#never quite on the same wavelength. always out of reach. their love the very thing that dooms them to be apart. a love defined by absences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

todoscript · 3 years

Photo

SYNOPSIS: Years of memories pouring out, Katsuki and Shouto confront their feelings for you in your very hospital room.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: angst.

word count: 4.5k+

warnings: really self-indulgent fic, characters are aged-up, implied sexual content, mentions of drinking alcohol, jealousy, reader identifies as female with she/her pronouns,

author’s note: so i found this pretty old wip i wrote before i made my blog, and after reading it over, i decided hey why not publish it? so i finished it up, did some cleaning, and heres what we got. sorry if it seems kind of shaky, i did my best with what i initially had!

“Bakugou… what are you doing here?”

Shouto enters the room with freshly bought peonies in his hands—one of the many dozen he had brought to this hospital already—his steps coming to a halt at the sight of the Explosion Hero near your hospital bed. Katsuki looks up and narrows his eyes, aggravated by the offender’s question.

“What? You got a fucking problem with me being here?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the entire hospital wing, knowingly admitting to how loud he could be. But that doesn’t suppress the bite in his tone.

“Just because you’re her fucking boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re the only one that’s allowed to worry about her,” he nearly spits, and Shouto’s face mirrors Katsuki’s own irked expression.

You have been unconscious for a week now. The cause of this incident was due to your encounter with a dangerous villain who had been wanted by the police for quite some time. Months of evading capture down the drain, the villain had unfortunately ran into you as you patrolled the streets during your nightly shift.

In the end, you won the fight, but at the cost of damage done to your body and overuse of your quirk. As a result, you entered an unconscious state, recovering in this hospital bed to be monitored by medical staff throughout each day. The doctors assured them that you would eventually wake up but will need time to heal on your own through rest.

Ever since the day you’ve been admitted here, Shouto has been visiting your bedside. However, this is the first time Katsuki’s shown up.

Shouto only points a glare to the blond, ignoring him while he sets his bouquet down next to your bed. He notices the already present vase of hydrangeas, surmising that Katsuki must have brought them. He places his bundle of peonies beside them.

The dual-haired man sits on the opposite side of the bed from Katsuki, whose attention is brought back to the girl’s sleeping face, patched with wraps and bandages as a result of your tribulations with the villains.

If I had finished my jobs quicker, I would’ve been able to see you the moment you had to stay in this damn hospital. The thoughts ring in Katsuki’s head, hands clenched into fists out of frustration.

Knowing you had to deal with that whack job of a villain on your own—that your overprotective and valiant nature wouldn’t allow you to let this criminal walk away when you encountered him, and that they weren’t there to prevent you from getting like this—killed both him and Shouto on the inside. They especially hated not knowing when you would wake up or if what the doctors said about you eventually regaining consciousness would even be true.

Shouto takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. Katsuki catches him pressing delicate kisses against your lightly bruised knuckles from the corner of his eye, the young man not caring that he was performing these intimate acts in the presence of another man. Shouto especially did this in order to make a solid point:

She’s mine.

Katsuki knew very well how possessive Shouto could be while he was in their presence. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. If he got to call you his and keep you all to himself, he’d make sure everyone knew they couldn’t have you—that your smile and attention were all his and his alone. But in this case, they weren’t, and all he could settle for were envious emotions and fantasies of what could’ve been.

•

Bakugou Katsuki’s feelings for you date back to as early as your high school years at U.A.

At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what made these feelings arise. Having his goal of becoming the Number One hero plastered at the forefront of his head made romance and love trivial concepts down his path. Katsuki had no time to be chasing after girls, going on dates, and devoting a chunk of his time to a partner.

However, at one point, things started to change. He felt ripples affect the still waters that were his life, and he noticed that only you could calm this torrent. You were the one person he sought comfort in, the one person that understood who he was and why he acted the way he did. And the one person who mended him physically and mentally without belittling his character or crushing his pride.

Through all of that, Katsuki had begun to appreciate and admire all the little things about you. Like your beaming smile and the twinkle in the lovely hues of your eyes that you’d give him as you two interacted. It was such a welcomed contrast to the fearful looks the other students would have etched on their faces whenever he so much as called out their name.

He always took note of how you adjusted his food to his preferences during times you were assigned to cook that night at the dorms. And how you’d go and try to tend to him after training, when his muscles ached and his bruises were settling into his skin.

At first, Katsuki thought of it as a sign of weakness—to accept help from someone else when at his most vulnerable state. Yet you were persistent.

He recalls a particular memory after a battle during his internship where he was reduced to resting in bed to recover. Not many of his classmates came up to check on him during that time. Mainly because they figured he wouldn’t bother to open his door for them anyway. Though one night, he heard a knock sounding from his door. He glanced up from his bed, already thinking about ignoring the visitor in favor of staying in bed to rest, but a voice spoke beyond the threshold.

“Katsuki? I hope you’re not asleep yet. It’s not much, but I made you a little something to help you get better.” He didn’t reply upon recognizing your voice, hesitating to see what you’d do if he didn’t respond.

There was a pause of silence until you eventually continued. “Well, I’ll leave this in front of your door for you to have… If not, I’ll come back and retrieve it, okay?” That was the last you said before Katsuki picked up a light clank near the bottom of the entrance. Afterward, feet padded lightly down the hallway till they returned to the elevator to descend to the bottom floors, and the blond was by himself once again.

He weighed the option of leaving whatever you left for him untouched, but knowing you made an effort to arrive at his door to check on him caused him to waver. Before he knew it, his feet treaded to the spot to discover a hot plate of curry at his doorstep, followed by a note and painkillers. The plate perched on one of his hands, he opened the letter with the other.

Get better soon! We’ll be waiting for you!

Closing the note, he tossed it on his desk before plopping down on the edge of his bed with the plate of curry in his lap. It steamed and dispersed heat on his sore thighs, piping hot and ready to eat.

He gripped his spoon between his fingers, an irregular grin surfacing his lips. He scooped up the spicy bits of curry, gobbling the dish down to its very last grain of rice until the plate was clean. And in that time, every bite he brought to his mouth made him think of you.

“Dumbass, there’s no way I’m falling behind.” Feeling thoroughly full, he transferred the finished plate to his desk, where he had left the note. Before he had even realized it, he reached out for the paper, glancing over the words one last time. He fished a pen from his drawer and scribed a reply of his own for when you would return for the dirty plate.

Thanks, dumbass. It was good.

•

The Icy-Hot Hero, Todoroki Shouto, loved you too much to let you go.

You were the girl that shaped him to become the person he is today—who taught him to embrace himself for who he was and not let his past define him and what he stood for. You were the person that brought him out from the dark hole he trapped himself in and cast him into warm light. You’ve stuck together through thick and thin throughout your journey to becoming Pro Heroes, protecting one another and watching each other’s backs. It wasn’t long before he noticed his feelings for you had developed into more complicated emotions. Emotions that made butterflies flutter in his stomach and his face unusually hot whenever he even glanced in your direction. As he began to actively seek you out for comfort and support, he thought of you differently in comparison to all of his other classmates.

Initially, these foreign feelings troubled him. Yet, he could never quite piece together why you could garner such flustered reactions.

Then after consoling these newfound sensations with his close friends and family, he realized that you meant so much more to him than just a classmate, an ally, a colleague. Todoroki Shouto was—is—in love with you.

And the feeling was mutual.

Whether it was the intense looks you two sent as your gazes naturally drifted to each other or how your hands would always brush across soft and calloused knuckles in a silent plea to lace your fingers together, it wasn’t long before he discovered that his feelings for you were reciprocated.

Interestingly, you and Shouto never had to confess anything to each other. Your feelings came almost naturally for you both like you were telepathically linked and on the same wavelength. You came to one another like magnets attracted to their opposite poles, and in just a blink, your lips had met one day, and you took each other’s first kiss.

From then on was the start of many more “firsts.”

Shouto remembers the first time he let you hang out in his dorm room, talking about simple things like school, studying, and internships.

He remembers your first date to a cafe his older sister recommended—the one with flavorful milk teas he knew you’d take a liking to, with bountiful flowers decorating the interior of the tea house.

He remembers inviting you into his home to meet his older siblings, have dinner with them, and letting his family get to know you as his significant other.

He remembers taking you to see his mother at the psychiatric ward his wretched father had admitted her to, finally letting the two most significant women in his life meet and watching as his mother took a relieved liking to the girl he loves.

He remembers the tension that hovered in the air over an argument you two had one day, which was eventually mended through communication and reaffirmations of love.

He remembers embracing you in his bed, devoid of nothing but yourselves in your purest forms, eliciting sweet sounds from your lips that intoxicated him with lust and drove him to desire more and more until he monopolized every crevice of your body—every ounce of your soul—and intended to burn your beautiful, sinful image into his memory.

He remembers so much of the little things and the significant things about your love that he could never, ever hand you over to anyone else. Less of all to Bakugou Katsuki.

•

Katsuki was one of the first people to notice that they were in a relationship.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. The two made a point to keep their romantic bond a secret among their classmates and teachers not to complicate things and be the subject of teasing. They also considered the fact they needed to focus on their studies and hero training. Kisses and other affectionate touches were done behind closed doors or whenever they knew no eyes could discover them. These sneaky tactics proved to be effective and not many questioned them about relationships, aside from the occasional girls/boys talk they’d do. They’d ask each other things like “who would you date” and “don’t you think ‘so-and-so’ is cute” and many other curious asks. Their answers to these inquiries were inconspicuous enough that most of their friends didn’t suspect much of anything. Except for Katsuki.

Katsuki was never one to pick apart details, not as much as his childhood rival, Deku, anyway. But the more he looked at them, the more he was aware of the particular hints and their subtleties of tenderness. Such as the way the red-and-white-haired boy would perk up at the sound of your name or the chime of your voice from across the dormitory’s common area. Or the way you two would hover around each other more often than you would your classmates as if maximizing the most of your time together in public. Or how you’d go on small study dates together and hold each other’s hand underneath the table in the library, thinking no one would notice.

Perhaps, the most significant indication, however, was the expressions on each of their faces.

Maybe Katsuki had started becoming very hyper-aware, unraveling your mannerisms and making out even the smallest of singularities, but he felt your faces alone were an obvious giveaway.

The looks you gave each other were ones harboring nothing but pure love and adoration. He could discern the glow you exuded simply basking one another’s presence. Those looks weren’t ones you would give to a close friend; they were something more. He would know. That look Shouto gives is the same one Katsuki has for you, after all.

Except, his is never reciprocated.

That pretty smile, the flustered expression across your cheeks, the sparkling hues of your eyes—all those little details were reserved for Shouto, not Katsuki.

It hurt to know that the gaze you give Katsuki wouldn’t ever be the same one you give to Shouto. Katsuki knows this, and yet he still can’t seem to get past you.

The moment he was aware of his feelings—reluctantly fathoming the fact that you were with Shouto—Katsuki did everything in his power to stop these feelings.

No, not just stop. He had to get rid of them. Cut any connection with them. Dealing with an aching heart was too much work and pain for a boy with heavy aspirations to bear. So he ignored you—erased you. He didn’t so much as spare you even a glance as if you were just another extra. Whenever you appeared, he made a move to leave, spouting excuses such as “I’m going to sleep,” or “I don’t have time to be around you losers,” the usual Bakugou Katsuki response to any form of unnecessary socializing. He had to act like you didn’t exist, put his mind on something else—anything else.

But darn that girl and her need to check on and care for other people.

Noticing something was wrong with the boy, you sought Katsuki out, cornering him. You asked him what was wrong, to which Katsuki gritted his teeth, unable to look at you in the eyes, knowing that those feelings would bubble up inside him again as they conjured troublesome butterflies in the pits of his stomach. Yet it was no use.

He couldn’t deny that he missed those times together—when you would patch up his wounds and bruises after training or when you’d let him try out your spicy ailments before half-and-half because you always knew he had a preference for spicy foods. He still had it bad for you.

And he continued to harbor those feelings even after you all graduated after your third year at U.A.

The heroes-in-training were ready to take on the real world as Pro Heroes and sidekicks. By then, you and Shouto had admitted to the class about your relationship. Some were surprised, while others, specifically the girls, expressed their rounds of “I knew it!” likely noticing the chemistry between the two long before. Katsuki had decided to play dumb and acted like this announcement meant completely nothing to him. Just useless news. That was what he told himself, anyway.

After that, Katsuki didn’t see much of the couple around. All of them were busy with work and trying to get their names out in the public to compete on the Billboard Hero Chart.

Which was good news for him. With his goal of becoming the Number One Hero still lodged into his head, the blond threw himself into his heroic duties. Often, he didn’t stop, persisting on job after job until the agency he was under forced him to take breaks whenever they deemed necessary for his health. In those times, Katsuki found himself slowly forgetting about you. But occasionally, he’d see glimpses of you again.

As expected of one of the graduates under Class A of U.A., you were definitely making a name for yourself and propelling in popularity. Whether he wanted to or not, Katsuki would see articles and advertisements glowing with your resplendent features plastered on headlines, covered by your hero name.

God, did you look as beautiful as always. Katsuki would think before jolting his mind back to reality, remembering that you weren’t his to ogle.

The last part was hard to bear, especially when his former class announced a reunion party at a restaurant Momo had reserved for them when everyone had hit the legal drinking age. Katsuki was definitely not keen on going. However, his friend Kirishima had convinced him to come along through relentless persistence.

Ultimately, he attended the reunion. He and Eijirou arrived together and appeared relatively earlier. Well, earlier than at least half the class anyway. Eventually, more of their former classmates trickled into the food establishment and greeted one another with boisterous cheers all around. Which, unfortunately for him, included the people Katsuki dreaded to see the most—you and Shouto.

Your hand was already laced with half-and-half’s when you two entered, resulting in some of their classmates teasing you about your public display of affection. Both didn’t mind though. Over the years, you’ve grown quite comfortable with hand-holding and even hugging in the open.

You know who did mind? A certain explosion hero, of course.

Save that shit for when I don’t have to fucking see it. He almost hissed out loud but bit his tongue at the last second.

To his luck, you had ended up sitting next to him, with Shouto at your left. Though you were sandwiched between two guys from your former class who were infatuated with you, Katsuki felt like he was more suffocated than you were.

The reunion that night went by relatively smoothly. You would chime in some small talk with Katsuki during certain intervals of time while everyone was holding their own conversations in the background. He did his best to keep his cool and not let himself act like a high schooler in love. To some degree, he thought his facade had worked as he played off his usual “Bakugou responses,” albeit with a lot less yelling and venom in comparison to how he spoke to everyone back in high school. Dare he say, he might have even softened up a bit. What he didn’t notice was Shouto glancing at him from the corner of his eye while in the middle of a conversation with Midoriya.

The night continued with rounds of alcohol poured across the table of twenty-one heroes. They made their cheers before helping themselves to their spirits. Conveniently, Shouto and Katsuki were very adept at holding their drinks. You? You weren’t as great. By the end of the night, you passed out from how drunk you were and had ended up laying your head on the table, head floaty and light.

By then, everyone else had left aside from maybe five or so people. Momo graciously helped the couple secure a cab home safely for the night, and Shouto had gotten up to help confirm some information. Katsuki was left to his own devices with you next to him.

His eyes couldn’t help but wander toward your form. You were so vulnerable in front of him, with your soft lips, splayed hair, and long eyelashes turned in his direction for him to see. Though a bit of that smell of alcohol lingered, he could still make out the flowery aroma you always gave off. You smelled of lavenders, daisies, roses—every fucking flower under the sun—with a hint of honey. Your scent intoxicated him. He started to wonder if this is how you smelled like at home, or if your scent became even more potent whenever you appeared fresh out of the shower and—

Katsuki hadn’t realized his hand had subconsciously gone up to brush a stray hair from your face until he managed to pull himself away from his thoughts. Thankfully, he retracted his hand back before committing himself to the act. But the gesture did not go unnoticed by the heterochromatic-eyed man who had appeared again to gather you in his arms.

Shouto had taken his coat and wrapped it around you before hooking his arms beneath you to cradle your body.

“Mm, Shouto…” you hummed against him, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled further into him while on the verge of sleep. Katsuki’s heart throbbed hearing those half-dazed murmurs that left your lips, which hovered so close to that bastard’s neck. He wanted the privilege of holding you close and taking care of you at your most vulnerable.

“Come on, love, we’re going home,” he said fondly at your resting state. Katsuki didn’t catch the cold glare Shouto sent his way as he looked elsewhere to avoid the couple’s intimacy right in front of him. All he could hear after that was the engine of their cab rumbling in the distance, trailing back to their humble abode.

•

“...I know.” Shouto finally breaks the silence within the hospital room, eyes still trained on his beloved as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles to the base of your hand.

Katsuki looks up at his words incredulously. “The fuck is that suppose to mean.” He narrows his brows into a pressed glare.

“I know that you’re in love with her.”

Katsuki deadpanned, his eyes wavering at the man’s declaration. Should he deny it? Make it seem as if the icy-hot head was delusional? No. He knows that the signs must have been obvious coming from the one man in his way of vying for your attention, the man that would go to so many lengths for you that he’d travel to the moon and back in a heartbeat if it were in your name. Katsuki can’t pry himself out of this one.

He takes a glance at you. Was this really the place to be confronting him about this? In the presence of your unconscious state resting in this hospital bed between them?

“And what about it?” Katsuki counters his claims.

“I don’t plan on letting her go no matter what.” As if to make a point on his words, Shouto’s hold on your limp hand is firm, unmoving. He slowly shifts his gaze to the ash blond, crossing his look of anger. “So stop playing this game.”

When the words travel across the hollow hospital room and to Katsuki’s ears, his fists tighten in response. “Game? Game?!” He raises his voice, body shaking. “You think my feelings are some sort of joke to you?! That I’m only looking at her like this for fun?!” His eyes find Shouto’s blue and gray, red with ire. The young man in front of him is unfazed in the wake of his indignation.

“Let me tell you something fucking straight…” Katsuki starts, stepping forward, finger pointing fiercely in Shouto’s direction. “I won’t deny anything I feel for her at this point. I’m in love with her, alright?” he admits without hesitance and notices the subtle quirk of Icy-Hot’s brow. “And I’ll tell you that if she were mine, she wouldn’t have gotten in this position in the first place.”

Those words are what finally make Shouto’s unnatural composure crumble. He releases your hand to stand from his place and face the blond at eye level. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Crossing his arms, Katsuki scoffs at the question.

“You’d think I’d even let that villain get near her if this was gonna happen?” He gestures in the direction of your patched-up form, asleep and littered with bruises. “If she were looking at me, I would’ve already been on the scene to back her up. And just what were you doing, huh? Helping old ladies cross the street?” Katsuki is unfiltered as he hurls his insults, but three years of dealing with him as a classmate has made Shouto immune to his temperament.

“Let me get this through your head then. She was never looking at you. She was looking at me.”

Ouch. The blond would be lying if those words didn’t stir a pot of hurt inside him.

“And as both her partner and a fellow Pro Hero, I more than trusted her enough to finish the job on her own. Even if this isn’t a game to you, you’re already losing a battle you can’t hope to win.”

“Not sure why you’re the one calling the shots for her,” Katsuki quips. How ironic the girl they’re both fighting over lays comatose in this very bed between them.

The atmosphere is layered in dreadful silence afterward. The monitor next to you beeps in eery succession. It is the only thing heard in the hospital room that is wrapped in tension so taut it is bound to snap at any moment.

The knot of strife is undone by the door sliding open to reveal a nurse entering the uneasy state of the room.

“Mister Bakugou and Mister Todoroki, I’m sorry, but visiting hours at the hospital are closed for the evening,” she informs them as the two had yet to realize the sky veiled darkening orange with the setting of the sun. Eyeing the clipboard hugged to her chest, they knew it was about time for the hospital to assess your condition again.

The two make their leave, taking the time to thank the nurse before doing so, but the suffocating tension follows them even outside the hospital. They don’t speak a word afterwards, only sharing bristled looks and heavy steps until they’re forced to head off in their respective paths, not sparing any more kindness.

To Shouto, Katsuki would never understand the lengths he’d go for you because Katsuki could also never experience what the two of you went through together in the same way. All those years together, forging unforgettable memories of love and tenderness, could never be replicated.

But the blond isn’t bothered by those facts. It doesn’t unnerve him that he was unable to encounter all those firsts with you because in his mind, he’ll just create new memories—ones that you’ve never experienced and ones that will make him the last and only person you’ll ever want by your side. He’ll blow fucking Icy-Hot out of the atmosphere.

ending note: heyyy congrats if you’ve made it to the end. i think at the time i was writing this, i had an idea on how to progress the fic, but i decided to leave it on this. not particularly sure if i’m going to continue this, i may just leave it up to your interpretation. does katsuki steal the readers heart? does shouto protect his love from being severed in front of him? will the reader even wake up? find out on the next episode of dragon ball z

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fic #bakugou fic #todoroki fic #bnha imagine #bnha fic #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

722 notes · View notes

k-s-morgan · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your blog too much! 💓 I don't know if you have been asked about this question before or not.. in season 2 ep10, when Hannibal and Alana slept with each other the same time when Will and Margot did the same thing.. was that parallel to Hannigram?

