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babysungs · 2 years

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[eleven] in every cosmos | han jisung smau

11 - grafias

words : 1.7k

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a/n : omg a double upload from user babysungs :o my brain was going crazy about writing this part and i coukdnt help myself!! bit of a longer written chapter but i think its worth it :) i didnt edit it too much so i hope there arent many mistakes!! enjoy :)

Opening the door to the restaurant you were expecting many more people than there were, only seeing two people, but you supposed that it was for the better. Big crowds werent really your thing anyway.

hey binnie!! im here waiting for you :)

No response.

I guess its to be expected, you were here about thirty minutes earlier than you were supposed to be. He was probably just leaving his apartment. Still, you couldnt help but be weary at the fact that he hadnt bothered to read your message.

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes had gone by without a single message from changbin. Surely he should be here soon, unless he wasnt planning on coming at all. You were confused and a tiny bit hurt, failing miserably at not jumping to conclusions way too early. Were you being stood up? Could you even be stood up if this wasnt a date? Had he found out about your affection towards him and now wants to make a joke out of you? What exactly was going o-

Ding.

The door had opened. You looked up in anticipation, praying desperately to see Changbin walk through the clear glass door that you had been watching like a hawk for the longest thirty minutes of your life.

… Jisung? you thought to yourself

Great, first you get stood up then the one person who manages to make you feel like shit at every encounter shows up. Just fucking great.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung questions, putting an emphasis on the “you” as if you werent allowed to eat in public. “Waiting for your little boyfriend I assume.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You had never been more confused in your life. Since when did you have a boyfriend?

“Yeah. Your boyfriend. Changbin?”

You couldn’t help but become a bit flushed at the thought of Changbin bein considered your boyfriend, though it like would never happen.

“Jisung what the fuck are you talking about right now? Changbin is not my boyfriend” you shoot back starting to get annoyed.

“Oh dont act like you two arent together. I should have known since the first day I saw you guys on a date at that stupid cafe.” Jisung was also starting to get annoyed. How could you and Changbin keep denying your relationship when he had seen it for himself?

“Dude we had JUST met that day. We didnt even know each other”

“Yeah I call bullshit but sure.”

“Okay you know fucking what Jisung-“ you started, completely ready to rip the taller brunette to shreds at this point though you were interrupted.

“Alright calm down lets not overreact please.” That voice was all too familiar.

“Changbin??? What the fuck are you doing here I thought you were standing me up!” you were completely enraged at this point. Not only had Jisung riled you up but now Changbin was standing here acting as if he hadnt kept you waiting for what felt like hours?

“Y/n, I didnt stand you up I promise,” Changbin starts, “please just let me and seungmin explain before you chop my head off.”

“Seungmin what the fuck dude??” Jisung was equally as stunned and not-so-equally as enraged as you were.

“Ji just shut up and listen to Changbin please.”

Everyone got quiet allowing Changbin the floor to explain what kind of weird misunderstanding they were in now.

“You and Y/n have some weird beef with each other that you need to talk about. I think you both have some misconceptions about each other and you need to work them out now because constantly being in the middle of this is so tiring. I hate fighting with either of you to defend the other when both of you are my closest friends.”

Friends. Right. The word stings in your chest as you had almost forgotten what you were to Changbin. His friend, nothing more nothing less.

“Oh whatever you cant force me to talk to them.” Jisung spits, pulling you out of your own head.

“Trust me I dont want to be here more than you do.”

“See. That right there. It needs to stop” Changbin continues visibly aggravated, “youre both staying here until you can work out whatever weird fucking tension there is between you.”

Changbin and Seungmin walk towards the door leaving you and a very confused and peeved Jisung standing closer than you realize at first.

“We’re locking you in. Please try talk it out and try to get along” Changbin says as hes locking the door.

“Where did you even get the key???”

“I rented the place out for a day. Good luck!” He throws two thumbs up and walks away with Seungmin.

Great.

“Dickheads” Jisung mutters under his breath, “why do I have to be stuck here with you.”

Now you were seriously getting upset. It wasnt even anger, just pure sadness at the fact that one of your biggest idols, the man you looked up to and loved most out of any musician to walk the earth, hated you so much he regarded you amongst the trash of the earth. He held such disdain for you and you had no idea why.

“Jisung. Why do you hate me so much? What have I done?” you ask desperately trying not to let the tears slip

“Are you serious?” he scoffs, until he looks at you and sees the deadly serious expression on your exhausted face. “.. Fine. I hate you because not only did you completely ignore my existence when Changbin first brought you to the studio, you also stole him from us. He stopped hanging out with us to hang out with you all the time until I called him out for it. I get youre his partner but fucks sake he needs to make time for his best friends and music partners too.”

Jisung watched as your face went from serious to utterly confused when he started explaining. It mad him even more mad at you, how could you be such a terror in his life and act like you dont know anything about it?

“I think Changbin was right when he said there were big misunderstandings between us.” Jisung scoffed loudly at your start, not believing you for a second. “Jisung let me finish before you blow everything im about to say off. Please.”

You saw Jisungs expression change as he settled himself into the booth you were both sitting at. “Alright fine. Go ahead.”

“Thank you. For starters, I didnt ignore you. I said hi to you and tried to talk to you several times but you either just didnt answer or couldnt hear me. But I tried really hard to make conversation and get to know you, I would never in a million years pass up the chance to befriend my favorite musician in the world”

Jisung did not expect those words to come out of your mouth in a million years. He could feel his heartbeat pick up a bit, choosing to ignore it as if it werent happening. “And Im not dating Changbin. At all. We’re honestly just good friends and even if i were dating him, strong if, I would never take up all of his time especially when I know how important your friendship is and how busy you guys get. That is not the type of person I am at all and maybe you could never come to like me or be friends with me but please dont think of me so harshly. I really didnt mean to make you feel that way about me. Im sorry.”

He was dumbfounded. Truly blown away at the fact that he was so quick to judge you and hate you for something that was completely his fault, and that you were the one who felt bad and even apologized. Jisung realized what an asshole he had been to someone who did not deserve it in the slightest.

“Y/n I-“ you quickly cut him off, not prepared to be berated by him again.

“Please dont say anything I understand you dont like me but I cant take-“

“Let me finish.” Jisung had gently rested his hand on your forearm, which had been laying on the table. His hands were so soft and he was holding your arm so tenderly- wait. Why is your heart racing so fast? He noticed your flushed face and eyes that kept glancing at his hand on you and he couldnt help but smile to himself a bit.

You nodded your head, signaling to Jisung that he could continue.

“I was going to say Im sorry. I had no idea that I was the problem this whole time and treated you so badly for nothing. Truthfully I felt bad about being mean to you because I thought you actually could be nice but I was stubborn and felt like you deserved my hate. I am so sorry.”

“Oh … its okay. Thank you for apologizing.” Your voice had gone quiet, not expecting Jisung to be so warm and kind to you. You tried relentlessly to ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach.

“Of course. So ..” the man started, smiling to himself a bit, “your favorite musician in the whole world huh?”

Shit. You didnt even realize you said that. You could feel his confidence dripping from that stupid smirk on his face.

“Pffft whaaaat who said that that wasnt me I dont even know you who are you again?”

“Yeah okay whatever at least I have something to brag to Changbin about when we leave here.” he laughs, “Friends?“

Jisung mentally curses himself for sticking his hand out when he feels the warmth from yours meet him in the middle, the motion only making his heart beat faster. He prayed desperately hoping you couldnt hear it thumping out of his chest.

“Friends.”

You both shake on it with smiles, both trying to ignore that fluttering feeling in your chests growing bigger the longer you held hands.

Though neither of you would never admit this, you both were overthinking the rest of your time together waiting for Changbin and Seungmin to get back with the keys. You kept on with your conversation, talking about any and everything to keep yourselves from dying of boredom and hunger, but neither of you knew that the other was having the same thoughts deep in the back of their minds.

Why does my heart keep racing when im next to you?

taglist | @gyuville @kikivonpoopyhead @sohyeappy @enaluvs @mits-vi @spikertrash @dynarvot

bold means i cant tag!! sorry :(

#in every cosmos #skz han #han jisung #han jisung social media au #han x reader #han x y/n #jisung smau #crack au #crack smau #jisung au #jisung angst #jisung angst to fluff #jisung fluff

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indigowallbreaker · 3 years

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Felix/Ferdinand for Felix feels?

(Last of the Felix Feels Frenzy prompts! Thanks again, everyone. This was fun! Maybe I’ll try again with others characters in future.)

