If anyone is interested in this AU but,

I hope you enjoy !

#zukka #atla #sokka #zuko #avatar the last airbender #sokka x zuko #zuko x sokka #zukka smoking neighbours au #zukka modern au #indecisive art form #indecisiveartform #indecisive art form text post and jokes #maybe i'll do more of this #if it wasn't clear they fall in love

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yongtxt · 4 years

Text

turn back time [taeyong]

word count: 6.2k words

characters: amnesiac!taeyong x girlfriend!reader ft. doyoung

genre: angst [meant to be just melancholic so no crying !]

warnings: few mentions of a car crash and some wounds. taeyong suffers from amnesia. it’s a couple trying to learn how to love again.

author’s note: yesterday was my first year anniversary here on tumblr and i give you a short angst fic of the first nct member i wrote for as a present. anyway. i need a break from angst after this also i need to stop writing people getting hurt/wounded???? [stream turn back time by wayv later <3] / unedited

Taeyong awoke to harsh fluorescent lighting filling his vision, a throat so dry it could compare to a desert, and the muffled cries of his lover.

His arms ached, muscles extremely sore that it hurt him to even lift his limb. He wanted to reach out to you, to run his fingers through your hair, and to tell you that everything was gonna be okay—he would work it out with you, together.

You had Taeyong’s hospital gown clutched in your hands, soaking the fabric with your weeping. WIth your face buried into his blanket, it took you a second to realize that your boyfriend had already woken up from his deep slumber. Your cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, dropping your hold on him almost immediately as if it was hot to touch.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, voice cracking. Fumbling to wipe your tears, you scrambled to your feet. “Let me grab some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

Taeyong did his best to shake his head, “No, you don’t have to. Please just stay beside me.”

A beat passed and you could only stare at him. The hesitance you exuded didn’t pass unnoticed, you sat back on the stool beside him and stayed tight-lipped. Taeyong sighed through his nose, a bubble of nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, his attention darting everywhere but to you.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can move better now?” You asked, soft and wary—afraid of what his response would be and he didn’t like the sound of it not one bit, but he didn’t let it show.

“I can move my head better than yesterday.” Taeyong pointed out, craning his neck enough to prove it to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face and his chest floods with an unfamiliar warmth. He added, “My joints just hurt since I’m kept on bed rest all day.”

“Well, you’re getting released tomorrow.” You said, subconsciously outstretching your hand to brush off the fallen lock of his hair from his forehead. He blushed at the contact of your fingertips and you immediately retracted it back. “Uh, your doctor wanted me to tell you that you should start walking around again if you can to avoid using crutches.”

“I’ll try to go for a walk tonight.” He nodded his head, staring at his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “Can you help me drink some water?”

“I’m sorry, of course.” Your cheeks reddened the same way his were, fumbling to punch in a straw inside a bottle of water as you propped it up for him to sip on. Of course he was thirsty, he had been asleep for almost half the day.

Your fingers were trembling, he noticed. Before he could point it out, the door slammed open and you were forced to draw away his drink. You haven’t been told of anyone visiting so it came as a surprise to see your boyfriend’s childhood best friend panting in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame while he gawked at Taeyong’s wounded form.

Bruises of varying sizes littered across Taeyong’s pale skin and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead, his bleached hair peeking out from the bloodied cloth. A large gash can be seen trailing along his jawline and although it had been healing nicely, a mark remained. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from fatigue and a lack of nutritional intake, much like you.

He didn’t look well, Doyoung thought with a pitiful gaze Taeyong was already too familiar with.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Taeyong chuckled, grinning at Doyoung who frowned at him. He rushed to his side and mindlessly took him into an embrace, cradling his bandaged head into his shoulder. You felt hot tears pool into the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away before they could see.

He berated him, the way he always would when Taeyong got himself into trouble that could’ve been easily avoided if he would just think straight. The blizzard, Doyoung kept bringing it up, he shouldn’t have driven when the weather was too dangerous.

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” Taeyong said, reassuring him before Doyoung could burst into tears. He wouldn’t know how to handle him if he got too emotional, he doubted you’d be able to.

“Why were you driving, anyway? What was so important that you had to risk your life to travel?” Doyoung huffed and you rose from your seat from instinct, about to insert yourself into their conversation when Taeyong grasped your fingers.

You stared at him and you were suddenly reminded that he must’ve put himself in pain to stop you. You sat back down and he smiled, he wanted to say it himself and you could only respect his wishes. You hadn’t been able to inform Taeyong’s friends about his car crash as it had been only a week since it happened, all of your time was spent tirelessly tending him back to health. You didn’t have the time to share the unfortunate news.

“Apparently, I was on my way back to Seoul from visiting my family.” Taeyong said, gently grazing your skin away from his best friend’s sight. At Doyoung's confused knot on his forehead, he continued, “My mom told me that they couldn’t make me stay because it was the night of my anniversary with my girlfriend.”

“Taeyong, why are you talking like that—”

“The doctor said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty badly.” Taeyong laughed mirthlessly, and you subconsciously squeezed his hand. “Bad enough that my memory got a bit fuzzy. Retrograde amnesia, I think that’s what they called it.”

Doyoung blinked, lips gaped at Taeyong who only smiled at him. He looked up at you, a sudden onslaught of anxiety coursing through him that you could just see him almost shake in worry. He whispered to you, “Amnesia? How far back can he remember?”

You bit your lip, turning away and loosening the grip you had on Taeyong’s hand, but he held it tighter with a strength you were sure he was only forcing. You said, “The beginning of third year in college.”

“What?!” Doyoung choked on his spit, leaping from his seat in shock. You offered him an unopened bottle of water but he shook his head. “You’re already a working man, Taeyong! We graduated two years ago, man!”

You did your best to calm Doyoung down, much to Taeyong’s appreciation. You knew where his emotions were coming from so you had to explain why it happened in a manner he would understand. You said that the blizzard was so strong that the roads had iced up and due to the speed he was driving, the car had slipped and crashed into a tree. He hit his head and the sheer impact caused trauma to his brain and made him lose his memories.

The doctors diagnosed him with retrograde amnesia, a form of memory loss that occurs from a traumatic brain injury. It prevented Taeyong from remembering what happened prior to his accident. His recovery was supposed to be gradual, it will take time for him to regain the memories he had lost but it wasn’t assured.

Taeyong doesn’t like telling what happened because people’s first reaction to his amnesia was to resort to aggression. As if their anger and frustration could magically make him remember what he had lost. You didn’t think of it that way, on one quiet night you told him that maybe it was just their desperation to bring him back to the person he was.

He thought it was selfish of them, but you kept your lips shut and refused to tell him that losing two years was a big deal to some people. Although he was still himself, quirks and habits are the same as you’ve first witnessed them, little aspects of him were different; some just different enough that others would do a doubletake to make sure it was really him. The person he is now just wasn’t exactly the person he used to be.

A slightly-off Taeyong, he grimly made a joke about.

You wanted to reassure him, comfort him that he didn’t need to try so hard to be who he used to be. You know despite all of his nonchalance and soft smiles, he was hurting. He instilled it in himself that he disappointed his loved ones by being a person they weren’t accustomed to. But you couldn’t, you weren’t in the place to when his last memories of you were when you have only first met during the anthropology class in your third year of college.

“God, that means you can’t even remember your own girlfriend.” Doyoung mumbled, mostly to himself but you heard it clearly enough as if he personally made it a point to stomp on your heart. Taeyong frowned.

“Shut it, Doyoung.” You grumbled, tears threatening to spill again. You and Taeyong have been so emotionally exhausted that having another person in the hospital room usually would lift both of your spirits, but Doyoung proved himself to be a disturbance instead.

Hours were spent lounging around with Doyoung talking Taeyong’s ears off with stories that he had missed in the past two years, how he was the one who had forced him into the class he shared with you and how coerced him into asking you out before he graduated; a bunch of stories that it almost made Taeyong wish that everything could just go back to the way it was.

He wasn’t the Taeyong they speak so fondly off, he was merely just the shell of him. Still, Doyoung had brought out a smile that you had been unable to make and for that, Taeyong gave him his thanks. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and sniffled.

Doyoung left not too long after, but he promised to visit soon. He knew you needed the support. You were left alone with your boyfriend again and the silence envelops you whole. When you excused yourself to grab a much-needed coffee, Taeyong sank to the hospital bed and succumbed to his tears.

This was his last night in the hospital and it had felt like the longest. He was out like a light but you stilled in your chair beside his bed, fumbling with the ends of his blanket in worry of tomorrow. Not much had progressed in your relationship with him. He was still embarrassed, timid in how he acted around you. You asked if he wanted to go home with you and he reassured you that he would be fine with it, but the panic you felt was still prominent.

Morning came and after what seemed like hours of finishing what was left of Taeyong’s documents in the hospital, it was time to finally leave. You hailed a taxi and you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s sudden rigidness inside the vehicle. Swallowing your reluctance, you took his hand and forced his attention on you throughout the entire drive. He was thankful that you were able to distract him.

The apartment you shared with Taeyong was small but humble, the third unit in an old building that you swore was built in an era before the current. Thin walls and a poorly constructed floor, it was all both of you could afford when you’ve decided to move in together fresh out of college. Despite its imperfections, it was home as long as you had him with you.

With the creaky sounds your front door made, you heard the familiar sound of soft thudding of feet run across the wooden floors to welcome your arrival. Your heart leaped at the sight of Lala, the three-year-old Labrador you adopted with Taeyong, bolting towards your direction with her tongue sticking out.

Taeyong trailed behind you, drinking the place in. His gaze kept on darting from one place to another, his lips parted in amazement at the thought that he really had the courage to move out of his parents’ house to live with his girlfriend. It looked lived in, bits of his and your personalities showing in the way it was decorated and cluttered. The clashing of color schemes and wood tones almost made him want to laugh over how it was clearly furnished purely on indecision and compromise.

He was too busy familiarizing himself to notice that Lala had jumped on him. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

You crouched down to your knees, reaching over to scratch the back of Lala’s ear. You chuckled at Taeyong’s confusion on how to approach the hyperactive puppy, “Her name is Lala, she’s three years old. We adopted her on your birthday last year.”

Taeyong nodded with widened eyes, getting down to your level to attempt to pet her. He commented offhandedly, “Good girl, Lala.”

“She definitely prefers you over me, too.” You mumbled, watching Lala cave into Taeyong’s touch. She hadn’t seen him in a while so you wondered if her attachment to him would waver but it seemed to only grow stronger, the same way you were with your boyfriend. “I had my friend take care of her while we were gone.”

Taeyong kept his quiet and you swallowed the lump in your throat. His doctor told you to treat him especially kindly since he was in a vulnerable state, but you should instill a sense of normalcy. You were instructed to treat him as you normally would, he needed to be reminded of the lifestyle he used to have little by little.

The idea of having to consume copious amounts of medicines every day was already exhausting and gruesome, he even had the bandage around his head to deal with. He had a lot on his plate, you wouldn’t dare add to it by pressuring him to become the adult he doesn’t remember that he was. In his mind, he was still twenty years old and was living in a rickety dorm with Doyoung; it will surely take time for him to grow out of it.

You told Taeyong to go sit down on the stool across the island, to make himself comfortable while you prepared dinner—attempt to prepare dinner. Racking all the recipes his mother had taught you over the years, you wanted to cook a meal he would enjoy and reminisce over.

“Doyoung told me you didn’t like cooking very much.” You heard Taeyong’s voice said, a voice free of malice and full of genuine interest. He said, “It makes sense that I should be the one making food for us right now. You know, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the past week.”

You shook your head firmly, turning around so your back faced him. You didn’t want to let him see your ever-growing frown. You sighed, “Don’t worry, I can handle this. Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the palm of his hand. He wished he could do more for you, but you weren’t letting him; you had your wall up as high as he had his.

Shuffling to where your coffee maker was, you quickly fixed a cup of coffee for him as if you moved purely on instinct. Taeyong watched you in amusement as you slid a blue mug to his way. The paint of its design was chipping off the edges and it had a small crack on the handle, it definitely had seen better days but he felt oddly drawn to it.

You saw him eyeing it out and you chuckled, “We went out on a pottery class for a date once and I made that mug for you. You refused to drink coffee without it, but I think it’s time for us to throw it out and buy you a better one.”

“No!” Taeyong interjected almost immediately, waving his hands to dismiss your idea. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Your chest ached, but you were unable to pinpoint the feeling that made it so, “If you say so.”

Taeyong was a picky man when it came to his coffee. He wasn’t an avid drinker of dark and rich brews, often preferred the sweeter and creamier side of the spectrum. The drink you made for him tasted just right, the perfect balance, and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. It made him laugh, how his taste in college didn’t seem to change in his twenty-three-year-old body.

“You can go look around while I cook.” You remarked, jutting your chin towards the rest of the apartment that he has yet to see as you run your hands under the running water. He followed your gaze and shook his head. You quirk an eyebrow, “You sure? It’ll take a bit before these noodles cook.”

Lala encircled his feet before cozying herself on top of his shoes, refusing to leave his sight. He laughed, bending down to pick her up and place her onto his lap. With his hands deep into the puppy’s golden fur, he asked, “Is Lala supposed to be a reference to the Teletubbies?”

You turned the stove on and plopped in the boxed pasta you retrieved from the pantry, “Your nephew loved the Teletubbies at some point so we made him name her.”

A visible twinkle appeared in Taeyong’s eye at the mention of his nephew. He’d only seen photos of him recently, the last he remembered of him was that he was only an infant cradled in his sister’s arms. And as if a barrier was put down, he asked if you could tell him more about what he had missed in his personal life. If Taeyong from the past trusted you enough to move in and adopt a dog together⁠—which he couldn’t believe he was able to do in college, he had to trust you, too.

You gladly entertained his curiosities while you prepared a mediocre version of his mother’s Jajangmyeon. As obscure some of his questions were, you were as honest as you could be. From how he managed to pass his senior year to how he got the job at his company, he asked it all while stuffing his face with dark noodles.

In your eyes, he looked like a kid who wanted to know what his older brother did, to follow in his footsteps and be just like him. He wanted to absorb so much information, it almost pained you to look at him listening to you with an expression so clearly resembling envy.

He cut you off and called out to you with a voice lower than before, sadder but still hesitant. You glanced at him in worry that you were rambling too much. He averted his attention away from you, “You’re crying.”

Raising a hand to your cheek, it was wet. You coughed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He mumbled, meekly offering his half-empty drink to you.

You hopped out of your seat beside him, carrying your empty bowl to the sink. You stayed a bit longer away from his line of view, wanting to keep your emotions in check for Taeyong’s first night back in the apartment. You didn’t want to scare him away, he was getting more comfortable and you succumbing to your feelings would ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You turned the tap on and cracked your neck, “I’ll clean up here while you can go take a bath. The bathroom is next to the bedroom.”

He let out a breath and nodded, lingering for a moment before ultimately deciding that it would be best to leave you be. He didn’t know how he could comfort you when he was the reason for your distress, it would only hurt you more if he tried to console you of things he didn’t know of.

He spotted a box on the coffee table on his way to the bathroom, a bright red box with doodles scribbled onto its sides. Glancing at you, he was about to ask what it was inside when he clamped his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch and let his curiosity get the best of him, reaching to fiddle with the latch that sealed it closed.

Inside were piles of polaroid films, photos were not only of you and him but also of his friends from college and people he had yet to remember. An assortment of knickknacks filled it to its brim, variations of trinkets that included movie tickets and receipts. It was a box made to help Taeyong remember the memories he had lost, the connections he had with people that he had forgotten.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, it must’ve been your doing. You probably asked around for others to help assemble the box, his heart swelled at the thought. You were working hard to make himself and his environment feel normal after losing a good chunk of his memories, he had to work hard as well.