Hi! Thank you <3 And yes, definitely, this scene is crazily symbolic. It also serves as one of the strongest pieces of evidence of sexual subtext between Will and Hannibal.

The scenes between Hannibal/Alana and Will/Margot are taking place simultaneously, and at first, we are shown bits from both their conversations and both their POVs. Hannibal says, “As therapists, we work with people the same way. Never touching, but finding wavelengths and frequencies to affect change. Guiding them from dissonance toward composition.” He says it to Alana, but the words are put on the image of Will, and it’s clear that it’s Will he truly means. Will is currently somewhere in the middle of his Becoming, and Hannibal is trying to guide him toward complete self-acceptance.

Then he says, “You and I went so long in our friendship without ever touching, yet I always felt attuned to you.” Again, he speaks to Alana, but it’s Will’s image we see and it’s Will these words clearly apply to. So the merging between both scenes has already started here, yet Will is the major player because almost everything is about him, including Hannibal’s conversation with Alana. That’s why his POV grows to be the dominant one in the sex scene.

I actually described the sex scene in one of the metas, so I’ll copy the relevant bit here with some additions:

Will tries to fantasize about Alana as he’s having sex with Margot because Alana is someone he used to have attraction for. It’s easy to suggest he’s not attracted to Margot: he knows she’s a lesbian who uses him for whatever reason, he feels lonely and lost, so he tries to ground himself with sex without caring whom his partner is. As everything starts, he seems to conjure an image of Alana because it’s more pleasing to him.

However, he then sees the image of the Stagman near the fireplace, the Stagman who he’s used to associating with Hannibal. Two interesting things: first, Will actually sees Hannibal’s room and consequently, he sees himself in it (or he sees their rooms united). Second, he sees the Stagman near Hannibal’s fireplace. Fireplace has many meanings, including passion, sexuality, home, family, and resurrection. It emphasizes the sexual and romantic subtext of this uniquely shot scene, where people destined to be together have sex with the wrong partners.

Will’s eyes widen and he looks in fear and disbelief at what he sees. And then his vision begins to contract, focusing on the Stagman, on how he’s sitting and then standing up in all his dark glory. Will is having an orgasm at this very moment, imagining the Stagman's face very close, approaching him. Still through the misty eyes, he tries to focus on Alana again, but his gaze moves up to the Stagman above her, as if he can’t help himself. He and Hannibal reach orgasm first, with Alana and Margot following them.

Conclusions: Will has absolutely dragged Hannibal into his sex fantasy. It’s both symbolic and physical: he tried to imagine Alana just like he tried to have a relationship with her before, in S1, out of his desperate desire to be normal. But his attention is inevitably drawn to Hannibal, who’s his “real deal”.

Then there is an interesting scene of Alana turning away from Will in the bed where all three of them are lying. Will reaches out, seemingly to touch her hair, but — and this is up to interpretation — maybe he reaches toward Hannibal, right through Alana. As his hand starts to slip down, we see Hannibal’s hand start to slip up toward Alana (and Will). Maybe it’s just about Alana, or maybe it reflects a trend of Will and Hannibal reaching for each other but never quite meeting in the middle (not yet, at least).

As a bonus point, the idea for Margot//Alana was both in this specific scene, so I have no doubts the parallels are deliberate. I think Bryan confirmed it, too, but I can't recall his words properly.

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham

69 notes · View notes

acciowests · 3 years

Note

For the elorcan prompts, could you do something where lorcan has to comfort their children?

I couldn’t think of much other than the classic hurt knee or nightmares so... I offer this instead... Enjoy :)

Dad vs Dinosaur

WORD COUNT: 2085

SUMMARY: Lorcan is already dealing with a crying Marion who has colic, but it doesn't help when Cal and Octavian get into an argument over toys and their favourite dinosaur loses its head. With all three kids now upset and in need of comfort, Lorcan takes up up the job of caring for all three of them while Elide is out and takes them upstairs. Snuggling up with three of his favourite people, he reads their chosen book to hopefully please his young audience and make everything better.

"I know, baby girl," Lorcan cooed, Marion's cries echoing through the living room where he was trying to watch over his two sons, "It's okay, come on, sweet girl."

To their misfortune, the last of their three kids had gotten colic; crying for hours with no valid reason for most days of the week. This had been going on for five weeks now, and Elide, who was still exhausted and recovering from birth, wasn't dealing with it too well. She'd gone for dinner with Aelin and Lysandra, leaving all three husbands to look after their kids. Usually, Lorcan didn't mind, but with Mari like this and Cal and Octavian getting on his last nerves as they argued, yet again, he was beginning to tire.

"Boys," Lorcan sighed, rocking Marion over his shoulder and tapping gently on her back, "Daddy would really appreciate it if you could sit down and play nicely."

They both turned to him, Octavian with a frown and Cal with his eyes puffy and watery. Cal was holding one of their t-rex toys in his chubby hands, Tavy now attempting to grab it from his older brother who simply held it above his head, out of his reach. "But, Dad!" Octavian cried, pointing to Cal, "He won't let me play with Rex."

Changing Marion's position in hopes that a different outlook would please her, he slipped the babe into the crook of his arm, cradling her against his chest but allowing her view to cast out toward her brothers. Even at a couple of months old, Marion already seemed to adore her big brothers.

"Who had it first?" Lorcan asked, knowing that the answer would only please one of them, but that it was the fairest. Whoever told kids "sharing is caring" definitely wasn't preparing them for later life. They didn't have to share their things if they didn't want to. Even if that thing was a toy dinosaur and the person who wanted it was your little brother. And technically, the toy was Cal's, given to him by his Aunt Aelin and Uncle Rowan for his third birthday.

"I did, Daddy," pouted Cal, a chubby fist wiping at his eyes. As he lowered both hands, Octavian pounced. For three years old, the toddler was surprisingly strong, yanking on the toy with all his little might. Cal was ready though, his hand gripping the middle of his toy as Tavy pulled on its head. Lorcan was about to ask Tavy to stop when a piercing crack echoed through the room and suddenly, the toy was in two parts rather than one.

Everything slowed. Tavy looked with wide eyes at the t-rex head and neck in his hand, and Cal blinked, as though not quite believing what had just happened. Lorcan had only a few seconds to lower Marion into her crib and drop to his knees in front of his son before the screams started. Tavy backed up against the sofa, the toy still in his hands as he watched Cal burst out into tears. Lorcan was scooping him up, rubbing at his back and holding him tight to his chest as Cal pressed his wet face into his neck. In the process, Cal had dropped the remainder of the dinosaur, and looking at it now, there was no way for it to be fixed. He let out a sigh, cupping the back of Cal's head and pressing a kiss to his hair, somehow thankful that his son was crying over broken toys and not something more serious.

Lorcan's eyes locked on Octavian's, offering the toddler a gentle smile, "Go to your room, bud. I'll be up in a minute."

It was clear he was holding back tears, his cheeks red and his eyes glossy, but Tavy just nodded, holding the dinosaur head close to his chest as he moved up the stairs. If there was one thing Lorcan was sure of in his parenting, it was that he never got angry with his kids. Well, not quite. He got angry, of course, but he never displayed that anger to them, never shouted or sent them away in a negative manner. Right now, Cal needed space, and if he knew his son as well as he thought he did, Tavy was also better at calming down when he had his own space too. If both he and Elide were here, she would have gone up with him, but he was currently on his own, and his kids would have to take turns having his attention.

"Tavy didn't mean to break Rex, buddy," Lorcan started, pulling back and wiping at the tears on his son's cheek, "He just wanted to play, you know that right?"

Cal hiccuped, his chest heaving with tears as he tried to breathe through them, something Elide and Lorcan had been adamant about teaching them when it came to overwhelming emotions. Cal let out a long breath, his eyelashes dripping and his nose a rosy shade of pink. "I-I know, but I was playing first," he cried, rubbing at his cheek with his own fingers now.

"And that makes you upset, right? That he tried to take away your toy?" Lorcan asked, waiting patiently for the five-year-olds response.

Cal nodded, sniffing heavily, "Yeah, really upset, Dada. And... And now he's b-broken."

Lorcan nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind Cal's ear that was becoming unruly. It was a dark, chocolate brown shade that curled around his cheeks in messy waves. Elide loved playing with it as much as she loved playing with Lorcan's.

"I know, and I'm sorry about that, Tavy is too. Would you forgive him if Daddy tries to get you a new dinosaur? We can get two, one for you and one for Tavs, so there are no disagreements. You can even choose which one," he suggested, taking his son's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He would never get over how soft their skin was and how nice it felt.

Cal reached up, letting Lorcan adjust him onto his hip as he stood. Together, they walked over to the sofa, sitting before Marion's cot. Cal began rocking it gently, Marion's cries more like whimpers now. "I think I can forgive him if he says sorry," whispered Cal, his eyes glued to Marion, his other hand fisted in Lorcan's shirt.

"That's very grown-up of you, bud. I'm proud of you," Lorcan smiled, pressing his cheek against Cal's head and swaying. He didn't care if he was five, Cal would always be his baby.

"How about," he whispered, a smirk curling on his cheeks, "You go get your blankie and meet me and Marion back in Tavy's room?"

Cal nodded, jumping up excitedly as though the last ten minutes hadn't happened and rushing off to his room. Lorcan smiled at his son as he went, lifting Marion and cradling her to his chest as he made his way to Octavian's room. Tavy was sat at his window, head in his hands and his favourite plushie in his lap. He immediately noticed the t-rex head resting on the window sill. Lorcan knocked with his knuckles, moving in slowly as Octavian turned, and perched on the end of the bed.

"Hey bud, can Daddy talk to you?" he asked, palm tapping Marion's back again as her cries ever-so-slowly subsided completely.

Octavian had slightly narrowed eyes, but nodded nonetheless, moving to sit next to his father and briefly stroking Mari's head. "Are you mad at me?" he asked, pure curiosity in his voice as his little legs swung against the bed.

"Nope, are you mad at me?" Lorcan offered, knowing Tavy didn't always understand situations like this, that it was sometimes best to ask questions he already knew the answer to, just to make sure they were on the same wavelength. Tavy was like Elide in that way; sometimes Lorcan thought he knew what she was thinking, and other times he was on the completely wrong end of the scale. Like mother like son, he supposed.

Tavy blinked, slowly shaking his head, "No, Dada. I not mad at you. Do you still love me?"

"I love you so much, buddy. Do you understand why Cal might be mad at you though? He still loves you, no matter what, but you're both upset right now and Daddy just wants to help," he explained, watching as Tavy's attention diverted to the bear in his hand. Sometimes, it was easier for him not to make eye contact, and Lorcan was a hundred per cent understanding of that. He knew that emotions were a hard thing for toddlers, and they were even harder when you were looking someone right in the eyes.

Octavian nodded again, this time making his bear nod along with him, "Because I broke Rex... but, I didn't mean to, I promise."

"I know you didn't, but you understand that Rex was Cal's toy and he was playing with it first?" Lorcan asked, smiling as Tavy looked up to him, pressing on his knees to see Marion better. He lowered her, resting her against his chest and facing outwards so Tavy could gently stroke his finger along her cheek.

With a sigh, he nodded, "Yeah, I sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to make Cal cry."

Asking if he could hug him and then proceeding to put his arm around his son as he nodded, Lorcan let Tavy lean into his side, his cheek warm against his arm as Lorcan's fingers tucked around his chest. "Would it be okay if Cal came in here? And we all read a story in your bed, just the four of us?" he asked, hearing Cal's creeping across the landing.

Octavian blinked, "Four?"

Lorcan gave a fake gasp, "Well we can't leave Mari out, can we? Your poor baby sister wants some snuggle time, too."

He giggled, nodding and climbing down from the bed, "Yes, that's okay, but only if I can choose what book we read."

He didn't recall mentioning a book, but he supposed reading a few pages wouldn't hurt anyone. Elide had the best story voices, everyone knew that, but he was more than happy to read to his boys if that's what they wanted. To Marion too, though she didn't exactly understand what he was saying. As Octavian searched through his book box, Cal appeared in the doorway, his blanket wrapped around his back like a cape or a cloak.

"Tavy?" he started, swaying just beyond the threshold, "Can I come in?"

Octavian nodded, not bothering to turn as he pulled out a book that, thankfully, didn't look too thick. As Lorcan moved up to the pillows, leaning against the headboard and sitting in the middle so Tavy and Cal could slide in either side of him, he watched his two sons intently. Tavy had put his book on the mattress beside Lorcan before moving back to the window. Cal plodded in with his blanket, sliding in under the duvet and pressing kisses to Marion's head as she rested in her father's lap. When Tavy turned back, pulling himself up and kneeling on Lorcan's other side, he held out something in his palm, thrusting it toward his brother.

"Here," he whispered, "I sorry."

Cal blinked down at the head of Rex in Octavian's hand. But, with a smile, he took it, pressing a kiss to the dinosaur's nose, "Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't let you play. Daddy said he's gonna get us both dinosaurs, though! So we can play together!"

Octavian's eyes lit up, beaming as he leant back against his pillow, now pulling the duvet up over himself. With one hand, he held his book, and with the other, he took Marion's hand, letting her fist curl around his finger. "Yay," he cheered, "And look, book about dinosaurs!"

Even Marion gurgled at that, her thick lashes blinking curiously as her hands waved, lifting Tavy's hand with her own as she did so. Passing Lorcan the book, Octavian curled properly, his head on Lorcan's arm as he rested as close to Marion as he could get. They had certainly bonded the last few weeks. Cal did the same, his leg hooking over Lorcan's thigh as he settled against his father, a hand on Marion's chest and massaging gently. With nothing left to do, he flipped open the first page, taking a deep breath before starting the tale, his kids warm against him and somewhat content after another long day.

* * *

if you want to be added to my tog taglist just send me a dm, comment or an ask!

@amswritings @thegoddessofyou @dayanna-hatter @ladywitchling @julemmaes @lunaroseperdomo @anne-reads @illyrian-bookworm @swankii-art-teacher @maastrash @firestarsandseneschals @se-ono-waise-ilia @tomtenadia @sobasicallyno @arwenbk3 @rowaelinismyotp @thegreyj @vanzetanze @lysandra-ghost-leopard @gracie-rosee

#fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #sarah j maas #sjm #writing #throne of glass #elorcan #prompt #request #ask #elorcan baby #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #elorcan family #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan au

90 notes · View notes

knowltonsrangers · 3 years

Text

Alphabet Prompt: Benjamin Tallmadge

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I’d say a solid 7/10. Affectionate in private, but by that means he’s still a bit hesitant in his actions. Regarding how he shows it, he does it in smaller actions, maybe an arm around your shoulders while walking or while on the couch. He loves it when you initiate acts, because he feels as if he’s on cloud nine.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Ben is the ultimate best friend. Loyal, understanding, quite the sense of humor-he’s got everything you seek out in a friendship. The friendship would start maybe over a mutual friend, or through a shared job? Or maybe in a class where you both don’t know anyone.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

UH-HUH. Ben really enjoys it, but would never say it out loud. Imagine his sassy ass walking into the room and just standing there. And you’re like “…hi Ben.” And he just opens his arms, and you know what that means without him having to say anything.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes. He does, tremendously. He enjoys domestic life and craves it when he’s at work and away from you. Ben would run home if it meant he would be back in time for dinner, not wanting you to have to wait an ounce of time for him.

Ben appreciates a clean space. His side of the room may appear on the surface as clean, but when he gets into his groove books, pens, and papers are known to accumulate.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person, and with his entire heart on his sleeve. He’d probably cry, too. [🥺]. It would really take something explosive and upsetting to get him to want to end things. He’s loyal, but not enough to a fault-he’d know when it was time to end things.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh? Probably right when he trusts his gut. He’ll know the exact moment when he decided that he was hopelessly in love with you, and it would always get him with butterflies in his stomach.

I wouldn’t say he’d be ready to drop to one knee right away, but soon enough. And he wouldn’t flake either, when he asks you to marry him, he’d want to get married right away.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

THE GENTLEST PERSON. Soft when he needs to be, stern when he has to be. He’s gentle physically when it comes to all things you, and is known to wear his emotions like a book. So he understands and is almost always the first to understand. I almost classify Ben as an empath, because he can tell when things have gone wrong even as best as you try to hide it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

To be in Ben’s arms is like in my top 3 things I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. He’s so good at giving hugs, but he may be a little indifferent to receiving them. It’s not that he hates them, but has he ever really gotten hugs before?? Probably not. He envelops you and smells like the outdoors after a morning shower.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not very quickly. He knows when he loves you, but he has to be certain that you and him are on the same wavelength.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A bit. A bit more than he’s willing to admit. Maybe you’ve been hanging around Caleb or Nathan too much. Or Lafayette gives you a hug as a greeting. Or his boss gives you a warm smile when he introduces you to him.

He doesn’t do anything. His stomach twinges, and he knows it’s jealousy, but he trusts you. He knows that you’d never do anything to double cross him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I’ve mentioned Ben’s smooches before, how giggly and bashful he gets when it comes to them. His kisses are like spring, beautiful and warm and full of love.

Ben likes to kiss you on your eyelids, but he loves placing little pecks on your cheeks.

Ben loves to be kissed on his knuckles, and his hands. Your butterfly kisses tickle him and he can’t help but smile as you ‘kiss’ his injuries away.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Mediocre, average. Doesn’t actively seek out to babysit or anything, but isn’t opposed to it. Children do love him, however, and as much as he says he is “meh”, you can’t help but smile as he swings a giggling baby around in his arms.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Sleepy and loving. He kisses you good morning and rolls right out of bed for coffee. If you have to be up before him, you usually try and slip out without waking him (‘cause he needs his sleep), but he’ll groan and pull you close to him until you give him morning kisses.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Board games, [comic] books, and vhs tapes. Ben enjoys anything that he gets to do with you, and is awesome at trivia. He’d spend hours scouring the internet for a new sort of game or something to do with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t really have much to hide, truthfully. Ben enjoys sharing his interests, and that follows with his college friends and other friendships he has. He would start revealing things as soon as asked, or maybe a little strained, depending on level of privacy.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Admittedly has a small temper. But it’s nothing that needs to be worried about, it’s only when he’s reached his absolute breaking point and can’t take another moment more. If you drop a pan while he’s concentrating or accidentally trip him up while he’s walking, he won’t even bat an eye.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every.thing. You can tell him once your favorite candle scent and he’ll buy it for you when your birthday comes around. He nearly has a photographic memory, I’d say. Writes things down on calendars (anniversaries, birthdays, pets birthdays, etc,) and jots notes when necessary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he came home after a long day (usually he beats you home) of work and agony. You had dinner on the table and a record on the machine, humming a low tune that makes his heart flutter. He felt so loved at that very moment, and it was hard for him to choke back tears.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. Ben defends you to the day he dies, and he does so in very lowkey ways that you much appreciate. Taking phone calls for you when you ask, and stepping into public situations when you beckon him close with a warbly voice.

Ben loves feeling protected, especially by you. When you squeeze his hands in affirmation, or stepping in between him and his work to get him to get some rest.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. He can’t get over the idea of getting to see you cry of happiness/thoughtfulness when he watches you take something out of wrapping paper that you offhandedly mentioned once. Ben loves putting the effort in because he’s always so surprised when you return it tenfold, no matter how many times he tries to outdo you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Duplicate buying. I headcanon Ben as a collector, so whether it be comics or memorabilia, he’s known for an accidental duplicate buy every now and then.

He’s also guilty of leaving pens and pencils in bed. Oops.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Like literally 0%. He’s so effortlessly flawless, and a beautiful human being.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. A billion times yes. You are accepted into being a part of him when you exchange “I love yous” and feels so lonely when you aren’t around. His heart is fragile and much more so than he’s willing to admit, so when you aren’t with him he looses his own sense of wholeness.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

While Ben is by no means scary-looking, he can be very intimating. He does not hesitate to get someone to back off when he feels it’s right to step in.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Ben admires people who share his interests, and can’t stand when people don’t take time to at least understand a tad bit of what he enjoys. There’s a difference in respecting each other’s space and things, and actively seeking out to disregard them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Ben sleeps in socks.

#sul writes #benjamin tallmadge #turn washington's spies #turn amc #benjamin tallmadge headcanons #turn Benjamin tallmadge #alphabet prompt

56 notes · View notes

clairenatural · 4 years

Text

destiel, 2k. dean’s self loathing but it ends up fluffy so it’s ok. pining. destiel finally becoming canon because sam just wants to drink smoothies in peace (this is a repost because the original got deleted!)

It’s a few weeks into all of them being back in the bunker, Sam and Dean and Jack and a rapidly humanizing Castiel, when Sam decides he’s had enough. It had been bad enough the past decade, when Castiel was always leaving and there was always another apocalypse to distract them, but the past few weeks have become damn near domestic and the mutual pining is driving him up the wall.

Sam finally snaps at a small bar in Lebanon. Cas is caught up by a pretty girl at the bar and Dean has barely touched his beer, instead watching the interaction with a mixture of longing and heartbreak, and Sam can’t take it anymore.

“Dude,” he starts, and when that fails, “Dean.” Dean looks at him. He frowns.

“What, Sam?”

“Just go talk to him. Or drag him back to the bunker and talk to him there. I’ll go stay with Eileen this weekend, I’ll even take Jack with me—just please, Dean. For me.”