Ferdinand threw open the apartment door, kicked it shut again, let his work bag fall to the kitchen floor, and crossed the small apartment to the couch. Rain water dripped from his hair, free from the ponytail he usually sported at the end of the day.

Felix paused his video game as Ferdinand sat heavily beside him. “Rough day?’

Ferdinand nodded miserably.

“Go change. Shut up, you’ll be uncomfortable until you do,” Felix added bluntly when Ferdinand opened his mouth to protest. Scowling, Ferdinand stood and shuffled off into the bedroom. Once Felix heard the sound of clothes rustling, he too stood up and moved into the kitchen to turn on their electric kettle.

A mug and some Almyran Pine tea leaves were already set out. When Ferdinand hadn’t come home on time, Felix had assumed his bad morning had become a bad day and prepared accordingly. The kettle did its thing while Felix briefly went back to the TV to switch to a different game-- an arcade-style fighting game with a soundtrack Ferdinand loved and weapons system Felix prized.

By the time Ferdinand emerged again, Felix had the tea waiting on the side table and was halfway through his second match against a high-level computer player. Ferdinand took his seat again, already looking less frazzled than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felix asked, eyes on the screen.

“...No. Thank you for the tea.”

Felix leaned back into the couch, holding his arms a little higher. “It’s too hot to drink right now. Lay down.”

With a sigh that sounded close to a whine, Ferdinand did as instructed, resting his head in Felix’s offered lap and facing the game. Felix simply kept playing.

The second match finished with Felix as the victor, as expected, and the character select screen popped up for round three. Felix idly scrolled through the characters with one hand and tangled the other in Ferdinand’s hair. It was still slightly damp.

Ferdinand melted at the touch. He let out a content hum and tucked his legs closer, scrunched up like a lap dog. Felix held in a chuckle as the comparison leapt to mind. “Do you want to order dinner from Bergliez Bites?” He asked, petting Ferdinand’s hair. “Ashe sent me a coupon.”

“Mm, it was my turn to cook tonight. We must use that chicken before it goes bad.”

“I’ll throw it in the freezer.”

Unsurprisingly, Ferdinand didn’t argue the point further. “Very well then.” He twisted to look up at Felix. “I did not even ask-- how was your day?”

Felix shrugged. “Same old crap. Who should I play as next?”

Ferdinand’s attention went back to the game. Felix kept running his fingers through those ginger waves, hoping-- foolishly-- to soothe away whatever plagued his boyfriend. “The blue haired woman near the bottom. I forget her name. The one who wields the glowing spatha.”

Felix toggled over. “Can I use her masked alt?”

“As you like.”

The next round began and Felix let go of Ferdinand’s hair to play properly. They didn’t speak for a while. Occasionally Ferdinand let out a noise of approval when Felix pulled off a good combo, but otherwise they simply let the music wash over them as rain pelted the window.

After two more rounds, Ferdinand sat up. “I will get the menu.” He turned to Felix and kissed him. Felix hit the pause button blindly, leaning into the kiss and gratefully to feel some of the tension leave Ferdinand. “Thank you,” Ferdinand said against his lips.

“All I did was make tea,” Felix returned even as his cheeks warmed.

Ferdinand chuckled. “So you did.” Getting up, Ferdinand retrieved his mug from the table and went into the kitchen. Felix watched him for a moment, watched him smile softly as he opened the cabinet beside the fridge to find their menus.

Letting out a sigh through his nose, Felix went back to the game, confident that Ferdinand would soon return to his normal, annoying, lovable self.

#felix hugo fraldarius #ferdinand von aegir #ferdilix #fire emblem three houses #felix fire emblem #ferdinand fire emblem #yes thats lucina have i mentioned yet this week that i love her dearly #that may be the ship name it may not be who knows #flex #which is MY name for them #fe3h #felix feels frenzy #writing this made me want tea so guess what #okay there were too many little mistakes so i edited a tiny bit

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

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Hug me again, I don't feel good

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt: Fever @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids members always tended to drown their maknae in affection and although he always pretended to hate it, Jeongin secretly liked it. As long as the didn’t undermine his independence that is. Him pretending to hate their hugs, led to the members toning it down a bit, only going full out when they were in a teasing mood and felt like going on their youngest’s nerves. Today they had had to get up early, having a packed schedule ahead of them and not having slept much, the mood ranged from sleepy to grumpy. Jeongin certainly fell into the latter category. He wasn’t usually moody when he was tired but when he was woken up this morning, he felt more exhausted than he had when going to bed the previous night. As soon as they were in the car, he leaned his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, dozing off again. Considering it was a rather long drive, most of them were trying to get a few more moments of shut eye. Their day would start with a photo shoot, followed by an interview and an afternoon of dance practice. To say Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to it would have been an understatement. He didn’t mind the photo shoot, which was comparably the least tiring activity of the day. The interview wasn’t too bad either but he really dreaded their dance practice, feeling too tired to move. Maybe he’d just need to wake up properly and he’d feel more energized over the course of the day.

While they took turns getting their make-up done, the group slowly started to come to life more. Chan had had his second coffee of the day, making the mistake of getting Felix one too, who was now going through a variety of fortnite dances and hyping Jisung up. The rapper didn’t even need coffee to go crazy, merely someone else he was sharing a braincell with. Together the two tried their hardest to get a reaction from Changbin by annoying him but the older kept a straight face, simply ignoring the pair. At some point, even Chan joined them. Minho and Hyunjin had originally started planning their dance practice but had soon gone over to teasing each other, which escalated to Minho threatening his dongsaeng. Seungmin and Jeongin really seemed like the most normal ones in the group. On other days, Jeongin might have joined his hyungs, having fun and fooling around but today he just couldn’t seem to shake his sleepy haze. Maybe he should get himself a coffee too, since it seemed to have worked wonders on Chan and Felix. Unfortunately, the photo shoot started before Jeongin had the chance to get coffee but the boy pushed the thought away. Busying himself would certainly do the trick too.

The photo shoot didn’t go as well as Jeongin would have liked. Usually, he had no issues with the bright lights surrounding him but they sure made the temperature on set toasty. The maknae was sweating much more than he was used to during photo shoots, even having to get his make-up retouched multiple times. This wasn’t like him and it was humiliating. The staff already clicking their tongues at the boy constantly needing his make-up fixed. Aside from the humiliation, Jeongin felt plainly disgusting with his clothes sticking to him. As his mood was dwindling, his discomfort became more apparent to himself and to the photographer, who kept reminding him to smile authentically. How could he smile authentically right now? He was sore from exercising the previous day, he was burning in his skin, his clothes stuck to him and pretty much everyone on set was annoyed with him. No, smiling seemed like the least thing he wanted to do right now, yet Jeongin always smiled. Maybe not as convincingly as usual but he smiled.

The more time passed, the more the hectic surroundings were getting to him. He was pretty much melting in the thick clothes and was slowly developing a headache, with how bright everything was. The flashing lights were worse though, leaving him feeling disoriented as he tried to follow the instructions given to him as fast as possible in hopes of getting things over with. Sweat was beading his forehead but instead of sending him to get his make up retouched once again, the photographer decided to take a few last pictures, which he’d edit later on, before releasing the boy back to the waiting area. A few of the members still needed to get their individual shots taken, so it was rather quiet back there. Jeongin debated removing his make-up completely but he didn’t want to bother anyone to put another full make-up on him for their interview later. This wasn’t his first photo shoot, so why had he been struggling so badly? In a matter of minutes, the smile he had plastered on, faltered and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Then another. Pursing his lips, Jeongin tried his hardest to calm down and hold the tears back. He didn’t want to mess up his make-up even more. The harder he tried though, the harder it got to keep it together. Yet he only allowed himself tiny, quiet sniffles after already being a burden to so many people so early in the day. He just wanted to be professional.