His fists were shaking, his knuckles turning a shade paler than it already was. Lala snaked into the crook of his arm and whimpered at her owner’s change of composure. He laughed humorlessly, scratching her belly in appreciation.

Shutting the box closed, he sighed. He made his way towards the unfamiliar bathroom and filled the tub. Doyoung always told him that a bath could melt all of his troubles away, and how he wished it was that easy.

Taeyong came out of his long bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, blushing as he hastily pulled on the clothes you had prepared for him in the bedroom. You remained unfazed as you waited for him in a change of sleepwear, he realized that you might’ve already seen him naked before and the thought of it only worsened the state of his cheeks. He perched on the edge of the bed once he was finished.

You grabbed his ointment and attended to the injury on the side of his head, a gash that the doctors had sewn back together. You had a light hand, he noted, but the ache persisted. It burned when the tip of its applicator grazed along the stitches. He reached out to toy with the hem of your shirt, to divert his attention from the pain. You wrapped a bandage around his head as quickly as you could.

You mumbled, “It’s all done.”

“Thank you.” He smiled up at you and you returned it halfheartedly. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, don’t! This bed is yours, too.” You said, holding onto his wrists before he could make a home on your busted couch that functioned as Lala’s chew toy half the time. “I know how much your back hurts because of the hospital bed so please, sleep here.”

Taeyong looked at you with a conflicted expression on his face but after seconds of contemplation and mental debate, he relented only if you’d use the bed as well. You sighed and caved in.

He crawled to his side of the bed, making you wonder if there was an inkling of a chance that he remembered how much he preferred his half that faced the windows. You shuffled to your side, mindful to not cross any boundaries. This would be his first time sleeping next to you and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by being too close for comfort.

You switched to your side, away from his sight. The awkwardness was suffocating you, it seemed like you were the only one affected by it because soon you felt his side dip as he made himself more comfortable while you were frozen like a statue. You were nearing the edge of the bed, so far the end that one wrong move would make you fall out of it.

“Taeyong, are you asleep?” After an hour of silence, you spoke up but in hopes that he was already sleeping.

Unfortunately for you, he hummed in response. You could feel the blankets shift, making it known that he was facing your direction now that you’ve called him. At your lack of reply, he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him so he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look. I just want to say that if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

“What?” He slowly sat up in confusion, hefting himself up with his elbows. You refused to look at him, gnawing on your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as if you were a kid caught by your parents awake past your bedtime.

“This situation we’re in, you don’t have to force yourself to be with me if you don’t want to.” You managed to choke out, choosing your words carefully. “I want you to continue living who you are now, I’ll just hinder you from moving on if I only remind you of the memories you lost.”

He called out your name, much sterner and different from the gentle tone he always used on you. You were suffering worse than he was, that he knew, but he didn’t know just how much until you’ve finally cracked—the insecurities and worries you’ve hidden from him, pouring out all at once and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You were sobbing into the sheets and he could only rub circles onto your back as a failed attempt at comfort. He wanted to tell you so many things, to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking the way you assumed he would be.

Taeyong thought of you so highly. You were someone who carried all of his burdens and stories that made him the person that he was, someone who had so much love for him despite not having it reciprocated back, someone who just wanted him to forgive himself for not being who he was and to start living again. You weren’t just some stranger to him, but the world had robbed him of you.

He ignored his hesitance and whispered under the blanket of the night, “You might’ve lost the Taeyong that you love but I promise I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m worthy of the same love you’ve once given to me.”

“Taeyong—”

“It’ll take some time and I can’t assure you that things will be the same as it was but I swear, I will never forget you again and we’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things to do, but none of those things were as important to him as lying here next to you, to pick up what remained of you from his ruins. He knew full well that he wasn’t the only victim. He was aware that you were also trying your best for him, to hold onto what’s left of the pieces you used to love about him.

“I really want this to work out.” You admitted amid your hiccups and sniffles, his heart broke at the sound of it. “I know I haven’t lost you yet.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” He mumbled, running his nimble fingers through the locks of your hair as a serene silence filled the room as you didn’t say anything back. After a week of being in the hospital, your heavy breathing was enough to lull him into his sleep.

You glanced at him for the first time since you had laid down, observing his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. A small smile appeared on your face, he looked tired even though he was already deep in his sleep. You whispered in the dark, “Sleep tight, Taeyong.”

The cold of the night renders you restless once again, your eyes brimming with a bright red hue and utter exhaustion. You swung your legs to the side of the bed, careful enough to not wake your boyfriend who was already asleep. His gentle snores filled the room and you made your way towards the balcony connected to the bedroom with your phone in hand and a blanket draped around your shoulders.

It was another starless sky, you looked up and the absence of the twinkling lights comforted you. You pulled on the blanket closer as you fiddled on your phone, tapping on an option that directed you to a phone call.

“Don’t you know that it’s two in the fucking morning? What do you want?” Doyoung’s voice replaced the monotonous ringing, sounding raspy from what you assumed was his sleep.

“I wanted someone to talk to.” It was your honest answer and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it.

He yawned, and for a moment you felt a twinge of guilt but it dissipated the second after, “How is Taeyong doing? You brought him back home earlier, right?”

“He’s okay. He’s passed out on the bed right now.” You said, stealing a glance at where Taeyong was sprawled across the bed. A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips, you haven't seen him more at peace. “It kinda sucks, you know? I want to be strong for him but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“You love him, right?”

“I do. So much.”

“Then just be patient, please. You’re the only person he can truly rely on right now.” Doyoung sounded like he was almost pleading with you, entrusting his best friend to you for a second time with the first was when you agreed to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. He said, “The love you shared is very strong, it conquered many hurdles and it will overcome this.”

You nodded your head, but you remembered Doyoung couldn’t see you. You whispered, “I’m scared, Doyoung.”

“Of?” He asked as quietly as you were being as if you wanted the conversation to only be a secret between each other.

“What if he never loves me again?” Your nail was shoved in between your teeth, your leg anxiously bouncing against the floor. It was a thought that had flitted about your mind but you have shoved it so far back in an attempt to ignore it but it demanded your attention, to face its possibility.

He scoffed at the other end of the line, “It’s Taeyong we’re talking about here. If he could fall in love at his first sight of you in college, he could easily do it again.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doyoung. I needed that.”

“Alright, good night. Take care of yourself.” He said, dropping the call when you didn’t return his farewell.

You bent over the railing, tilting your chin up to face the night sky once more. You scoured the endless dark for even just a glimpse of a shooting star, for a chance to wish upon the universe to end this nightmare of yours. Your boyfriend was right there with you, but you have never felt more lonely.

Shutting your eyes closed, you let out another sigh. You were so tired of crying but it felt like the only thing you could do. You wondered just how much an average person could cry, maybe you’ve exceeded their record.

You left the balcony not too long after, padding back to the bed with a heavier heart. You sat on your side and twisted your body to face Taeyong. His mouth was parted and his cheek was pressed onto the pillow he held onto, a chuckle rolled off your tongue. Before you could even think of stopping yourself, you leaned onto him and placed a kiss onto his forehead.

A familiar heat rises to your neck at what you have done, you jumped from where you sat and raised a hand to your lips as if you’ve been burnt. You hadn’t been this intimate to him since the accident happened.

You grabbed your blanket and bolted to the living room, making do with the couch for the rest of the night as you forced yourself to sleep. Lala sleepily watched you in confusion.

Days passed and things have gone relatively the same as the first time Taeyong returned from the hospital, but you noticed the tension has lifted ever-so-slightly. You finally stopped crying yourself to sleep and eventually he has grown enough courage enough to express his affection—discreetly holding your hand and tugging you into his arms late at night to cuddle.

He was forced to stay at home for the remainder of the month while he recuperated, family and friends have visited from time to time to keep him company while you returned to your job. All the stories he’d heard about the two years he’d forgotten about, all of them were linked to you one way or another and it sparked a familiar surge of jealousy he had over his own self; that his past self made so many good memories with you that he could not never experience again.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, dare he said that he may have grown a crush on you. He could never admit it aloud for how pathetic it was, to have a crush on your own girlfriend. But it was your soft hair, your gentle hands, and your never-ending love and patience for him—these were some of the things he could not believe he had forgotten the existence of, how loved it made him feel, and he was ready to drown himself in it again.

Taeyong received a package when you were still at work one day, the label of his hometown address stamped at the right-hand corner indicated that it was from his parents. He ripped off the packaging tape with Lala nuzzling into his side.

He looked inside and saw his luggage. When he was rushed in an ambulance after his crash, his parents were the firsts to arrive at the hospital so the nurses had entrusted to them his belongings that were found in the wreckage. They failed to return it to him once he regained his consciousness as they hurried home soon after you had arrived, unable to stay much longer for personal matters.

He supposed that he only had clothes in it for he was told that he came from his hometown for a week-long visit. Rummaging through his clothes, he was surprised to see a velvet box hidden underneath the pile.

He took it out and gaped at it with owl-like eyes, he fumbled to flip it open. A shiny sparkle of a diamond reflected a faint rainbow from the sunlight that poured from the nearby window, he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Chuckling softly, he held the engagement ring close to his chest with a newfound source of encouragement.

You returned home that day to a romantic dinner. Candles of different scents were lit up and a torn picnic blanket covered the dining table, you took off your shoes and followed the scent of your boyfriend’s familiar cooking and spotted him in the kitchen. He donned a suit but he had on an apron to protect his front, busy with whatever meal he was preparing to see you peeking in from the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and Taeyong swore you had on the brightest smile that he had seen in a while.

He turned off the stove and threw aside his apron, he strode his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on top of your head and said, “I want to get to know you better.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I want to take you out on a first date—well, not out out, but you get what I mean.”

You giggled, pressing your cheek against his chest but you suddenly drew back, the worried expression you had taking him by surprise. Raising a hand to his forehead, you asked, “Your heart is beating really fast. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

He stared at you incredulously before bellowing a laugh, a hearty laugh you’ve never heard before. Shaking his head, a small hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He gently pried off your hand from his face and placed a kiss onto the back of your hand. He said, “I’m okay now.”

You were unconvinced that he was, but his sudden affection made it easy for you to ignore it. He leaned down and stole a chaste peck onto your reddened cheek. He put his hand inside the pocket of his suit and nervously fiddled with the velvet box.

Taeyong lost so much of his memories, but he was ready to make new ones as long as he was with you. He will learn to love you again as much as he did before, if not more as long as the universe allowed his heart to.

936 notes · View notes

chocolate-parfait · 3 years

Note

can I suggest a headcanon for arthur, theo and comte ( or dazai ) reacting to their selectively mute s/o speaking for the first time? ( maybe even singing? ) you can decide if you want a scenario for one of them and what mc sounds like, wether shes soft spoken or has a mature voice~ whatever you feel comfortable with >:0 👌 — have a nice day ! ♡

I made some research to write this but tell me if anything's inaccurate or wrong! I'll fix it right away

Selectively mute MC - ikevamp headcanons (Arthur, Theo & Comte)

Arthur

Arthur's a bit suspicious when he sees how uncomfortable you seem to be on your first night. No normal person would feel completely at ease, that's for sure, and yet the way your gaze flickers around the room, the way you fidget with your own hands, the look of pure anxiety on your pretty features, they're all blatant red flags for him, though he decides to let you be. It's your first night, after all, for all he knows you could just be terribly shy, right?

He started piecing the signs together after a couple days when your voice was yet to be heard. The only thing they knew was your name, which you wrote on a piece of paper after Vincent's many soft encouragements.

The English writer had tried flirting with you a couple times, but after being met with the same indicators of discomfort as night one, he decided to step back and watch from the sidelines, occasionally helping others translate whatever you were trying to tell them with your body language.

Selective mutism had been diagnosed around 1870 for the first time, and although it was still a relatively new medical condition, he still was a couple decades more experienced when it came to medicine. After realizing that was your case, he moved to inform everyone in the mansion so that they could adjust their behaviors and avoid causing you too much distress.

Eventually Arthur becomes the person you spend most time with in the whole house; you can feel he genuinely cares and, despite the voices you had heard about his incorrigible attitudes and questionable habits, you start appreciating all the efforts he puts into making sure you're always comfortable and understood (his efforts were very much succeeding, by the way).

On one particular night, you decided to bring some coffee to his room, a silent gesture of support in his regards, but once you entered the bedroom, he turned to look you in the eyes and you saw his beautiful blue orbs, usually alight with mischief, now dark and wavering, surrounded by puffy, red skin. He had been crying. Despite all his best efforts to hide it, everyone knew the writer had his own ghosts from the past haunting him, but seeing him so wretched and broken made your heart squeeze in sympathy and pity.

Seeing your worried expression Arthur immediately turned the other way, letting out a self deprecating laugh as he thought this was probably not helping with your case at all. "Ah- D-don't worry about me! I just got some dust in my eyes. Clumsy old me-!" You set down the tray on his desk and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"A-arthur, you can tell me. I'm here for you."

His heart almost flew out of his chest as his wide eyes stared at you in disbelief. He abruptly stood up and had to stop himself from hugging you and twirling you around, grabbing your shoulders instead. "MC, you just spoke right now, didn't you?!". He was so shocked he completely forgot about his troubles and spent minutes fawning over you. He didn't realize he was coming off as too strong until he noticed your voice getting quieter and quieter. He then apologized and took a moment to cool himself off.

From then on, your relationship goes through revolutionary changes as he finally gets to learn more about your past, tastes and personality. Each little detail makes him more and more interested in what had been a complete mystery to everyone for days. As the writer of Sherlock Holmes he certainly couldn't let this one chance fly out of the window now, could he?

If his brain malfunctioned when he heard your voice for the first time, it is pretty accurate to say that he almost passed away for the second time when he heard your laugh! It's the best and most effective antidepressant he's tried in a long time, and the more open you become, the more the look in your eyes starts to brighten up, a worthy rival to the breathtaking smile that graces your lips every now and then.

Your voice is sweet, calm and soft, and Arthur feels as if he's floating on a cloud whenever he hears it. It isn't loud, either, making everything you say seem like the most intimate secret one could whisper to a close friend. On the other hand, your laugh is like the clear and light tinkling of a bell. Each time you let out even the smallest of chuckles his cheeks flush with a rosy blush, earning him stares and teasing remarks from the closest fellow vampire in the room.

Slowly, he starts to see his reactions for what they are: sprouts of a new love. As time passes by, he realizes he wants to hear more and more of your voice. He wants to hear you whimper his name lost in overwhelming pleasure, he wants to hear all the sweet nothings and declarations of love you can offer him, comforting words, even gibberish and dark secrets. Everything that comes out of your mouth is like molten gold to him, and he wants it all to himself.

He starts bragging to others, though it does not take long before you're comfortable enough to grace them with the sound of what Arthur has come to love so much. On one side he's jealous because you've denied him the privilege of being the only one to hear your voice, but at the same time he's also extremely proud of you! You're finally happy and there's no more traces of anxiety and worry in your eyes whenever you're surrounded by the other vampires, and that's one of the most important milestones he's honored have witnessed by your side.

Theo

Let's just say that you and theo start off on the wrong foot. To say that you're frightened of him at first is an understatement, and you very much avoid him for as much as you can. He feels guilt strangling his throat whenever he sees your quivering form running away from him, and after noting that you behaved similarly with everyone and still hadn't uttered a word in days made him worry even more.