Dean blinks at him, glowers a bit, and takes a sip of his beer. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Sam gives him a look, unimpressed. “It’s been ten years. And—” he puts up a hand to stop the protests. “And listen, I know it’s been…rough, but by some miracle things are calm right now. So just tell Cas you’re in love with him so I can stop feeling like I’m interrupting something every time I walk into the kitchen.”

He shudders a bit, remembering the day before when he walked into the bunker’s kitchen to see Dean and Cas just staring at each other over two mugs of coffee, hands still touching where Castiel had handed the mug to Dean. Sam had cleared his throat and Castiel had jumped, spilling the coffee, and Dean had glared at his brother as he reached for a towel.

Sam had just wanted a smoothie.

He glances back across the bar table to where Dean is staring at him, open mouthed, and watches as his expression shifts to a glower as he apparently gives up on trying to deny it. Sam counts that as a small victory in itself.

“Why? So he can freak out and leave again? Dude’s just starting to get comfortable, Sam, I’m not about to chase him away.” Dean’s tone is angry, but Sam knows him well enough to see through the facade. There’s no real anger there. Just fear.

His heart hurts a bit, for both his brother and their best friend. “Dean,” he starts, gently, leaning forward in his chair. “He’s an angel. He’s been here since the beginning of humanity. He put your soul back together. Do you really think he doesn’t already know?”

Dean’s staring at him again, as if he’s never considered that before. He looks apprehensive, and mildly terrified, but before he can respond Castiel appears back at their table. He slides a beer across the table to Sam, then to Dean, who doesn’t look at him, before settling down himself. There’s a half second of awkward silence before Dean changes the subject, and Sam sighs. Nobody could say he hadn’t tried.

----------------------------------------

Dean can’t sleep.

He’s staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, replaying the last few things Sam had said. He’s an angel, Sam had said, as if that wasn’t obvious. And it was, it is, but—it’s too easy to forget sometimes, especially the many times he’s ended up more human than angel, that Castiel is thousands of years old. Dean never forgets that he’s an angel, of course. That’s one of the staples of the voice in his head, the one constantly telling him to keep his feelings for Castiel a secret to the grave. Over the past ten years Angel of the Lord has become nearly synonymous with too good for you and better than you would ever deserve.

It's what being an angel means that Dean doesn’t think about. That Castiel has spent millennia as nothing more than a wavelength of light and celestial intent before giving it all up to drag Dean out of Hell. That he was a soldier, a seraph, a term that Dean thinks he knows but also doesn’t fully understand the weight of. Castiel misses a pop culture reference and Dean forgets that he understands the physics of the cosmos on a level his human brain could never comprehend. Or, not forget—he could never forget. Dean just doesn’t like to look too closely at it, because staring everything that Castiel really is in the face just makes the voice louder. Makes him feel like just a speck of dust in comparison, unworthy of the angel’s presence or time or attention. Makes him wonder why Castiel has given up everything that he is and was, everything he had since the beginning of time, for that one speck of dust.

So maybe Sam is right. And Dean hates that. Because maybe Sam is right, but Castiel has only stayed over the years because he has nowhere else to go. And he has nowhere to go because of Dean. Because the very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost, Hester said. Because too much heart was always Castiel’s problem, Samandriel said. Because I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it - all of it - for you, Castiel himself told him, once upon a time. I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you.

And Dean had reacted in anger, like he always did. Like he always does. And Cas keeps coming back anyway.

He needs a drink.

He sighs as he hauls himself off his bed, creeping silently through the bunker on the way to the kitchen, but pauses when he hears the murmuring of the television coming from Castiel’s room. It’s a bad decision but he turns towards Castiel’s bedroom door and pauses for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of a nature documentary through the wood. What are you doing? The voice scolds. Sure, Dean. Creep outside his bedroom at midnight, that’ll make him feel real comfortable.

The television clicks off. Dean assumes he’s going to sleep, something he needs to do more and more lately, and is about to keep going to the kitchen when—

“Dean?” Cas calls. Dean freezes. He could leave quietly, and they’d both pretend it had never happened. They were good at that. He could also make some sort of excuse and continue on his merry way. He doesn’t do either.

“Can I come in?” He asks instead, and Castiel says “yes,” and then Dean is pushing open the bedroom door.

Castiel is sitting on his bed, cross-legged, wearing a pair of sweatpants they’d picked up from the local thrift store and a t-shirt that is (was?) definitely Dean’s. The sight makes his heart clench. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences when he’d dumped a bunch of his old clothing on Castiel’s bed, and it sure isn’t making anything easier.

“You sleeping tonight?” Dean asks, and Castiel shakes his head.

“I don’t need to.” He pauses. “You should be, though. Is everything alright?”

Dean shifts on his feet. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He looks back at Castiel, meeting his gaze. There's something so uniquely deep about it—it wasn’t there in Jimmy, and even now, nearly human, his blue eyes feel centuries old. But not like the ocean. The blue eyes/ocean metaphor is overplayed, and when Dean looks into Castiel’s eyes he doesn’t feel like he’s swimming in an endless azure ocean. He feels like he’s drowning in the Marianas Trench.

“Do you know?” Dean asks. He doesn’t mean to, but he isn’t surprised when the words come out of his mouth.

Cas blinks at him, then frowns. “Know what?”

“You know.” Eloquent as always.

Cas quirks an eyebrow. “I know many things, Dean, but even with my full grace I can’t read your thoughts.”

Dean blushes. He hopes the darkness of the room, illuminated only by Castiel’s bedside lamp, obscures it. “I guess prayers aren’t quite the same, huh.”

There’s a loaded pause. Cas shifts, moving away from the headboard to sit at the edge of his bed, facing Dean. “Praying is more abstract than humans think it is,” he starts. “Gratitude is often close enough. Longing can come through as prayer. Love… when love gets close enough to worship, it’s the loudest of all.” He pauses there, searching for a reaction. Dean isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t even think he’s breathing—he’d stopped as soon as Castiel said love.

After an excruciating moment, Castiel continues. “So if that’s what you mean…”

Dean braces for impact.

“Then yes, Dean. I think I knew before you did.”

And, well. There it is. For some reason, Dean isn’t running away. He thinks it’s probably because Cas isn’t running away this time—and because he’d come back. He still comes back. Regardless of the many, many times Dean had been the one to push him away.

So “I love you,” Dean says, quietly, voice rough, because there’s really no point in not saying it anymore. Then, “I mean…I love you.” He clarifies, even as saying it twice sets off alarm bells, because if there’s one thing they’re good at it’s miscommunication.

Castiel blinks at him. “I know,” he replies, puzzled. “Is that not what we were just talking about?”

Dean stares at him. “You’re still here.”

The confusion on the angel’s face deepens. “Yes, because I love you too. I thought that was obvious.” In another lifetime he would’ve used air quotes.

What.

Dean pauses for a minute, reeling, trying to figure out if he misheard.

“Obvious,” he clarifies, as if that’s the word he’s struggling with.

“Yes.”

Dean is still staring, feeling something akin to shock. Obvious?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I have. Multiple times, in multiple ways.”

Dean thinks back to profound bond and I always come when you call and I’ll watch over you and I could go with you and hundreds of moments in between.

Oh.

“You didn’t care that I never got the message?”

“I’m thousands of years old, Dean. Ten years is nothing. I was willing to wait.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean replies, because that is a whole bunch he doesn’t have the energy to unpack, and his brain still isn’t completely caught up to what’s happening.

“No, I’m Castiel.”

It’s an old joke, said with a smile, and that combined with the absurdity of the situation means Dean can’t help but laugh. He looks up and makes eye contact with Castiel, who grins back, and suddenly there’s way too much space between them.

Dean crosses the bedroom in a few strides, and Cas stands to meet him, and then they’re kissing, and Dean isn’t even sure who started it but they’ve both been waiting long enough that he isn’t sure it matters. He has his arms wrapped around Castiel’s waist, clinging to the soft fabric of the t-shirt that was once his own, when something in the back of his head starts screaming that this is a bad idea and he’s just going to leave tomorrow and are you dumb enough to think you can actually have this?

But then Castiel makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss, pulling them impossibly closer together, and for all its years of practice Dean’s self-loathing can’t come up with a response to that.

Castiel pulls back first, flushed and breathing heavily, and Dean chases his lips for a moment before Cas catches him in his gaze, in endless blue. Suddenly, Dean isn’t drowning anymore. He’s on a lifeboat, and the trench is impossibly deep beneath him but he feels safer than he has in a long time. Home, his brain supplies, helpful for the first time in years, and Dean smiles.

Cas smiles back, bringing a hand up to Dean’s face to trace his thumb along his cheekbone. “Will you stay here tonight?” he asks, soft, and Dean leans in to press an equally soft kiss to his forehead.

Tonight and every night, he thinks. “’Course,” he says, and then leans in to kiss him again.

Two mornings later, Sam walks into the bunker’s kitchen to find Castiel pushed up against a counter, Dean kissing his way down his neck. He yelps and retreats around the corner.

“Come on, guys,” he yells, from safety, and the two have the audacity to laugh.

“You did this, Sammy,” Dean reminds.

“I said I wanted to stop interrupting things in my own kitchen,” Sam counters, but he can’t find it in his heart to be angry. He sighs. “Whatever. You know I’m happy for you. I just—” he pauses. “Can I at least come get my smoothie?”

#destiel fic #spn fic #my words #this is a repost!!! i haven't reposted most of my fic bc I wasn't sure if people wanted me to but if you want it lmk :)#i still have all the word docs #over 1k words

293 notes · View notes

heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 4: A Whisk We’re Willing to Take

I think this is turning into a much longer story than I had initially planned... oops. To the anon who sent that lovely ask about the dream they had - this one’s for you! I changed it up just a little bit, but I definitely got the inspiration from you! Also, thank you to everyone who’s been keeping up with this! I appreciate each and every one of you. <3

In case you missed them, here’s the links to the previous chapters!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

I think we need to talk.

Logan panicked the entire time he and Finn wandered the hallway trying to find someplace quiet to talk, Finn’s words echoing in his head. ‘We need to talk’ was never a good thing.

Especially when he had just almost-kissed someone who wasn’t Finn.

Fuck.

They finally found a secluded corner. Logan was already nervously talking before Finn had even turned around. “Look, Finn–” The redhead’s hand over his mouth prevented him from continuing.

“You like Leo, don’t you?”

Logan refused to look at him and took his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “I… Finn, I’m sorry. Who does this? It’s so messed up, I’m so messed up–”

“Well then I’m messed up, too!”

“What?” He finally looked up, scared of what he might see. But Finn, against all odds, didn’t look mad. Quite the opposite, really.

He looked ecstatic.

“I like him too.”

“What?”

Finn grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ve been researching poly relationships for about a week now.” He suddenly grabbed Logan’s hand in a fierce grip. “And it’s not messed up. We’re allowed to love whoever we want, and screw anyone who thinks otherwise.”

“You never said anything!”

“I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same!”

Logan laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? It’s Leo.”

“Yeah.” Finn said with a dreamy look on his face.

“And to think we could’ve been pining together all this time.” Logan pulled Finn in for a hug, burying his face in the taller boy’s shoulder. “You know, I thought there was going to be a lot more drama involved in this.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, I just thought there’d be a lot more miscommunication or only one of us felt this way or something. I guess I thought this was going to end badly since I started feeling like this.”

“We’ve always been on the same wavelength, Lo. I’m not surprised it’s the same with this.”

Logan’s relief dimmed just a little. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Finn sighed, tightening his grip on the brunet. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How about we test the waters first and see if he might be interested instead of just assuming the worst?”

Logan leaned back to squint at Finn. “Do you mean we should flirt with him on national television?”

“We flirt with each other on national television all the time.”

“I mean that’s true, but it’s not the same and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Finn hummed. “You got any better ideas?”

***

“Today we’ll be working on your baking skills, recruits!” Dorcas cheered, much to everyone’s dismay. “Are you ready to bake some cakes?”

“No.” Logan muttered. He’d tried to make a cake with Celeste for one of the kid’s birthdays one time, and he’d been banned from the kitchen ever since.

“We’ll also be testing your abilities to read recipes, so there will be no demonstration today.” Leo added. “You have two hours to complete this task, and your time starts now!”

“Holy shit!” Finn threw an apron over his neck and frantically began looking for cake pans at his station. “I’ve never made a cake before!”

Logan pre-heated his oven. “I have, and I almost burned the kitchen down.”

Finn cackled, thumbing through the printed recipe. “When was this?”

“Katie’s fourth birthday. We had to call the fire department and everything.”

“Oh, I bet Celeste was so mad.”

“Yeah. Kids thought it was cool, though.”

The two boys started carefully measuring ingredients out: Finn separating his wet and dry ingredients, while Logan kept them all in one bowl.

“Lo, I think you’re doing that wrong.”

Sure enough, Leo had spotted them. “Logan, have you been reading your instructions thoroughly?”

“Yeah.” Logan said absentmindedly, already lost in cornflower-blue eyes.

“So you know that you’re supposed to mix your wet and dry ingredients separately.”

“Yeah, but they’re all going in the same place anyways, so I figured I’d save myself some time.”

“Actually, one of the main points of mixing them separately is to save time.” Finn watched Leo’s eyes light up as he began explaining. “See, when you mix the dry ingredients together and then the wet ingredients, you’ll have very little mixing to do once you combine them. It also helps prevent overmixing your batter. The less you mix the flour, the less the gluten has a chance to develop, so you end up with a fluffier cake.”

Finn kept sneaking glances while he added his ingredients to the stand mixer, watching Leo gesticulate with his hands as he turned the mixer on –

And went straight past the first setting to the sixth.

He shrieked as batter flew everywhere, fumbling with the settings as he tried to turn it off dear god make it stop.

The same hands he’d been watching earlier reached over to brush against his own and switch the mixer off. The silence was startling until it was filled with a laugh.

“General word of advice: start on the lowest power and work your way up.”

Finn turned to see Leo absolutely covered in batter, but still laughing with his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“Got it.” Finn breathed, unable to look away.

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got a little something there.” Logan interrupted, motioning to his face. Instead of waiting for Leo to take care of it he reached up and wiped off the batter himself, letting his finger drag gently across soft skin. Finn’s jaw dropped when Logan put the same finger in his mouth to lick the batter off.

“If it’s any consolation, Finn, your batter tastes good. Too bad it’s all over the kitchen now.”

Leo’s cheeks were so red. “I, uh, I’ve got to – other contestants. Um.” He gave an awkward smile and hurried off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Finn turned to gape at Logan. “Jesus Christ, Lo. Are you trying to kill me?”

Logan sent him a wink and started over on his batter, making sure to mix his wet and dry ingredients separately.

***

Dorcas delicately spit Logan’s cake out onto a napkin after tasting it. “Oh my god, how much vanilla extract did you put in this?”

“I don’t remember? The measuring spoon said Tbsp, I think.”

“Yeah, but the recipe said one teaspoon.”

“Yeah. A Tbsp.”

“No.”

“I mean I can’t taste anything other than vanilla,” Leo said, poking at the cake with his fork. “But the texture is good.”

Logan nodded excitedly. “It should be extra fluffy; I kept my ingredients separate and mixed the batter as little as possible.”

He received a warm smile for that, which was better than any compliment about his cooking.

After a few more contestants were judged, it was Finn’s turn. He watched nervously as Dorcas and Leo cut into it and tried it.

“Finn, this is perfect.”

He blinked. “What?”

“He’s right,” Dorcas said, taking another bite. “It’s light, flavored really well, and the buttercream is perfect. Well done.”

Finn smiled, still confused, but made his way back to his station where Logan gave him a congratulatory fist bump. “Nice one, Fish.”

***

Post-Episode Interview

*Dorcas grinning like a maniac while being shown footage from earlier*

Dorcas: The crew and I have termed it “The Batter Incident”. I can’t stop watching it. *she motions to Finn and Logan on the screen* They’re pretty obvious, aren’t they?

Camera man: How does Leo feel about all of this?

*Dorcas sighs, looking back to the camera*

Dorcas: That’s the question, isn’t it?

***

Leo dropped his keys on the island in his apartment, listening to the dial tone on his phone finally stop and his mom’s voice take its place.

“Hi, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you! How was your day?”

He swallowed harshly, letting his head hang. “Hey, mama.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

I did it again. I caught feelings for someone who isn’t available. Except now it isn’t just one person, it's two.

“Nothing,” Leo said, staring out his apartment window at the light-polluted sky. “Just a long day.”

#lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

188 notes · View notes

twsted-tales-of-scheherazade · 3 years

Note

Hmm, new blog. 👀 I would like to request a fluff scenario of Sebek, Idia, and Azul with a fem!reader who is color blind. Colors can be hard sometimes.

Sebek first finds out about your condition one day when you point out how Malleus' flames didn't appear green in your eyes. They just looked brown. Naturally, the fae was shocked and asked if you were joking. You shook your head 'no' and explained how some humans like you suffer from color blindness. A specific color that he sees may not appear the same as what you see.

It wasn't just Malleus' flames. Diasomnia's signature green was not present in your vision. The bright color looked brown in your eyes and you told your boyfriend as such. His shocked expression turned aghast. As expected of Sebek, he started going on about how it was unacceptable that you were not able to see his lord's brilliance.

You were used to his tangents by now and he would most likely continue for quite a while. So you got comfy in your seat and watched in mild exasperation as the fae continued speaking.

The tea he brewed is, as always, very delicious.

"Lord Lilia...I would like you a question."

The ancient fae hummed and turned his curious gaze to the first year once he put down his bagpipe (up to this day, Sebek did not know where he got that instrument from). "What is it?"

"Is there perhaps a spell that can show someone dreams? Is it possible to meet in a dream?"

Lilia raised his eyebrows at the strange question. "Certainly. But what would you do with such a spell?"

The first year cleared his throat before he started explaining. "You see, [Name] has..." His senior stayed silent and listened attentively as he explained his plans. Once he was done, Lilia smiled. "My, my. Such a sweet gift...very well. I' shall help you."

"T-Thank you very much, Lord Lilia! I apologize for my lack of skill! I vow to make this up to you."

"Nonsense. Young love is a wonderful thing, Sebek. Just tell me how that little one reacts afterward."

The next day, you had spent a few hours after school with your boyfriend in the library, studying for the upcoming exams. Ever the gentleman, he escorted you to your dorm afterward. You gave him a kiss and bid goodnight. However, before you shut the door, you heard him say "You will have good dreams tonight. I guarantee it."

It honestly made you confused. That was a rather strange way to say good night to someone. Though you didn't think much of it and got ready for bed.

...

You open your eyes to the sight of a starry sky. You blinked before shooting up, looking around your unfamiliar surroundings. The sight of the glowing flowers surrounding you took your breath away.

"W-Wh-"

"I see the spell worked. As expected of Lord Lilia and the young maste."

You turned towards the source of the voice, eyes widening once you saw Sebek. "Y-You're hair...your clothes?! They're..." You spluttered.

He sent a smug smile your way. "How do you like it, [Name]? Surely, you see the brilliant green of Diasomnia now."

Your mind couldn't process what was happening all at once. You looked at your boyfriend then out into the clearing of flowers beneath the starry sky. It seemed to stretch on endlessly.

"Is this a dream?"

"It is. Yet, it isn't." He murmured, taking a seat beside you. "This is a world created by a powerful spell of the ancient faes. Lord Lilia had helped me with it along with the young master. To be honest, I was rather ashamed that he had to assist me too...however...he wished for you to see the world in all of its beauty. Are you happy with this, [Name]?

"...Y-Yes! A hundred times, yes! I love this! I love this so much! I love you, Sebek! Thank you!" You cried before tackling him in a hug. His strong arms caught you easily. He could hear your delighted laughter right next to his ear, causing a small blush to rise to his cheeks.

"...You haven't seen anything yet." With a snap of his fingers, small green lights started rising out of the field of flowers. You gasped as hundreds of fireflies flew through the air.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let us explore this place. We have a few hours left before you wake up."

"Yeah!"

Sebek watched from behind as you frolicked in the endless garden, pointing out new colors you have never seen before.

Illuminated by the green fireflies, you looked even more breath-taking in his eyes.

Idia knew that you were colorblind before your relationship with him started. It honestly amazed him how your condition altered the world you saw around you. He's looked up information about color blindness on the internet several times, and with each article he read, the fact that he would never understand the world you see became even more clear.

Sometimes, he would even ask you what it was like. What colors do you see? How did your condition affect your life? Once, he showed you different pictures and with every answer, he finds himself looking at them intently, marveling about how you were seeing something different. Of course, once he catches your amused stare, he turns into an embarrassing mess and ends up curling into a ball while hiding his blushing face from view.

He never stopped thinking about you though. You said that you were used to the world you're seeing. You've been dealing with color blindness for years...but was there a way to improve your vision?

Apparently, there was. They were in the form of enchroma glasses. According to the website he found - he checked the sources and confirmed that the information there was legitimate, the glasses filter out specific color wavelengths and let people with color blindness see with normal vision. However, it was also mentioned that the effectiveness of it vary depending on the severity of color blindness.

"...Filter...these glasses filter wavelengths...can I enhance that with magic?" He murmured to himself.

"Well now, Idia. This is a rather interesting project you've thought of." Azul stated as his sky blue eyes gazed at the enchroma glasses with interest. "Humans are rather interesting...so many aspects of them are new to us."