His efforts were in vain though, when Chan entered the waiting area after finishing his shots. He knew his dongsaeng well enough and calmly went over hugging the younger. “What’s up?”, the leader hummed, taking a step back when Jeongin tensed in his arms. The maknae was already sweating and he didn’t want to be touched, feeling as disgusting as he felt at the moment. “Frustrated”, Jeongin muttered, avoiding eye contact with his hyung, “was holding everyone back with how often I needed to get my make-up fixed.” – “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everyone who’s stood under those floodlights will understand. It does get toasty there sometimes”, Chan assured. He knew he’d probably feel the same if he was in Jeongin’s position, so he made a mental note to make sure the boy wouldn’t get teased for it. The maknae had already accepted that crying had ruined his make-up beyond what could be fixed and accepted the make-up wipe his hyung handed him. Still sniffling quietly, he scrubbed at his face to get it all off. He already contemplated what to tell the staff, who’d need to reapply everything for their interview earlier. At some point, he had managed to pull himself together but still looked a bit gloomy, besides, his face had taken a flushed pink shade, probably from how roughly he had rubbed it. Handing him a bottle of water, Chan sighed: “You feeling better now?” Jeongin shrugged. Did he? He was still just as hot as he had been previously and his head still hurt, through he wasn’t as disoriented. It was nice and quiet now, there were less people and it was less bright, so he had probably just gotten overwhelmed earlier. “I think today’s just not really my day”, he pouted, “I feel like I still haven’t managed to wake myself up and my head hurts from all the chaos.” – “Should we go and get you some coffee? Might at least help for the interview”, Chan offered, “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Chan took his dongsaeng to a coffee shop nearby. They could have gotten coffee somewhere closer but he wanted to give the younger some space from their work environment. Jeongin however shuddered the moment he stepped foot outside the building. It wasn’t cold outside but the temperature change messed with his body. The maknae didn’t even notice how he started to walk progressively closer to Chan till the older wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking: “Are you cold?” Jeongin shook his head but was betrayed by another shiver running down his spine. ‘That’s odd’, Chan noted but decided not to point it out. Instead, he just let the younger stay as close as he wanted. That proved to be of great help when Jeongin stumbled, tripping himself and only being saved the fall by the leader’s arms around his middle. “S-Sorry”, he laughed shakily, already tearing up again. “No, it’s okay”, Chan assured, moving away when the younger regained his balance. That resulted in a whine from Jeongin, who moved along, leaning against the Aussie. “Innie, what’s going on?”, the leader frowned worriedly, confused by the maknae’s behavior. Realizing his actions, Jeongin straightened up and mumbled: “Dizzy.” Why couldn’t the other hug him again? It was exactly what he needed right now, with how upset and cold he felt.

From that moment on, Chan kept a very close eye on Jeongin. He really didn’t seem to be himself today. After they had gotten coffee and returned to the venue, the youngest had gotten comfortable against Felix’ side, who absentmindedly ran a hand up and down the younger’s back. Felix noticed how damp and sticky Jeongin’s shirt still was and offered him to get changed into a fresh one. “No, don’t want to take it off. I’m cold”, the maknae protested, catching most of the members’ attention. Shaking his head, Felix sighed: “Yeah, no wonder you are cold. Your shirt is wet. You’ll feel warmer in a dry one.” – “Hyung, can I have your hoodie?”, Jeongin pouted, giving Hyunjin puppy eyes, who was quick to give it to him. By now, all of them had caught on to their youngest acting weird but could they blame him? They had slept so little, none of them could possibly be in their right mind. At least Jeongin seemed satisfied, pulling the long sleeves of the dancer’s hoodie over his palms. Knowing they’d have the interview next, they all filed into the van.

As soon as they were settled, Jeongin cuddled into Minho’s side, the dancer sitting next to him taken a back. It wasn’t usually Jeongin initiating the skinship but that didn’t mean he minded it. Smiling softly, Minho played with the maknae’s hair and studied the younger’s face. His closed eyes seemed a bit puffy, brows furrowed while sweat beaded his forehead and a small droplet dripped down his temple. Not knowing whether the boy was awake, Minho didn’t dare ask Chan if anything had happened while they were gone. Instead he just decided to let the boy rest on him. Looking up, he met eyes with Jisung, who seemed to think the same. Something wasn’t right. When they arrived, Minho went ahead to talk to Chan, leaving a sleepy Jeongin in his seat. Jisung had stayed behind to wait for the younger, linking their arms but still lagging behind. “Is everything okay, Innie? You seem off”, the rapper asked quietly. At this point, the maknae didn’t feel like keeping up appearances anymore and hesitantly admitted: “I kinda feel off.” – “Are you sick? You know we could let you sit out if you’re sick”, Jisung frowned but his dongsaeng was quick to shake his head, muttering: “I don’t think I am. Probably just slept too little and don’t feel like myself.” The older nodded thoughtfully as he guided Jeongin to get his make-up done again.

Jeongin was the only one needing his make-up done, which gave the rest of the group some time to talk. “He isn’t usually that clingy and he just admitted to feeling off”, Jisung informed and Chan nodded, sighing: “He was really emotional earlier and after almost falling over, he said he was dizzy.” – “Don’t you think he might just be tired? He does tend to get more affectionate when he’s tired”, Hyunjin mused looking at Jisung who had talked to their youngest mere minutes before. Nodding, Jisung pointed out: “He doesn’t think he’s sick and told me he slept to little but I need, who hasn’t? Yet he is the only one that out of it.” – “He seemed to be in pain when we drove here”, Minho disagreed, looking at Chan worriedly. The leader shook his head and sighed: “Let’s just wait, I’m sure Innie would talk to us if something was badly wrong.” Not feeling satisfied with that, Seungmin slipped out of the room, to check on his only dongsaeng privately. He quietly stood in the doorway, watching the younger doze off in the chair. “Do you feel alright, Jeongin-ah? Your face feels really warm”, their make-up noona asked, carefully applying a thick layer of concealer under his eyes to cover the lack of sleep. Jeongin smiled a bit and hummed: “I think the bright lights at the photo shoot heated my skin up a bit. I’m okay.” Seungmin however was only more convinced that the younger was not. Especially now that somebody else was sensing something off as well.

When his make-up was done, the make-up noona glanced at Seungmin and smiled before leaving the two boys alone to talk. “Hey”, Seungmin hummed, sitting down next to Jeongin, “How do you really feel? Something’s not right.” That was enough to bring the younger to tears again and he chewed on his lip, desperately trying to not ruin his make-up again. “H-hyung, I -I don’t know”, he breathed. He cursed himself, why did he have to be so emotional today? When he didn’t elaborate further, Seungmin got up and pulled Jeongin into a hug. He too noticed the heat radiating off the maknae and gently brushed his hand against the boy’s forehead, calmly asking: “Can you describe what you feel? Maybe we can make sense of it.” Jeongin nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I-I just feel really out of it, like I still haven’t woken up since this morning although I’ve been up for hours and even had coffee with Channie-hyung. My head hurts since the photo shoot and I keep sweating although I’m not hot at all anymore. I’m pretty cold actually”, he admitted with shaky hands, “For some reason I don’t feel really steady on my feet and kinda dizzy and I’m really sore from exercising yesterday. Could – could you hug me again? I don’t feel good.” Seungmin complied instantly, hugging the younger tightly and whispering: “I think you’re sick, Innie. To me it feels like you’re sporting quite a fever, which would explain why you feel the way you feel.” – “I can’t – I can’t be sick. My stomach feels perfectly fine, so it couldn’t be a stomach bug but my nose and throat are perfectly fine too, so it couldn’t be a cold either. None of this makes sense, why does nothing make sense?”, Jeongin whimpered, getting worked up again. “Shh, some bugs come only with a fever but that doesn’t make you any less sick. Does that make sense?”, Seungmin soothed, running his hand up and down the younger’s back. Sniffling quietly, the maknae nodded. Unwrapping himself from his dongsaeng, Seungmin smiled: “Alright, let’s go to the others and see what we’ll do about it, yeah?”

He pulled Jeongin to his feet too but the boy stumbled as soon as he was upright, crashing into Seungmin’s chest. Luckily, the older was quick to react and tightened his arms around the maknae, holding him steady while they waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Then they walked back to the room where the rest of the group was waiting. “Hyung, Innie’s sick and running a fever”, Seungmin announced as they walked up to Chan. Pressing the backs of his fingers against Jeongin’s forehead, the leader frowned: “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?” – “I-I …” – “Hyung, we pieced it all together just now. He wasn’t aware”, Seungmin explained, reassuringly holding the younger’s hand. Jeongin nodded, face crumpling as Chan pulled him into a hug. “Do you want to wait here for us to finish the interview?” – “N-no, I can do it. They don’t have many questions for me anyway”, the youngest insisted. Minho joined them, agreeing: “We can cover for him, he just has to sit and look pretty. It’d be more frustrating to be dragged here for nothing. Afterwards we’ll take you home, yeah Innie?” – “No, I want to go with you”, Jeongin whined, always hating to be alone when he was feeling poorly. “We’ll see about that, let’s just get this interview over with”, Chan settled, seeing that it was their time to go on stage.