Arthur's the one who comes up with a diagnosis, and with that everyone changes their manners and speech to make you feel more at ease. Theo, just like his blue haired friend, is actually pretty good at reading body language so he has no particular struggles when it comes to your needs. Unfortunately, he's not so smooth in regulating his tone and words, which often come out a little to harsh. Vincent often reprimands him for it, and he can't help but feel even worse when he realizes he's probably ruining your whole stay.

He starts distancing himself, and you gradually start sticking by the local angel's side, never leaving him for even a second; his vibes are so pure and soothing that they help you out with your anxiety and symptoms. Needless to say, he's also very understanding and is not at all bothered to speak in your stead. This leads to Vincent being the first one to hear your voice, and he's without doubt elated, but he also wishes for you to be able to socialize with the others, too. Theo in particular.

After days and days of the artist's endless rants on how good his little brother actually is, your image of the gruff man has been replaced by that of a soft hearted puppy. Too bad that this soft puppy looks like a hungry hunt dog more than a small, soft cloud of love.

Ironically enough, what brings you and Theo to a new stage of your basically nonexistent relationship is King. In the dog's presence he lets his guards down and turns into a loving owner of a very good and friendly golden nugget, subsequently becoming more approachable. Besides, everyone knows how helpful animals are in fighting anxiety and social disorders! And on the advice of Arthur, he invites you to his daily walk with his dog, hoping your fear will melt away with time.

He's a stubborn man, and even when such delicate issues come his way, he has no intention of giving up. No matter how much time it'll take him, he believes he's going to convince you he's not that bad as you first thought. Why is he trying so hard though? Well, not only it's something that stems from Vincent's care for you, but it's also something for your own good. If you were to avoid him for a whole month, you'd get nothing out of it, and a constant lingering sense of panic would follow you pretty much anywhere; but living for a whole month in those conditions is a no-no for Theo. He has no intention of uselessly make you suffer like that, and as he reminds himself of that, his willpower strengthens his determination to search for a common ground between you two.

Albeit slowly, you start getting less tense around him, and the fright fades away bit by bit with each walk in the woods with the Dutch art dealer and the excited bundle of golden hair. It's a lengthy process that takes many days, but Theo finally knows his efforts aren't vain when he hears you coo at the golden retriever. "King... you're such a good boy.." You say with with the warmest smile he had ever seen painted on someone's face as you patted his canine friend's head lovingly. In that moment he wished he could frame the scene and hang it up in his room next to his brother's paintings.

He didn't know whether it was the emotion of hearing your voice for the first time or the implications that told him you weren't that scared of him anymore, but he became hyper aware that his wasn't a normal heartbeat. Unsteady and crazy like that of a lovestruck fool. Was this all it took him to fall head over heels for someone? Or was this a process that had started way before?

It still takes you some time to be fully able to speak complete sentences in his presence, but once you do, he's overcome with one of the greatest feelings of satisfaction he had ever felt in his two lives, and he can definitely agree that everything was worth the wait and the labour.

Just like Arthur, your laugh almost makes him fly through the roof, but what turns him into a formless puddle of mushy feelings and amazement is your singing voice. The first time he hears you intone a medley to him he turns to stone and just stays there, unmoving. He has an eye for finding hidden talents, but oh God was your singing unexpected. His feeling may be out of place here, but he's so, so glad to have your singing all to himself. He finds the act extremely intimate, and for how much he may believe he doesn't deserve it, he cannot deny the positive effects it has on him

Sometimes, when you're talking to him, you can see him turn his face away and smile to himself like an idiot. In those times, he's thinking about how far you two came, and how glad he is to have persisted as much as he did.

Comte

Comte emanates a slightly threatening and imposing aura but it can also be calm and placid, like his voice. First and foremost he's a gentleman, but he sometimes comes off as very intimidating to those who are not used being around such strong presences like his. Luckily, he's a very patient man, and you can feel no judgement nor malice coming from him. He's lived a long, long life, and he knows better than overstepping people's boundaries and making fun of their insecurities.

When with him, you can do things at your own pace! If you don't feel like talking then he's totally okay with it; take your time to find your own way and pace of doing things, he'll gladly help if you ever ask him (with gestures or, once you're closer, with words).

The panic you feel in his presence dissolves gradually; there are no particular events that cause a turning point in your relationship, it just happens. Despite living in such a big mansion, avoiding all life forms is pretty much impossible, so you happen to share some interactions every now and then. Sometimes it's an afternoon tea, others it's just him making small talk as you clean his room (he's either talking to himself or asks answers you can nod to if you feel more comfortable). He immediately makes it clear that he doesn't expect nor want to pressure you in delivering any answer, and if you ever happen to feel too overwhelmed he excuses himself and leaves the room.

One day as you were dusting the shelves in his office, he casually says:"The weather's really nice today." But your head doesn't move in assent, instead he receives a shocking reply despite the ordinariness of the topic. "It really is... T-there's not a cloud in the sky, either." A shocked expression momentarily appears on his features, soon replaced by a wide smile as he hums back in agreement.

He doesn't let it show but he's utterly in love with your voice. It's an addiction but he still wants to give you enough space and time to get comfortable with the idea of speaking around him, so he tries to keep himself in check all the time.

It's when he hears you singing that he can't help but feel greedy, and the rare sight of Comte's blushing cheeks greets you for the first time ever. It's his weak point, use it as you may deem ;)

(okay but jokes aside WHY would you ever want to use it against him, he'd build a pyramid with a butter knife while doing a backflip if you asked him to tbh,, the man is Whipped.)

Everything you do has a meaning and a significance, so he's always taking in even the smallest piece of information you may subconsciously slip his way. Seeing how you trust him enough to lower your guards about him makes him all the more appreciative of the bond you two share. For this reason, if you ever want to try and get over your anxiety, he'll be there to walk with you from the first to the last step of your journey.

His favorite thing is when he's holding you in his arms, nuzzled against his chest while he dozes off to your heavenly humming. It makes him feel like a prince living his happy ever after in a fairytale and he couldn't be more grateful.

#my writing #ikemen vampire #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp comte #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #arthur conan doyle #theodorus van gogh #comte de saint germain #answered

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koocycle · 4 years

Text

if not forever | jk drabble

pairing. jungkook x reader

summary. “i wanted to be with you for a long time, if not forever. you ruined that. you ruined many things.”

wc. 1.6k

warnings. none

a/n. kinda messy post break up drabble. wrote this in one go and did not (!!) proof read nor edit ahaaa my sincere apologies if this is the worst thing u ever read

masterlist

“what’s so funny?”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you had officially intended to and for some odd reason, you had hoped to throw him off guard with it. however, the same beautiful yet forced grin keeps its place on his face. the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet he makes no effort into erasing it, maintaining his gaze on the plates of seafood in front of him.

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to laugh at you,” he speaks with his mouth still stuffed with the fried shrimps you ordered earlier, showing you he kept his old habits you always told him to get rid off. “but it’s kinda funny to me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie as you reposition yourself in your seat. he doesn’t need to see it, but he knows your fingers are nervously fumbling with the edge of the table cloth.

“you do, though.” the man in front of you places his chopsticks neatly back in place whilst speaking, still not making any eye contact.

“you don’t even like the dude. you’re making him look ridiculous sitting here.” he dares to state out loud, chewing on the last remains in his mouth.

the urge to roll your eyes at the man is getting stronger, and at first you decide to not give him the satisfaction of an answer. you have better things to do, you keep repeating to yourself. you don’t have time for such childish acts, you decide. that until he speaks up again.

“what even was that story about? dude keeps talking about his art galleries and shit. as if you could care less.” he snickers cockily into the warm air.

“drop it, jeongguk.”

“oh and don’t get me started on when he began to show off his paintings.” he huffs, “he was literally fishing for compliments. couldn’t be more obvious.” he continues on, taking another sip of his sparkly water. “he thinks he’s the shit because he owns a pair of designer shoes and a gucci bag.”

“excuse me, taehyung is a very fine man. thank you very much.” you snap at him, not taking his harsh words any longer.

“sure.” he holds his hands up in the air. “i’m just saying, he isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“and what am i looking for, jeongguk?” you ask almost immediately, fed up with his attitude and big ego. “since you know me so well, tell me everything about it.”

“i’m not trying to invade your life, since you decided i shouldn’t be a part of it any longer-”

you hold your finger up in the air, shushing him mid-sentence, “give me a minute to take notes, yeah?”

a beat of silence passes through the both of you, each of you way too stubborn to break the intense eye contact you are sharing. bubbles of laughter erupt on the tables beside yours, happy couples and families making the most out of their night, the tense atmosphere on the table next door going completely unnoticed by them.

and for the first time this night, you and jeongguk are actually, sincerely looking at each other. the previous hour before taehyung excused himself to the bathroom was filled with awkward small talk and tacky glances that didn’t last any longer than a second.

you didn’t plan to find your ex in this restaurant this exact night. fuck, you didn’t plan to see him ever again, you assured yourself it was better for your own mental health. and when your tinder date decided to meet up at his favorite restaurant? what would you do then? you’d go nonetheless. because what were the odds of seeing the one person you didn’t bet on seeing tonight? the chances were small, that for sure, but with your luck, you should’ve seen it coming.

and what would you do when your ex introduced himself to your new date as an old friend of yours? of course you’d sit down at his table. of course you would, because your prince charming for the night was a beautiful social butterfly. as talented as he is, as breathtaking as he looks, it wasn’t enough and he just had to be social enough to accompany this so called old friend on his table.

“i just don’t get how you can date him.” he sighs into the air, leaning back in his chair with a huff.

“he seems like a cool person to be around, whether or not he reaches your standards,” you say, slumping down your own seat now. “and we’re not dating.”

“you’re going on dates with him.” he corrects himself. “and you bring him to places i’ve been bringing you to the past three years?”

you hate the sharp edge to his tone. you hate the desperate search for answers which is evident in his voice. you hate it. you caused it, you’re aware. and the pang in your chest grows each second of taehyung’s absence.

“how could you throw us aside like that?”

his voice is booming loud and clear through your ears, and even though you had been expecting this question sooner or later tonight, you still hadn’t figured out a solid answer for him. you wish you had.

“did those three years mean nothing to you?” he has so many questions bottled up inside of him, so many questions he has collected over the past months, unable to form any solid answers himself - so now that you’re in front of him, he has to take his chances, no?

the sight of you not making any eye contact is irritating him, though. he doesn’t see, but he knows you’re staring at your fumbling fingers under the table, folding the edges of the napkin placed on your lap. your pretty lips are shut tight, the beautiful toothy smile he was once able to appear on your face, has disappeared. your silence is killing him.

“did they mean nothing to you?” he asks again, his voice slightly cracking halfway.

you feel his stare burning on your face, you hear the way he holds his breath for a few seconds. and it pains you. “they did. they still do.”

“then why did we stop? we were perfect together.” his voice lowers a few octaves, “we were perfect.”

“jeongguk..”

“i planned to stay with you for a long time, if not forever.” he says, unable to keep his stares away from you. he hates how you’re able to stay so silent, proving all the assumptions that had been swerving in his mind to be right. he wants to yell at you for being so calm, he wants you to know how he’s been feeling the past couple of months. like total shit.

he loves you so much. he loves you so much that it hurts. he loves you so much that he wants you to go through the pain he’s been going through. he may know it’s selfish, but the way you’re sitting there, slumped onto your seat, giving him answers filled with silence - he doesn’t care no more. doesn’t want to care.

“don’t say stuff like that, guk. you don’t mean that.” you rub your temples in a tired manner. “we both know that wasn’t going to work with the way things were going between us.”

they way his name leaves your lips in such an unfamiliar manner makes his head spin.

“you thought it wasn’t going to work.” he snaps, and loudly so, making a few heads turn in your direction. “you thought so many things and you made a rashed decision that isn’t better for neither of us.”

he continues on, “i wanted to stay with you for forever. you ruined that - you ruined many things. you ruined the beautiful things we had.” he rambles, and you can feel your heart beat against your ribcage now. “i bet you didn’t even think twice about the break up. bet you just went up and left. probably for this guy too. you didn’t care - you don’t care about those years. you’re selfish.”

“you gotta stop it, guk.”

“i have to remind myself to not be sad when i go home to an empty house when i leave work.” he says, an accusing finger pointing your way. “i loved you and you didn’t give two shits. i have to wake up and go to bed with a shit feeling whilst your out here going on dates with guys you barely know?”

you catch your breath in your throat. you want him to know how much he meant to you - how much he still means to you. how you’re going through it as well. you’re not sure if he’d still believe you, considering the circumstances you were in.

“i’m going through it as well, jeongguk. i swear i am. just as much as you.” you reach for his hands resting on the table, needy for some contact.

he pulls himself away from you, though. so your hands fall on the wooden table in defeat. “this is as hard for me as it is for you. but i had to do this. what we had wasn’t healthy.”

he nods as if he understands you. he doesn’t. his lips purse and his glossed eyes are the last thing you see before he tears his gaze away and grabs his stuff on the chair next to him.

“you don’t understand.” he mumbles, right before he goes up and leaves.

you call out for him a couple more times, but he’s not listening, so you watch him from afar, just until you hear the heavy door of the restaurant go to a shut.

and you cry.

#bts #bts au #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts drabble #bts oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Note

did you ever do a reading on what bts thought about their fanfiction?

let’s see what the deck has to say:

hoseok:⎡TEMPERANCE⎦⇁ This card is about the two wells of life and death, mixing and counting everything to the right degree to make your experience pleasant. So, a thoroughly measured approach. With fics, Hoseok separates the good from the bad without denouncing and simply considers it two modes of diversion. Either to thrill or to chill, but his views are not extreme on it. He takes it for granted and will check it out to his gusto without much upheaval. Hobi is aware of the shadow sides of fanfics but both unafraid and too seasoned to reject everything altogether, knowing it needs both sides to arrive at something good. He has a lot of experience with the topic and likes mystical fantasy plots about him the very most, Lord of The Rings or Celtic folklore style. Overall, Hobi is generally wise about the workings of fandom culture and has figured out how to approach and see through the subject in a healthy way.

jimin:⎡8 OF WANDS⎦⇁ This is the card of inspiration and acceleration, wands always carry powerful levels of directed energy. There’s a sense of going right along and targeting something upcoming. In other words, Jimin rolls with it, and he’s curious where the fans will be going with the topics they write about in the future. He thinks it’s quite a feat if someone puts out a lot of writing and keeps up with the happenings in the fandom or their concepts. Jimin sees it as a fast-paced fandom trend wave and a quick diversion. Also, he finds most genres to be action-heavy and definitely not shy. If he reads something, it’s shorter scenarios and anything where he can be cool and a heroic mochi down to defeat somebody lmao! If that doesn’t sound like him. In essence, Jimin thinks of fics like movies where honor and action is very important. He likes how athletically and combat-savvy he is portrayed.

yoongi:⎡9 OF PENTACLES⎦⇁ Yeah boy, he’s feeling it. A source of gratification, pleasure, healthy expression of fantasy is how Yoongi sees fanfics. In his eyes, stories bring comfort, he knows it from his own writing, so his attitude is positive. He finds authors resourceful and thinks they’re hustlers pretty much akin to what he does, I can’t with him. He also enjoys how ARMY take matters into their own hands and craft their individual storylines and theories, he enjoys that self-sufficiency. He might read something to calm himself and enjoys domestic plots or likes seeing himself written in that context. He also likes fics where he’s a rich man 😂 Sounds like Yoongi. All in all, Yoongi considers fanfics a perfect leisure activity and he engages a lot in it. He feels like there can’t be enough of it and finds it nice to indulge. Out of all members, he reads the longest stories.