"...You'll help me, right? I already promised to give you that new board game you wanted." Idia said with a huff.

The octopus chuckled before pushing his glasses up. "Of course. It's a deal."

Both of them had a lot of experimenting to do.

...

A few weeks later, your boyfriend had asked you to visit his room since he had something to give you. Once you arrived, he urged you to sit on his bed as he rummaged through his work desk.

"Close your eyes first."

You raised your eyebrows but complied. A few moments later, you felt something being placed on your face...they felt like glasses? Why was he making you wear glasses?

"Alright. You can open them now." You felt a tingling sensation just as your eyelids lifted. What greeted you afterward was a completely different place. A gasp left your mouth as you looked around the room.

'The colors...!'

They were more vibrant, more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. For the first time in your life, you were seeing the world that other people saw. What really took your breath away, however, was how Idia looked. Especially the glow of his hair that burned a bright blue. "Wow..." You murmured before reaching out and touching his locks.

"Wh-why are you touching my hair?" And then, the glowing blue turns into flaming red as your boyfriend stammers in embarrassment. "You're so weird..."

"Thank you, Idia. I...really wasn't expecting this."

"Y-Yeah...well...you always mention how it was a pain to deal with...the color blindness. I had Azul help me out...but it still took a long time to get the desired effect..."

"I see! I'll make sure to thank Azul too. These are amazing. And you know what I love the most about this?"

"...What?"

"I got to see you become even more beautiful in a different shade of blue." You chirped, pecking his rosy cheeks.

"Ugh...what the hell was that, so cringey..." He muttered as he pulled his hood up to hide his embarrassed face.

You laughed in response and as Idia stares at your delighted expression, he feels himself falling in love all over again.

“Angelfish? Is there something wrong?" Azul asked as he stared at your depressed state. You had curled up on the sofa with such a displeased frown that he can't help but worry.

"...I wanna go into you octopus pot and stay there forever." You mumbled. The merman blinked in confusion before setting down his pen and taking a seat beside you. He patted your head, and in turn, you moved to lay your head on his lap. "Talk to me, angelfish. I'll listen to all your troubles."

"...I mixed up my clothes today."

"Pardon?"

You sighed before looking up at his eyes. "I got up late today so I had to rush. I wasn't paying attention so I wore different colored socks and shoes. My shirt was different too. It was super embarrassing..." Your frown got deeper and you hid your face with your hands, groaning. "I think someone took a video of me dashing through the school in those clothes...god. I must have looked like a moron."

Ah...so it was one of those "colorblind problems" you've told him about. It wasn't a condition that he encountered often and the most important fact he learned from his research on it was that it affects some aspects of your life. Being able to see colors are something that most creatures take for granted. But for people like you, he can at least understand that you're going to have a hard time.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll have Jade look into it. If such a video exists, then it will be deleted immediately."

"Thanks..." You mumbled, turning to the side and burying your face in his stomach. He gave you an exasperated smile, knowing that he won't be getting any more work done today.

"Shall we perhaps go to my room? It's more comfortable on the bed."

"Yeah..."

Now, you find yourself in his embrace, still upset about your mistake earlier in the day. "It's hard dealing with colors sometimes...and frustrating."

"You can always .make a contract with me." He said with a chuckle. "I'm sure I can find a way to improve your vision."

"...Tempting. But, strangely enough, when I think about it...I don't want to. I've spent so many years with my color blindness, saw the world differently from most people...it would feel kind of wrong if I suddenly started seeing everything. Sorry...I complain a lot but I don't even want to make changes...I know it's confusing."

"That's alright. I am here to listen to other's woes after all."

"Like the sea witch, right?"

"Exactly."

You giggled before both of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. He pulled you close to his chest, letting you hear the sound of his beating heart.

"Hey, Azul...can you describe a color to me? What is that color to you? Anything will do..."

He hummed before kissing your forehead. "Alright. I can certainly try. Let me see..."

“...Blue is the color of the ocean. My home filled with mysteries that humans have yet to understand. It is also the sky we see on a sunny afternoon. Do you remember, angelfish? When Jade had dragged us to the mountains, we found a clearing and decided to lay down and rest. We looked up at the sky and stared at the clouds.

And then, when the sun had set and night took over, it becomes a canvas, being filled with twinkling stars. You loved that sight too. Why we almost spent the night in the mountains because you wanted to look at those stars and engrave it into your memory.

It’s the sound of rain falling outside. The rainy weather keeps you from going outside, so you sit by the window, watching the sky's tears. Your thoughts drift and you enjoy the warmth of a blanket around your shoulders.

It is also the color of my eyes, is it not? You've told me over and over again how you loved my eyes, glittering behind my glasses. I admit that when you first said that, it had me quite flustered."

You laughed at his statement. Azul's flustered expression was a sight to see indeed.

“Blue is the frost we see when everything becomes a winter wonderland. As we spend winter together, we also await the welcoming of a new year where we'll make new memories.

...It will also mean the sadness we feel in our lives. But do not fret, because beyond that sadness will surely be something wonderful. It is a sign that you will grow as a person through the pain you've felt..."

The merman trailed off as he heard the sound of your steady breathing. It seems you fell asleep. He smiled at you fondly before closing his eyes as well. Tomorrow is a brand new day.

"There's no need to worry, angelfish. My eyes are yours. I will let you see the world through them for as long as you need me to."

Another story has been told. To tell you the truth, I did not know much about color blindness and I wasn’t sure if I portrayed it well in these scenarios, even if I did do a bit of reading around the subject. Regardless of its possible inaccuracies, I do hope you still enjoyed it, traveler.

References:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/513nkf/wp_explain_a_color_to_a_blind_person/

https://www.thecut.com/2018/02/my-life-as-a-woman-with-colorblindness.html

Credits for the images used on this post:

Border: https://pngtree.com/freepng/vector-title-frame_3573975.html

Lantern decorations: https://pngtree.com/freepng/ramadan-decorations-luminous-ramadan-lantern-moon-and-star_5356170.html

Divider: https://pngtree.com/freepng/european-border-curtain-pattern_4068944.html

#Alf layla wa layla #Sebek Zigvolt #twst Sebek #Idia Shroud #twst Idia #Azul Ashengrotto #twst Azul #Diasomnia #Ignihyde #Octavinelle

62 notes · View notes

myaekingheart · 3 years

Text

As I approach a very raw and emotional arc in the story that I’m writing, I’ve been thinking a lot about comfort characters, coping mechanisms, and fandom. Specifically in the lens of curating your own fandom experience and trying to navigate other people’s perceptions of your comfort characters.

Like, one of my favorite things about fandom is the fact that we have this tendency to so often latch onto characters that mean something to us or that we see parts of ourselves in. We get really, really attached to characters and fall in love with them and even create these fabricated narratives (that are sometimes also romances, self-insert or not) as a way to feel some sort of bond with these characters. We feel like we know them and end up feeling like we share some sort of fictional relationship with them and it can be extremely comforting. It can be extremely comforting using that fictional relationship and the stories we weave as a way to cope with things we’re dealing with in our lives, to work through these complex and raw thoughts and emotions in a way that foregoes more dangerous routes. The intrinsic value of hurt/comfort and even whump in transformative works in terms of coping with mental, physical, and emotional pain cannot be ignored. And this is great! The right to take a comfort character and use them as your own personal coping mechanism is truly one of the most wonderful things about fan culture.

If this was all there was to it, then that would be fine. And if you’re kind of solitary in your fandom endeavors, then that’s likely all there is to it. When you start engaging in fandom and with other people, though, I feel like that’s when things can so easily go awry. Chances are, you are not the only person who takes comfort in a specific character. And you are not the only person who uses that character to cope and process through transformative works. It’s an amazing feeling to find someone who shares the same love for a character that you do, and who is on a similar wavelength as you in terms of using that character as a way to cope, and the things that you each use that character to cope with. But then there’s the darker side, when people use your comfort character to cope with things that make you uncomfortable. Or even just use them as a player in a story that makes you uncomfortable. It can be extremely difficult to be so deeply attached to a character and your own personal solitude in them, the idea of them protecting you from something bigger than yourself, and then so suddenly find someone else using that very character to create stories heavily focused on the very thing you’re trying to combat. The most common reactions, I feel, are typically anger, fear, confusion, hurt, distrust, disgust. A part of you might even begin questioning how well you even know this character to begin with, or if everything you’ve thought you understood about them was way off the mark and you’ve been fabricating this false, out-of-character idea of them. But more than anything, you begin to feel like the one character in which you sought comfort has been turned around to hurt you. And that can be an extremely distressing thing to try to manage.

It can be even more difficult when the version of this character that is so heavily focused on something that’s harmed you is widely accepted or at least presented in a fandom space. It can feel isolating, like you constantly have to watch your step and vet everyone that reaches out to you or follows you. It can be tiring. It can leave you feeling like you just want to remove yourself from fandom spaces entirely. A personal example: one of my favorite characters is very commonly presented in fandom in a way that feels very close to an incident from when I was younger that traumatized me. And seeing this character presented in this way can be incredibly distressing, disturbing, and disgusting. More often than not, I end up having this very visceral reaction that leaves me nauseous, angry, and self-conscious. Because seeing a character I love occupying a space reminiscent of someone who hurt me is unsettling, and even moreso when it’s so much harder to avoid.

So that begs the question of what to even do about this, because I’m sure that this experience is universal to anyone engaging in fandom in one capacity or another. There are plenty of options. There is leaving fandom entirely, whether that means detaching yourself from your entire fandom experience or resorting to enjoy fandom quietly, silently, alone. This is an easy and safe option. This is like the abstinence of options. You can’t put yourself in the line of fire if you never engage in the first place, right? But it’s also incredibly isolating. It’s cutting yourself off of the positive experiences in fandom because the negatives seem to outweigh them. It’s throwing the whole thing in the garbage because one piece broke off. Another option is policing other people. This is considered in poor form. This is unhinged and unempathetic. This is the angry child stomping in the grocery store insisting that if you can’t have a piece of candy, then no one can. Because people are going to continue to write and create whatever content they want regardless of whether or not it makes someone else uncomfortable. Sometimes especially if it makes someone else uncomfortable, because that is the point that they are trying to make in their art. But also because so often the very things that make you uncomfortable are the very things are bringing comfort to someone else. It’s their way of coping, just in the exact opposite way as you. And policing them would make them feel the same way as someone policing you. It feels restrictive and hurtful and, again, isolating. So if you can’t stop other people from creating what you don’t want to see, and you can’t bring yourself to remove yourself from the situation, what other options do we have left?

Managing your fandom experience is like a balancing act. It requires not censorship, necessarily, but well-intentioned warnings. Tagging and unfollowing and blocking and blacklisting. The only reliance this has on other people is for them to maintain courtesy by listing the contents on the front page like the ingredients on a package of food. Not everyone does this, which is another problem entirely, but the ones that do are doing all that’s required of them. The rest is up to you. The rest relies solely on your ability to blacklist your triggers, unfollow people who do share content that triggers you without tagging (which can be difficult when something that triggers you is very niche and vague, like a specific perfume or a woman with blue hair). Block people who follow you that share triggering content, even if you’re not following them, because we know that even them just appearing in your notifications and the temptation of looking at their content can be unnerving--despite how much we all certainly like to believe we have some semblance of self control. Blacklist the tags that bother you so that you can continue engaging with a friend’s content even if they share things that you don’t enjoy or want to see. Tumblr makes this easy with options like Xkit and Tumblr Savior.

But what about other places? What about on Twitter and Discord and AO3 and deviantART? What about when you run into uncomfortable content that you can’t avoid? When all other options have been exhausted but you still just can’t escape it? What do you do then? I’m still trying to figure that out myself. I’m still trying to find a way to navigate certain unsettling waters in the most balanced and respectful way, while also respecting my own triggers and mental health. And sometimes it’s really fucking hard. Sometimes there’s more to it than just blocking and blacklisting. And I wish I had answers for what to do in those situations, but I don’t. Not yet. And I hope one day I will.

All of this is just to say: fandom can be a murky and dizzying experience and sometimes you’re bound to run into things that make you uncomfortable, or things that don’t sit well with you. Sometimes you’re bound to run into interpretations of your comfort character that make you sick to your stomach and want to punch a hole in the wall and delete everything you’ve ever written and shot out into the world for reasons you don’t even quite understand. And sometimes all of that can feel really isolating, or like you’re just overexaggerating and being a wimp, or like you’re being a bad participant in fandom spaces. Sometimes it can be really hard to want to stay involved in fandom when curating that experience can feel like so much work. And because as much as you can tag and blacklist and block and unfollow, that doesn’t always completely erase the feelings that running into that triggering content comes with. You can do all of these things and still feel nauseous and angry and uncomfortable and like you desperately need to reach for the eye bleach. And that can be really hard to navigate, especially when seeing that content makes you feel separated from the one character you would turn to to actually cope with this. Sometimes it can begin to feel like the way you see this character or feel about this character has been irrevocably changed for you now, because all you see attached to them now is your trigger, and that really hurts. I wish I had answers for how to manage those feelings, or how to rewire the circuits in your brain and load an old save up, to cut out the moldy part of the cheese and enjoy the rest that hasn’t yet been spoiled in your mind. I wish I had answers for how to cope with those sorts of things, but I don’t. I just hope one day I will.

#i'm probably going to delete this later #but i just needed to tap out a really shitty essay on some things that have been going through my mind lately #because sometimes it really can just be increasingly difficult to avoid triggers in fandom #but it's just something we all have to learn how to perfect and navigate properly i guess?#i don't know i'm just being stupid though #so don't mind me #long post is long #delete later #ramblings

4 notes · View notes

imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The marriage pact - Wavelength

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 1 | Part 2 Wavelength | Part 3 >

Disclaimer: none, perhaps some beach wear? If that tickles your fancy.

Author’s note: It’s romcom weekend, okay? 😘

Word count: 1.949

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers.

Sometimes I wonder. Do I know you as you know me? This morning an anonymous caller called in on the radio morning show to let people know that this Durrell paparazzi craze was hurting the island. Trash everywhere. The dogs barking all throughout the night. All and all, lots of grievances.

Now I know, and I think many people with me, who called. Pitchy voice, concerned about dogs and annoyed with island guests? I’m not going to ring up any names, but.. we know her. And not wholly unimportant: we love her for her concerns, albeit that they sometimes are a bit over exaggerated.

Anonymity only goes so far. And I am rather bad at keeping it, aren’t I? You know my name, my hobbies, my frustrations and how much I love my Jersey. An island that is home to a great many colourful people, wonderful souls. I wonder if any of you readers call Jersey your home too.

And if so.

Have I ever met you?

Just a thought, a blurb, a swindle of the mind. I love you all and wish you, as usual, a splendid Saturday.

Ali

Home is where the hearth is, and in my case, where the waves hit the white sanded beach near my parents place. I remember growing up here so well and I praise myself lucky for having lived here for so long, my family and friends always eager to come over and visit.

Many a day and night have been spent here, the beach our witness as great memories were made and lifelong friendships forged.

It was, simply put, a very good beach.

I smiled into the early morning sun, a soft breezing caressing through my brown hair as I brushed past the long dune grasses, making my way to my favourite hide-out near the rocks on the far right end. A truly perfect spot for sun bathing without being sand blasted and the water just right for a swim, the sea quickly reaching swim-worthy depths.

And the best of it was: you had to be a local to know of this place.

It wasn’t particularly easy to reach and thus it was, despite the Durrell craze, desirably quiet in here.

Reaching my destination I slipped out of my simple summer dress, my sticky skin requiring a quick rinse before I would indulge myself in my two favourite hobbies; sun bathing and writing. Which in all honesty would make up most of my Saturday, as my friends were too occupied with their kids’ soccer practise, grocery shopping or any of the other very adult things to do.

I let the cold water wash away any of those concerning thoughts - how much of a non-adult I was for having reached none of that - and swam out further into the bay.

This was me, at 37. Swimming. Alone.

‘HEY! Ali!’

Okay, not quite alone. BegrudginglyI turned around, my eyes squinting in the reflections of the water. I saw a man wave at me. A dog by his side. An akita..a…hold on..

I felt my heart flutter for the splittest of seconds.

Henry? What the hell was he doing here?

With quick and sure strikes I swam back to the shoreline, the clear definition of Henry wearing a blue shirt and some airy linen pants appearing right next to the spot where I had left my clothes. Panting ever so slightly I waded out of the water, not quite sure what to say or do as I walked up to Henry.

Henry gave me a quick look up and down, then swallowed semi-awkwardly, a boyish smile turning up on his lips.

Well, that hadn’t changed.

‘Hi Henners.’ I said, filling in the silence.

‘Hi Ali.’ He smiled, still a bit unsure of what to say or what kind of face to pull. Meanwhile Kal wasn’t half so hesitant, the large akita pulling on his leash to get closer to me.

I chuckled and ruffled the dog behind his ears, then pointed at my clothes that lay behind Henry. ‘Just gonna..fetch a towel if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh yea sure. Sorry.’ Henry stepped aside and Kal looked up at him, almost as if asking his owner why he was being such an awkward dork.

‘So…long time no see.’ I grinned, wiping myself dry with the towel, Henry’s eyes now averted to the sea - perhaps to watch the waves, perhaps to offer me the slightest of privacy. ‘Yes. A whole 23 hours.’ He smiled, blue eyes gazing at the aquamarine water.

‘And now you are in dire need of some down time.’ I stated, stepping in beside him, the towel now wrapped around my body.

‘Kind of..yea.’ He looked to his side, his eyes far more relaxed and at peace than they were yesterday. Yesterday I met Henry the actor. Today it was..just Henry. I smiled and nodded at a picnic rug I had brought along. ‘You can join me if you want. I even brought cake.’

‘Thanks. I’d like that. Though no cake…unfortunately..no cake.’ He folded his lips in disappointment, then quickly turned them back up into a smile.

‘Alright then. I guess you Hollywood stars survive on salads and champagne alone then, huh?’ We both chuckled. ‘Don’t let my team hear that, or I won’t be allowed to drink champagne either.’ He raised an eyebrow in amusement, sitting down on the rug after I folded it out, moving some of my things to the side.

It was weird to say, but it didn’t feel weird at all to sit here with Henry. Sure, he looked different - older, broader and slightly more sorrowful, but the twinkle in his eyes had remained. Henry was still Henry. My bubbly, slightly chunky neighbour Henry with whom I always loved to play and make homework with, was still somewhere deep inside this man.

‘I heard you lived at your parents now, so I decided to pay you a visit. Yesterday was a bit…eh..’ ‘-Weird.’ I interjected, grinning at him. ‘Yea. I honestly didn’t know you still lived here on the islands. I always thought you’d be one of those mainlanders - living the London dream.’

I shook my head, licking my lips and moving my hand through Kal’s thick fur - the dog now also stretched out, right in between me and Henry. ‘Nope. And perhaps I should have. So far my life’s been a bit..’ ‘Weird?’

We both laughed. ‘I was going to say: different than I expected. But weird would do. At least I feel weird. Living with my parents again at 37. I mean..what’s wrong with me?!’

‘May I ask..why? I mean..I hope nobody’s ill or..’

‘Oh no. This is just me failing at finding a life partner that actually wants the same things from..’ I hesitated again, looking up into Henry’s face and seeing bitter recognition. ‘Never mind I shouldn’t unload all that bullshit on you. Hmm…’ I shook my head and looked back at the sea, my voice quiet, but my mind once more racing.

Just a few weeks ago I had broken up with my boyfriend of seven years. Chris. Whom I had thought to be perfect for me. Relaxed, fun, caring. But unfortunately also; not on the same wavelength. And that is, apparently, especially when you really want to have a family, damn important.

‘Perhaps I can lift your spirits with the knowledge that I am not doing much better. On the relationship department, that is.’ Henry sighed into the fresh morning air, the scent of hot sand starting to rise up into our nostrils.

It was going to be hot today.

‘Surely you could lift a finger and the women come swarming.’ I grinned, eyes finally meeting his again. Almond browns looking into deep blues. And once more I saw that slither of shyness cross his features. Or was it uncertainty? Sorrow?

It was clear that Henry wasn’t jumping at the fact that women would come swarming at him.

‘Too bad I don’t like swarming women.’ He smiled.

There, you had seen that right, girl.

‘Well then you do know what you want. That’s quite unique for a man.’ I said, realising a tad too late that such a thing was a bit mean to say. Henry furrowed his brow, then tilted his head. ‘I feel there’s something underlying that statement. Something happened?’ His question was honest and open, no feelings hurt. I sighed. ‘Ugh. Sorry about that. Chris, my ex, just left a bit of a sting that’s all. He didn’t want the things I wanted, after years of hesitating on his end. And you know..”the clock’s ticking”.’

‘Well. Same I guess.’ Henry shrugged, making me snort. ‘You’re a man Henry, you can children way into your 60s!’

‘No! No..Not really. I mean..I don’t think I could have children that late. I want to actually be there for them. Be there when they’ve grown up.’

‘Always so considerate.’ I smiled, then sighed again, seeing him return my smile, his eyes holding a pensive glint. That was, until he shook his head, laughing at his own thoughts.

‘What?’ I asked, chewing the inside of my lip.

‘Nothing.’