It went quite well with Jeongin just sitting there in silence. When they walked off the stage though, the maknae broke down, the tears he had held back, now spilling over. Felix was quick to pull him to a quiet corner of the room, cooing: “What’s wrong?” – “Do-Don’t know”, the younger choked out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Just really emotional, huh?”, Jisung hummed, running his hand through Jeongin’s hair. He had followed them worriedly, only getting more worried when the maknae desperately tried to pull himself together but failed. Watching him struggle like this really broke their hearts. Holding his dongsaeng tight, Felix whispered lowly: “You can cry, Innie. Don’t suppress and bottle it up. If you feel like crying, that’s alright, we don’t judge.” The younger nodded, hiding his face against the dancer’s shoulder. Giving them some privacy, Jisung went to get changed. When he was done, Hyunjin had already taken a bunch of make-up wipes and traded places with Felix, so the Aussie could get changed too. “Come on, let’s get your make-up off, so you can sleep. I bet you’re tired”, Hyunjin hummed, gently removing his dongsaeng’s make-up. He did his best to make the younger boy comfortable and couldn’t help but coo at how adorable Jeongin looked in his hoodie.

They got back into the car, where Jeongin settled against Seungmin, shivering slightly. Chan carefully hung his jacket around his youngest dongsaeng’s shoulders and smiled when the boy’s eyes closed. With how exhausted Jeongin was, it came as a surprise to none when the calm movement of the car lulled him to sleep. Not having the heart to wake him, Chan ended up carrying the maknae up to their dorm and to his bed. Minho soon followed them with a bottle of water and fever-reducers, which he placed on Jeongin’s nightstand, along with a note to take them later, when he woke up. When the two oldest members were satisfied their dongaseng was settled, they left the room and got ready for dance practice. Jisung plugged the maknae’s phone in to charge before leaving his roommate to get some rest. While Minho and Hyunjin discussed their dance practice, Felix grabbed a few plushies and took them to Jeongin’s room, so he wouldn’t feel too lonely while they were gone. They were almost ready to leave, originally scheduled to head straight to the company building from the venue of their interview, so they were running a little late. Changbin decided to make one last trip to the bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and taking it to the maknae’s room. When he gently brushed Jeongin’s hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, disorientedly blinking up at the rapper. “Shh, go back to sleep”, he shushed, carefully spreading the cold compress on his dongsaeng’s burning forehead. He didn’t want to mention the medicine because that would’ve probably woken the younger up completely and they had agreed to let him sleep at all costs. Jeongin would find the medicine when he woke up. Hoping he’d sleep through most of their dance practice, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, Changbin promised: “We’ll be back before you know it.” Then he snuck out of the room and joined the others, eager to get their practice over with and back to the dorm as soon as possible.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #writing challenge #sicktember2021 #yang jeongin #comfort #fluff

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endobiologist · 3 years

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Trans Guy Tips #3; Testosterone HRT, How to Inject, & Its Effects On Body & Mind, Pt. 1

Note: I will likely add more sections to this at a later time, as I learn more about taking testosterone and its effects. Be sure to check back!

1. First, and this can change depending on your body type and what your own endocrinologist recommends for you,

but personally for me and for a lot of transgender men, Testosterone Cypionate, usually 200mg each dose, is the best choice, and so is taking the injection form, doing that intramuscularly, and taking them bi-weekly, meaning every other week on the exact amount of time from the time you took your last dose.

My endocrinologist explained to me that this is due to if you overload your body with testosterone constantly, or if you overdose it in an attempt to get more effects, you will instead have the opposite effect where you will instead gain estrogen, and more of it, because testosterone converts to estrogen when there's an excess of it and the body senses it as something wrong!!

So please please never take more than you are supposed to take, prescribed officially by your doctor.

They usually recommend bi-weekly for most if choosing injections, because it makes it so the testosterone spreads evenly throughout your system the entire time, and just has a very even perfect use that makes the effect stronger and it makes your body get used to it quicker, which speeds up the effects significantly, and tends to be the healthiest option.

2. Also in terms of safety, never ever get testosterone from a non-official source like the black market, online, or from a friend. You cannot trust this, as it has not been evaluated medically whatsoever.

Also, most importantly, you don't have a medical professional there to see if your hormones and all your health is correct and good to start or continue, or what dose to take, or which kind works best for your body, as well as not having any checkups, which is also vital when you take a new hormone in your body to make sure everything is balancing right!!!

So it is very dangerous, you could accidentally overdose, or your body could malfunction somehow, or you could just be injecting yourself with stuff that doesn't work ever!!

There are many things that could go wrong, so PLEASE never ever EVER do this.

Get a trans-familiar endocrinologist.

3. Now mind you, there are other options for taking T if you just cannot handle injections whatsoever.

Option one are tablets called subdermal capsules that they implant under your skin, usually under your arm or shoulder skin as it seems to spread the best that way. They will slowly leak testosterone until they replenish themselves and you have to get them replaced.

Some people praise these as they are pretty even in effects, and they make it so you have a steady supply pretty well, and also you don't have to think about it very often as the tablets last quite a while.

The downside is, that despite its evenness quality, it doesn't actually have very strong effects.

It will still give you effects for sure, but it will take a lot longer, possibly multiple years, to see the full effects of it.

There are also things known as topical testosterone, where you can put a gel or cream on yourself and it will dose you with the amount it has in it.

This is the least invasive option, however it's one with a very small amount of testosterone, so it will take some of the longest to feel, or see, effects.

Also, I have heard from some people that if you are having someone else put the gel on you, if they accidentally get it on their skin, it will literally dose them with testosterone, which is not okay if you have someone who is not trans and does not want it doing it.

So if you choose this route, please do it yourself so you're not dosing any more on to other people, and instead just on to yourself.

It also doesn't waste the dose on others that way, and you get the full effects instead.

There is also things known as oral testosterone, taken through pill form. But I have heard some bad things about these, and I have heard recommendations not to use them due to there being a lot of downsides, as it doesn't absorb into your body nearly as well as any of the other options, even the slower ones.

But really what matters is what you need, and what your body needs, so even though injections provide the most amount and the most even supply when you use them, especially bi-weekly as well, it might be different for you as every single trans guy/transmasculine person is different, physically & mentally!

And some things work better for others, so consult with your doctor, and let them know the effects and the timing you want, and they will suggest options for you if you are not able to choose yourself without assistance due to lack of knowledge etc.

I would however recommend deeply researching every section of testosterone as I did, before going to an endocrinologist, so you are very prepared and know which kind you want already which will make the appointment take less time as well.

Also you never want to rely on the information of just one person, so always research.

Don't just trust my guide immediately or anyone's guide if it's just one you read, instead do your own research on many sites & forums, and find what works for you, as I can only say what works/worked for me.

4. And when it actually comes to the fun part, the injections,

I will give you a step-by-step guide on mostly how to have someone else inject you, but you can also take my advice for injecting yourself, however I have no advice for specifics of that, such as ways to calm yourself down from queasiness when doing it yourself, since I have never injected myself due to me honestly being just a little squeamish about doing it myself.

But I've always had my mother do it, and I have watched occasionally to see how best to do it, and have experienced it quite a few times now, so I know which way is the least painful as well.

If I were ever forced to do it myself, that way I would be able to because I know how to beforehand.

Now what you do is when you pick up your prescription of Testosterone, this is assuming if you take it bi-weekly and an injection form, you get two 1 ml bottles (A month's supply) and you have to unfortunately ask for & buy the syringe that comes preloaded with the needles.

Also make sure never to ask for just a needle, cuz they will literally give you just a needle, and no syringe.

It's happened to me before, LOL.

They usually have the syringes & needles in stock almost always, but there are a few occasions where they didn't have the needles.

But it is honestly annoying having to pay for something extra when the testosterone itself doesn't cost anything, yet the injection needles you need to use it do??? Lmao.

However it's not that annoying, because they're actually relatively cheap!

Here in Nevada, with no discounts used, they usually only cost you about like $3 usually, $4 at most, so it's pretty price effective.

5. I strongly recommend this, it was my mom's edition to this by the way, she strongly recommends as well,

that you should wait at least a month before taking your first dose of T.

Even when you just received it!

The reason for this is because sometimes they will be out of testosterone or out of needles, or you won't be able to afford it for whatever reason, you never know and it's so much better to have at least 1 if not 2 backup doses and syringes + needles on hand so you never have to worry about that.