taehyung:⎡8 OF SWORDS⎦⇁ He has a negative view on fanfiction, feels criticized and intimidated, trapped even. Taehyung’s view is that people making stories about him takes away his freedom and confuses everything. Taehyung has difficulty growing used to this and feels intruded on rather than appreciated or celebrated. He actually gets sad and resentful about that. The 8 OF SWORDS always shows a dead-end, victimizing, and being caged in, Taehyung thinks he cannot escape being the subject of other people’s fantasy. It’s like a fence or grip around him, as if taken hostage. He feels powerless to the narrative about him and views fanfic culture as going nowhere essentially. Taehyung thinks people who write about him treat him like a puppet and shove him around like they want to. He feels disrespected but mostly depressed and cries a lot about it.

jungkook:⎡10 OF CUPS⎦⇁ Jin’s reading times ten essentially. Oh wow. Now this is the most rose-colored view in Bangtan, knowing that the card is very much about the “happy end” scenario in life. Jungkook feels cozy and innocent about people creating couple stories, in fact, he feels greatly loved through knowing fans want to be together with him. He thinks it’s sweet and flattering and most importantly, extremely romantic. It’s a communication of affection through a distance to Jungkook, he is proud of people to write about BTS and feels like he accomplished his own Studio Ghibli reality where people can create their own favorite scenario. You can tell he wrote fics himself in the past, he’s totally into this. His favorite plots revolve around pregnancy or farm life, and he reads everything that’s about being a family. He coos a lot about how people spend so much time writing about him in such a lovey-dovey way. He’s pretty smitten to say the very least.

namjoon:⎡THE TOWER⎦⇁ Man, RM really doesn’t like it. In fact, he finds fanfic culture catastrophic and feels it all went wrong. He sees the dangers the very most. This card signifies chaos and fallouts, something that erases in a relentless manner. He feels like fanfics came down on him like a natural disaster and need a major revolution, severe changes all the way. Like Taehyung, RM feels like he can’t do anything against what is raging on in the fandom back and forth about him and is terribly afraid of it. He dismisses the topic and finds author’s habits destructive to the point where he wishes it’d all stop. Namjoon grew threatened by people who write about him and thinks they burn down everything he carefully built without regarding him in the very least. He feels like he is shown in a too violent portrayal and wishes people would cast this idea of him away entirely. He thinks it’s hell on earth and rains on his parade.

seokjin:⎡ACE OF CUPS⎦⇁ The exact opposite of Namjoon. Jin thinks of fanfics as a lighthearted and inspired activity. Taking it blithe and easy is Jin’s motto here. To a large extent, he’s happy people feel so involved and appreciative of him and the group, but he’s also yearning a bit because he wants to meet halfway. As in, paying back all the love and yes, the sexiness, too. If he could meet up with fanfic authors and have a fun chat, or read stories personally written for him, or write a fic in reply to someone, he would. Hell, this is the card of hooking up: Jin would like dating somebody talented like that. Someone makes a free 300k novel just for him, and he’s the protagonist? Immense compliment to Jin. He feels sincerely praised and enjoys cheerful plots about BTS being in couples just to spite the dating taboo for fun. More is more he thinks, Jin wants to hear all of the latest genres. In my deck there are two fish mingling on the card, Jin wants people’s romantic fantasies to flow freely. He wants us to try out innovative and cute ideas.

#bts #bangtan #bts tarot #bts fanfics #bts tarot reading #bts tarot readings #tarot #tarot readings #kpop tarot readings #kpop tarot #pjmnoir #ask #cub mail 🐆

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trikadekaphile · 3 years

Text

Excerpts from one of my favorite Han/Leia fanfics

Dant Solo once wrote a fanfic on the now-defunct TATS website, which was posted in three parts. It was titled "Oblivion" and focused on the missing moments from the period during the NJO (New Jedi Order) where Han and Leia were separated, then when they got back together. Dant Solo did what Kathy Tyers had neither the talent nor the decency to do: gave Han and Leia a proper reunion.

Now, it is no secret that I do not care for the pre-Disney EU, now called Legends. (For the record, I don’t care much for the Disney EU, either.) I flat-out hate much of the NJO, particularly the way it crapped all over Han/Leia's relationship -- not only separating them, but gypping them out of a reunion, and instead giving all the love/personal scenes to the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke...in the book that was supposed to contain the Han/Leia reunion. Tyers poured salt on the wound by offering a fake mea culpa where she said -- heck, gloated -- that she could have written some Han/Leia scenes, but she wanted to focus on the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke.

Han/Leia fans, justifiably outraged, began a campaign to get their couple better treatment. It took three years before Del Rey finally delivered something more than a half-assed stopgap measure: "Tatooine Ghost," set after Han and Leia were married, and thankfully retconned some of the most egregious and nauseating parts of the travesty called "The Courtship of Princess Leia."

Anyway, I feel a rant about the red-gold pestilence coming on, and I choose to quash it and refocus on the aforementioned excerpts from Dant Solo's fanfic. The whole fanfic is good, but I have some favorite parts, which are the ones I will post.

Without further ado, here are my favorite excerpts from "Oblivion":

*******

[Han] came to a lift and entered it with half a dozen other beings, traveling downward to an entertainment level. He found a familiar cantina, one that had been renamed but remained, nevertheless, the same sort of dive it had always been. He swaggered through the doorway, hand resting casually above his blaster in an old, customary habit. His senses were immediately assaulted by a musty, hazy smoke that filled the crowded, dimly lit room. Loud conversation filled his ears, and he suddenly hoped that no one would speak to him. He wanted a drink and he wanted to be alone.

He ambled to the bar and sat on a lone stool at one end, waving a hand to the bartender, a shiny headed Bith who greeted him enthusiastically. Grumbling, Han ordered Alderaanian ale, noting the way the bartender slunk away after he provided it.

Gulping the brew greedily, Han's thoughts returned to Leia. He couldn't remember the last time they had exchanged pleasant words. He supposed it must have been some time shortly after Sernpidal. Again, as had been the case for so long, despair flooded him at the thought of his friend and co-pilot. His eyes closed without him even realizing it, his mind remembering the final moments of the Wookiee's life, recalling the horrible, shattering events against his own will.

Chewie! No!

Dammit! His fist clenched around the cold, hard mug of ale, but almost as quickly, it unclenched with a weak, sorrowful acceptance, eyes opening reflexively.

Ahh, Chewie...What am I supposed to do here? I wish you could tell me.

He knew what the big lug would say...he would tell him to get off his ass and pull himself together. That there was no use beating himself up over it and that he had wasted enough of his time already.

And he would probably tell Han to go back to his family. If there was one thing Chewie had always felt very strongly about, it was family.

Maybe if he hadn't been running around with me, he'd be with his family right now.

A futile thought, but Han couldn't help but think it anyway. He sighed, feeling a shudder pass through him with the release of that breath. This was why he'd always been a loner. Granted, Chewie had been in his life for an incredibly long time before he'd lost him, but he remembered vividly the kind of pain that loss of any kind imbued, and he had vowed, as a much younger man, not to risk such loss ever again.

But first there was Chewie and then there was Leia, both taking on a tough edged scoundrel who really wasn't worth it.

Surely, Leia had recently drawn that conclusion in earnest. He thought of her trip to Hapes, of her time with the dashing, regal Prince Isolder. If she'd married him instead of Han, she wouldn't be alone right now; she wouldn't have to wonder what would become of her husband, her marriage. With a distant darkness, Han wondered what had passed between the Prince and his wife. He was still a handsome bastard; certainly Leia would have noticed that. Han had left her alone all these months, had in truth mostly left her alone for months before, all the while existing in the same home as her, drinking himself into oblivion.

The idea of Leia with Isolder inflamed Han with a heart clenching, smoldering jealousy that consumed him for a long, violent moment, tempting him to hurl his mug across the room, shattering it against the wall as concretely as the thought shattered his soul.

He pushed the agonizing thought from his mind, forcing it into a quiet corner of his brain, along with all thoughts too painful to bear.

He tried not to think of anything at all, and was barely aware when someone sat on a nearby stool and slid it beside him. He glanced over to find a tall, curvaceous woman with close-cropped, sun colored hair smiling at him in a flirtatious manner. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, smiling inwardly at the realization of who he had turned into since he'd met a young, idealistic would-be Jedi. Then he returned his gaze to his drink, dismissing the young woman.

"Hi there," she said, turning to face him.

With a tired sigh, he looked at her again, smiling politely. She was very attractive, he had to admit that.

"Buy a lady a drink?" She smiled impishly.

Why not? It couldn't hurt. "Yeah, sure." He gestured to the bartender, who hastened over. "A drink for the lady," Han said with a gesture.

The woman smiled at the Bith. "Tagorian Tellder wine." As the bartender reached for the appropriate bottle and began to pour, she turned back to Han and extended a delicate hand. "I'm Shayna."

Han shook her hand briefly. "Han. Nice to meetcha." He took another long swig of his ale, watching the woman carefully as she received her drink from the bartender and sipped it slowly.

She raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "You look lonely, Han."

Han raised a brow in return. "Nah, I'm just fine. I like bein' alone."

"Really? You don't ever like company?"

Against his will, his thoughts turned to his family. It had been a long time, up until Chewie's death, since he had genuinely enjoyed being alone. Now it seemed the only option left to him. "Maybe sometimes. Not often."

She smiled coyly. "I don't like to be alone. I'm always looking for company." She leaned toward him and the loose front of her blouse slid forward enticingly, capturing Han's gaze for the briefest of moments.

He looked away quickly, guzzling down the last of his ale and signaling the bartender for another.

Without warning, Shayna placed a warm hand on Han's thigh, just as his second ale was placed before him.

"You want to go someplace more private and talk some more?"

Han looked at her for a long moment, holding his mug in suspended animation halfway to his lips. It could be so easy....to go with this beautiful woman and forget everything for a little while. His body was certainly willing. No one ever had to know. There was no way for anyone to find out. And in truth, he wasn't sure what was left of his marriage to begin with, so how wrong would it be, really?

Sighing mentally, Han realized that he would always know. And if he ever had a chance of fixing things with Leia, he wasn't sure he could live with that knowledge. Without warning, his mind assaulted him with an image of the hurt that would become present in Leia's eyes if he were to betray her. Trust and fidelity had always been in large commodity between them, something each had always counted on, perhaps even taken for granted. He could easily imagine how deeply this would cut her; how devastated and disappointed in him she would be. Hadn't he disappointed her enough already?

It wasn't worth it. A night with some stranger was not even remotely worth his wife and family, no matter what state those relationships were in.

He reached down and removed the woman's hand from his thigh, squeezed it gently for a second, then replaced it on the bar, noting her confused look of disappointment. "Sorry, not interested." He turned back to the bartop.

"You married?" She asked knowingly.

"Yeah. You could say that." He closed up, pulling back inside himself.

"Hmm....you don't look like the faithful type," she said mischievously.

Han glanced at her, eyebrows shooting heavenward. He supposed she was right, he didn't look the type. Funny how things changed. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised." He stood up, took one last gulp of his ale, tossed a few credits on the bar, gave the woman a mock salute, and then swaggered away. *******

Han dug into the travel pack he had stashed in a compartment over the sensor console on board the Falcon. He was still undecided as to whether or not he was going to give Leia what was inside the pack.

He missed her already. Their time together had been far too short. After all the nights he had imagined holding her, he was still being denied.

With resigned uncertainty, he pulled out the gift he had purchased for Leia at the Abregadoe-rae spaceport. It had almost seemed a sign at the time. He had expected to see her when he arrived at Duro, and when he had seen this, he'd been uncharacteristically compelled to buy it.

The old fashioned book-- the actual flimsiplast sheets bound in a cover of burgundy with gold writing-- contained Alderaanian poetry. He had stood in the small shop, holding it in his hands almost reverently, trying to decide if he should purchase it.

In a hasty decision, he had done just that. Now he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to give it to her. He felt somewhat foolish about the gesture.

He stood and placed the book on the holochess table and removed a bottle of Corellian brandy from a nearby compartment. He went to the galley and grabbed a glass, filling it halfway with the amber liquid. This drink was different from the ones he had taken this past year. He didn't feel he needed it. He simply wanted it. The rumble of the hatch opening surprised him, and he went to investigate, hand reaching for his blaster. It was probably Jacen, but in such desperate circumstances, he couldn't take a chance. As he hurried, he heard the sound of the hatch closing again, and when he rounded a corner, he saw what had to be Leia, removing the helmet of her chem suit. He holstered his blaster and stared in disbelief as the helmet revealed her lovely face, surprising him yet again. Around her now shaven head, a white scarf was tied.

She smiled at his dumbfounded expression, enjoying it immensely. She knew she would have to be processed again in the morning, but she didn't care. It was worth it. She had dreamed of being with Han again for too long. "Surprised to see me, Captain?" She dropped the helmet to the floor and began removing the chem suit.

He just stared as she pushed the suit down her legs and stepped out of it. With her hair gone, she looked thinner, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. It brought home to him what he had put her through, and guilt gripped his heart.

And here she is, doing everything in her power to be with me, yet again. What did I ever do to deserve this woman? He couldn't imagine.

Feeling awkwardly ashamed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to the floor.

Leia picked up the suit and helmet, stashing them in a nearby compartment. She was absurdly nervous. Her stomach was fluttering in anticipation of spending time alone with Han. In an effort to calm herself, she reached out through the Force to touch Han's essence and found him as nervous as she. It was a comforting realization, and her tension decreased almost instantly. She turned back to Han and they lapsed into silence.

He returned his gaze to hers. "You want a drink?"

She nodded. "Sure." As she moved to follow him to the galley, she passed the holochess table and spotted, of all things, a book. "What's this?"

Han stopped and saw her fingering the book on the table. I guess my decision's made for me, he thought dismally. "Um...well, I got that for you." He felt his face warming.

She looked up at him in sharp surprise. He had gotten her a book? That was certainly unexpected. She smiled tentatively, sensing the sudden increase in awkwardness that permeated the air around Han.

Han crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the hold, everywhere but at Leia. "I just...saw it, and...well, it made me think of you. So I got it for you." Did he sound as stupid to her as he did to himself?

She picked up the book gingerly, almost lovingly. She fingered the cover, tracing the title with a fingertip: The Heart Of Alderaan. The old, familiar pain surfaced, competing with the pounding of her heart that was caused by Han's presence.

Han watched her, his heart churning. She opened the cover carefully and turned to the first page.

Han cleared his throat. "There was one poem..." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice in the quiet of the ship, shrugging sheepishly. "I thought it was pretty good. I marked it. It really reminded me of you."

Leia glanced up at him for a moment before flipping carefully through the pages until she came to the one Han had marked. Lead Me Back To You. Warmth washed over her, and in a voice choked with emotion, Leia read the poem aloud.

"Blind and running, not knowing to where

Burning sorrow, from what isn't there

Eyes could not see, you were there for me."

Leia's voice faltered a moment, the words he had so carefully chosen cutting her deeply. "Despair held reign, keeping me empty.

"Through the dark haze, your light strong and true

Ever shining, leads me back to you

Starlight so bright, a beacon in black

Filling my soul, completing my lack

"Worlds fall afar, hearts cry out breaking

Desperate need, my arms are aching

Moments are lost, lifetime spent running

Lovers are hurt, even the cunning

"Love and beauty, you brought to my life

Soothing comfort, an end to the strife

Further I fall, deep in your embrace

Hearts breathe in time, tears fall from your face."