‘Mmmm..You’re an awful liar Cavill. The lot of you actually. Only your mother could ever keep a straight face.’ We both laughed. ‘Might have to take up some acting classes then.’ He winked.

I rolled my eyes, then continued: ‘Remember when you and Charlie had baked that terribly dry cake? UGH. And then you put so much icing on top it was like the titanic all over.’

‘ALI!’ He exclaimed, embarrassed at the memory of presenting this cake for a local baking contest - which of course went miserably.

I chuckled. ‘What?!’ I smiled with playful innocence.

‘Well I practised in the mean time, just so you know.’

‘Good for you.’ I laughed, earning myself another one of his discerning looks, which made me laugh even harder, louder, snorting as his face melted into one of full-on exasperation.

‘You!’ Henry growled, his long arm reaching out for me and pulling me effortlessly into his chest, making Kal quickly get up and move out of the way - the dog could feel this was not a good place to be right now.

I squirmed, wiggling in his arm, trying to get away from him before he could launch some tickles in my sides. Like the old days. Though now it was so very different. We were grown ups now. Grown ups didn’t do this, right?

‘Hen Hen! Hen! What if people see us? What if..’ My breath was short, chuckles still escaping my lips as he stopped his assault, his arm remaining locked around me, refraining me from going anywhere else. ‘Like I care.’ He laughed. ‘We’re old friends. Heavens. We were toddlers together. Besides, we still have that pact, remember?’

I looked at him incredulously, then blinked, a blush creeping over my cheeks. ‘The.. pact.’ I mumbled, licking my terse lips, quickly looking back out over the water, not wishing to look into his eyes now he suddenly was so very close. Now his musky scent reached my eager nose.

He smelled so good.

‘And we’re way past 35 Ali.’

‘I know. We’re getting old Henners.’ I sighed, the last of my chuckles melting on my lips, my head quite naturally leaning into his shoulder.

And he felt nice too.

Ugh, it was nice to touch a man again. To be around Henry again. The sweet, chubby boy had turned into a gentle hearted hottie. It left me wondering how it came to be that a man like him hadn’t found a good woman yet.

‘You’re thinking very loudly Ali.’

‘Mmm..then indulge me. What am I thinking about?’

Henry chuckled. ‘Me.’

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84

Fluff lovers squad: @star017 @perhaps2remember @pterodactylterrace @witchersqueen @desperate-and-broken @toomanyfandomsshreya @deliciouslysassyarcade @pamacs-macs @cavilladdict @scorpionchild81 @lebguardians @sofiebstar @amberbabem @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? Shoot me a message!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x oc #fluff #henry bear #kal #wavelength #the marriage pact #jersey island #beach #romcom

56 notes · View notes

dameronology · 4 years

Text

obi-wan kenobi fluff alphabet

based off of this original post! if you guys want to see another star wars/marvel character, drop a message in my inbox :D

a - activities - what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

obi-wan would sit and watch paint dry for hours if he was with you. he doesn’t care what you guys do, as long as you’re together. however, he does particularly enjoy training with you, especially when you both get competitive. he also loves going for long walks, particularly at sunset, when you guys can just talk about everything and nothing.

b -beauty - what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?

as a jedi, obi-wan automatically admires things like patience and understanding, but especially passion. he loves when his s/o has a fiery passion to do something, whether it’s for a cause or to complete a task.

c - comfort - how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

obi-wan can usually sense your emotions through the force, so he’s very aware of what you’re feeling. if he’s not with you, he’ll reach out to you and try and talk to you - it’ll be calming words, sometimes ones of advice. if he’s with you, he’ll sit you down and hold you. if you want to talk about it, he’s all ears, but he’s also more than happy to just lay with you.

d - dreams - how do they picture their future with their s/o?

this is a tricky one because given the circumstances, obi-wan can never plan any definitive - his job is unpredictable and he barely knows what he’s doing in the next week. with that said, the one thing he is certain of is that wherever he ends up, he wants you with him.

e- equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

your relationship is definitely one of equals. obi-wan is so big on communication and talking and being on the same wavelength as you is very important to him. with that said, he is a jedi master and spends most his time instructing other people so he can over-step a little sometimes, but he’s very quick to notice and act on it.

f - fight - would they be easy to forgive their s/o? how are they fighting?

again, obi-wan is so big on the communication front and he urges you to talk things out rather than argue. with that said, fights are kind of inevitable in any relationship and they do happen; if he’s in the wrong, he’ll always apologise quickly and if you’re the one he feels is in the wrong, he’ll explain why and it’s not long before a compromise is reached.

g - gratitude - how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

he is the KING of gratitude. he is so aware of everything you do for him and obi-wan is so focused on making sure you know it. (side note: some of his methods of appreciation™ belong in the other kind of alphabet)

h - honesty - do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? or do they share everything?

obi-wan would never lie to you. he hardly has a reason to, and even if he did, his guilty conscious would make it impossible for him to do so. your relationship is your safe space and it’s an open book. you know each other better than you know yourselves (which works out quite nicely).

inspiration - did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

you turned his whole world around. before you, he’d completely shut the door on love and locked it behind him. you made him realise that he could be a good jedi and still love you. in fact, obi-wan probably credits you for making him a better jedi; the presence of somebody else in his life made him much more rational and self-aware.

j - jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

obi-wan tries not to get jealous but he’s a human being, and it does happen. you guys can’t be open about your relationship in certain places, and that does lead to situations where somebody gets a little too close, but it’s his trust for you that trumps his jealousy. he knows that you love him and would never hurt him, and that’s enough to get him through it.

K - kiss - are they a good kisser? what was the first kiss like?

obi-wan kenobi is one hell of a kisser and nobody could convince me otherwise. he’s definitely had enough experience with it, and that only increases when he starts to learn what you like in particular.

l - love confession - how would they confess to their s/o?

it would probably take a lot for him to tell you - like, obi-wan is risking a lot and going against the very code he practices. but, once he’s convinced himself to do it, it’s full steam ahead and it’s a simple declaration.

m- marriage - do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the marriage be like?

it probably depends on the situation. if it was after order 66 (ouch) and you’re both adjusting to life on tatooine, he’d definitely be down for it; after everything, he’d want to settle down and you’re the only constant in his life. if you were both still at the temple, he’d be pretty content with just being with you. your relationship is extremely dedicated and important to you both, so it’s not all that different from a marriage.

n - nicknames - what do they call their s/o?

obi-wan probably uses darling, my love and my dear the most.

o - on cloud nine - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

he’s in a permanently good mood. anakin is probably the first to notice it; when he messes up and obi-wan is oddly pleasant about it, that’s when he realises. he’s normally an upbeat person most the time anyways, but when he’s in love, he’s like a literal ray of sunshine.

p - pda - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag with their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

for obvious reasons, you and obi-wan have to keep your relationship completely secret. with that said, if you guys are on a far away mission where nobody you know can see you, he’ll put on small displays of affection like intertwining your fingers or putting his hand on the small of your back.

Q - quirk - some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

obi-wan’s connection to the force works as a connection to you (and vice versa if you’re also a jedi). it’s never in an overbearing way or a protective way, but it means you guys are intertwined in a way that’s beyond your average earthly relationship.

r- romance - how romantic are they? what would they do to make their s/o happy? cliché or rather creative?

for obi-wan, his love for you is hidden in every day gestures. he remembers the exact way you like your caff, he’ll take note of every tiny detail of every conversation ever and he listens to you in a way you’ll never quite get over. for example, one time you mentioned you liked a type of flowers that can only be found on one specific type of planet, and six months later, he happened to be on a mission there. he returned with the flowers, which by then, you hadn’t even remembered mentioning.

s -support - are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

the man is like your own personal cheerleading squad. whatever your goal is, however big or small, he will support you through hell and high water.

t - thrill - do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? or do they prefer a certain routine?

because there’s a lot of sneaking around, you’re both kept on your toes pretty much all the time. with that said, you and obi-wan do fall into your own kind of routine together after a few years; neither of you mind. as long as you’re together, you’re happy.

u - understanding - how good do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

obi-wan knows you better than anybody. he knows your tiny mannerisms and habits and he never fails to surprise you with how much he gets you.

v- value - how important is the relationship to them? what is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

you’re literally the most important thing in his life. everything he does, he does it for you.

w - wild Card - A random fluff headcanon.

obi-wan loves to hold you at night, and sometimes it’s not even a conscious decision. there are times when you fall asleep on different sides of the mattress and wake up to find your legs tangled and his arms clinging onto you.

x - xoxo - are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

in private, hell yes. when you guys are in your quarters, he loves to hold you and kiss you. it was surprising at first because before you were together, you never would have predicted it but it’s one of your favourite things about him.

y - yearning - how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

thank fuck for force bonds, amirite?

when you guys are apart, you can easily stay in touch because of your connection via the force. it’s nothing compared to physically being with you, but it helps tide him through the longer missions.

x - zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? if so, what kind of?

obi-wan would literally cross the galaxy and back ten times over for you. the man would do anything to keep you safe and protect you.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan imagine #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fluff #star wars imagines #star wars preferences #star wars alphabet #star wars fanfic

113 notes · View notes

carrottuan93 · 3 years

Text

Haven’t met you yet| Mark

Masterlist (4/4)

Starring: MK x You

Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate

Total WC: 3075

An hour left before Christmas, Mark told you that he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. He said he’d rather believe on the existence of aliens because he watched too much American movies about the extraterrestrial life. That sounded cool for you that you both share the same interest for the unknown life out there, but you don’t want to discredit Santa for giving you Mark to spend the Christmas eve with. He did not only hit the roof of your standards, but he exceeded them. He never cease to met all the bars for your ideal type and he’s never failed you so far with his vast array of knowledge of all the topics you guys are talking about in the past 2 hours. Guys for you are sexy if they can carry a proper conversation.

“I swear to God if an alien comes out of nowhere, I’d let him take me and I’ll fly with him in a heartbeat.” You’re a whole lot better now that you’re sharing a lot of jokes and making fun of each other. Setting aside the world and the rest of the others. Just you, him and the wine under the starry sky.

“Jesus, out of all the people in our planet, you chose to elope with someone from the outside world. In my case, I’d let them take me as long as they will show me how spaceships work so I could finally meet my childhood dream of becoming a space police, riding those cool ships and chasing bad aliens.” Your topic reached the outer space already but you’re now laying on the floor beside Mark, as you watch the open glass roof ceiling of the observatory with eyes wide awake.

“What’s wrong with dating an alien? At least, I get to experience travelling to different galaxies and planets. So much for the trouble of chasing bad aliens for a living.” You snickered, earning his grumpy voice.

“If you’re going to date alien, at least choose someone handsome.” He replied, placing both of his arms underneath his head.

“I haven’t seen any handsome alien yet, I mean all the creatures that they show on tv are the ones with the big bald heads, oval shaped eyes, and lanky thin frames. I don’t think they’d fit the definition of handsome.” This is your first time watching under the stars on top of the freaking Namsan Tower observatory and you’re delighted to experience it on a Christmas day with Mark.

“I am just right here beside you. I’m handsome since I was born, that’s already a given, I know. So just save yourself from the trouble of finding the alien guy of your dreams because Mark has come to save the unbothered princess from distress.” You don’t know if he’s still sober enough at this hour but you can tell that you aren’t drunk enough to be hearing this from him.

“Handsome guy perks, a ticket to finding instant dates. Why do you even want to date me?” You turned to your side, facing him. You're curious and you want to get straight to the point.

“Now that we’ve got to the topic of impressions, I think you’re quite interesting. That maybe you could make my Christmas eve a little less lonely, perhaps. Scratch that, maybe you could fit on all types of holidays and occasions. Maybe you’re a girl matched for all the seasons.” You felt giddy now that you’re facing each other, side to side, but still, you need to calm your high hopes for this guy.

“If this is a date, I’m ditching you already.” You glanced at him quickly and was rewarded by his cute eye smile. Oh cupid, this is not fair play for showing up earlier than your scheduled season in February.

“Why not? Am I not appealing to you? Come on. Try me." You watch his eyes examine your face, those hazelnut orbs are beautiful, and you want to train your eyes and treat them as their home. You never experienced staring at any guy for the longest time until tonight and all you can hear is the sound of him breathing, reciprocating your own rhythm. You aren’t aware that silence is actually too deafening when it’s the heart that does the talking. Those tall buildings appear smaller from a distant and they're glistening different hues and wavelength of bright lights, which are now witnesses to you finding love in the most unexpected way. But you don’t have the concrete definition of love because you haven’t felt it before. You just know and you can feel the unfamiliar zip of current travelling on your bloodstream. It’s just the two of you, and you’re under the supervision of the constellations in the open sky above, and it’s magical that you feel like these were the exact same stars that the first lovers saw on earth. How come it's too peaceful up there when you lay next to him? It’s a perfect moment for your exhausted soul to recover from your endless pursuits and maybe this is your fate taking its move. You are no daredevil to begin with and chasing ecstasy aren’t your cup of tea because you’re always craving for assurances in all the right places. But Mark is your risk and guarantee, all at once.

It is really tiring to find something when you don’t even know what you’re searching for in the first place. One thing is for sure, you haven't met anyone so random and fascinating like him. He's unique, overflowing with charms and maybe a box full of surprises for you to discover. Deep down, you've been wanting to get to know him more and you're aware that you're crossing oceans knowing that you’ll meet him on the other end. It is very unlike you to just casually lower your guard down for someone upon your first meeting but when it comes to Mark, everything seems to magically untangle in all the right places.

“Because I’m beginning to think that I misplaced my heart somewhere when it is still right here, intact on my rib cage. It’s just that my heart feels foreign to me now that you’re slowly owning up most of the empty spaces in my atrium.” He smiled like a panacea of all earthly ills and his smile could heal the world.

“I am no poet, but Paulo Cuelho once said ‘if it’s still in your mind, it is worth taking the risk’. I could see the thrill of chase, the first time I laid my eyes on you last night and you never left my mind ever since I got to talked to you tonight. Actually, I’ve met you already a long time ago. So you need to catch up with me and we all have the days on our feet to go on a lot of spontaneous pursuits, and you’ll make up for the lost time that you’re supposed to have known me already.” He’s too good with words and you’re drowning and drowning and you never wanna be saved. You’ve encountered almost all kinds of contracts on your work already and you always make sure to read the terms and agreements regardless of the number of pages but when it comes to Mark, you’d gladly sign the papers right away even with your eyes closed. But something doesn’t feel right with what he is saying.

"First of all, I haven’t met you yet not until this evening.” Maybe it’s the wine that’s getting you drunk, hearing things and such.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you that you’re the reason why I traded my Christmas in the US for a night here with you in Seoul for a blind date. I might sound stupid, but you should thank Jackson for all the credits. He introduced you to me a year ago and I stopped attending parties ever since my cousin did all the marketing strategy and such. It’s crazy right? For all I care, I’m tired of all things temporary so I trust my cousin when he said that you’ll give the permanence that I’m searching for. I don’t really know, I’m a random guy and I told my mom I’m hopping on a 14 hour flight to Seoul on Christmas eve to meet this girl so I went here for risk’s sake. And my luck has never failed me when you come to my place last night, barging in like some kind of an annoyed girlfriend coming home from a party. Damn, you nearly broke my unit’s lock system. You can claim your stuff at my place later when we go home, and you owe me a ‘Thank you’ because I saved you from carelessly sleeping into someone else’s bed. I respected your drunken state and I slept on the floor, so you have nothing to worry about. I’m just surprised that you disappeared in the morning all of a sudden without even saying anything.” You sat on your place, unable to process everything that he just said. You realized you’re so done, the heavens above could just open up and take you already because there isn’t any influence of wine taking over your completely sober minds. Everything is real and happening and you’re overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT???!” You screamed to your shock, running all over the place like you killed somebody and you badly want to escape the room due to your embarrassment.

“Wow, you even curse louder than I’ve imagined. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m fully aware that you love the scent of fabric conditioner because you can’t get enough of me last night. I can’t blame my parents for giving birth to myself. I left your stuff in my room, but I know I got something that you badly need right now.” He fished out your planner from the pocket of his coat, waving it like some kind of a show money in the air and you’d do what it takes to retrieve it back to your possession.

“Relax, I didn’t mean to interfere with your personal schedule, but I just saw a picture of pink roses at the back of your planner.” He gave you the planner and you hugged it like your world depended on it. He clapped his hands in the air and a guy came out of nowhere, carrying a bouquet of full-grown pink roses. It’s your first time receiving your favorite flowers from a guy and you feel like you don’t deserve Mark because he’s too good for you. Your eyes are now brimming in tears, knowing that God already gave the sign that you’re looking for. He’s standing right beside you and all you need to do is to take a leap, because it’ll be all or nothing.

“Jackson, you’re so dead to me. He sold me even without my permission and now that you’re right here, I’m suing you as well because of the amount of emotional damaged you have caused to my system. Now I’ll never be the same again because you gave me an ocean when I’m only asking for some rain.” You’re crying because of happiness. He dried your tears and he hugged you, so tight, you never wanna let go of him anymore. He smells of fabric conditioner and you’re never going to shut up about it.

"If only you can see yourself from my own perspective, you'd want to date yourself too. You sound scary whenever you want to sue someone because of something. First, it's my cousin Jackson and now you're suing me as well. That makes you interesting. A tough nut to crack. You're a challenge and I'm always up for the stakes of it. I'm not a perfect guy but we can save all the paralegal proceedings with just settling everything in our own terms, alright? I'm a man of my own words. I might be a pro player, but only in games for your reference, because I don't play with hearts, I win them. You just need to chill and worry about not falling too hard for me. Because I'm pretty sure, I'd beat you up to it." The man's got a way with his words. He's the definition of smooth and speed at the same time. But he's more than that. You like smart guys, you're attracted to their brains and you'll be placing all of your poker cards on the table for this sweet bounty.

"I'm not sure if our personalities coincide or if our interests are compatible but I'm hoping that whatever it is, this mutual attraction tonight isn't just a one-time thing. Just so you know, Eunhee has given me enough stress with all the troublesome blind dates I've been to lately. All I’m asking is for you to be sincere and honest because once I let you in my life, you'll never be allowed to leave anymore." You glanced down on your fingertips, too afraid to enter a commitment, you feel like you're having a mini heart attack. You swear that Mark could really hear your heart pounding louder than ever.

"Fate is really unpredictable. If you will ask, I'd rather believe in the existence of aliens more than Santa but what if he's really residing in the North Pole and he gave you to me as my Christmas present? I’m not going to run away because the chase is finally over. All you need to do is surrender yourself to me. No more buts, and what ifs. Only if you'll gonna agree to date me, my Dad will be really proud of raising a gambler just like him.” You could only wish for time to stop right there on your spot. You couldn’t ask for more, you began to doubt yourself if you really deserve all the good things that has come to your life. You wouldn’t want to wake up from this fantasy, but your eyes aren’t going to lie, there is love all over the place and you can see that it is real and happening this time.

"I don't know much about you, but I would love for you to to bring me into another spontaneous trip of yours cause I'm absolutely up for more of your surprises." All you can ever hear is the sound of a loud bang with all the fireworks lightning up the sky in iridescent hues as you froze right on your spot, eyes wide open, when you felt his lips on yours in one swift chaste kiss. He's too gentle, you can feel his breath becoming one with yours. He pulled away and you both greeted each other a 'Merry Christmas' as a couple. That was your first kiss taken from you and it tasted sweeter than wine.

“I want to let you know that I’m actually your secret Santa. I may have come to the party without bringing my gift, but I made sure to tag you here along with me so you could appreciate my gift in person. It's me, I'm the gift itself and I'm already yours, Y/n." Did he just show you an aegyo? Gosh, you almost melted with how cute he is. Mark must have been blessed with all the charms in the world. He showed you a piece of paper with your name written on it. You don’t believe in destiny until you brought out your own paper and saw his name written on it.

“I didn't know if Eunhee and Jackson has something to do with this but I’m your Secret Santa too. If this isn't destiny, then I don't know what is. But you can have my heart for Christmas, and I hope you'd take care of it from now on.” You showed him his name written on the paper and everything became irrelevant all of a sudden. As if floating on a zero-gravity dimension, you felt like a lifeless feather on thin air but your heart is betraying you by falling too deep for this guy. He's a one chance in a lifetime, an answered prayer from your last lifetime and your sweet serendipity.

"Now that everything went the way I wanted it to be, I'm up for another trip this New Year's eve, on your birthday." Just when you thought you've been blessed with so much this year, there are actually a lot more surprises to come.

"Jackson has told you a looot about me, even my birthday, and I'm not going to be surprised about that. Anyways, what about the trip?". He reached for your hand and you felt delicate in his grasp. Too weak and too fragile but your heart is full and that's the only thing that matters.

"My father is the CEO of TUAN RESIDENTIAL, a US based real estate developer which also means we are your firm's newest client. I know this is the craziest coincidence on top of everything, but I just discovered it this morning when I saw your planner and read the details about the meetings you've attended in the past week. I find out that you're actually part of the accounting firm that we hired. With that, I want to formally introduce their Vice President, Mark Tuan. We're acquiring a domestic corporation here in Seoul so we could expand our own line of business here in Korea. Trust me, this looks like a prank but I guess fate will really find a way for us to cross paths together no matter what. But we aren't talking about work here. Instead, are you ready for another surprise? I'm taking you with me in the US ahead of New Year’s Eve so you could meet my father and discuss a little about the liquidation proceedings. And of course, my mom would love to meet the reason why her son traveled to the other side of the world. She'll be glad that his eldest son will finally bring a girl in the house. So be prepared, Y/n, because we're leaving in the next 24 hours.”

and all this time you thought 'why are people too patient when they are waiting?' Simply because you wouldn't want to come under prepared if love suddenly comes along your way when you least expect it.