I was impatient and injected the day I got it, and so though I haven't run into a problem yet, it is stressful knowing that if a mistake happens with the injection and the fluid leaks out too much, or something happens, whatever it is, that I won't have a backup dose.

So, I would highly recommend waiting a month or even two before injecting, so you have two doses and you pick it up way before you run out every time.

That's way more efficient.

6. Now although this comes from the point of view of someone who hasn't injected themselves, and only has been injected, I pretty much know how it works so I could if I had to, I would just be squeamish.

And for a lot of people they feel the same, so it's easier to get a family member or a close friend to do it for you, as long as they're always around when you need to take your dose.

Personally I have my mom do it because she's talented at injections due to having reptiles that needed some done the same way.

So, basically, you take everything out of its containers, and make sure not to touch the needle itself ever.

Once everything's out of its containers, then make sure to test if the needle is totally closed onto the syringe.

If it is, it's good to go.

Checking the tightness of the needle is very important because if you don't, you can end up having the needle pop off inside you, and release none of the testosterone actually inside of you, wasting a dose completely & it just hurts like a SOB.

Now, take the cap off the needle.

I would recommend always sanitizing the needle, the syringe, and also having a little gauze pad or paper towel piece, all soaked with rubbing alcohol to sterilize the area you will be injecting, so there is no risk of infection at all.

Although not extremely important, I'd recommend you'd also want to bring a tiny Band-Aid.

It will be a very very tiny wound, more like a dot, but it actually bleeds quite a bit after, due to it going deep in, so it's helpful to put a Band-Aid on just for the first hour or so, then take it off and let it breathe, and it heals super quick. It'll be gone before, or by the next day, usually.

Please remember not to touch the needle ever as it'd ruin its sterilization. They're usually sterilized, but it might be a good idea to sterilize them again just in case, to basically make sure there is no risk of infection whatsoever.

Also this is just a common sense cleanliness rule,

but I still want to state it to make sure people know;

Always throw away every single needle and syringe you use, as soon as you are done using it.

Do not keep it or EVER re-inject with the same needle.

And also be sure to throw away any testosterone you have left that is excess from your dose.

You do not need that, as it goes bad and won't work after being exposed to air, so it's impossible to save and use later, unfortunately.

Now, you will be injecting intramuscularly in the leg, either leg will do, hell you can switch them up each time if you'd like. It doesn't matter much.

This means you will be injecting on the area of your thigh that is a little high up, and towards the top, but a little to the outer side.

This means the testosterone is injected straight between the muscles, and goes to the bloodstream quickly also, when you inject.

Now you want to remove the lid from the Testosterone Cypionate bottle, and shake It up very very good, so that there are no bubbles, no particles visible in the Testosterone, and no oil separation either.

If it looks completely clear, or is a slight yellowish colour but mixed together well, then you're good to go.

The possible slight yellowish color comes from the cottonseed oil that they use to store the testosterone correctly in.

It makes it to where you have to use a little bit of a bigger needle to inject yourself with, but it's actually a very very small needle and it's not painful very much at all.

A lot of myths I read about testosterone before I received it said the needles were huge and scary and painful, but the truth is they're not at all, even to me who's slightly scared of needles and has low ability to tolerate pain.

Literally, popping a zit hurts worse than the injections.

The pain is something like a very tiny ant bite, or a slight pinch on your skin, it doesn't really hurt very much at all.

In fact, whenever I take mine, even the very first time I did, I didn't even make a sound! And it's over very quickly, as well.

I would recommend for the easiest time however, for a little higher price, getting a 21 gauge syringe needle, and also an 18 gauge syringe needle for each dose you take.

The 21 gauge is larger for drawing up the testosterone from the vial easier than the 18 gauge would.

Then you remove that 21g needle from that syringe, and instead put on the 18 gauge for the actual injecting.

If you want a cheaper price tag, and/or you're just lazy like me, you can get away with using just an 18 gauge needled syringe, however it makes it much significantly harder to draw up out of the vial.

It is still quite possible, but is for sure challenging, mistakes can occur so be very careful if you choose this route.

Now when you're trying to draw up the Testosterone Cypionate out of the bottle, you want to hold it upside down, or downward at an angle kind of diagonal, and you want to make sure the needle is visibly in the liquid.

Then, you draw back slowly, but try and fill it as much as you can. You can always dispose of extra that you don't need.

If using only the 18 gauge like said earlier, which is what I personally do, it is very hard to draw up out of the bottle, so be very careful, and try to figure out the trick to it, is all I can say.

Everyone has a different trick for it.

Don't use all the testosterone in the bottle however for your actual being-injected-dose.

You need to usually use only 75 mL of the 1 ml bottle each dose.

Also before you ever inject, but after you fill the syringe, make sure to aspirate the needle, which means to act like you're injecting it, in the air pointing up, needle upwards, and you very slowly push down, which expels a little bit of the testosterone, but you also expel any air particles or bubbles that are trapped inside.

This is why you want to put a little more in the syringe than you actually will inject, because when you aspirate the needle some will leak out and make it the perfect amount to inject, rather than losing it an amount of it that you need.

If there is even a single bubble inside the syringe, that can cause a heart attack, and many other deadly problems!!!

So do not ever inject, if there is a bubble in your syringe.

If there is, best case scenario is you try to aspirate it heavily, even if you need to then refill it somewhat afterwards, the most important part is making sure no air bubbles are in it.

If there is no way to get the bubble out, you'd need to buy a new syringe, as it most likely has a deformation of some kind.

But that's the worst case scenario, and personally I haven't experienced that yet.

That, however, is why it is so important to aspirate, to make sure there's no air left in the syringe before you inject.

Now you want to make sure to get exactly .75 ml, that you put it up to the line right before 1 ml and that's about the amount you need.

And remember; never take more than prescribed, it will have the opposite affects you want.

Now that you know all the details, here is how to perform injecting the actual testosterone.

You take the needle to the sterilized area of thigh that you cleaned with the rubbing alcohol.

And you can either use a kind of sideways diagonal position to go in, or you can use straight on.

I find straight on makes it much less painful for me, so I usually go with that, but either way works, and whatever is most comfortable for you is what you should use.

Now you just go in kind of slowly, and try not to move the needle around too much, just push slowly all the way in 'till the needle is completely in the leg.

Then dispense slowly the testosterone to the intramuscular area, and once all the testosterone is out of the syringe and inside your bloodstream, pull it out very slowly, all the while holding the skin around it firmly, so that it doesn't hurt as much pulling it out. If you pull it out fast it fuckin' hurts.

You can also sterilize the area of injection again, if you want, but it's not really necessary.

Then, you just put that Band-Aid previously mentioned on, for like an hour, and you're good!

7. Now for the effects of testosterone, though I don't have a perfect timeline. But around one DAY in, I noticed for some reason my clitoral growth where your clitoris pretty much changes into a tiny penis except the urethra doesn't move unfortunately without surgery.

It can grow one to two inches at max, although I have not experienced that much yet.

However for some reason I had definitely experienced minor clitoral growth pretty much as soon as I took my first shot of testosterone, which is incredibly rare, as it's supposed to happen six months to a year in and be one of the later effects!! But for some reason, it was the first effect I got, so that really goes to show that everyone is built quite different, so some things in this guide might not be totally accurate for everyone.

1 week in, I started experiencing a very hoarse voice, not a sore throat or anything, but just where your voice sounds like you're sick or you're losing your voice, for some reason.

This is the first step in your voice changing to a deeper baritone.

It's usually not painful whatsoever, but I have heard from some people that it can irritate their throat occasionally due to the foreign feeling of it, this stage doesn't last very long though.

Then, about 1 month in, I started noticing extensive hair growth. Also I seem to have got way darker hair than any of my family members ever had, and way more hair than they ever had, so you can't totally rely on the predictions of what your family looks like to see how you're going to change.

You kind of have to be ready for anything to happen, but usually the hair growth and the masculinity of your family will almost always pass on to you when you transition physically.

This can even include male pattern baldness eventually.

Sometimes it happens to trans men immediately after taking it, other times it will take years and other times it will be when they're elderly like cis men have.

Personally, I have not seen any male pattern baldness yet, however my front l of my hair slightly receded back and in the shape of male members of my dad's side of my family, but nothing like a total receding hairline.

It still looks like a full head of hair!

Usually you can tell what type of hair you get by looking at your family members closely.

If your family includes a lot of thick hairy people naturally, then you are going to usually get very large amounts of hair.