Tears gathered, blurring the words. She looked at him, speechless. This was the most wonderful gift she had ever received. Just knowing he had thought of her, as she had thought of him, almost continually, filled her with joy.

He stared back, his own expression grave. "It's probably not the best poem you've ever seen," he began. "But--"

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a long, emotionally charged moment. Han wanted to take her in his arms, but felt oddly unable to move.

She offered him a teary smile of encouragement and it was all he needed.

"C'mere," he whispered roughly, reaching out a hand toward her.

With a small sigh, Leia took his hand in hers and stepped close, her eyes never leaving his, feeling the unique way his life force called to her. She wrapped herself up in it, drank it in with her senses.

With an almost inaudible whimper, Han's arms were suddenly around her, clutching her to him convulsively. His breath near her ear was harsh as he whispered, "I missed you, Leia. Gods, I missed you."

A waterfall of tearful emotion washed through her. She held him more tightly and returned the whisper. "I missed you, too. Every moment. Even when you were at home."

Her words stabbed at his heart, but he understood her need to say them. Eyes closed, threatening to overflow, Han breathed reverently, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She pulled back just enough to look at his closed eyes. She thought she could almost see a trembling to his chin, but was not quite sure in the dim lighting. "I understand," she said, meaning it.

And he realized she did. Because she knew him so well, better than he even knew himself. He opened his eyes and brought up a hand to remove the white scarf from her head.

Her hand flew up protectively. "Han--"

"Shhh..." He removed her hand, then followed suit with the scarf, dropping it to the deck. He ran a hand along her scalp, humbled by the gesture she had made for a few simple minutes with him. He could barely release the heartfelt words that bubbled to his lips. "I don't deserve you. I never have," he breathed.

She shook her head slowly, eyes filling with bright tears. "Just kiss me, you nerfherder," she said around the tightness in her throat.

His mouth bent to hers, kissing her with all the loneliness, loss and desperation he had felt for so long. His arms held her tightly once more and he lifted her to dangle above the floor.

It was like coming home, for both of them. Almost forgotten passion mingled with the joy of rediscovering each other, to carry them away to a haven where nothing else mattered, at least for a little while.

He swung her more fully into his arms, cradling her lovingly. As he carried her to their cabin---their cabin, he thought with a soft squeeze to his heart--- he was almost moved to tears by the gentle touch of her hands surrounding his face.

They reached the cabin and he placed her in the center of the bed, staring into her eyes for long, grateful moments. Then they kissed again, softly, deeply, burrowing into each others' souls, erasing the pain and sorrow and replacing it with understanding and trust.

Their clothes were lost hurriedly, and when they were bared to each other, physically and emotionally, all else was forgotten. Their mouths sought comfort, their caresses sought solace. Forgiveness was understood, love granted unconditionally.

Too moved for words, they comprehended each other perfectly without them, sharing thoughts on a level of intimacy that left them both weak.

Crying out in a release that was as much emotional as it was physical, they clung to each other, trembling together, soaring on waves of passionate eternity.

Breath calming, Han held Leia in a gripping embrace, wanting to never let go. He was overwhelmed by his feelings for her, in a humbling way he knew not how to express. It permeated his soul, turning him inside out. The past year had taken a toll on him, and now those feelings surfaced in the most profound way, filling him up, overflowing from within him. He was unable to contain them, and felt the tears choking his throat, unstoppable now.

Leia sensed the deep emotion in her husband and reached out through the Force to touch his soul. When the first sob wrenched from his throat, Leia held him close, stroking the damp hair at the back of his neck with excruciatingly comforting fingers, feeling his tears trickle a damp trail down her neck. She reached out to him spiritually, felt him grip her mental touch almost reflexively, as if he did so without even realizing it. She stroked his mind, doing her best to comfort him in every way she knew how.

He cried as he hadn't been able to since Chewie's death. Not just tears now, but huge bursts of grief that emanated from his chest, obscuring everything but the soothing embrace of his wife. He allowed her, finally, to hold him, to share his sorrow, to see just how much the past year had affected him. He sobbed until he was too weak to continue, finally, blissfully, falling into a deep, exhausted slumber, the first of such in a long, long time.

Leia held him still, her aching heart at last peaceful in the knowledge that Han and she had made sense of themselves. The simple act of sharing his pain was proof that he was healing. It might take a bit more time to make him whole again, but they could do it...

Together, they could do anything.

*******

Leia watched her husband lying on his side, facing her. She was filled with relief and serenity. She had dozed on and off for the past two hours, while Han remained entrenched in sleep. She snuggled close to him, her thirst for his nearness not easily quenched. After all was said and done, they had found each other again, both equally unable to sever the bond they had shared for so long. Pride and arrogance set aside, there really was no reason for them not to be together.

Leia waded in the warmth of Han's sleeping thoughts, like a gentle current. His mind hadn't been so calm, so at ease, since before Chewie's death.

She sighed at the thought of the big Wookiee, so prominent a part of their lives. After all the loss she had suffered in her life, she was surprised at how hard Chewie's death had hit her. Certainly, not as hard as it had hit Han, but hard nonetheless.

She pushed aside that pain as she felt Han's consciousness stirring. She pulled herself closer to him, the skin of his shoulders so blissfully warm under her palms.

Stretching his legs before wrapping them around hers, he let out a low breath as his eyes flickered open and his arms surrounded her. She brought her face to his stubbly cheek, making a soft sound of contentment from deep within her.

They held each other for a long silence, until Han pulled back, a somber expression etched into his features. He leaned into her and kissed her lingeringly, then looked into her eyes once more, his expression growing slowly sheepish. "Sorry to fall asleep on you," he admitted, looking up at her with raised eyebrows, face tilted downward.

"That's okay," she whispered. "It just feels so good to hold you again."

"Yeah." Han swallowed against the sudden lump that rose to his throat. "I know what you mean." He leaned against the pillow, raising a hand to stroke the smooth skin of her shoulder, just above where the blanket fell over her. Her arms felt so good around him, too good to be true. But it was true, thankfully. Feeling mildly ashamed at his earlier display of emotion, he watched his fingers caress her skin and forced himself to speak. "And, uh...sorry 'bout losing it before, too. I don't want you to think it was anything bad about you--"

"I know what it was," she said softly, understandingly.

He looked back at her, nodding, resisting the urge to ask her to explain it to him. He felt better now, more in control, more like his old self. As if he had purged himself of some parasitic demon that had been eating away at his soul. He relaxed and pulled her down to rest against his chest, tenderly amused by her lack of hair. He rubbed her head gently, grinning. "I bet you can't wait till I shave mine, huh?"

She raised her head to look him in the eye. Happiness bubbled within her at the familiar sight of his charming, lopsided smile. "Well, we might as well match," she said with a smirk.

The amusement in his eyes slowly faded to reveal a deeper emotion, as his gaze roamed over well loved features that had only come to endear her more to him with the passage of time. It didn't matter to him if her gorgeous hair was gone, she still took his breath away. "You're still so beautiful, Princess," he whispered. He smiled wistfully. "Too beautiful for an old pirate like me."

She laid her palm across his cheek, an unnerving thought creeping into her mind. It was something she had thought of over the past few months, but had been afraid to truly acknowledge. She forced a smile. "You know you're still gorgeous," she said. Her eyes fell from his to study the hair on his chest. "I'm sure plenty of women told you so in your recent travels," she added quietly, unable to do more than imply her concerns.

His fingers lifted her chin, firm but gentle. "Hey," he said fiercely. "There was no one else."

She gazed into his eyes with hopeful uncertainty.

His lips pressed together before he spoke again. "I swear it. No one."

Their eyes held for a long, searching moment, and Leia didn't need to touch him through the Force to know he was sincere. She kissed him softly on the lips before returning her head to rest on his chest.

They lay quietly for a time, while Han tried to think of a way to tell her all that she meant to him. He had caused her so much pain, forced her to put up with far more than she should have had to. "Leia...," he began tentatively. "I don't want you to think I ever stopped loving you--"

Her head rose quickly, meeting his eyes with her own. "I never thought that. I know you too well," she said softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes at her chin. "Yeah, well..." After a brief pause, he continued. "The things I said to you, when I was drinking...I didn't mean them, not any of them."

"I know."

He sighed in a rush of defeated breath. He closed his eyes and tried to force the words that did not come naturally to him. "I just couldn't...I couldn't--"

"Shhh." Leia placed a finger to his lips, stilling the awkward sentiment. "Don't," she whispered, voice vehement. "You don't need to explain anything." His lips moved beneath her finger, his voice heavily laden with pain. "I hurt you, Leia, everything I did this past year--"

Her lips replaced her fingertip, kissing him softly. After a brief hesitation, he kissed her back. When she broke away from his lips, she gazed at him with large, soulful eyes. "Your fault, my fault...it doesn't matter. Not now."

Han's brow furrowed. "My fault. It does matter."

She shook her head, smiling gently. "No. It doesn't."

He stared at her, eyes softly dubious, lips parting as if to say something else. Then his mouth firmed into a thin line and he leaned up to enfold her in his arms. He spun her to her back, holding her to him in a powerful embrace. "I was selfish," he whispered into her neck.

She stroked his hair, thinking of how she would miss its softness. "You were hurting, you couldn't help it."

He held her more tightly, felt her heart beating a steady rhythm with his. "That's no excuse."

Gently, she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes with a grim expression. She didn't want him beating himself up over this. There was no point to it. "Han, sometimes circumstances happen. And we can't help how we react to them. We cope the best way we know how."

Alderaan, he thought. It should have broken her, but it hadn't. Her inner strength was too tenacious. He always knew she was stronger than he was. Where he had crumpled, she had only grown stronger. In the early years, once they had gotten past the nasty taunts and sarcasm, her strength had probably been what he admired most about her. He nodded to her finally, unable to argue when she would not allow it. He would carry this guilt for a long time, regardless of her lack of blame. He almost wished she would tell him off, give him what he knew he so justly deserved.

Leia watched Han's features settle into resignation, then something resembling tender disbelief.

He shook his head very slowly. "How is it that you still love me so?"

She smiled, equally tender. "How could I possibly stop?" She asked softly, eyes wide and sincere.

He grimaced slightly, feeling so undeserving of her love and trust. "I love you, Leia." The words were barely a whisper.

Even if Leia hadn't been able to bask in the beauty of Han's emotions flowing freely through the energy of the Force, the look in his eyes would be enough. She kissed him with a fervent passion that they hadn't known since their younger years, and they surrendered to the growing need to drown themselves in the intimacy each had existed without for far too long. Their bodies moved together in a timeless rhythm, strengthening their hearts and fortifying their souls.

All around them, oblivion slowly faded.

#han and leia #fanfic which is better than profic #kathy tyers can kiss my ass

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jinmindeulle · 3 years

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hot chocolate | jyh (2)

part 2/3

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeong yunho x reader, yang hongseok x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2.4 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff / enemies to lovers au, tv news au, newsanchor!yunho x newsanchor!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions of sex and cursing

main masterlist | ateez masterlist

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

To say that it was her fifth mental breakdown of the day was an understatement.

Y/n was preparing the report that her boss had asked her as the last part of her application for the job. It was just a simple story that she would later have to present on the live show right after Yunho’s. She had decided to talk about important women around the world as she felt confident in that area. She knew a lot about the topic of feminism and the importance of speaking up. That, however, didn’t spare her from feeling like a total failure when she asked Hongseok to proofread the script for her and he made a face.

“Are you sure you are not going to go off at a tangent if you talk about this topic? You know that your speech should flow, and when you are talking about something that you are passionate about or you know a lot of, you usually beat about the bush”

“What do you suggest? Changing the topic last minute?” she whined, plopping down Hongseok’s couch, right next to him.

“Narrow it down. You’re being too general here. Be more specific and don’t talk just to show off”

“Got it” y/n snatched the paper away from her friend and went back to her ‘workplace’ — Hongseok’s kitchen table.

Editing scripts was the part that she hated the most. Her usual job rarely involved that, because she was in charge of doing the research, checking and double-checking sources and outlining the report. Sometimes she wrote them just to avoid loosing that side of the job, but her department co-workers were the ones who proofread and corrected the script multiple times, not y/n.

That’s why she was staying the night at Hongseok’s. He was an expert in that field, his job as a script-writer for the Night Show helping him improve his skills more and more with every new story. What took the man a couple of hours to finish, took y/n her whole Saturday afternoon, and if it wasn’t for him, she would probably spend her entire weekend crying over her script.

“How’s that going?” Hongseok approached her from behind, placing his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder, rapidly scanning the words on her screen.

“Check yourself” she yawned, throwing her head backwards and accommodating it on the space between his neck and shoulder.

“Why don’t you have a warm shower? I have already called the pizza place and it won’t take long for them to arrive”

The girl sleepily nodded and left the chair as soon as her friend released her. He took her seat to keep reading her script, so she moved quickly to the bathroom. Now undressed and with the water warming up, she stretched her back, putting her hair up on a messy bun that prevented it from getting soaked. As soon as she entered the steamy shower, her mind took off.

And it landed on Jeong Yunho. Was that even necessary? She scoffed, turning around to make the hot water ease some of the back pain.

She would never admit it, but back then she had had a massive crush on him. Who would blame her, though? He was the most handsome man around campus, and he was all the time smiling. He had that special grin of his that lit up the darkest room.

But he had never showed that side of his to her. Maybe because she was his only competition in college who could actually beat his perfect records, or maybe because she was all the time with Hongseok. The truth was that Yunho had always avoided and ignored her every time she had dared to speak to him outside college hours.

So it had come as a surprise seeing him at the Seoul Morning News’ building two years before. She had been working there for a couple of months, and all of her ex-classmates knew that thanks to Hongseok, who proudly told the world about her rapid success. Why would he ever apply for a job that involved working with a person he hates? She never understood that, but at the same time didn’t even bother to question his decision.

An hour later and with a full stomach, y/n was all spread on Hongseok’s couch, her head on his thigh and his hands massaging her scalp “You’re too good to me, Hongie” she whispered, hugging his leg.

“I just love you” he replied. Out of shock, she sat up in a matter of milliseconds and looked at him with wide eyes “Don’t be silly. Not like that” he laughed, patting her head “I love you as a friend, and I love fucking you as a friend too”

“I saw my life flashing in front of my eyes for a second” she heavily breathed out, placing her hand on her chest, right on her heart.

“I’m sorry” he grinned, placing a soft kiss on her lips “I like messing around with you sometimes”

“Sometimes?” she raised one eyebrow, sitting on his lap and straddling his waist with her legs.

“Well, that depends what kind of ‘messing’ you are referring to” he smirked, rubbing his hands up and down her lower back.

“Why don’t you show me?”

“My pleasure, hun”

“I messed up” she cried, holding her phone with shaky hands “I messed up so bad, Hong”

“Why? What happened?” his concern was tangible even through the phone.

“I went blank for I don’t know how long. I completely forgot about my script and had to improvise a section of it. It was terrible. I’m a failure, and I’m not going to get the job at all. He was perfect. Yunho was amazing, as he always is. And I won’t blame Mr. Jung when he chooses him because he deserves that place more than anyone in here” y/n sobbed, sitting down on her desk, feeling how the shame and humiliation drowned her in tears.

“Y/n, I’m sure you’re just exagg-”

“I’m not, Hongseok! It was the worst thing I have ever done. I messed up and I know that. I missed the chance to get the job of my dreams. And I will never get another one of this”

When she decided that it was time to let her friend do his job in peace, she realized that she could not to go back outside of her office and face her co-workers who were expecting her to keep on her daily work without recomposing herself first. With heavy steps, she entered her little toilet and removed all of her make up. Washing it off and doing it again was the only reasonable option. Some minutes later, she found herself looking way better, but just hoping for her puffy eyes to go back to normal in a couple of hours top.