“WHAT THE HELL! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, MARK??????”

“Cool. I like girls who cuss a lot.”

#got7 #mark #mark tuan #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #got7mark #ahgase #got7 jackson #jackson #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #boyfriend #Christmas

17 notes · View notes

bouwrites · 4 years

Text

Maribat March 2020 Prompt: Soulmate

Week 4, Day 2. This story has been previously posted in response to @theatreandcomicfreak‘s prompt here. I’ve done some minor editing to it, but if you’ve read that already, there’s no significant difference. I’m simply reposting the story in a better format to fit within the guidelines of this Maribat event, so that I can more easily link each story together as a group.

Maribat March 2020 Calendar.

Day 1: Sweetheart’s Dance, Day 3: Coffee Shop.

Ao3.

2133 words. Story under read-more.

Marinette has always been a princess. She likes the nickname. Likes being treated like one. Likes the meaning behind it. She’s not so unusual in that way. After all, how many young girls dream of being princesses? Even she can admit that the number of Disney movies alone Marinette has watched over and over again is a little ridiculous. And since her soulmark appeared, Marinette understandably never quite left behind the princess phase. After all, proudly curving on the back of her neck, almost hidden by her hairline, in clear script, is the word “Princess”. The thing her soulmate will call her. She’s not demanding or spoiled or anything like that, or she tries not to be, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy feeling like a princess now and then.

She’s comfortable with her soulmark. It’s not the most uncommon thing, and her having a preference for more established nicknames means she knows from a young age that she’s bound to run into some confusion somewhere down the line. The whole, “are they or are they not?” thing that happens when people use nicknames for friends that just happens to align with their soulmark. She knows it’s coming, so she’s comfortable. Prepared.

She gets a little too comfortable, truth be told, but she learns to hold her tongue. Some people can be like Chat Noir, making up nicknames for everyone, their originality driving them through the cloud of the most common terms of endearment on soulmarks. Marinette is creative enough, and she used to do the same thing, but she learns better now. That leaves her in the other pool of people, who try not to use nicknames much at all, to avoid confusion.

Once you say something, there’s no taking it back. One affectionate “Chaton” and her crime-fighting partner thinks she’s the love of his life. But he never calls her “princess”. He never uses her mark-name. It doesn’t even occur to him to. Marinette takes this as proof that he’s not her soulmate after all, but whenever she tells him this, he just thinks up another nickname to call her.

It’s not frightening or even annoying so much as it is simply awkward. With an everyday friend, that may not be such a problem, but with her partner? They aren’t on the same wavelength, all because of a stupid mark-name. That’s dangerous.

Marinette learns to hold her tongue. Sure, a mistake in everyday life may not have such potentially severe consequences, but even so she’d rather avoid insistent men on her case in her civilian life if possible. Chat Noir is no problem, because Marinette trusts and likes him, but he does teach her a lesson on how some people may react to the wrong name. Nicknames, for her, end up reserved for only her closest friends, if that. The change isn’t as hard as she thinks.

Princess. Marinette can’t help the violent flinch that overcomes her at the name, but Chat Noir doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps going on showboating for her. Princess? Really? Is this a joke?

There’s no other explanation. It has to be some grand cosmic joke. The punchline to the greatest show on Earth. Because Marinette knows Chat Noir isn’t her soulmate. She knows he likes to make up nicknames, but never once has he called her “Princess”.

Marinette uncomfortably touches the mark on the back of her neck, disguising it as simply rubbing it awkwardly. The bold lines spelling out that word. Princess. What… Chat Noir calls her?

Marinette doesn’t have time to think about this. She has an akuma to take down, and with it targeting her as a civilian, she has to be at the top of her game. Chat Noir can wait, soulmate or not. At least for now.

It makes sense, to some extent. If Chat Noir has only not called her princess because his soulmate isn’t Ladybug but Marinette. But then what about him? She called him Chaton while and because he is Chat Noir. Marinette would never even think of calling someone that who isn’t moonlighting as a cat. But then, does that prove that they are soulmates? Or does it prove that they aren’t? Surely someone other than her will call him Chaton. It’s not exactly a hard place to reach, once they learn of his alter ego.

Yeah. Marinette thinks. It’s just a coincidence. Calling some damsel “princess” is just like him, anyway. It should be more surprising that he hasn’t until now. Marinette holds her hair up with one hand and a mirror with the other, examining the mark. Right?

“Tikki?” Marinette reaches one hand up into the air, idly grasping at nothing as her mind consumes her.

“What is it, Marinette?”

Marinette worries her lip, unsure if she can or should ask the question on the tip of her tongue. It takes a few stumbling attempts, but she ends up closing her eyes and asking what’s on her mind. “Why would I have a soulmate that I don’t love?”

Tikki is quiet for long enough that Marinette is tempted to sit up and look, but she refrains. She’s not sure she wants to see the expression on Tikki’s face.

“I just-” Marinette tries to explain. “Chat called me it. Princess. And I called him Chaton. That means we’re soulmates, right? But… I do- I don’t… I’m not sure I love him like that. He’s my best friend, of course, but… I just don’t see him as a… soulmate. Am I broken?”

“Oh, Marinette! No, no you’re not broken at all! Don’t you ever think that about yourself.”

“Bu-”

“No! I said, don’t! There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t even know for sure that he is your soulmate, and even if he is, there’s nothing wrong with having a platonic soulmate! You don’t have to be in love to be soulmates!”

Marinette mulls over Tikki’s words. They echo in her head and roll in her mouth. “But… he loves me.”

“You’re both still so young, Marinette. Give it time! I’m sure things will become clear sooner or later.”

Now, Marinette does sit up. Tikki is smiling earnestly at her, the optimism and confidence in her eyes too infectious for Marinette to resist her own smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so!” Tikki says firmly. “Everything will be okay.”

The school trip is unexpected, in the sense that Marinette all but forgets about it. She knows she has a part in planning it, of course, and she does her part with aplomb, but all of that was set in stone so long ago that with everything else going on, from Hawk Moth to Chat being her maybe-soulmate, it totally slips her mind.

Not to mention how she almost doesn’t go at all. She has a city to protect now, after all. She can’t just go on vacation.

Master Fu solves that problem for her, though, and Marinette finds herself oddly relieved that Kaalki has such a convenient power. Time away from Hawk Moth, even if she is still on call, is just what the doctor ordered. Maybe, without all this outside pressure, she can sit down and figure everything out once and for all.

Plus, it should be fun. A visit to the Daily Planet with Alya in tow alone will make this trip to Metropolis more than worth it. That’s not even starting on all the other events, tours, and activities they have planned. It’s very exciting, and Marinette almost wishes she isn’t so distracted just so she can properly enjoy her classmate’s raving about everything they’re going to do in America.

She’s sure she’s missed some very entertaining discussions. Maybe Alya can catch me up?

“Woah, careful there, princess.”

Marinette freezes at the unexpected touch on her shoulders. She’s a hair away from taking this guy to the ground, but then the situation catches up with her and she barely stops herself.

Pole in the middle of the sidewalk? Threat. Cute guy who has just saved her from slamming face-first into that pole? Probably less so. Also, Princess?!

Marinette examines the guy warily. Black hair, unkempt like he’s just been through a wind tunnel, bright eyes furrowed with concern, muscular arms leading to hands that have still not removed themselves from her shoulders. She shrugs him off, never tearing her eyes from his. She knows how suspicious she must look, and the way he wilts under her stare makes her think she should probably tone it back a bit, but still.

She knows that mistakes happen. She knows Chat might be her soulmate. She knows the likelihood of it being some random passerby in America isn’t exactly in her favor. But he has to be sure. “Princess?” She echoes, more testily than she means.

The guy clears his throat awkwardly. “Ah, I- I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from, I just- I saw you weren’t looking at the pole and I-”

“You what?” Marinette pushes him just for fun, because he’s so flustered, but she can’t help but smile. The bite leaves her voice, replaced with sarcasm. She hopes he can hear that it’s friendly. “Thought you’d save the princess? Eh, superman?” The boy flushes brilliantly, scratching at his neck as he looks to the ground. “I can take care of myself. A little pole isn’t going to hurt me.” She teases. “Thanks, though. You did save me this time.”

The boy chuckles awkwardly. “Ahaha, you’re welcome! Hey, uh, my name’s Jon! I… I’m not sure how to say this, I, uh…”

Now, Marinette knows mistakes happen, but she can also read a situation. The way his cheeks stay color as he bumbles through his introduction, the way he holds his neck a bit too reverent to be sheepish, the way his eyes go wide when she calls him “Superman”.

Jon takes a deep breath, apparently composing himself. “Sorry, I… that was super awkward. Um… You called me superman. That’s, uh…” He ducks down a bit, turning so that she can see the script on the back of his neck. “My mark-name. Also, weird, but, whatever. So, I was wondering if maybe princess was yours?”

Marinette chuckles and pulls her hair aside, turning so he can see her own mark. In the same exact place. Most soul-pairs have their marks in the same place, so that makes this seem more likely. Even still, Marinette has had false alarms before. This seems more legit than any so far, but…

But the way he lights up at the sight of the mark. That stops Marinette’s breath in her lungs. “It is!” Jon cheers. “I can’t believe it! It’s really you!”

Marinette calms her heart and tries to rid her face of the damn soft look she knows she has. “Maybe.” She says. “I’ve had a close call before. This looks legit, though, so… no promises, but maybe we can… I don’t know. Get coffee or something?”

“Yes! Yeah, sure! I’m- I am so down for that!” Jon grins from ear to ear. “Get to know each other, and then decide if we want to trust the mark-names or not?”

“Exactly.” Marinette says. “If you’re okay with that?”

“A hundred percent! I totally understand being cautious. Uh, here! Let me give you my number. You can let me know when you’re free? Unless… you are now?”

Marinette ducks her head to hide from the intensity of his gaze. It’s so… adoring. Not like Chat, not in the depths of love way, or the confident way he claims her as his. It’s in an optimistic way. In a hopeful, nervous way. It makes her chest flutter, and she can’t help but hope, too. “I’m actually in the city on a class trip. We’re having free time right now, so I’ve got, uh,” she checks her phone, “a couple hours.”

“Great! I know a good place to get coffee just around the corner. And, if you want, I could show you around a bit? I know the city pretty well.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Jon guides her to the coffee shop, awkwardly drifting close but carefully keeping his hands off of her. It’s cute, watching him want to grab her hand or throw his arm over her shoulder, but Marinette appreciates that he doesn’t.

She can’t be sure from one conversation and a couple of mark-names, but Jon seems just as likely as Chat to be her soulmate. Is he? Is Chat? Marinette ducks away from his eyes again, brushing her hair behind her ear as that single glimpse makes her stomach somersault. It’s impossible to tell from this meeting alone, but if the feeling in her chest is telling her anything, it’s saying to give this a chance. Maybe that’s all she really needs.

#MaribatMarch2020 #Maribat #Maribat March #Event #Marijon #ML x DC #ML Fanfiction #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #theatreandcomicfreak im not really sure its appropriate to @ you on this #but its either that or linking to you #and linking feels like #sneaky somehow

146 notes · View notes

captainsjack · 4 years

Note

There needs to be more Shus h/c: I've been imaging lately Shawn getting into a massive fight with Henry, the kind were his Dad is really out of line and he can't joke his way through it bc he's been hit where it HURTS. Gus is there naturally, and Shus is married in the scenario bc I say so. They have to pull over on the way home bc Shawn actually breaks down despite his best efforts not to. Gus is a good protective husband and does his best to calm him down, but Shawn is QUIET for days after. p1

p2. Henry comes over to apologize and Gus opens the door, seriously considers punching him face, but ultimately lets him in. Henry and Shawn make up as much as they ever do, but Gus refuses to talk to him for months bc he's still furious at him for hurting Shawn that much. Would love to hear you elaborate on this with your own hc and thoughts <3

ok the fact that i’ve written something very similar to this (well at least thought about it) ?? buddy we’re just on the same wavelength here !!

but honestly ?? just what you said is perfect, i don’t even know what to add !!

to be fair, i am a bit sympathetic to henry, so i’m not quite sure exactly what he would say that’s so out of line, but i do like the concept.

i’d definitely say this is within the first season. like shawn’s trying his best to make an effort with his dad, despite everything that’s happened. and it’s mostly because he feels a bit guilty about not inviting henry to the wedding. like shawn and gus got married a bit over a year before s1, and so henry hadn’t moved back yet, and even if he had been in santa barbara at the time, shawn was still pretty sure he wouldn’t have invited him anyways (gus is completely on shawns side and actually hasn’t even spoken to henry since high school, but i digress, that’s a different plot).

anyways, when shawn saw henry for the first time in idk how long, neither of them really mentioned the whole Wedding Ring Thing until henry said something during the dog house scene and they awkwardly talked about it (again, a concept for a different post).

so they both had a bit more sympathy for how their relationship has gone wrong, and both were trying their best to make things better even though it was hard (because missing your sons wedding is a real blow no matter how much you know you’ve fucked up in the past). and so things sort of have changed for the better at least a little bit and shawn thinks that, maybe, just maybe, he can forgive his dad just a bit and things can be civil.

and so when shawn and gus are at henry’s (idk what for) and henry says something, it hits shawn a hell of a lot harder than it would’ve in the past. because he wasn’t expecting it (well, at least not as much). he’d thought they were at least ok for now.

and idk what henry says, but it’s clear to shawn that whatever niceties had been in place the last couple of months had just been a figment of shawn’s imagination. of him trying to cling to a shred of a normal relationship with his father.

it wasn’t something shawn could just laugh off or roll his eyes and make a joke. it stings. a lot. and shawn kind of just flinches and he tries to be subtle about it, but he can’t hide the hurt that flashes across his face.

gus tries to defend shawn right away, once henry says the thing. his body is filled with an amount of hatred he hasn’t felt since he had found out shawn had left town and had known it was all henry’s fault. everything in his body goes tense and he’s unconsciously angling his body in front of shawn, harsh words flying out of his mouth unstoppable.

but shawn kind of just huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. he puts his hands up in a “whatever” gesture, body already turning to the door. “forget it man, let’s just go” he says to gus, and he doesn’t wait for a response before he’s already out the door and halfway to the car.

gus just stands there, watching the door swing shut, before he glares at henry one last time and follows shawn. he makes sure to slam the door extra hard.

shawn’s leaning against the passenger door, his face expressionless, and gus knows shawn well enough to know that there’s nothing he can say to make things right. so gus just carefully looks at him, and shawn’s still staring at the ground, and he unlocks the car and they start driving.

the silence that fills the car is heavy, and it makes gus feel like he can’t breathe. he tries to focus on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurts, but he can’t help but keep glancing over at shawn.

shawn’s resting his head against the window, and his face looks dull and exhausted, and every inch of his body feels like lead. he’s so fucking tired of everything, and no matter how much he tries to stop the dam from breaking, he can’t. it takes too much energy to force everything down, and right here, right now, it’s just him and gus and the dark night road, and so he gives up. the ice around his heart breaks - fully breaks - and for the first time in 10 years, he really truly accepts the fact that his father has always, and will always, hate him.

the sobs lurch out of his chest with an amount of force he hasn’t experienced before, and before he can draw in another shaky breath, the car stops and gus’s arms are around him. and he can’t stop no matter how much he tries, and his chest hurts, and he can’t fucking breathe. he clings onto gus’s shirt so hard his nails dig into his palms through the material.

gus just sits there, half in his seat and half on the console separating him and shawn, and he’s holding shawn to his chest like his life depends on it. he murmurs “it’s okay, you’re okay” and “i’ve got you, i’m right here” and “it’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault” over and over again, in the hopes that something, some string of words, will bring any sort of comfort to his husband.

he doesn’t know how long shawn cries, but it’s long enough that his back starts to hurt and he has to reach over and turn off the car so they don’t waste the battery. shawn’s breaths are still shallow and shaky, but his grip on gus has loosened and gus’s shirt has begun to dry.

“what do you need?” gus asks softly, face pressed into shawn’s hair.

“nothing, just you.” and he can’t get out any more words than that, but he doesn’t really need to. because gus is the only thing he has ever, and will ever, need, especially now.

“okay,” gus whispers, and he holds shawn tighter.

they sit like that, squished in the blueberry on the side of the road, car barely parked, until the stars and moon brighten, the streets grow quiet with the night, and shawns heartbeat slows and his breaths come out more even.

in the following days, gus can count on his two hands the number of words shawn has spoken. gus does the talking for the both of them, and, thankfully, shawn’s at least okay enough to laugh at a few of his jokes. but it’s not the sound gus has grown accustomed to - it’s forced, a bit hollow, and he knows in the bottom of his heart there’s something missing. some part of shawn has broken and he doesn’t know if it can be fixed.

he takes off a few days from work, and they spend their days watching movies, cartoons, cuddling, and playing games (half the words on gus’s metaphorical hands are “uno”). shawn doesn’t mention psych or his dad.

neither does gus. he doesn’t know what to say. what is there to say? “are you okay?” that’s too broad of a question and gus knows shawn isn’t okay. “do you want to talk about it?” gus knows shawn will just shrug and say there’s nothing to talk about.

when shawn’s ready, he’ll bring it up, and gus knows that. he also knows that the only way shawn will be able to move on from this, is if he talks to henry. gus knows there’s not much damage control he can do unless henry is there, present in the conversation.

that’s the only reason why gus doesn’t just punch him in the face and slam the door when one sunday morning, he finds henry on the other side of the dark oak doorway.

shawn is in the shower and gus can hear the water turn off as he meets henry’s eyes with a tired glare, and so gus steps out into the hallway with him and closes the door.

“what?” he asks stiffly. and all of a sudden he’s 18 again, in front of the man who he’s just told he hated.

“can i talk to him?” henry quirks an eyebrow up, shifting in anticipation of entering their apartment.

gus defensively steps backward, hand blocking the doorknob. “why?” he asks.

henry sighs. “gus...”

gus’s lips are pressed in a tight line and he doesn’t respond.

henry sighs again. “look, i- i was wrong, okay? can you just let me apologize to him?”

“what, so you can say you’re sorry and then just do it again two days from now? no thanks,” he snaps.

henry frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but gus beats him to it.

“no, look. i know how this works okay? you’re an ass, shawn’s upset, you barely apologize, and shawn works like hell to find some ounce of forgiveness so he doesn’t have to deal with this feeling anymore. and then it happens again. and again. and i’m not letting you do it anymore.”

henry’s pretty shocked, so all he can say is gus’s name again.

gus shakes his head, and stabs a finger in henry’s direction. “no. you will walk in there, apologize, and mean it.” every word is stiff, harsh, and direct. “and then you will never talk to him again.”

henry blinks.

“not until you make an appointment with a therapist. and even then, you will only talk to shawn if he wants you to.”

henry’s still silent.

“this, all of this,” gus waves his hand around them, “is on you. it’s your fault, and it’s up to you to fix. shawn does not owe you anything.” gus pauses. “are we clear?”

henry’s never been met with this much authority before and he’s also pretty shook that he may never be able to see his son again (because he knows gus and he knows he’s dead set on these rules - this boy is the sweetest person henry’s ever met, but he can ice someone if he really means it. (i mean, he and gus lived in the same city for years after high school and gus did not see or speak to him once, and santa barbara’s not that big)).

and so henry kind of just blinks and says “okay.”

and gus’s shoulders relax just a fraction of an inch and he nods his head curtly. “wait here.”

when gus opens the door, it’s his intention to go find shawn and explain what’s going on, but instead, he finds shawn in the hallway, a shocked expression on his face, clearly having heard everything.

shawn kind of just blinks at him, and gus sighs and gently grabs his arm, leading him to the bedroom. shawn gives him a questioning look as gus shuts the door, and gus frowns and says, “he doesn’t get to hear all this.” (maybe it didn’t make a lot of sense, but, gus was mad, and he didn’t think henry deserved any more information in regards to anything shawn was thinking or feeling, so he didn’t want him to overhear their conversation).

gus asks shawn how much he heard, and shawn says everything. gus makes it clear that in no way is shawn obligated to hear henry out or accept his apology. but gus also makes it clear that shawn needs to do something about all of this (he also suggest therapy to him too - the irony that both spencer men are in desperate need of therapy and that madeline was a therapist, is not lost on him). he tells him that he knows shawn isn’t okay and shawn agrees.

for the first time, he actually admits that things with his dad can’t be ignored and that he needs help. because both gus and shawn don’t want shawn to go on like this.

and so after they talk, gus let’s henry in and henry apologizes. shawn’s still quiet and obviously awkward and uncomfortable (it’s not often he hears henry admit that he’s wrong), but he mutters “thanks” and before henry can try to awkwardly hug him, gus pushes him out and locks the door.

he pulls shawn to his chest and shawn melts into him, finding comfort in the only person that has ever mattered to him. shawn kisses gus’s collarbone softly, head resting in the crook of his neck, and he says quietly, “i love you.”

gus squeezes his husband tighter, tells him he loves him too, and then kisses him softly.

gus makes them waffles, makes shawn an appointment with a therapist, and they resume their star wars marathon.

for the first time in four days, shawn makes a joke. and when he joins gus’s laughter, it’s the same sound gus had memorized 25 years ago. it’s bright, happy, and bubbly, and it fills gus’s chest with unwavering love, but also a hope he’d thought he’d lost before.

things were going to be okay - gus was sure of it.

askjdhfk i was NOT expecting to write this much but apparently i have Thoughts about this.

anyways, i absolutely love this concept and i love you for sending this.