If you have a family with barely any hair, or very light coloured hair, you'll usually get a small amount of hair or a large amount of hair but with light colour. Personally, I got real lucky so it's clear that there are exceptions, but that's usually how it goes is that you can look to your family members as to how you're going to look and sound like.

About 3 months in, my voice started really deepening and I mean really deep. But the funny thing about it is that sometimes it will switch from being really low and masculine and amazing, to being kind of regular like before, to a little low but not super low, and even to what I call the "permanent helium" which makes you literally sound like you inhaled helium but it's literally just your vocal cords cracking that bad from growing to a male length.

Sometimes it will crack in a way where you can't stop talking in that high pitch, and it's really awkward, but it is also really funny if you learn to laugh at yourself, and always remind yourself that this is the process of gaining a deeper voice.

I have heard that vocal training to make your voice deeper also helps exponentially for more effects if you want a super deep voice.

About 4 to 5 months in, which is where I'm currently at, I've experienced way more hair growth!

Even more so than the start of it.

My head hair seems to be thicker and healthier for some reason, I'm not sure why because I have never heard of that affecting your head hair, its texture, or its thickness like that?

But it seems to have happened, so I guess it's possible?

I'm gaining a moustache and a few beard hairs, but mainly my moustache is super dark and already very visible.

Also due to my moustache and my deep voice alone, now I can already pass pretty much 100% of the time if maybe 99%, and I'm a very naturally baby-faced person too, so that's impressive!

My voice is mainly settled into a pretty deep baritone.

It still has a little bit of a high pitch sometimes, but barely.

I can tell there's a little more progress needed, but not much.

I don't do the helium thing as much as I used to, but it does still occasionally occur as lengthening your vocal cords, which is what occurs when you take testosterone, can be a lengthy and frustrating process at times.

I have also specifically seen lots of body hair at this time, way more than the sparse amount at first, including even a happy trail and a little bit of chest hair although it's not noticeable yet unless you squint, but it still has way more than I used to!

Also my hair on my arms, and especially on my legs, is thick, dark and everywhere.

I've also noticed my fat is starting tk begin redistributing a little bit.

It's not totally doing it yet, but it's getting close, as my thighs, hips, and behind area lost a bunch of weight, while my stomach gained a little bit of weight and so did my arms.

I also gained a fair bit of muscle as not only can I see it when I flex, but also I can lift things a little easier than I used to, and muscle seems to develop easier for me, even when I work out barely.

I've never been a very physical person, so it's still hard, but it's way easier now that I take testosterone.

Those are all the effects I have to record right now, as I'm only 4-5 months in, but I will update this with new parts as I experience more and more.

Also, please take all effects and timelines with a grain of salt, because everybody works differently.

Also I specifically was mentioning Testosterone Cypionate, bi-weekly injection form, so if you take testosterone in a different way, some of this might be different, irrelevant or even completely useless to you, but I am only able to provide information on these forms as they're the only form I've taken of it myself.

Now, to quickly dispel a few stupid myths that circulate around taking testosterone, to ease your worries.

Myth #1. "Testosterone makes you aggressive, violent, and a bad person!"

The truth is that testosterone does not change who you are, whatsoever.

It can however change certain little preferences like for example what flavor food you like will sometimes change, but usually not all foods, just a couple, or sometimes even just one.

It can change little tiny details, like maybe your favorite colour may change, and it definitely does have its emotional effects for sure, but it does not make anyone aggressive or violent automatically.

Testosterone is not an angry hormone, and estrogen is not a peaceful hormone, despite what most people stereotype them as being, so just blanketing everyone under the term of "aggressive" because they have testosterone in them is straight-up incorrect at best, and also sexist at worst.

Estrogen is not better than testosterone. Testosterone is not better than estrogen. It just matters what you want in your body.

What it may actually do is sometimes, people will experience a wide variety of emotions, including extreme euphoria and confidence (that's the effect I seem to have had, thankfully!)

Other people however will get very emotional and sad and will cry over things easier, and no, that's not an estrogen trait, testosterone can do that too.

And sometimes, on a rare occasion, people can get more irritable or cranky. But they're never violent.

They just get a little grumpier than usual.

However, all these emotional effects eventually do phase out and stabilize, and you'll be back to all your regular moods.

You never truly change who you are as an individual, and your beliefs and morals will stay the same.

It's not like you will completely change into a different person, you will never have to fear that, nor should any of your family and friends.

Myth #2. "Testosterone is steroids, right? So doesn't that mean that you're stronger than everyone else?"

This is a ridiculous notion, and I'm not even sure how it got spread im the first place, but I've heard it firsthand, and it's really as stupid as it sounds.

Testosterone is not steroids, they may have some similar properties due to chemical makeup, but they are not in any way steroids.

Steroids are an addictive & potentially harmful drug. Testosterone is a naturally occuring hormone that we all have some of.

For instance, testosterone also does not make you any more muscular just automatically.

It can make you a little more muscled subtly due to the muscle structure changing to that of a cis man's, but it can't straight up make you jacked, that's just not possible.

Also it does not make you any stronger than anyone else.

It might make you a little stronger than a cis female, but you are not stronger than a cis man, in fact you're weaker, due to starting out assigned female at birth.

I'm not sure why people assume that if you take testosterone, that means you're strong??

Because you're taking testosterone because you don't have any so clearly you don't have very much.

I'm not totally sure where this silly notion got spread, possibly as a way to make trans people feel guilty for taking T, by making them think it's a drug, and it's just not when you look at the facts.

It's good to dissuade folks who think this way, from this notion, as it can also make us look like drug addicts or on steroid pills, which both are just completely false.

Testosterone is not even addictive.

It's a natural hormone inside your body.

Myth #3. "Testosterone will give you all forms of cancer, and strokes and heart attacks, almost certainly!"

I'm not sure where or how this got spread either, it is true that it is possible, they said, in a scientific study, that they can't confirm completely that it could theoretically make your chances of stroke and heart attack a little higher due to your system basically changing to that of a cis man's, and going through a cis man's puberty.

But honestly, you have less risk of strokes and heart attacks than even cis men do, and you don't have a prostate which is a common location for men to get cancer, so you actually have an advantage over most!

It's very rare that you would ever come into contact with one of these things happening, pretty much as rare if a little less as it would be if you didn't take T at all.

There is also no evidence whatsoever that testosterone causes cancer, of any kind, let alone all of them.

A lot of people have tried to spread this rumour, to stop people from getting HRT treatment, which is really cruel and fucked up, and a lot of parents will use the "cancer" excuse as a way to not give their child HRT.

The truth is that it does not cause cancer, and that is a complete myth.

There's actually some evidence that being on T might improve your chances of fighting cancer, and having a stronger immune system for it as well.

Myth #4. This kind of goes along with the other one, but some people believe that "If you take testosterone, you could be shortening your lifespan by many years!!"

This is complete speculation, nothing has been confirmed.

It's possible, perhaps, that it could shorten your lifespan by a couple years, but not many.

You still would have an advantage over cis men again.

But it's never been truly proved that your lifespan gets shorter from T, so there is no reason to fear less of your life occuring just because you're trying to make yourself happier.

All right, I think that's all the rumours I can set straight, and all the info & advice about injections and medicine and general information about testosterone that I can give you at the moment.

I will update this post later, so please check back again in maybe a few month's time from now, as then I will have more effects to discuss.

But if I want to leave you with anything to think about,

remember that testosterone is a completely safe and natural chemical hormone that produces itself in your body already.

You just don't have enough of it to look the masculine way you want to.

It is not dangerous, it won't hurt you and if you really want it, go after it!!

But I would also very much advise you to be sure you want to go ahead with it, and that you are okay with all effects happening.

Because if you aren't, if you are even the least bit hesitant, not only will the doctor not allow you to proceed because you are not mentally fit to yet,

but also if you did end up taking testosterone then you could end up getting effects that you don't want, and having them be permanent, and causing you dysphoria for the rest of your life.

So please, make sure to know yourself well, and know your wants and needs clearly.

I also highly recommend having a psychiatrist or a mental health therapist for quite a while before going into testosterone therapy.

Not only does it make you more qualified to acquire testosterone because it shows you actually thought it through, but also it is exceedingly helpful for the mental and physical changes you will be proceeding with over these next years.

The last thing I want to say, my closing note, is congratulations on your testosterone, if you received it!

And I hope my guide helped in any way, and apologies if it ended up really long this time, there's a lot of things you need to know about T.

Thank you for reading, and I hope this humble trans guy's journal entries help you at all.