She left her office with her heard high but avoiding eye contact. It was hard to admit, but she knew that all of them had seen her embarrass herself in front of their boss. How was she supposed to come back from that? Her reputation was a joke right now.

“Miss Lee, I want to speak with you for a second”

Her eyes opened widely upon hearing her boss’ voice behind her. She turned around in a slow manner, reminding herself not to cry in front of him “Sure” Following the petit man to his office, she took some deep breaths to keep her heart from pounding that hard against her chest.

“So” Mr. Jung spoke up once they were settled “How do you feel?”

Y/n heavily exhaled and looked down, playing with the end of her black pencil skirt, a bad habit of hers when she felt anxious “I could have done much better”

“I believe just the same, my dear. I understand that you were nervous, though. It felt the same for me when I was the one being tried, so don’t worry too much. I know your potential” the man smiled, leaning over his desk “That’s why I’m giving you the job”

She had to have heard him wrong. He was giving her the position after messing up like that on her one and only chance? Was he even there when she went blank on national television?

“Wha-” she cut herself off, feeling how a thousand different emotions flowed inside her body.

“You showed me that you have the skills to be in front of the camera with a script, and without one. It was impressive, how in a matter of seconds you were able to keep on talking with Taeki about the issue like nothing had happened, like you never got lost in your own world”

“But I did get lost” she mumbled, feeling the tears blurring her vision once again.

“So what? It is not about following the script all the time, y/n. You are a professional when you know how to manage, how to get yourself out of a problem in just seconds. Everyone is talking about that, and you should be proud of yourself”

“I… I can’t believe this” she let out a laugh, completely out in disbelief.

“And you know what? You were so good that even Yunho decided to let you have the job”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell down her face altogether upon hearing Mr. Jung’s confession “What?” y/n asked, completely out of shock.

“As you hear it. He came to me an hour or so after we finished, and told me that you deserved the job more than he did. That you were capable of that and even more. I didn’t know that you went to college together! You didn’t seem like you were friends to me”

“We are not friends, Mr. Jung” y/n shook her head, drying her tears with the back of her hand “I can’t believe he told you that”

“Me neither. He seemed really enthusiastic about this job last week. But anyways, congratulations! Your training starts tomorrow. We have just a few days to get you ready to be our new news’ anchor”

She left that office with the most contradicting feelings she had ever felt. Of course, she was overjoyed. The fucking job of her damned dreams was hers! She had failed the task, but she got it despite of it. However, the fact that Yunho had given up his chance just to let her have it was not leaving her heart anytime soon. Why would he do that? He would never abandon such an opportunity just because she deserved it. Who thought like that nowadays? Who was that selfless?

Apparently, Yunho was. So she decided to wait for him outside the building three hours later. She knew he had the same schedule as Jaehyun, who always left half an hour after her.

Winter was her favourite season. Wearing long coats and fluffy scarves was her most enjoyable activity. But sometimes, having snow falling on her when she was out and about bothered her a little. Not like she was willing to admit that, especially to Hongseok, who defended summer with all of his passion. Luckily for her, the hot chocolate cups that she was holding kept her hands warm.

Just when she was about to leave, assuming that Yunho had left earlier, she distinguished his large frame going out of the building. He was busy putting on his gloves, so he never realized she was standing right next to him. She faked a cough, and it took a couple more to make him aware of her presence.

“Oh-sorry! My mind was somewhere else. How are you?” he smiled at her, and this time, it felt real. He had no second intentions, no secret plans. Just a genuine smile.

“I’m happy” she admitted, a little smile plastered on her own lips “Mr. Jung gave me the job”

“Right! I heard about that. Congratulations, y/n, you really deserve it. And I mean it”

“You know…” she replied, tearing her eyes away from his, which were looking at her with great intensity “He told me that you gave up the job”

Maybe it was because of the cold, but Yunho’s cheeks were painted a deep shade of pink. He looked across the street, shoving his hands on his coat’s pockets, and fought back a nervous smile.

“Why would you do that?” she pushed, taking advantage of his panicky state.

“You were the best candidate out of the two of us”

“That’s not what I want, Yunho” she scoffed “You made it clear that you would fight for the job, and that you always won. What happened today?”

“Nothing”

Y/n sighed. He was a hard one.

“Yunho, don’t be like that. I messed up and you did an outstanding job. You were the one who deserved that position, and you know that. So why? Why would you give it up?”

“I heard you crying” he confessed, looking at her right in the eye “I heard you when you told Hongseok that it was your dream job, and I just couldn’t do it. How awful as a person would I be to tear your dreams apart when I have the power to just help them become a reality? I know that you think of me as a selfish, competitive bastard. But I’m not like that. It was just-”

“A façade” she interrupted him, feeling how her eyes flooded with tears “But you just put it out for me”

Yunho sighed, and cursed with a deep mumble.

“It’s okay” y/n shook her head, fighting the tears back “You don’t have to explain anything. I get that you don’t like m-”

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not that at all” the boy took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the sides of her arms.

“Really, Yunho, don’t worry about that. I just wanted to thank you. I’m not sure if I deserve that but I’ll make sure not to let you down” she exhaled heavily, taking a step back in order to leave “Oh! I almost forgot” she extended one of her arms towards him “This is for you. I know that you don’t like coffee so I bought hot chocolate instead. As a thank you” she smiled weakly.

And with that she left Yunho behind, standing all by himself under the falling snow, and looking at the paper cup with disbelief. She had remembered.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

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focsle · 3 years

Text

Vendryth Bio

HELLO here I am with one of my Gigantic Character Bios.

Basics

Name: Vendryth

Nickname: Ven to friends. He also has a number of tacky nicknames in the various small localities he helped out over the years: The Golden Traveler, The Dragon, Trollslayer, Midwinter Hero, ET CETERA ET CETERA. To Neris he is ‘Grandpa’.

Age: Died at age 326. Born 1E 2594, died in 1E 2920. Is Neris’s resident ghost as of 2E 582.

Gender: Man

Race: Dunmer

Class: Battlemage and restoration master

Physical Traits

Height: 6ft

Weight: 210 lbs

Hair: Auburn, pulled back in a long braid.

Eyes: Red

Skin: Dark blueish grey

Distinctive features: Full Van Dyke-style beard. A lot of assorted scars from 300+ years of Fighting Things. Really big gaudy dragon tattoo on his chest.

Mannerisms: He has a confident ease moving and existing in the world, and he definitely takes up space in a lounging sort of way. He also tends to relate to people physically—SHOULDER SLAPPER sort of guy.

Voice: Friendly and booming. Bit gravelly but refined.

Fashion: He likes ornate armors and likes to keep ‘em shiny. In the day to day however, he dresses very simply...keeps his shirt collar as open as possible...

Emotional Traits

Personality: He’s very personable and very willing to help people, to the degree that he is prone to butting into situations that initially don’t involve him. He almost never turns down requests for help and can quickly shift to adapt to situations that call for his attention. He tries to behave honorably, though he hasn’t always done so in his interpersonal relationships in the past and is awkward in coming to terms with that.

Likes a good time. Is boisterous and rollicking and sometimes has an air about him that he doesn’t take things seriously, even though as said above, he can rapidly switch gears to handle grave situations. He’s chummy with everyone. A bit flirtatious & slutty. A pro at entertaining swaths of children. Good at calming horses.

He’s very vain, though not arrogant. He’s surprised if someone isn’t impressed by him, but not upset or offended. He does Heroics partly because he has the ability to and thinks it's the right thing to do, but also because he likes the attention. Likes being fawned over. Doesn’t wanna wear a helmet to cover his pretty face.

Religion / Belief system: He more-or-less adheres to the Tribunal (much to the chagrin of Grandson Neris). He doesn’t believe them to be Actual Gods and thus doesn’t ‘worship’ them, but does recognize and respect them as powerful leaders and has no problem serving their will when it comes to the defense of Morrowind. He later became one of Vivec's Buoyant Armigers, and was quite reverent to both Vivec and Almalexia.

He’s wary of all Daedra. Just expects them to be troublesome and either doesn’t involve himself or actively works against them. He’s pretty straight-laced about all that.

Lifestyle

Background: He was born into a minor family in House Telvanni. Despite his lack of Notable Lineage, he proved to be very magically adept, especially in matters of restoration magic. In his early 20s he married a woman named Tendreni Ilyiil. Their marriage was a strategic one centered more on solidifying future power than anything else—his skills, and her more powerful family connections. It didn’t work out, particularly as Vendryth’s interests turned more towards being a healer rather than the acquisition of knowledge or power. He wasn’t good at communicating that it wasn’t working out however. He decided instead to simply abandon Tendreni and their infant child and forgo any connections to his house. While he would come to regret that action as he got older, he never made amends, feeling too much time had passed for it to mean anything.

Over the decades he worked with both the Mages and Fighters guild, intensely studying Restoration but also battle techniques and becoming quite powerful through the ranks as a result. Initially he took contracts through the Fighter’s Guild to assist people. Then he became a bit of a Freelance Hero around Tamriel, chasing the high of Minor Glories in numerous regions. His mastery of Restoration magic enabled him to slow his aging considerably.

His work took on a more concentrated effort when he was a little over 100 years old, in defense efforts against the first Akaviri invasion that earned him recognition among his peers. He would continue to serve in Morrowind's military for a time, and then more specifically for Vivec as a Buoyant Armiger. Through this work he had the flexibility to continue his Pro Bono Heroics around Tamriel, but would respond to calls back home when needed.

By 2840 he was back to his military engagements, operating as a high-ranking healer during the Four Score War. While certainly not always on the front, he was involved for the entire 80 engagement and managed to live through it as a decorated veteran. Unfortunately when Mournhold was sacked shortly after, Vendryth lost his head to one of Mehrunes Dagon’s army while trying to heal someone.

He had an honorable burial in Necrom, though not in the Ilyiil tomb. However, simmering generational anger over his initial abandonment of his first family led to his ghost being tracked down by Ilyiil ancestor spirits who then bound him to protect the family tomb. He was there for 600 years, and lost considerable parts of his memory and identity as the notion of being stuck there for eternity became intolerable and his emotional and mental state deteriorated. He was forgotten by everyone, beyond a few obscure scholars of specific military history, as the people who remembered him died. He became a very angry and violent spirit until he ran into Neris who was reconciling with his own feelings about his family and sense of abandonment. Neris ended up helping to free Vendryth and established a shrine for him in his own house. Kindred spirits in many ways, Neris’s companionship helped Vendryth get a lot of himself back, and Vendryth also helps Neris take his final steps away from House Telvanni.

Place of residence: In life he lived in a fancy Hall just outside Mournhold. As a ghost he hangs out in a dedicated corner of Neris’s library in Middle Of Nowhere Vvardenfell.

Occupation: Local Hero™, Buoyant Armiger, battlefield healer

Habits: He’s very particular about his appearance...a Preener. Will absolutely fuss over his reflection in a breastplate he’s shining. Winds down with smoking assorted combos of psychoactive herbs in the evenings. Tends to touch people’s arms or has a hand on their shoulder or something when he’s talking to them.

Hobbies: Adventuring (and long walks through impressive landscapes), gathering up all the local rumors, fishing, musical inclinations, reading a small always-rotating collection of books he finds in his travels and then leaves at the last inn he stayed at once he finishes them.

Likes: Campfire stories or collective songs i.e. activities that include a lot of people, theater, retelling his adventures, being recognized, quaint little towns with warm rooms.

Dislikes: Having to be sneaky or anonymous in any way (he’ll DO subtlety and anonymity if it is required of him but UGHHHH!), having to constantly confront the mortality/death of people around him, feeling ‘kept’ by anyone, losing sleep for any reason, having to skip meals.

Goals: His interests move from ‘I want people to know who I am and I want stories to be told about me’ notions of fame, and as he gets older it turns more into ‘I want to do what I feel is right and will help people’. He always appreciates public admiration and relishes in it, but ends up feeling a greater responsibility over where he stands in life and how he can contribute.

Relationships

Orientation: Straight, ish. He’s attracted to women, but he’d be flattered and wouldn’t necessarily say no if propositioned by another gender. But the actual attraction wouldn’t be there.

Relationship status: Had a long string of romances and families across the continent, as well as one dedicated long-term partnership with a General in the Four Score War that was his last relationship. As a ghost…..he’s a ghost…

Notable Relationships:

He fathered 37 children (that he knows of) over his first couple centuries. While he was never completely absent, he definitely wasn’t involved in parenting. He’d write everyone, he’d make sure everyone was materially supported, he’d show up and stay for a few weeks at a time with gifts and stories, but wasn’t much of an Active Partner. He very much considered everyone family and had no personal sense of relationship decay over time; this was met with varying degrees of agreement, acceptance, indifference, sorrow, anger, and resentment across all the different parties.

He grew to be a more somber man once he realized he was outliving them all. Not just partners, but a number of his children too.

Tendreni Ilyiil: His first wife. Their relationship was one of circumstance, duty, and politics. They were quite formal with each other, and had differing senses of ambition. When Vendryth left Tendreni was furious about it, largely because of the principle of the thing rather than because she experienced much hardship without him (though raising an infant more on her own was something she was very angry about, though there was family help for her there). She didn’t feel a loss with him gone. She thought he was a childish coward and wrote him off almost immediately for it. She moved on, but her parents harbored a more significant grudge, as did her child to an even greater degree, especially as Vendryth’s name became more widely known and celebrated. These ancestor spirits, rather than Tendreni, were the ones who ended up binding his ghost to the tomb.

Neris Ilyiil: His great great great great grandson, of Tendreni’s line, who ended up saving him from his spectral imprisonment. Vendryth is very fond of Neris and sees quite a bit of himself in the boy. He loves exchanging adventure stories with him, even though Neris’s tend to be a bit different. He’s grateful for Neris’s help and is also more than willing to provide a sense of encouragement, family, and guidance to him. 600 years in a tomb means he lost the threads of all the rest of his family members and doesn’t know where any other descendants are. As a result he’s really close to Neris because Neris is the only thing that makes him feel like he still...Existed at one time.

Lady General whom we are still working on a name for: A General who Vendryth served under in the Four Score War. She initially thought he was underwhelming which he found…completely baffling and intriguing and his conclusion was ‘she is underwhelmed by me not because I’m NOT great, but because clearly she has done something greater and now I need to find out about it’. Was deeply curious about her from the beginning. Rather than his earlier relationships that were built on initial physical attraction and his usual ‘I am going to charm her with my Gallant Hero Energy’, he grew close to her out of circumstance first and then utter respect and admiration for her as they worked together. She was his sense of grounding through the whole war and was the first person he was actually In Love with. He hoped the relationship would continue beyond the war—that he kept thinking would end the next year, and then the next year, etc. It was unrelenting and he likely wouldn’t have stayed if not for this partnership. He felt it was worth all the enduring hardship. She saw to his burial after the destruction of Mournhold.

#vendryth ilyiil #galen was like ‘u made a paladin never thought i’d see it’#i made a slutty paladin

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hwaddict · 4 years

Text

Melting Point (m)

genre: f2L au, Smut, Fluff

pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

wc: 2.5k

summary: Your spending habits may need work but the one time you're thankful for them because it let you getting to spend some time to get to know your cute neighbor.

warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, subtle size kink, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, creampie.

note: I wrote this yesterday in one sitting and its my first time writing smut but its easily my favorite piece I’ve written and i’m super proud of it. So let me know what you think and enjoy!