(also “shus is married because i said so” bABE IF THATS NOT ME EVERYDAY)

#shus #shawngus #shawn spencer #burton gus guster #burton guster #henry spencer #psych #headcannons #my writing #anon #answered #shawn x gus #shawn/gus

27 notes · View notes

johobi · 5 years

Text

When You Least Expect It | 12

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: angst, angsty-angst, dramaTIC ANGST, anxiety, depression, fear of going mad. i swear it’s not all that bad though!!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: thanks, as ever, for all your encouragement, love and patience. i truly treasure you.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

"Need to get my⁠—mmm⁠—keys."

Taehyung's argument was solid, but your lip-lock took precedence. "Nuh-uh," you murmured to his saliva-slick lips, eager to taste from them again. "Do it blind."

Your lover fished futilely for his keys, eyes closed for kissing. His body angled away when you only wanted it flush. Selfishly you clung to him, arms fast around his neck, compelling him closer. Oh, but you needed more. Needed his touch. It was painfully absent. Taehyung’s long-fingered hands trawled the depths of his pockets when they should have been defiling you.

He snorted through the meagre space between your faces. "I can't find⁠—mmgh⁠—find them."

"Here," you offered in devilish whisper, plunging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. Shamelessly grasping a little too close to his left-leaning dick.

"Ah⁠—"

Your fingertips grazed metal. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It will be."

It was your turn to scoff. Right into his hot, nasty mouth.

Despite Taehyung's ineptitude at locating his own keys, it was spellcraft how easily he unlocked the door, with his back to it and his tongue thrust far past your lips. As the lock gave way, you threw yourself into his freshly-freed arms, urging he embrace your touch-starved body. But Taehyung was already around you, on you, fondling the breadth of your thinly-clothed ass. He broke away to whine: “God, you drive me crazy.”

“You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

You stumbled into his apartment as a mass of roving hands. "You’re gonna get it again, noona," Taehyung hummed around your earlobe. Tugged it between his teeth. Whispered obscenities while his hard cock pressed close. “You feel that, babe? You want it?”

Breath tumbled out. “Y-Ye⁠s—”

"It certainly sounds like she does," a wicked voice sang. It was high-pitched and heavy on the dialect and its source unmistakeable. You wished you were mistaken. "Whatever it is. I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's⁠—"

The two of you repelled like magnets.

"Oh, fuck. Jimin, why are you still here?" Taehyung made no attempt to smother his exasperation. His erection, on the other hand, he smothered actively, obscuring it with the hem of his shirt..

"Good night without me?" the redhead side-stepped. Consistent with his character, the conversation became depraved, and all about him. You found yourself on the receiving end of an unwelcome eyebrow waggle. "I was only one phone call away."

Taehyung's hand flew to his face. Dragged down his features. "I told you I didn't know when I'd be back. If at all. Couldn't you have gone home, dude? What did you even do all night?"

As Jimin dithered and whined, you surveyed the damage the bachelor had inflicted upon Taehyung's usually immaculate apartment. Takeout trays, beer bottles and indiscernible spills surrounded the little imp. Insult to injury was his occupation of your beloved red slanket. It coupled his hair so garishly he resembled something of an angry pimple. You glared at Jimin from behind his 5'11" handler.

"I thought you were coming back!" Jimin finally exasperated. His wrists emerged from the slanket-holes when he gestured to his nest of trash. "I had to eat twice the amount of food. And I got drunk alone. You know how sad that is?"

"Got a glimpse of your future, did you, Jimin?" The snicker that shot from you almost took the contents of your nostrils with it. To say you were a little sniffly this morning was to minimise it. It took all your nasal strength to prevent a flood. Probably all that rain yesterday.

No, don't think about yesterday.

Luckily, your dignity remained intact for discard another day. Jimin's however, had long been abandoned. Tact, too. "So—" He watched, beady-eyed, as you busied yourself in the undoing of his mess. When you reached for a pizza box: "You guys having an affair? Or is this some kinda friends-with-benefits deal?" The slanket rode up his offensively nude thighs as he leaned toward your stooping form. "Any chance of making this a three-person thing? Or four, if that Jungkook guy is still in the picture."

It was like an icicle through your poor, hollowed heart. You froze, bent at the hinges, pizza grease becoming palm sweat. "W-What?"

“Actually, was he even real? I never saw him.”

Was he even real?

Taehyung was quick. Was there in a second, striding to your side, affixing a hand to your lower back. His fingertips, too, were quick. Quick to find that sliver of exposed skin where your jeans and shirt met. To give you the warmth of reassurance that came only with his touch. "Jesus, Jimin. I know this is your shtick, but no-one's in the mood for your bullshit today. Just go home dude, I'll text you later."

An expression you'd never encountered warped Jimin's delicate features. Hurt. "What the fuck?" he grumbled, complying despite his injured feelings. Coming to a stand, he stuffed himself into his night-before skinny jeans, plump lips pursed. "What got into you? She peg you or something?" Jimin’s hmphs continued, punctuating his impromptu Get Ready With Me throughout. Without the care it warranted, he slung off the slanket and began turning out the couch.

“Very funny. What are you looking for? I’ll help.” Taehyung offered, placidity masking his vexation incredibly well. Antagonising Jimin would only prolong his being there, after all, and the scenario was already unbearably awkward. Especially now, when he was flaunting a good inch of his ass-crack in the hunt for some misplaced possession.

"My wallet. Y’know, the pot leaf one. Where did I put the damn thing?"

In that gaping crevice, maybe? It wasn’t aloud.

"Okay, look⁠—" Taehyung, too, looked to have had his fill of his friend's butt-cleft. "I'll bring your wallet 'round your place later. You got your phone and keys, yeah?" The outline in the redhead's jeans confirmed it. "Go home, sleep off the rest of the booze, we'll talk this evening."

Despite his grievances, Jimin suddenly brightened. He never was one to hold a grudge. He was a Pisces, after all. "You're gonna come over? Cool! I'll get more beer in." The fact he'd consumed a dozen only two hours prior didn’t appear to deter him. "You coming, ____? We gonna have another game of Never Have I Ever?"

The sincere sparkle of his eyes threw you a little. "Uh, I don't think so. Not today. Sorry, Jimin. Next time, okay? I've got some things to sort out later. Plus, I think I’m getting sick." A sniffle for illustration.

"That's cool." He hummed, shrugged on his signature varsity jacket. The world would burn before he conceded college was over. "See you later, Tae. Happy smashing," was his parting comment as he sashayed out the door, mildly uncoordinated. Taehyung was charitable enough to relieve his friend of the quandry of closing it.

And when it was closed, your lover turned back. Had a pensive purse to his lips. "Uh, sorry about that. You okay?"

"Don’t apologise, I’m the one that disrupted your plans in the first place, Tae. But yeah, I’m good."

Taehyung couldn’t see the extent of that untruth. Not when you averted your eyes so swiftly. Pinned them to your busy hands as you continued to collect up Jimin's litter. Why had it been so easy for him to speak his name? Like it was nothing but breath? Just two syllables, plucked from an alphabet of indifference?

When it was sand and salt on open sores?

When it was woe so heavy it rasped the soul?

"Alright." It wasn't, but what mattered was that Taehyung knew it. Knew it, and didn't pursue it. Instead, he fluffed a trashbag for you in which to deposit your greasy collection. "He's always like this. A mangy raccoon." The comparison hit humorously enough to curtail your anguish. Momentarily, at least. A genuine laugh came from you. At that, Taehyung looked up. Caught your smile. "He's always like this. Always leaves me to clean up. His metaphorical and literal messes."

Trash collected, you straightened. Inelegantly, and with a groan. You'd have to scrape together the pennies for some sweet chiropractic adjustment. "Yeah? That doesn't surprise me," you smirk, prodding at the knots in the small of your back. "All I know is he's a gross, unashamed pervert that could be a good guy if he grew up a little. You haven't really told me too much about him. I guess you'll—" the reality of your and Taehyung's changed relationship hit you, then. It had transfigured into something far more intense. Far more beautiful. Potentially volatile. "—you'll have to tell me more. About him. Your other friends I don't see much. And about you, stuff I didn't get to know until we—well. You know."

Taehyung's head came to a tilt. His downy locks strayed into his eyes, softening them into a squint. "It's weird, isn't it? Being like this. Good weird—" he added with haste. Had he been suddenly struck by the revelation, too? Your two combined brain cells continued to surf one wavelength. It was uncanny. "You're standing there, I'm standing here. We look the same. But it's all different. I look at you different." A contemplative pause. The trash-bag knocked noisily at his knees as he rocked. "And all I know is I want to learn about you. Again. Inside and out."

"Yeah. I'd like that very much. I'm hardly a treasure trove of alluring secrets, but I'm sure I have a wild story or two from my college years. Ugh—" The ache that'd been no more than a dull tapping at your skull suddenly came to the fore. Your head throbbed like a blunt force concussion.

"You okay?" The trashbag left Taehyung's hands and crumpled to the floor. You felt them on you shortly after, palpating your oddly sensitive forearms. "What's up?"

"Headache. Think I was bent over for too long, or something." But then came a torrent of sneezing. And it was also then that Taehyung's proximity was suddenly, intolerably stifling. "Ugh. Maybe not. I’m definitely getting sick. Sick-sick."

A satiny palm left your shoulder and found your forehead. Your vantage saw only Taehyung's mouth. It opened into an O. "Oh, shit. Yeah, you're burning up, noona. We should get you into bed."

"No, no. That won't be necessary." You waved away his clammied hand and instead peeled off your - his - jacket. The last thing you wanted, on a day as emotionally strenuous as this one, was to find yourself physically compromised, too. "I'll be okay. I just need to cool down a bit. It's probably just a cold, and I can soldier through those. Uh—I'm a little hungry, though?"

"Aha! Want some French toast or something?" Taehyung leapt at the opportunity to tend to you. Like Yoongi, you shied away from showing weakness and instead showed a reluctance to lean on others. It must’ve been frustrating for Taehyung, an unashamed empath who wanted nothing more than to accompany and comfort you during your times of adversity. But he understood that it could not be the case with you. That less was more. That the key to helping you was when you asked for it. Yes, even when it was something so small as the common cold.

And when it wasn’t just the sniffles, but world-ending woe, Taehyung embraced your diversions from the difficult topics. Didn’t push it. Best friends never pushed. Yes, he was still your best friend. Something more, now, too, but forever your gentlest, most attuned of friends. "Don’t you like French toast? I could make something else?" He prompted, peering into your faraway face with those precious eyes of his.

"You can make French toast?"

"Of course I can. I can make you anything, within reason. I've been practicing. Takeout's giving me a belly." In illustration, Taehyung molded his hands to his mildly rounded flesh. Strained it out further, like an expecting mother.

"I like your little belly." Your hands fell to his, pressing his stomach back to flat.

"Yeah?" An errant quirk of his eyebrow. "It likes you, too."

You smiled so, so wide. And then you became certain:

Last night had been the right decision. One made in a swell of volatile emotion, yes. But this day - this moment - in which it was still possible to smile, proved that. Taehyung conjured it to your face with so little effort. It took so little effort to be with him. To just be.

And that was indeed a feat.

Because inside your mind, there was no reprieve. Barbed words and self-abuse clattered about your brain, painting you unworthy of Jungkook. Worse yet; deserving of his treatment.

Every second since your waking hour you’d been assailed by volleys of it. But your self-loathing didn’t end its assault there. In your darkest seconds, it even dared to suggest that you proclaimed your love for Taehyung too hastily.

That you instead yearned for that other man.

By some mercy, you were already adept in handling intrusive thoughts. Because that was all they were: Intrusive. Unwelcome and unwanted. There could be no truth to the doubt or longing.

Not when your new horizon stood before you, a sunshine smile dawning across his cheeks. Taehyung. The once boy, now man, you'd forever coveted.

He was yours. Your desperate words a night ago sealed it.

Puzzlement mingled adorably with Taehyung's bright features. "Babe?"

Yeah. It was the right choice.

"Sorry, Tae." In spite of your climbing fever, you intertwined your idling fingers. Looked down at the union with a contented smile. "Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit. I didn't want to go back to my apartment yet." The reason why remained unspoken. "I know I can't avoid it forever, but for a little while at least, I just wanna not think."

Soft, familiar lips were on your forehead. Spoke against the skin. "You stay here as long as you need. My apartment and I are at your disposal." It was Taehyung's turn to loose himself from your febrile embrace. Your perspiration lacquered his fingers. "We're getting you some painkillers for that fever, at the very least. You don't have to stay in bed, but I want you on the sofa so I can keep an eye on you while I do some marking."

"Okay, dad."

Taehyung’s tongue danced over the tips of his teeth. "That's daddy to you, noona. Get those damp clothes off and get some of my pyjamas on, there's a set on the bed."

----

Your sentencing to the sofa had initially been met with resistance. Especially when Taehyung hovered, ever-watching, an eye on his papers and the other on your recalcitrant form. Your every attempt at productivity - even a surreptitious attempt to fold his laundry - had been met with soft but stern eyes and an escort back to your cologne-saturated prison. Jimin's stank had ingratiated itself with the fibres of Taehyung's cushions. No amount of deodorizer could reduce its cling. It did nothing but intensify the thudding behind your eyes.

And at first, you attributed your worsening nausea to that silly little redhead. But the lightheadedness followed swiftly after, and then the chills, and then that horrid, off feeling encroached, like your soul lagged behind every of your body's movements.

In the end, you begged for the bed. Taehyung's memory foam mattress and sweet-smelling pillows. Only, the sweet made you sick, and the memory foam only exacerbated all your indistinct aches. By early afternoon, despite his dutiful nursing of you, you tapped out of your brave-facing. Practically begged him to return you to your apartment, where all your remedies resided.

If there was something that united the men of your world, it was their haphazard approach to health crises. Taehyung possessed a pitiful two (2) painkillers. The nasty, round, chalky type that got you gagging. Expiry date: Last year. No hot water bottle, no frozen goods to improvise a cold compress. When questioned about his unreadiness in the face of illness, his reasoning was ridiculous. Sound, but ridiculous. 'I never get sick, so I don't need it.’ The painkillers were Jimin’s.

Hoseok and Yoongi were much the same. The former would simply turn up on your doorstep and check-in to your veritable inpatient clinic and expect private-tier care. For the latter, you'd have to make a house visit, because he never got sick, and he didn't need you fussing over him so. And yet he was the one that fell ill the most. The one that needed the most tender of care.

Sigh.

Today, you required it. And that was how you now found yourself back home, a day earlier than you would have preferred. You tottered out of Taehyung's car in your royal red slanket, pyjama pants dragging on wet asphalt. It took what waning stamina you possessed to gaze upward at the same balconies Jungkook strode yesterday. It was like looking on an untouched crime scene; as gloomily lit and ominous as it had been then.

Taehyung came to your side, and then a little in front, surveying that same sight. "Looks like he's gone, noona."

The relief that surged was medicine in itself. "Thank God. Let's go in, quickly." Your teeth chattered animatedly during the climb, even though you burned like the sun incarnate. Taehyung's arm was fast about your waist, steadying you on each of your Everestian steps. Collapse felt close at times, but when your vision began to fail it was the image of Jungkook's guilt-ridden face that rallied you onward. To fall, here, was to expose yourself to the risk of seeing it again.

And that could not happen.

"Do you have the keys—"

"Got 'em." Taehyung was ahead of you in every sense. With the dexterity he was inhibited from displaying earlier, he had your door open before you could reach him. "In you go, babe."

"Thanks." You loped past, unsteady. Unready to climb the flight of stairs immediately within. "Why do I have a maisonette?" The question was to no-one, or God.

Taehyung answered anyway. “Because you’re a woman of discerning taste.” Large hands found your blanketed backside, lending you their support. “Plus, when the bedroom’s upstairs, the neighbours can’t hear.”

“A valid point,” you ceded, beginning your ascent. Even with Taehyung - quite literally - bringing up the rear, your legs felt like those of an unpractised infant. It was astonishing just how quickly the virus had incapacitated you.

Still. The higher you climbed, the handsier Taehyung became. He stole squeezes of your rump with every step. Said it was incentive to keep going.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

After much of his unscrupulous groping, the laughter finally broke free. "Oh my God, you're being so shameless right now." Another shaky step. "I wish I had a stairmaster."

He wasn't done being outrageous. "Sit back and I'll stairmaster you all the way up, babe."

The giggling became painful. Welcome, but painful. "Stop."

At the top of the staircase, you stopped to compose your failing limbs. It was alarming just how vital you'd been this morning. This afternoon, you felt one laboured breath from death. "One sec."

"I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn't be going anywhere in your condition." His two, warm hands stabilised you from the back, preventing an inevitable tumble. "I coulda just bought more painkillers and whatever else you needed."

"It's alright, Tae. I had to come back at some point soon, anyway. My keys for the cafe are here and I'm opening tomorrow." Blotting the sweat from your brow, you advanced on unstable legs to the sofa and immediately crumpled onto its familiar comfort. "Plus, when I'm sick, I like to be sick at home."

"I don't think you'll be going into work tomorrow." By the time it took you to maneuver yourself onto your stomach, Taehyung was stood over you, hands emphatically on hips. "Look at you. Can't even get comfortable without exhausting yourself."

"I don't wanna let Hoseok down." Nor did you want to enlighten him to your current romantic quandry, though. Ugh. "But I do feel terrible. If I’m no better later, I might text him."

"Wow, I thought for sure it would take far more convincing than that," Taehyung snickered, eyes round with mock shock. He'd accumulated a number of dirty dishes from your coffee table in his hands. "Glad you're prepared to rest. Stay there and let me get whatever it is you need. I'll clean your place up a little as well, so don't stress about it."

"No—Tae—"

"Hush. Get the pyjama bottoms off, too, they're wet on the bottom."

You'd been shouldering so much discomfort that your freezing wet ankles had eluded you. A glance down. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know if I can, though." You flopped your feeble arms. "Too far to reach." Plus, Taehyung could undress you now. To disrobe in any other way was to squander the opportunity.

His mouth curved villainously. "Okay." Clap. "Let's see if I can do this in one swift move. Like a magician pulling a table cloth."

Before his proposition had entirely processed, he pinched the hems of your sodden pyjama bottoms and snatched them from your legs. "Wh—"

"Open sesame!"

Wheezy giggling filled the air. "Oh, it hurts to laugh. Fuck." Being semi-naked and comically incapacitated only heightened the hilarity. Taehyung straddled your legs, twirling the wet pants in triumph— "Oww. Oh my God, stop, I can’t—” More rasping laughter. “What even goes on in your head? Also, magicians don't shout open sesame when they do that shit."

"I do. That's why other magicians suck. They say the wrong words." He spoke it like he believed it, and for a moment he was again the boy from childhood, proclaiming the weirdest - but sincerest - of things. And now he was your loveable oddball. "Daddy's gonna get you some dry ones."

And there was the gross-ass man he'd grown into.

Nevermind.

"Okay, you're taking that in a direction I don't want to go in, Tae," you protested, flimsily, through persistent laughs. With a half-hearted kick, you nudged him toward your bedroom. "Hurry up, my ass is getting cold."

“A cold ass will do you good,” was his nonsensical retort. He wriggled out of his own, damp jeans as he went, gifting you the sight of his luscious ass in curve-hugging cotton.

You were appallingly close to catcalling take the boxers off too!, but in your current state you could barely lift a pinky, let alone give him the vigorous fucking he deserved.

---

A little channel-hopping later, Taehyung returned. Armed, coincidentally, with your favourite flannel bottoms. Yes, it was likely just coincidence, but the romantic in you posited destiny. "Legs up," he commanded. You did try, but the attempt was laughable. Taehyung's sigh hit the back of your thighs. "Listen here, lazy," he crooned, turning your body with the care one would an undercooked omelette. Pyjama pants in hand, he glowered down at your defiant face, brandishing them like a threat. "You gonna co-operate?"

"Nope." You turned your attention to the TV to stifle further laughter. Why you were hindering his attempts to help with your misbehaviour was anyone's guess. There was something irresistible about making trouble for him, though. Probably because Taehyung, too, was an unrepenting rascal.

"Okay then," was his equivocal response. You scrutinised him through narrowed eyes, waiting on his next, underhanded move.

Which was to tickle your feet. Underhanded indeed.

"Oh, God, no!" you yelped, cried, rasped for breath. Flailed your legs like a fawn on skates.

"Thought you couldn't move, huh? Huh?" Taehyung caught your ankles amidst their thrashing and pulled them through freshly-laundered flannel.

Once the pyjamas reached your knees, you relented in your nonsense and shot him a buoyant smile. "Thanks."