- Atom T. L. Yorke

#transgender guide #transgender tips #transgender #trans #ftm #trans male #trans man #trans boy #trans guy #transmasculine #lgbtqa #testosterone #testosterone hormones #hrt #trans guy tips

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

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Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed.

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.”

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is.

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing.

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him.

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters.

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second. If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive, but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms.

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion.

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind.

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him? It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof.

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets.

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death.

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now.

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard.

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning:#depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

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absconditum-imaginaerum · 3 years

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Taeyong | Oversight Words | 5.6k Genre | Fluff, tiny dash of angst. Notes | Female!Reader x NCT Taeyong, Alcohol/inebriation, suggestive material (mention), probably a mess I wrote in two days. Slightly edited. This was going to be 2k and then it wasn’t. Summary | Taeyong gets a little too drunk and finally reveals the feelings he’s had for you the whole time, but not without some serious oversight on his part.

Taeyong was a lightweight; everyone knew it, everyone made fun of it, everyone gave him shit for it. But being the sweetheart Taeyong was, he took it in stride, even when he went out with his friends and they constantly told him to slow down, joked about how he’d be blackout drunk in no time, that he probably should drink some water and eat some greasy fried foods. He mostly only went out with his friends to escape the monotony of home, of staring at the bleak white walls of his room or office, to look away from the equally bleak white pages he scribbled over in the middle of the night, the middle of the day, or really any time inspiration struck him. Even though the old man within him craved to be in the quiet, away from the bumping club music and sweaty bodies swaying around him, it was nice to spend some time lounging with some buddies and joke about things other than his alcohol intolerance.

Admittedly, he got uncomfortable any time the relationship conversation came up. Taeyong couldn’t say he was actively looking for a relationship—he actually quite enjoyed his zero commitment alone time—but sometimes he craved the affection for another more extensively than peer support. Even though his friends joked around being playfully affectionate (and he did so right back) he knew there was nothing that could fill the void of that genuine affection. His buddies often tried to use his quickly built courage to try and talk to some people around the club, but he seldom went for it. Would it be apt to call Taeyong picky? Maybe. In all the time he spent being single, he really had time to hone in on exactly what he was looking for, and while that took a little more delving into personalities to really bring to light, he tended to be a pretty good people-reader as well.

But it just so happened that that particular night brought one person who caught his attention and caught it hard. He curiously eyeballed an individual in the next cluster of seats over, sitting with their party, enjoying some drinks and laughing just like he was supposed to be doing. Mindlessly, he continued to sip at his beer, a bit hoppy for his taste (if he had a taste for alcohol; he was a self-proclaimed wine connoisseur) while he admired the features of said individual, perhaps too far off in dreamland to notice the way his friend group had caught him staring and went quiet. They looked at him suspiciously, a close buddy, Jaehyun, followed his gaze over to your group.

“Someone catch your fancy, Taeyong?” Jaehyun asked, almost startling the older male. Taeyong blinked hard a couple of times, crash landing back to earth as he looked to the curious eyes of his friend, and then to the other curious eyes of his group.

“Was I staring that hard?” he asked with a laugh, feeling a little embarrassed as the others joked around with him. He tried to get comfortable on the lounge he was seated on, sitting up a little straighter as he tried to bring his attention back to his own company.

But in the back of his mind, he swore he knew you from somewhere. He was already his third beer in and a shot of whiskey, which was one more than he typically had on a night out with the addition of the whiskey that he never partook in, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. Already feeling a little funny, he chalked it up to the fact that maybe you looked like someone he knew and shook his head a little more to get his thoughts cleared.

You, however, had noticed his occasional glances. Recognizing a majority of his friend group, there was no mistaking it was him. But it was your girl’s night out, and clearly his boy’s night out, so it would be crashing both your parties if you went out of your way to speak to him—not to mention, you also knew of his intolerance and he was probably too gone to really recognize you anyway. You had to laugh at that fact. He always got real rosy in the cheeks and nose, and he got that boyish grin that was too adorable, the one he had on right now.

“Why don’t you go talk to him if you’re going to keep looking?” one of your friends suggested, nudging you in the side.

You almost scoffed. “He’s a friend of mine. Plus it’s girls night, we agreed no interests, just us,” you said, raising your glass to cheers to your friend group.

“I’ll drink to that,” another chimed in, clinking glasses with the rest of your pals before she grabbed the hand of an unsuspecting friend and dragged her out of the lounge cluster and to the dance floor. You laughed, watching them go, watching the face of the dragged give you a horrified look begging for you to save her, but you gave her a pitiful wave.

“Isn’t that his longtime friend?” one of the boys whispered to the other away from Taeyong’s inattentive ears. Johnny peeked around Jungwoo to scan your group before landing on you, obviously the one that Jungwoo was referring to as the one Taeyong had been eyeballing. Slowly, he nodded.

“He must already be a little tipsy to not even recognize her; or maybe he does but can’t place it,” he mentioned in return, both of them turning their gaze to Taeyong and Jaehyun who had their attention trained on the previous two.

It was a pretty well-known (or well-assumed) fact that Taeyong pined over you. The two of you had been friends for ages, and Taeyong had to grapple with some feelings that he was fairly certain you didn’t return; or, at the very least, didn’t express that you returned. He always thought you were pretty, smart, witty, funny—the list really could go on, and he had honestly caught himself comparing so many potential matches and interests to you, which ultimately sabotaged his pursuit for a relationship in the first place. He knew it wasn’t healthy, trying to find your duplicate; it ended his search for a significant other in a hurry, and the group partly knew that. They had hoped that if they pushed him hard enough, he would eventually let it go. Eventually, he would, but they weren’t sure it was coming soon enough.

Especially not as he continued to sit there and steal glances at you from the corners of his eyes when he thought his buddies weren’t paying close enough attention, but a tipsy Taeyong wasn’t particularly inconspicuous. He knew he was already on the downslope, he could feel it in the way his head was getting cloudy, and since he was already on the downslope, he continued with his beer, followed by another, and another.

It was hard to tell which bottles were his, and he wasn’t exactly keeping count as he looked across the lounge table that was littered with bottles and shot glasses and rocks glasses. It smelled of alcohol and sweat, of mixed faded colognes that wreaked of a cocktail all by themselves. Taeyong rubbed a hand against his face, to coolness from holding his bottle waking him up a bit.

“You okay, dude?”

Taeyong swung his head over to the origin of the voice—Jaehyun, who hadn’t left his side since they’d arrived. He blinked hard before a glass of cold water was shoved into his hand.

“You’re going a little ham; have some water,” he encouraged, a chuckle punctuating his teasing before he got up to give the older some space. He could tell by looking at his friend, not to mention his mannerisms, that it probably was far too late to save him. And if anyone knew Taeyong, it was Jaehyun. He knew somewhere in there, Taeyong was having a lot of internal battles, and he was sure that seeing you, whether he recognized you or not, wasn’t helping at least a few of those battles.

Obediently, he sipped his water, noting the cool way it slipped down his throat, the feeling in his mouth, trying any type of mindful exercise to bring himself back to earth. It was hot as hell in there. At least it felt like it, he couldn’t be too sure. Clubs were notoriously toasty, but this was a bit much. He leaned forward to put the water on the table, itching to get outside to get some cool air on his face.

Taeyong stood, a little wobbly, and nearly tripped on the couple of stairs up out of their lounge pit. Jaehyun protested his departure, but he was emphatic that he needed some fresh air and ignored his friend anyway as he stumbled between the crowd of people only clogging his senses even further. Once he finally made it to the front door, he pushed both his hands against the tinted cooled glass to shove it open and all but fall into the night breeze.

It seemed to sober him up a little bit as he slumped against the brick building, feeling the protruding corners press into his back through his dark button-up. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the night sky to let the breeze run over the warmest parts of his neck as he counted his breathing. Never did he do well with being intoxicated, but even less so being this intoxicated. Taeyong hated being impaired, the very thought of not being in full control almost terrified him, and yet here he was, trying to will the alcohol out of his system because even though he was inebriated, he could still tell it was a mistake.

“You good, babe?” a dainty female voice asked him. He was standing right outside the club, so the likelihood of someone seeing him was pretty high. Still, he nodded his head, not even bothering to look at whoever was checking on him— he wasn’t even sure they were talking to him, but he was sure he looked pretty bad.

“Do you need me to call you someone, or a cab?” she prodded.