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Having expensive taste as a broke college student makes your time about ten times worse than it needs to be. Your dad always warned you about your spending habits and how if you kept spending money like you did in high school “perfecting your wardrobe” then you wouldn’t have any extra money in college. Long story short, he was completely right.

So that’s how you find yourself grating string cheese on a Monday night after a long day of school. Every instinct inside of you wanted to just take the easy way out and just order pizza but you had no money, and no string cheese.

“Why do we never have any string cheese in this damn apartment?” You complain to your roommate of three years named Amelia who’s scanning through the tv trying to find something to wind down.

“Probably because you spend your money on pointless stuff like stuffed animals you don’t need.” she shoots back at you.

“Don’t talk that way about Henry.” You say with sarcasm in your voice because you feel completely and absolutely ridiculous in this moment. And even if it kills you, she’s right. You really didn’t need another stuffed animal but you bought it anyway.

Frustrated with grating string cheese, you finally drop the grater on the counter and decide to take a breather outside. And to make sure you displayed your frustration, you just had to slam the door and make a tiny scene.

After about a minute of admiring the sunset standing over the balcony railing in the hallway of your dorm building, a deep but soothing voice startles you back to reality.

“That was a serious door slam, Are you feeling ok?” Your neighbor, Mingi said while ascending up the stairs carrying groceries.

Mingi, the tall but sweet boy who lived on the same floor as you who you’ve seen a few times while coming and going to school but never really got to know. You always had a tiny crush on him because he was just amazingly good looking and had a genuine heart for others.

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m just frustrated again with myself, nothing new.” You let out with a sigh while rubbing your face with your hands.

“Would it help you to calm down if you talked with me?” He said and shifted the weight of his paper grocery bag in his hands to get out his keys from his pocket.

“Sure. I just can’t be in my room right now or else I’m gonna yell at my roommate and I don’t want to deal with that tonight too.” You say as he follows you into his apartment.

“So what’s going on y/n?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I guess I’m just frustrated with the choices I’ve made with money. Like today, if I hadn’t spent my money on a useless stuffed animal, then I would be able to get pizza for dinner instead of making my own.”

“Well homemade pizza doesn’t sound too bad.” Mingi tries to reassure you while he finishes putting away his groceries.

“It doesn’t sound too bad until you’re wasting your time grating string cheese.”

“Oh yeah, I can see how that’s frustrating.” Mingi says with a chuckle imagining your cute little face getting annoyed with something he could’ve helped you with.

You never would know because of how convinced you are that nobody likes you but Mingi actually did. He’s tried displaying it to you a few times now with helping you carry things up the stairs when you moved in and when you had a party and needed someone to take out the trash for you. Even now, Mingi made a mental note to always keep a spare bag of string cheese in case you needed some. Mingi liked you but you couldn’t get it through your skull that anyone could feel that way towards you.

“Next time you need something, you know you can always come knock on my door and I might be able to help.” He said while sitting down on the couch and patting the spot next to him, signaling you to sit down. “And even if I can’t, I’ll still try my best.”

“Well thank you Mingi, I appreciate it greatly.” You say as you sit down next to him.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks you as his face lights up in a childlike manner.

“Sure! What do we got?”

“Well there’s The Incredibles, Spiderman, The Emperor’s New Groove, and 10 things I hate about you which is always a classic” You can easily tell that he wants you to pick the last one just by how his tone changed so you decide on the last one which results in a smile from him.

There was always a natural chemistry between you and Mingi. You guys were fast friends and the fact that you had a crush on him just made getting to know him that much easier. So when about an hour and a half into the movie you notice that you’ve relaxed into mingi’s tall and muscular frame and that his arm is draped around your shoulder, you just go along with it. But you can’t help but think that maybe he likes you? It would make sense as to why he’s been so nice to you ever since you moved in. And you don’t see it but he’s internally freaking out that you’re ok with what he’s doing and acting like a complete dork.

After you finished the movie, you tried to stand up but mingi playfully held back your shoulders so you couldn’t get out of his reach leading to a sigh of slight annoyance coming from you. He then tries to get up and you trip him by hooking his ankle with your foot resulting with him landing right over you, arms caging your head and his legs on both sides of yours in an attempt to not crush you. Astounded, the both of you just lay there not saying anything but admiring. You admiring his facial features and how his hair is the perfect amount of messy and him admiring your beautiful eyes, plump lips, and the way your body fits perfectly underneath him. Finally the silence is broken when he mutters In his low voice, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then go for it.” You say with newfound confidence.

His lips passionately crash down onto yours and you kiss him back trying to match his energy as his hand that isn’t supporting him starts to roam down the side of your body to squeeze at your hip as he grinds his hips down onto yours allowing a slight moan to escape from your lips. That same hand snakes it way back up and stops at your chest to cup and slightly squeeze your breast making you gasp in pleasure. He pulls up from the kiss so that your foreheads are resting on each other’s. The sounds of both of your heavy breathing filling the room until Mingi says something.

“Now I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you’re ok with it, i’d really like to continue this in my room.” You nod your head furiously, head clouded with lust and desire because you don’t want anything more right now.

“Babygirl I need to hear you.” He says making you want to take you right then and there

“Y-yes please.” And within a matter of seconds he’s picked you up, a hand supporting your neck and the other grabbing your ass to hold you up as you wrap your legs around his torso. He carries you to his room before removing his hand from the back of your neck to open the door for a split second and once you’re in the room, he lays you down so he’s on top of you and starts kissing you as if he needs it to survive.

Your hands fly to his chest to remove his shirt from his long and chiseled torso and you throw it somewhere and bring your hands back to scratch down the front of his chest. Only to find yourself with your hands over your head as Mingi pins them above you with his hand. He grinds down onto your clothed entrance with a grunt coming from him and you can practically feel him and you can’t help but confirm that he’s big.

He takes your shirt off and kisses down your neck while sucking and biting on a spot that makes you go weak, leaving a bruise that starts to wind a coil in your stomach. He releases your hands to let himself be able to touch down your body which involves taking off your bra in one motion which makes you wonder how he did that but it’s a question for another time. He squeezes your right breast and his mouth attaches to your left nipple and swirls his tongue around it making your back arch in pleasure and pushing yourself against him in search of much needed friction.

“God Mingi you make me feel so good.” You let slip out of your mouth with a couple other lewd sounds, fueling him to continue. He kisses down your stomach and stops when he gets to your pants button. You look down at him to watch as he undoes the button and unzips your pants, bringing them down your legs and throwing them to the side. He tugs you by your legs to bring you down to the edge of the bed so he has more access to you and looks at you with a surprised face and mutters “So wet for me already, huh princess?” Only leaving you to release a slight moan and be even more turned on and ready for more.

He slowly strips the wet panties from your lower half and stuffs them in his back pocket almost as a way of saying you’re his. A slight feeling of insecurity washes over you as he’s left staring at you, vulnerable and on display just for him resulting to you bringing your legs together. He pushes your knees apart and says “You’re beautiful babygirl, no need to hide from me.” And before you know it, he’s licking a stripe from your drenched pussy to your clit and you’re a moaning mess, hands flying down to his hair and slightly tugging at it as his lips land over your clit and start to suck on it. You let out a moan after trying to hold it in as he makes an incoherent noise, letting the vibrations go directly to your clit and filling you with pleasure. He brings his hand to your core to play with your folds and you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your moaning. Mingi releases from your clit for a second only to say “Let me hear you baby, you sound so beautiful moaning for me.” And he goes directly back to business, his hands roaming your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. He makes eye contact with you to see how fucked out you are at his doing as he inserts a finger into your pussy, pumping at an almost unbelievable speed. Which leaves you with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, only fueling his ego as he watches you.

You start to clench around him, almost unconsciously signaling him for more when he mentions, “Damn babygirl, so needy for me already.” He inserts another finger into your core, already able to reach the sweet spot. He starts pumping into you faster, leaving you a pleasure filled mess as he curls his fingers to destroy the spot that makes you see stars and uses his other hand to rub furiously on your clit.

“Oh god Mingi I’m gonna cum!” You yell as pleasure rips through you for the first time tonight. Your vision goes white and your back arches from the immense amount of pleasure. Mingi removes his fingers from your lower region and licks them clean before undoing his belt. He takes off his pants and underwear, exposing himself and his thick, massive cock. He catches you admiring him and playfully asks, “Like what you see?” Which leaves you both smirking. He grabs your hips and flips you over onto your stomach and brings you up to your hands and knees. He pumps himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself in, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god Mingi.” You moan while wincing as you try to relax so you can adjust.

“God you’re so tight, and just for me.” He says, turning you on even more which you didn’t even know was possible. After taking some time to adjust, he starts to move back and forth, making you almost scream out in pleasure from how good he feels. You feel a sudden smack on your ass, lurching you forward as mingi pulls you back in, reaching your g-spot and making you moan his name. “Ahh Fuck Mingi right there.” you say as he begins to thrust faster in your hot, wet flesh. The sounds of skin slapping, loud moans, and needy incoherent whimpers fill the room as he mercilessly fucks you from behind.

After minutes have passed and you feel yourself coming closer to your high and you clench around him as a signal that you’re close. His hand flies to your clit to rub circles into your bundle of nerves furiously. You arch your back out of pleasure and the new angle allows him to go deeper into your drenched pussy. He grabs you by the hair to pull your back against his chest, the action sending you over the edge in overstimulation as he continues to pound into you through your release.

“Thats its baby, come all over my cock.” He twitches in you and his thrusts get sloppy and you clench on him again, sending him straight into his release. His fluids painting your walls and combining your release with his as it drips down onto his sheets.

“You did so well babygirl” He says as he flips you over onto your back after gently pulling out of you. He buries his head in your neck and lets his body fall limp over yours. The two of you left there panting while you bring your hand up to stroke his hair and he massages your sides, hands smoothing over your hip and back up to your waist. Both of you just basking in the romantic atmosphere and enjoying each other’s company. After what feels like an eternity, Mingi gets up to grab a wet towel from the bathroom. He comes back and gently wipes you down to clean you from your releases and brings his lips to passionately kiss you with a smile on his face and leaves to start a shower so you can clean your body.

Your mind goes blank and all you can think is, “This man is going to be the death of me.”

#ateez smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez college au #mingi au #mingi fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #song mingi #ateez fic #ateez oneshot

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translightyagami · 3 years

Note

I don't know if you remember but you wrote a few posts about a Bookshop AU! where Beyond and Light meet at one and start dating and later L shows up? I'd love to hear more about it if you'd be willing!

Okay, this is such an interesting ask to get because i just re-read a short fic i wrote in that universe (which you can read here, if you haven’t already). its sort of half-Notting-Hill half-nightmare, where Light gets a job by being annoyingly smart at a bookshop Beyond owns because he dropped out of Wammy and channeled his energy into being a huge pretentious nerd instead of a murderer.

Light is flattered by the attention Beyond pays him, because Beyond is nothing if not good at focusing on people. He likes that Beyond knows all his anniversaries - his birthday, his mother’s birthday, even when Light’s finals are (he goes to the university across the way from the bookshop). He knows a little about Beyond, like how he likes toast with jam for breakfast, lets the quiet teenager who used to haunt the YA fantasy section work the register for cash to feed his Gundam habit, and how there’s this one GUY who Beyond HATES with his whole heart. And no one can explain why, or even really explain who the guy is.

So when a guy in white shirt and jeans, a guy with black hair, like Beyond’s shit dye job but natural, and comes to the buying counter to ask Light if he’s seen anything suspicious happening around the shop - Light doesn’t know he’s already sworn to hate this guy if he ever sees him. He doesn’t know that when he sways a little, grows warm under dark gray eyes that track him with the same interest, that he’s betraying Beyond deeper than anyone. All Light knows is when he talks to the guy, white-shirt-jeans-black-hair, his heart does the automatic flip that it took months to do for Beyond.

Turns out L is there because he’s got a case at the university, and wants to bum a room off Beyond. And while Beyond is livid to be sharing a room with the man who he was traumatized into idolizing b4 he ran away, L has dug up just enough dirt that if he let it slip why Beyond’s been able to keep a tiny physical bookshop open with a small customer base - well, it wouldn’t be good. (let’s just say that people are very easy to rob when you’ve seen their death date, and can jimmy a lock or two. he’s not killing them but ... Beyond often makes off with a nice purse.) So he lets L stay in his guest room, in the apartment above the bookshop, and he tries really hard to make L jealous. He shows off how much his customers’ love him - but L brings in fingerprints he wants Light’s opinion on. He tries to flaunt the treasure trove of first editions culled over years of searching antique markets - but L has only stopped by, sorry just for a moment, if Light-kun could help me question this witness, maybe he can take his lunch break, oh good, oh good. Beyond even takes L to the best restaurant in town, introduces him to the chef and hostess - a married couple who Beyond helped by hiring for catering until they could stand on their own - but L keeps running to the bathroom on phone calls that eventually mean he leaves early (and Beyond stuck with the bill).

Beyond has been trying so hard to show L how much better his own life is - that he’s happy, successful, even well-liked, without any help from the Wammy House, or L himself. He’s been trying so hard to impress L that when he comes home from an antique market trip, he’s actually surprised when he hears Light moaning - not from his room, but the guest room. But, he thinks as he slinks out the front door and back into the bookshop, he shouldn’t be surprised at all.

But to Light’s credit, he tried too. He tried to ignore when L brought him those fingerprints, but there was an interesting cut on one of the thumbs that he knew a guy from the uni GSA had. He said he was busy when L asked him to help with witnesses the first time - this one Beyond didn’t even know about! Light was buying a sandwich at the bodega where the mean Russian teenager made the best sammies - if you told him Beyond sent you - when L tapped his shoulder. He tells Light that he’s got a dossier on him - knows how back in Japan Light helped his dad with police work, knows that he transferred universities after an ex-girlfriend stalked him and threatened he and a lover, and L even knows that Light is with Beyond, okay, and that he’s happy just working and studying. But its so annoying, actually, how much L knows. Like how when Light does dawdle around the guest room where all L’s equipment is, pretending he just stumbled in, L has this look like he knew Light was coming.

And then there’s the investigation - all the thrill of puzzle solving returns to Light instantly, and L is a much better partner than his father. L questions everything; he is a battering ram that smashes against a problem from every angle. His forcefulness is almost endearing, given how whenever they take a break his manner is so ... not soft, Light thinks. But calm. In comparison to Beyond’s frantic, dog-like devotion, Light can’t stop himself from gravitating to L’s confidence. Does it make him a bad person, to love how he can displease L and he’ll say it to Light’s face, when Beyond never says a single word against Light? Does it make him a bad person that, on the night he knew Beyond was so excited to take L to the Morello’s restaurant, Light still called L three times to ask stupid questions - just to hear his deep voice say “Light-kun, you know the answer”? Does it make him the worst person on Earth that when, on the third call, L just said, “Go wait on my bed until I get there,” that Light ran and used the key Beyond gave him (FOR EMERGENCIES oh NO) to get inside and lie naked on the guest bed until L came in and Light cheated on his boyfriend in his boyfriend’s guest bedroom?

And then he cheated again. And after the first two times, it was so easy to cheat. L wasn’t a great kisser but his methods matched Light’s, and he liked when L steered him a little, had a hand a little more firm than Beyond’s - which was gentle, like he was afraid anything more might scare Light. And okay, Light knew it was a bad idea to have sex when Beyond was at the antique market - but they had solved the case, and L had said it so matter-of-fact, “Let’s have sex,” and he looked handsome. Light thought L was a strange, strange kind of handsome - the kind people didn’t believe him about.