"Hips up."

This time, you were obedient.

And Taehyung was thankful. A fine smile shone back at you as he settled the waistband around your hips. Your smile, however, drifted. Awe replaced it as you stole glances at his beautifully-hewn features. He truly was sublime. The bridge of his nose was high and strong, its tip hosting the most precious of moles. Beneath his bottom lip there was another. These little details, of course, hadn’t escaped you before, but it was something to see them so close now. With time, you would kiss each and every of his chaotically placed moles.

When you recalled your gaze upward, Taehyung was watching you. The chocolate of his eyes was molten with feeling. Love and warmth irradiated him. "Can't believe you're mine now."

It was crucial that you kiss him.

You moved to do so. His lips were only a breath away. But then—

Three, distinct knocks.

You traded looks. Yours, petrified. His, outraged.

"Wait—"

But Taehyung's weight had already left you. An intimidating energy lingered in his wake as he strode toward the staircase, fists clenched. "I'll get that."

"Tae, no—"

The difficulty with which it took you to extricate yourself from your slanket was all the more frustrating for the urgency of the situation. You staggered, almost toppled, to catch him, but he'd already descended the steps by the time you reached the top. Damn those lovely, long legs of his. All you could do now was brace yourself on either bannister to prevent a gruesome fall. Because no amount of honeyed pleading was going to stop him. You peered, lightly nauseous, down the expanse of stair as Taehyung slung open the door.

It came as no surprise that it was Jungkook stood there, his doe-eyes wide.

It eviscerated your guts, nonetheless, to see him.

“Noona!”

At first, he lit up in elation. Perhaps he thought the door-answerer to be you. When Taehyung’s identity became clear, however, that elation morphed. First, to shock. Your long-legged lover wasn’t wearing pants, after all. But when Jungkook spied you at the back all shy, sadness again descended upon him. It was a sadistic hope that your sickly appearance intensified that upset. That it fueled his guilt for having decimated you. With every, shredded fibre of your being, you wished Jungkook hurt.

“Thank you for answering the door,” he began with an earnest bow, as though he didn’t know just how much you abhorred him. “H—”

"I answered the door. What do you want?" Taehyung straddled the doorframe, asserting his dominance over the territory. Jungkook's every attempt to look past him was foiled. The lissom man angled himself obstructively, and yet you sought Jungkook's face, too. Wanted to glimpse the heartbreaker for yourself, like he was some loathsome thing of legend. Like it was hard to believe you'd looked into that face just yesterday and seen the world. "Don't you ever give up?" he added, his patience sounding pencil-thin.

After several, weighty seconds of silence, Jungkook eventually acknowledged Taehyung's existence. Addressed him earnestly. "I know I'm not welcome here. I just want a couple of minutes with ____ to explain what she saw—" A derisive snort threatened to cut him off, so he continued hastily, and louder— "—Not for my benefit. For hers. I don't want her to—to—" Choked with frustration, Jungkook thrust himself into your sightline. Implored you with large, gleaming eyes. "I don't want you to blame yourself in any way."

You despised how pregnable you were under his gaze. Like imminent, avoidable death, it became impossible to look away. The void called. There, in his desolate eyes. He wanted you to join him.

No, Jungkook didn’t need you anymore. What he wanted was absolution. At great personal cost to you. But whatever he wished, no matter how detrimental, you would likely grant.

Because as much as you hated him, you loved him.

“I—”

But you loved Taehyung, too.

“____?” And he was there, soft voice enticing you back toward the light. Back toward his pretty face and tender-hearted intentions. There was no hurt to be had with Taehyung.

"I don't,” you spat, clear-minded once more. “I don’t blame myself, Jungkook. Only you.”

But you did blame yourself. Every second since, in fact.

Too fat, too boring, too ugly, too old, too much baggage—

It mustn't have been too convincing an outburst. Jungkook's mouth remained a thin, grim line. And those fucking eyes of his were so fucking ridiculously big and sad and—fuck!

It was all too much.

Mercifully, Taehyung was composed enough to mediate. You, however, were on the brink of emotional - and physical - collapse. "You heard her." Again, he filled out the doorframe. Stood provocatively close to the man in front. "You fucked up majorly. Actually—" Taehyung leaned in. His baritone dived lower. "You're lucky we're not alone right now."

Jungkook did not recoil an inch. Neither did he square up, though. He just stood, toe-to-toe with Taehyung, receiving the vitriol.

"You've imparted your message. You’re too late. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Are you finally going to go?"

At that, something bubbled within Jungkook. It shook his frame, balled his fists. Blinking came more rapidly. And then— "I know all that, dude. Look, I’m not here to fight with you. I appreciate what you’re doing, and that you’re protecting her, but I just—I need to talk to noona—to ___ a little longer. Privately. I just need a little more time. Please. Let me get the words out."

Taehyung bore impossibly close. "You don't need more time."

Jungkook’s mouth opened, combatively downturned. But whatever he meant to launch next was stymied when you took one, noodly step down the stairs. Taehyung turned toward the movement, and Jungkook peered past. It was then that he clocked just how arduous it was for you to move. “Noona? Are you okay?”

Dizzyness crowded your peripheral vision. But Jungkook was front and centre, and so painfully clear, that the influenza quietened. "I don't want to see you, Jungkook. I’m pretty sure I got that across yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? What if I don’t even want to hear your damn sob story?"

He fell mute when your words reached him. Like he could scarcely believe you'd deigned him worthy of directly addressing. Palms pressed together and with his mouth agape, he looked the picture of a supplicant.

But he was unworthy.

No, I am.

You hung your head again. It was strenuous on your neck; weighing like a cannonball. "I don't want to stand here all day, Jungkook. Fucking say something. Why did you come here if—"

"Because I love you!” he gasped. “I love you, and—"

"Bullshit you do!"

It came from Taehyung, not you. He'd turned back, teeth bared, no longer saying but growling. There he was. Your guard dog. The leash was straining. "You don't love someone and hide a fucking fiancee, you piece of shit." Jungkook flinched at Taehyung's ferocity, but remained stalwart on his spot. Curled his lip instead. "You blew it. Now go."

Jungkook shook his head suddenly, violently. Flung rain from his hair and onto the walls. "This has nothing to do with you!" The bridge of his nose scrunched tight and bared not bunny teeth, but fangs.

Taehyung swatted away the finger poised aggressively at his chest. Stepped closer, but didn't stop. No, he bumped him back toward the threshold with his chest. "It does now. Read between the lines, dumbass."

Jungkook was ineffably innocent. “What do you mean?” He stared into Taehyung’s narrowed eyes to glean more meaning.

And then he gulped.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Taehyung’s immodestly nude legs, and clarity began to dawn. It astounded you how little reaction Taehyung’s state of undress had initially garnered from Jungkook. But now he was giving the situation its due attention.

A few, unmoving moments later, he gulped again. Harder this time, like something tangibly obstructed his speech. “N-Noona?” It was a mere rasp.

When Jungkook looked back, eyes glossy with devastation, your heart tore again. Right along its freshly-stitched seams. You tried desperately to avert your gaze, but the void shimmering back at you was dense. His voice reached for you again. "____?"

Your name, alien in tone, was what finally closed your eyes. Fresh tears ran down established tracks. You turned away, grip on the bannisters dubious.

"You and—him?" Jungkook gasped, so quietly, so pained, it was like agonal breath.

You crumpled as if stomped on. Your chest was ablaze, and you wanted so desperately to clutch at it. To smother it. To cradle your torso as it caved once more. But you were too impaired to move. Instead, you stood there, frozen and hunched, crying uglier than you could remember ever letting anyone see. Staring at your toes as the carpet caught your tears.

But why? You should be overjoyed to shatter him as he had you.

"Get it? Now go." Taehyung sighed, all the fight siphoning from him. He backed up from Jungkook and went monotone. "You've upset ___. Again. This is your last warning. Get going."

Predictably, Jungkook didn't budge. In the ensuing silence, however, he didn't plead his case as he once would have done. No, something about him was changed. An aggrieved aura hugged him, expanded, until— "Last warning? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung." His eyes, once brimming with tears, now seared with a fury. Even Taehyung looked taken aback. The outburst came sharp despite its gentle source. Again, Jungkook thrust forward an accusing finger. "Don't pretend you're better than me. You're selfish. I knew you couldn't wait to get your dick in her. I knew it ever since we saw you at the movies and you looked so fucking jealous—"

The gasp that exited you was so heavy with outrage it almost took you with it. You gripped the bannisters tighter, wobbled down two further steps. You had to de-escalate this. Somehow. "Jungkook!"

He granted you a brief, guilt-ridden side-glance before once again affixing his target with a glare. "You were just waiting for your moment, weren't you? Didn't want her 'til I had her. Couldn't bear the thought of your closest friend not being one of your conquests."

“Shut the fuck up!”

You didn't make it in time. Not before Taehyung wound back his elbow and snapped it forward, a hard, coiled fist on its end. It landed, brutal and blunt, on Jungkook's jaw. A dull, fleshy thud resounded, but to you it was like a gunshot. And so was the way his head and body whipped away, spiralling until his knees buffered his fall.

"Oh my G—Jungkook!"

The younger man, crouched away as he was, breathed deep, coppery air. Smeared his mouth along his sleeve, leaving red where it touched. And then, standing, he glared hatred at Taehyung. His shoulders shuddered with untethered anger. "You—"

"It's more than that for me. I can't say the same for you," Taehyung cut in, surveying his reddened knuckles. He flexed his fingers for feeling. "Fucking cheater."

Distracted, Taehyung was unprepared for the solid hunk of human that caught him around his midsection. Jungkook tackled him without caution, throwing his entire, intimidating mass into Taehyung's lankier frame. The two surged into the ground, clawing and grappling at the other's limbs, eyes wild, lips stretched back from teeth.

"Stop!"

"Oh my God, stop it!"

Neither listened. They were feral. Both heard only the rush of blood.

Knowing you must intervene, you manipulated your ragdollish limbs into descending the last half dozen steps. It was then, after an elongated struggle, Jungkook clambered atop Taehyung and fisted the collar of his shirt, glaring daggers enough to maim him.

“You’re so fucking smug—”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who fucked up!” Taehyung crowed from beneath, maniacal. He taunted Jungkook with an angular grin, like he wasn’t the one at disadvantage.

“Shut up!”

Once your feet met ground, you crumbled to your knees, Taehyung's head of hair between them. The sneer he brandished fell when he caught sight of your sweat-soaked face. Pitifully you pressed against Jungkook's shoulders, dissuading him from further violence. You felt like a toreador pushing on 1800lbs of charging bull. Jungkook didn't even so much as register your attempts until you wheezed out, "P-Please stop."

He did. He went rigid, in fact. Trembled, when he became aware of your touch. His rage evaporated and the boy that sat there was no longer a bull but a meek little kit. Trepidation rolled from Jungkook in waves, and he would not meet your eyes.

Why?

Was he now repulsed by you?

How could he judge you for your indiscretion when he—he—!

No. It wasn't an indiscretion. What you did with Taehyung held no moral ambiguity.

It occurred to you, then, that the pair of you hadn't been so close since the last time you were intimate. And happy. Though damp, Jungkook's familiar, and once comforting scent, brushed your nostrils. Perhaps your proximity was what flustered him.

When he finally met your gaze, you knew it to be true. He didn't look upon you with the anger nor revulsion you expected. Not anything obvious, anyway. Instead it was the wide-eyed wonder from your first date. The shyness. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to revisit it.

But then his brows drooped low in remorse. "Noona," he called to you like you were far away. Pined for you. Taehyung's shirt fell from his clutches, and you found his hands on your elbows instead, propping up your drooping form.

Feverish before, you were positively boiling now. To have his gentle palms on you again, no matter the circumstance, was a threat to your hastily-cobbled retreat. His fingertips told you, as they caressed your inner elbow, that any other man's hands would never do. And yet - you squirmed feebly, recalling it - those hands had been on, been in some other woman's body. And that would never do. "Don't touch me, J-Jungkook. Not with those hands."

But it was his hands that stirred your heart into uproar.

No. It was simply the flu. Nothing more. It influenced your body in the oddest ways.

And there was someone that had pumped your blood for far longer.

You cast your eyes to where Taehyung lay, honey hair a halo about his head and eyes only for you. Love bloomed fiercely in the bowels of your heart. “You really don’t look very good.” He made to push Jungkook off, but the younger man was already up on his knees, scanning your wan complexion.

"Are you burning up?" Jungkook murmured, his lips a line of concern. "You feel hot." Again he clasped your elbows, testing along their length for temperature. When he reached your upper arms, he was bold enough to advance on your neck, thumbs either side the line of your jaw. To your great shame, though you attributed it in most part to the fever, you enjoyed Jungkook's handling. "Your glands are out. And—" he pressed a cool, clammy palm to your clammier forehead. Spellbound, your eyes closed. "Yeah, you're even hotter up here, noona."

"No shit, dumbass," Taehyung growled from above. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer supine but towering over the two of you, fingers twitching by his sides. You foresaw Jungkook's imminent scalping if you weren't quick to intervene. "You chased her into torrential rain. She's sick, asshole, and it's your fault."

But there was no need to intervene. Jungkook didn't anger again. Nor did he stare down the man spitting insults. His focus remained fixed on you. On the damage he'd done. The deadened, bloodshot eyes, the pallid skin, the absence of joy. Of understanding. "I-I'm sorry," was all he could think to say? Again?

Desperate, you implored him for more with forlorn eyes. Begged him for sense. Practically mouthed the word please. It would be nothing you wanted to hear, but perhaps hearing it could bring closure. Some semblance of peace, eventually, in some far-off year.

Jungkook stared back, ruminating, and you knew there was no sense to be found. None that you wanted, anyway. Jungkook was a liar, an adulterer, a manipulator—

"Alright, you said sorry again. Time to go." Taehyung hauled him up by his underarms and, hopefully, away from you forever. It was a credit to him for tolerating Jungkook’s presence for so long. Especially when all he did was regurgitate the same, tired shit. "Don't come here again, or I'll call the cops," he snarled to Jungkook's ear, spittle flying. With a grip on the scruff of Jungkook's jacket, he whirled him toward the door.

"She's not my fiancee!"

Taehyung paused. As did you, in your agonised ascent into standing.

"She's not my fiancee," Jungkook repeated over his shoulder, looking for you over his gathering jacket. "I wanted to talk to you about it calmly, and in private. It's not simple, and it’s hard to believe."

"Don't lie to me n-now, Jungkook." The finger with which you jabbed at him, trembled. "I asked you that. You said she was."

Taehyung's expression darkened by the second. It would devolve into another brawl at this rate, and you didn't want that. Not because you didn't want to see Jungkook get served, but because you didn't want him in your presence another gut-wrenching moment.

Brazenly, Jungkook yanked himself from Taehyung's grip and turned, palms up and pacifying. He inched back toward the door; a gesture of his intent to finally leave. "Look. It's because technically she is, but it's not real—I'm going, asshole!—" Jungkook waved his arms demonstratively at the nearing door. Having appeased Taehyung, he pinned you again with fervent eyes. "What you saw wasn't the truth. If you won't hear me out entirely, at least hear that.”

“No-one believes you. Everything you say is a fucking contradiction.” Taehyung was red and riled again.

Jungkook ignored him, his time short. “I won't text you anymore, I won't come here anymore. What I’ve done to you is unforgivable. I know that. I should never have lied. But—" The lamp outside illuminated his bedraggled hair. The tip of his nose when he turned. "You know my number if you do want to hear me out. I'll be around for a bit longer.”

A bit longer?

You granted him the minutest of nods.

It was enough. Nodding back, Jungkook turned on his heel and flew around the corner. And though he was gone, his silhouette stayed seared into your retinas, haunting your every blink. It was only when Taehyung replaced him in the doorway that Jungkook faded. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you back on the sofa.”

Wow, he was tall.

Oh.

Somehow, you were on the floor again. You squinted up at him with sore, watering eyes, overwhelmed by it all. You reached for him like an infant would its parent, too vulnerable to move, and too stupid to know better. “Okay.”

"It’s been a shitty day, but I’m gonna try and make it better. Why don’t we have a Netflix nostalgiafest?" Taehyung cooed into your sodden hair, no minding the sweat. He wound your arms around his neck, legs about his waist and chauffered you up the stairs, grunting by the step. Exaggerating the effort by comedic amounts in order to provoke you.

“Sure.”

But you were far, far away. Hidden behind your glazed eyes, the encounter replayed on loop. Lingered on Jungkook's Disney eyes and big buck teeth. The ones you loved back when he deserved to be loved. The nonsense he spouted toward the end was of particular interest in your mental re-runs, even though it should have immediately been dismissed.

'What you saw wasn't the truth.'

But neither was his relationship with you. Not when he kept such weighty secrets as sport.

'I'll be around for a bit longer.'

And that? Another of his manipulative tactics? Was he really leaving, or merely dangling the threat of it?

But why would it be a threat? You wanted nothing more than him to be gone.

Oh, it was all so bad. Everything was bad. Everything was too much, and, oh, even being in your body was too much, let alone your mind. You were drowning in affliction. Assailed from all sides with nothing for defense.

"Babe."

All went black, and then you opened your eyes. Taehyung stood over you, mouth downturned. Cotton caressed your naked skin, and you knew these were your sheets. This was your bed. Your lover had stripped you of your oppressive pyjamas. You stared at the mole on his nose, the one under his bottom lip. One, two. You could count to two.

"Are you doing okay? Your fever really spiked there. Should I call a doctor?"

“No, no.”

Perhaps you'd simply hallucinated the entire encounter. Perhaps it was your mind's exercise in catharsis. Or perhaps Jungkook had never existed to begin with, and his betrayal was the product of a detailed fever dream. Taehyung was real, though, and here he was still. Your forever best friend. Your secret love. You had not yet confessed your love to this real Taehyung. But now you were awake, you would seize the chance. Because if there was one thing your prolonged nightmare had taught you, it was that you should have just done it to begin with. On the porch those years ago, when the stars weighed heavy over his head and dared you to kiss him.

"I love you," you rasped, sounding like Death's next call.

And just like it should have happened then, Taehyung lowered his face to yours. "I love you too, noona," he murmured through a joyous smile, brushing together your noses first, lips second. "But it's time for your next dose of painkillers. We gotta get this in you ‘cause your fever’s really mounting. Pretty sure you’ve been hallucinating. It’s worrying me. I’m this close—” he pinched together his fingers— “to calling a doctor. I don't think that asshole turning up did you much good."

Brainless, you repeated. "No doctor. Asshole?"

"Yeah, Jungkook." A tray of painkillers dangled from the corner of Taehyung’s mouth while he poured water. "Lying douchebag. Who, by the way, will not be working at the school anymore. Not if I have something to say about it."

The words went in, but floated right back out. The ceiling swirled.

"Oh." He was real.

Of course, you knew that. Even in the murk of fever it was apparent. Still, it’d been nice to pretend for a while.

The sound of preparation ceased and the mattress dipped. Taehyung extended your next dose and a glass of water to you. His expression was no longer so sunny, but clouded with disquiet. "Talk to me, ____. I know you're sick, but that's not all that's going on in that muddled head of yours. It might help to talk. I know you don’t like it, but you don’t have to be afraid. Just try it."

It was a credit to your weakened state that you were so loose-lipped. You downed the pills and curled around Taehyung's seated position, molding to his lap. "I'm just—I don't know." Your cheek was hot against his thigh. His Calvin Klein waistband stared back at you. "I don't want to be sad anymore. I'm so, so sad. It's unbearable. I can't handle much as it is. It doesn't take a lot to drag me down, but this, this—" Tears welled. Taehyung's slender fingers were there to catch them. "This feels almost too much. Even with you here. It's like I'm locked in a mental prison."

"I know, babe," he whispered, stroking your face free of limpid hair. "It's gonna take a while to feel better, like it does with any big change. What he did to you was villain material. Of course you're going to be devastated." For once, you listened. "You don't owe him forgiveness, though he tried his damned best to get it. For his own selfish satisfaction, I'm sure. And you don't owe him anything else, either, not even the thoughts in your brain. Though I know that's gonna take a while, too. I'm sure it's all you can think about." You nodded, snuffled into your blanket until it was wet. A sob felt ripe for eruption. "The flu won't make things easier, either. You're not losing your mind. You just need rest. And when you're not resting, distraction. I'm on hand for the latter." All that he said was all that you craved to hear. A tremulous smile - of relief, of gratitude - wobbled into place. Taehyung must have seen. "That's it, babe. It won't always be this bad, okay?"

You nodded, marring his exemplary thighs with a variety of unpleasant excretions. "Ugh. Sorry." You’d been intimate just one day with Taehyung and you were already establishing yourself as a repellent bog monster. Usually that happens at least 3 years in.

Taehyung merely chuckled. Kept the tissue box out of reach when you moved for it, thinking himself funny. It was only upon your panicked pleas of oh my god, snot’s gonna go in my mouth, that he finally indulged you. By wiping your nose for you, cooing all the while. "That better, little baby?"

Your face spelt vexation. But inwardly, yes, yes, it was better.

Taehyung made you so.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #taehyung #kim taehyung #jungkook angst #taehyung angst #jungkook scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts angst #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #wylei

1K notes · View notes