Light put Beyond’s key in an envelope with a short letter of resignation. Not a two-week notice, but an apology that was as short as it was disappointing: “Leaving with L. Sorry am quitting before the holiday rush. Hire Near full time?” Beyond cried in the stockroom and texted Near that he was on the buying counter. L considered, all and all, that he’d had a pretty nice work trip.

#death note #the beyond/light pairing is fun because either beyond wants to be better for Light or be a fuck to match his levels #and L just likes having Light #and Light likes having L #lawlight #blight #Anonymous

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writing-fool · 4 years

Text

mlqc | special kind of sadness

I’ve been having strange dreams lately. Maybe it’s because of the quarantine, or maybe because of my messed up sleep schedule. I don’t actually have severe nightmares, but somehow an idea for Victor + nightmares came up. It was going to be very short, so I included other types of comforting scenarios. Ahh...besides that, you might have noticed my url is writing-fool, right? It’s actually based off of a Korean song called Swimming Fool. But I think it fits with MLQC too, what with Lucien calling us ‘his little fool’ sometimes~ What a happy coincidence...

Love,

Warning(s): TW! Lucien’s scenario includes a panic attack.

Victor

You’re all about showing the world that you’re a grown woman with big girl pants on. You’re especially keen on proving to Victor that you can handle yourself, thank you very much. Even though he’s supposed to be your soft, loving boyfriend, he seems to grow stricter the longer you’re together.

“Really? You’re not capable of being a producer if you can’t even get these reports done.” Ouch. Your life doesn’t seem to be getting easier anytime soon.

So...you chalk it up as a grave, grave moment of weakness when you instinctively call his number at three in the morning, after waking up in a cold sweat. By the second ring, you regret your rash decision. What if he’s asleep? What if he thinks I’m some kind of weak child?

By the third, he answers.

“What. Why are you still awake?” His voice sounds as strict as ever. ‘Why are you still awake?’ is a question you would’ve asked if you were in a clearer mindset. Alas, this situation allows little clarity.

You decide against hanging up. I’m bothering him already, might as well apologise. “I-I must’ve misdialled. Sorry to bother you,” you mumble. You hate how your hoarse voice and ragged breaths betray the sobs that have barely subsided.

“...I’m coming over,” is all Victor says before abruptly hanging up.

It’s a twenty minute drive from his luxurious penthouse to your apartment, but you know he’ll make it in fifteen. Running to the bathroom, you try to fix your appearance to make you look more like a successful producer, and less like a woman gone mad. But while your hair can be combed down and your tears can be wiped away, nothing works against your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands and pale complexion.

The doorbell rings, and you’re in full panic mode. You really don’t want him to see you like this. But without him, you’re probably not sleeping tonight. Also, he’s here already. Wiping your sweaty palms on your pyjama pants one last time, you open the front door.

Even when he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt partly unbuttoned and hair mussed from running his hands through it, Victor is handsome. But today, you can’t bare to look at him. Your apartment floor suddenly seems incredibly interesting.

A small gesture encourages his entrance. The door is barely closed again, and he’s already got his arms wrapped around you, your face pressed against his chest. The warmth of his hug and his rapidly beating heart open the floodgates again, and while your boyfriend strokes your hair, you sob your fears out on his black dress shirt.

Later, when you’re both huddled in your queen-sized bed, he asks you why you didn’t tell him about the nightmare right away. “I thought you’d think I’m pathetic or something. You’re always so strict.” You look up at him, mouth formed into a small pout.

For a moment, he’s dumbfounded. Maybe he never considered the idea? Victor hesitates, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’ll be more considerate from now on.”

And as Victor rubs your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours, you doze off under the cloudy night sky. But not before hearing his sweet whispers. “Lean on me more, next time. I’ll always be by your side.”

Lucien (TW: panic attack, minor mentions of death)

Disclaimer: I know this could be taken wrongly. I have no intention to romanticise mental illness. It isn’t something that makes you broken, nor is it a ‘fun’ or ‘special’ thing. The story is partially taken from my experience, so I know how this feels. I wrote this as a way to bring awareness in a light manner, and to show that sometimes, panic attacks can be alleviated with someone around. I hope it brings comfort to those who wish they had someone in moments like these.

Listening to Lucien’s lectures tends to transport you back to the time when you were still a university student. Ah, it is a nostalgic feeling. A part of you misses being in school; going out with friends, listening to the teachers drone on about various subjects, eating in the school’s cafeteria.

But if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the immeasurable amounts of stress. So why is that the thing I’m reliving right now?

As a young adult, you struggled with anxiety and spontaneous panic attacks, rendering you vulnerable to a work overload. You’d think it’d gotten better, especially since you have to deal with a lot of projects as a head producer nowadays. However, it seems as though old habits do die hard...This week has been particularly taxing—emotionally, what with your father’s death anniversary, and mentally; an important and popular show just got compromised by one of the actors’ companies. All that, and the prospect of an even tighter schedule during Christmas season has sent you into a full-blown panic attack.

Your initial plan was to just...ride this one out. That’s what you always did as a child. In an hour or two, your hands will stop cramping, your tears will stop falling, your breathing will return to normal, right? But it seems fate, and Lucien, disagree. I forgot I gave him the key to my apartment.

Lucien senses something is wrong when you don’t come out to greet him by the door.

“My love? Are you alright?” he yells out. Hearing little besides your irregular breathing, he kicks his shoes off, speeding towards the living area. You’re sat on the white sofa, knees to your chest, shoulders heaving and thick tears streaming down your face.

Lucien’s brows furrow in deep concern as he kneels down by your form. Even though he’s right in front of you, your eyes do not meet his. You’ve gone too deep in your own shell to even be able to acknowledge his presence. A tentative hand removes one of yours from its tight grasp on your other arm, and Lucien lets out a sigh of relief as he feels your hand clutch his. He takes it as a sign to lift you fully into his arms, and takes a seat on the sofa.

“Breathe. In,” he mimicks a deep inhale, “and out.” Lucien blows out, repeating the motion a couple more times. He rubs your back and your hands, constantly alternating between helping you breathe and gently uttering soothing phrases.

“Easy, I’m here with you. Do you feel my heartbeat?” When your hands have finally relaxed out of their cramped up form, he presses one of them against his chest. The slow, rhythmic thumping grounds you. Lucien. A stiff nod from you makes a soft, wry smile appear on his face. “Good girl. You’re getting there, my dear. Just stay with me, here. You’re doing great.”

You don’t know how much longer you stay like that. All you know is that he stays with you through the entire attack. Hours later, you two are having a steaming cup of tea at the dinner table.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to worry,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Don’t be ashamed of yourself,” Lucien’s violet eyes bore deep into yours, “Besides, how could I not worry when someone so dear is having a hard time?”

You shrug, a defeated look on your face. Your fingers fidget with the wood of the dinner table, until Lucien swiftly takes your hand in his again.

He sighs. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll take care of you.” Even though his tone is soft, Lucien leaves no space for argument. You know you should agree. There’s no way you could function properly if you were to go to work tomorrow.

“...Thank you.”

Lucien brings your hand to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses on your knuckles. “No thanks needed. You can be greedier with me.”

Gavin

There’s perhaps no person in the world who enjoys rejection. Sure, there may be those who bounce back quickly, those who see rejection as a new opportunity. But rejection, failure in itself, doesn’t evoke positive feelings.

As the producer of Miracle Finder, you’ve gotten used to rejection; it was hard to get the show back on track during the first year or so. Maybe you were arrogant, thinking it’d get better, or less painful, the more often you got rejected.

Things did get better, and last week you were even offered a deal with Loveland TV for a second weekly show. The company had seen the success Miracle Finder had, and had offered you the chance to come up with something wholly original. Something...you. That night, a mere week ago, you took the girls out for dinner and drinks. You were on cloud nine that day. In hindsight, maybe it was karma. Maybe I jinxed it. Cheered too soon, and all that.

This morning, you got a devastating e-mail that stated, in polite (but somehow still rude) terms, that your new show would not be broadcasted. The relaxed mood at the office rapidly turned somber once you mentioned the unfortunate decision. Your employees decided to give you some space afterwards. Not being able to stand the sadness, and feeling somewhat bad for them, you sent everyone, yes, including Anna, home early.

By three p.m., you’re the only one left at the office. You sit at your desk, head in your hands. I know it isn’t the end of the world...but right now, it almost feels like it is. With a deep sigh, you push yourself up, heading to the small kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. Maybe you’ll have a biscuit too. Anything to cheer yourself up.

Your mind automatically goes to Gavin, and without thinking it over too much, you dial his number. After a couple of rings, your call goes to voicemail. Stupid. He’s probably working. I’ll just leave a message.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I-uh, the thing I mentioned last week? The new show deal with Loveland TV? Yeah, that’s not happening,” your voice cracks halfway through the last sentence as you try to push down the disappointment that bleeds through, “I’m staying late today. Need some time to-to process things. I’ll be fine. Love you, hope you’re safe.��

Time passes agonisingly slowly, so slowly you might as well think Victor’s behind it, while you dive into a mountain of work. It distracts you from today’s events. but the lingering sadness is still present in the back of your mind.

Around eight, you start cleaning up your desk, shutting down your computer and gathering the papers. A knock on the window catches your attention as you’re about to head out. You turn around, noticing a tall figure on the balcony outside. Gavin! You hastily run back, opening the sliding door for Gavin to enter.

“Hi,” That’s the most awkward thing you could say. “I didn’t know you would come. Did you hear my message? You really didn’t have to...” you trail off when Gavin wordlessly opens his arms to you. His golden eyes look anywhere but you, and a slight blush is visible in the dark room, only illuminated by the bright lights outside.

You gingerly step into his arms at first, clutching the back of his signature denim jacket tighter as time goes on. A couple of stray tears that you’re not able to hold back create wet splotches on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the soft fabric.

“No biggie. Are you feeling alright?” he asks you. A non-committal shrug is all you respond with. “I know it was a big project for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what to do now.”

Gavin bends down a little, kissing the crown of your head. “You move on, and you don’t give up.”

You fall into comfortable silence. Gavin’s thumb rubs up and down your waist, soothing you. “...Have you ever been rejected?” you suddenly ask him.

Gavin chuckles. “Sure I have. I got rejected by my very first love.”

You raise your head to look up at him. Gavin sees his own reflection in your large, teary eyes, and smiles. “And what happened then?” you ask, your voice lightly tinged with jealousy. Who was his first love?

“Well, she’s in my arms now, isn’t she?” Even though he’s embarrassed to say the words, Gavin forces himself to look at you. At those eyes that shine with love for the world, for him.

Bonus:

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” you pull out of the embrace to get your coat by the coat hanger, opening the door to head out again, like a normal person.

“How? You didn’t come here by bike, did you?”

Gavin’s already facing the window again, but he turns back with a smirk, holding his hand out to you. “I never said we were going by bike.”

“Gavin, no, babe, no, no, nonononononono—Aah!!” Your protests are cut short as Gavin swoops you into his arms bridal style and flies off. The wind rushes past your ears, almost making you miss Gavin’s gleeful laugh. “Gavin! I didn’t lock the doors!”

Kiro

On many occasions, you’re envious of Kiro’s Evol. But even without his Evol, Kiro is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but like him. You sincerely wish you had that ability. And I know I’m supposed to make my own wishes come true, but I can only do so much to make people like me. I’m not going to bend over backwards and become a pushover just to be liked.

Still, it hurts when people are purposely mean to you. Especially during high school reunions. You were by no means a popular kid growing up...but you didn’t think that some people would still be stuck in a high school mentality. You held your own during the reunion, ignoring the backhanded compliments and blatantly condescending insults in favour of catching up with your old friends. Yet, all you can think of on the drive home are the negative comments.

“Oh, you still can’t drink alcohol? Seems like ‘someone’ hasn’t grown up yet!”

“You’re the producer of Miracle Finder? I hate that show, it’s so unrealistic.”

“Isn’t that a kids’ show?”

“My, you look adorable! My daughter also likes to wear those types of clothes, you know, to go play at the park.”

I can’t believe I missed game night with Kiro for this. With a terrible mood, you shuffle into the house. Kiro’s on the sofa playing A Chinese Ghost Story, a bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. He turns to greet you with a smile, but it quickly falls after seeing your somber expression.

“Welcome home Miss Ch—eh? What’s wrong?” Kiro takes his headphones off to stand up in front of you. His hands instinctively move to your waist to pull you close.

“How was the gathering?” he asks carefully. His eyes are big, just like a puppy’s. Had you felt better, you would’ve commented on his cute appearance.

It’s as if that question flips a switch. “It was horrible!” you sniffle.

“Wha—Miss Chips!” Kiro grows panicked at your sniffles and sobs, and roughly pulls you to his chest. You retaliate by hugging him tightly, crying all your frustrations out on his shoulder.

Somehow, you move into a cuddling position on the living room sofa. You straddle his slender legs and his arms are wrapped around your torso, rubbing comforting circles on your back. Pulling away from his embrace, you start ranting about the terrible evening.

“...and I don’t even know why I’m this upset! It’s so frustrating. I’ve worked so hard to become who I am today, and the moment someone says something to me, I just break down. Maybe I am a child,” you look up at Kiro, eyes wide and brimming with tears, “Kiro, am I a child to you?”

Kiro chuckles. “Well, Miss Chips...sometimes you can be childish,” you jut your lip out in a pout, “b-but I’m childish too! And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some people want to grow up too fast, so they drink alcohol and dress up in dark colours and stiff fabrics to feel properly imprisoned in the ‘harsh adult world’. But most of us could be happier if we just...let our inner child out.”

He cups your cheek. “Never be ashamed of being childish, Miss Chips. It doesn’t make you a child,” a mischievous grin appears on Kiro’s youthful face, “Besides, I wouldn’t do this if I thought of you as a child!”

With the hand on your cheek, Kiro draws your face closer to his. Your lips meet in a swift kiss that takes you by surprise. He swallows the startled gasp that escapes your mouth, retaliating by slowly swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You can feel him smile into the kiss as you lean into it, closing your eyes. Your tears are long forgotten as you tangle your hands in Kiro’s blond locks. Slowly, you part your lips, allowing Kiro’s tongue to slip into your mouth. The teasing flicks of his tongue make you go weak, and he chuckles when your grip on his hair loosens.

Kiro notices you’re growing light-headed, so he gives you time to regain your breath while he peppers little kisses on the corners of your mouth and on your swollen lips. You kissing demon.

His satisfied hum is disrupted by a vicious punch to the chest. “Ah! Miss Chips, why would you hit me?” It’s Kiro’s time to pout now.

“Who told you to do that?! You’re so sly, it’s unfair!” you scold him, cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yes, yes,” he pets your head, “but it helped, right? You’re not upset anymore, right?”

Your face scrunches up. “I guess not...I’m still mad at you for surprising me like that,” Kiro giggles, “But thanks.” His smile is contagious, and soon you’re both in a giggling fit.

When the giggles have subsided, Kiro pushes you back into his chest. As he snuggles into your shoulder, he whispers in your ear. “Don’t worry. Every time you feel sad, I’ll be there to cheer you up.”

I’m not saying dark clothes are bad! I have a black wardrobe myself...but we all need to remember that we don’t need to be so hard on ourselves sometimes.

For some reason I’ve never properly depicted kissing like that in my writing. Ehhh, forgive me if it’s bad. Little note...do you guys know what Chinese drama ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’ is featured in?

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