“No, no, I’m good. Just need some air,” he defended, finally opening his eyes to meet a form that matched the voice. He brought a hand up to his face, trying to cool off his scalding cheeks as he turned back to ignoring her existence, finally able to hear her heels click off into the distance. He lingered outside for a bit longer, giving his cheeks a couple of taps and taking a few steps in either direction, deciding it was still best to water down the alcohol with something else.

So he approached the bar and produced some bills from his pocket to order a coke with a splash of grenadine. The bartender gave him a weird look but produced a dark icy glass garnished with a couple of cherries and an orange wedge. Taeyong shoved the bills across the bar, and collected his glass, just to lay eyes on you once more, sitting right there in front of him at the bar where he’d squeezed in to order.

You were observing him but hadn’t said anything, letting him get his business done first, but he caught your gaze. He looked like a deer caught in headlights for just a moment, watching you look at him with your pretty long lashes and glittered makeup like you were a lion and he was in trouble. Taeyong wasn’t the type to go down like that though.

He bit his lip and pushed a hand through his hair, attempting to salvage some suaveness as his gaze trained on your face. Your lips were glossy and slightly parted as you waited for him to say something, your head tilted amusedly to the side, the curiosity itching within you.

“Hi,” he started, and it widened your shy smile.

“Hi,” you replied.

“How are you?”

It was cute to watch him; you knew you were a bit done up, in a way he’d probably never seen you, only adding to the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you anyway. Even still, the sincerity in his voice you knew well—he was genuine about trying to pick you up.

“I’m well,” you replied gently, “and yourself?” You gestured with your eyes towards his drink, an unusual non-alcoholic order.

He smiled nervously at your gesture, almost missing it, as he lifted his glass a bit with a soft laugh. “I’m a little tipsy; I don’t drink well,” he admitted, the red tinge on his cheeks that was customary when he drank turned a little darker.

“You’ve been finding me all night,” you commented with a light chuckle, turning fully towards him and crossing your right leg over your left, setting your elbow on the bar to flirtatiously rest your chin against it.

“Never was one to be inconspicuous,” he returned, trying to defend himself—he really was that obvious. “Plus I find it hard to look away from someone astoundingly pretty.”

“Do you always remain articulate when you drink?” you teased; he still hadn’t caught on to who you were, and at this point, probably wouldn’t. You didn’t even give him time to reply as you slipped out of your bar chair, grabbed your drink and his hand, and led him patiently through the crowd back to his lounge cluster and his friends who, by the looks on their faces, were getting worried about him.

Gracefully, you slumped onto the lounge next to Taeyong, pulling the hem of your cocktail dress down just a little bit as you placed a hand on his shoulder. Johnny and Jaehyun watched you closely—the both of them knew you well, and vice versa, but you ignored them for the time being because you were there in the moment for Taeyong.

His cheeks were rosy, nose almost red as a button, and his gaze glazed over you like he wasn’t sure he was even looking at anything, but that boyish grin still tugged at the corner of his lips. Taeyong sloppily pulled the glass of coke up to his mouth to take a deep sip from the straw.

“He found you,” Johnny said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence since it had been a good couple of moments since the both of you sat down and said nothing. Of course, you promptly acknowledged the both of them at that point, mind a little preoccupied with your rather inebriated boy.

“He did find me,” you replied with a chuckle, affectionately looking at Taeyong as you had been doing so most of the night. You tucked some strands of disheveled dark hair behind his ear.

“I think I’m drunk,” he told you, loudly gulping the coke as it forced down his throat.

“You are, sweetheart,” you told him with a laugh. His head lazily swung to you, noting your dress which allowed him the perfect view with the way you were sitting, slightly hung up on his shoulder and his jaw shifted a bit, tongue poking around his mouth before you took his chin to guide his face back up to yours. He eyeballed your glossy lips as he blinked slowly, eventually pulling his gaze up to your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk.”

“I don’t drink. Er… I can’t drink,” he told you for the second time.

A sweet and endearing smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him. He slumped into the backrest of the lounge, still working on his cool drink. When he’d finished slurping down that coke, you were quick to hand him a glass of water.

“I should probably get him home,” you commented. Half of you offered to take him home because you wanted to make sure he was safe, and probably with someone, meaning with you, at your house. And the other half of you wanted to take him home because you would have a means to get home. Since all of your friends had already called it a night or were nowhere to be found, it would be convenient for the both of you if Taeyong left with you.

“You don’t have to shoulder that responsibility. He came with us—”

“I’m not blaming you, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” you interjected, giving Jaehyun a sweet look. “I don’t have a ride home anyway, and I think maybe someone should look after him. How about it, do you want me to take you home?” you asked, directing your question to Taeyong who was sitting contentedly with the straw of his water perched comfortably between his lips. His eyes shifted over to you, maybe he was sobering up a little bit, and nodded.

“Yes, please,” he responded and dished his empty water cup onto the table in front of him. You held your hand out to him, gesturing for his keys, and he straightened his right leg to dig into his pocket to produce them for you, laying them gingerly in your open palm.

You stood first, smoothing your dress out, and gave the boys a genuine smile. “Thank you for watching after him,” you said, sincerely, and then waved before cupping your hand against Taeyong’s to lead him back through the sweaty crowd of people, grabbing a to-go cup of water, and through the same front door. You clicked around on the fob, looking for lights to illuminate to indicate his car before making your way to it and gently finessing him into the passenger’s side before finding your way to the driver’s side and shove the key into the ignition to turn.

“Taeyong,” you cooed and his head swung to look at you again.

“You’re pretty,” he blurted, resting his head against his seat’s headrest as his gaze fluttered.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out to touch against his cheek, “do you know how to get to your home?”

Meekly, he shook his head. He was nothing if not honest when he was drunk, and at least was still there enough to know that he didn’t know. So, you put the car in reverse to pull out from the parking spot to drive home; it wouldn’t be the first, or probably the last time he’d stay the night at your place.

He quietly sipped his water in the passenger’s seat, the radio low and ambient; the gears were turning in his head—he wanted to ask you so many questions like where you were taking him, but he couldn’t quite get the configuration of even that sentence. So, he sat and eyeballed you from the corner of his eyes as you carefully drove to your apartment. You pulled into the covered parking, leaving plenty of room for Taeyong to get out on his own, but he sat buckled for quite some time after you turned the car off.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, noting the time was a little before one in the morning.

He nodded shyly.

“Do you want to go in and go to sleep?” you asked, and again he nodded. He looked like just a boy in that moment, sunken into the seat with the straw of his cup comfortably between his lips as he sheepishly nodded at your questions. Maybe he needed help getting up, so you tugged the keys from the ignition and rounded the car to open his door, then held out a hand for him to take to lift him from the car.

Taeyong all but stumbled into you, his footing not great but you didn’t have difficulties corralling him sturdily back onto him. The blush that hit his cheeks with the way that your fingers laced with his to begin your trek to your apartment door was luckily masked by his current rosiness, and he wouldn’t dare look at you, even as you squeezed his hand in reassurance before coming up to your door. You produced your keys from your jacket pocket and turned the handle to carefully let him in and it didn’t seem like long before he made his way, with your help, into your bedroom with a quick pit-stop to the bathroom.

You tugged the covers of your pristinely made bed back before helping him with his jacket to toss over the Papasan chair in the corner of your room. He watched you intently, especially as you came back face to face with him. His eyes glittered like galaxies captive as he looked into your eyes, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips for only a second.

And you saw it coming. You saw it coming the whole way and didn’t bother to stop him. His soft lips slanted against yours; gentle, warm, and tender, while his arms dangled lifelessly at his sides. Taeyong’s eyes were closed before his mouth even met yours, and it took a minute for yours to fall closed too, relishing the kiss in a way you didn’t think you ever would. Part of you knew he wouldn’t remember, and you could keep a secret, so it couldn’t hurt. But the way he broke the kiss, the soft sound of parting lips that echoed in the silence of your bedroom, sent a shiver down your spine. Even though it was over, his lips lingered, brushing against yours that had your nerves standing on end. Your eyes fluttered open, noting his were still closed. One of your hands reached forward to touch against his forearm, shielded by the sleeve of his button-up, and only then did he bring an arm forward to wrap around you with the intention of taking things further.

“T,�� you uttered. You only ever called him that when he needed to pay close attention, so like clockwork, his eyes opened with a hundred percent attentiveness on what you had to say next as he backed off you a bit. “I’m going to get you a fresh cup of water, by the time I come back, I want you cozy in this bed,” you told him.

He hesitated for a moment as the comprehension kicked in, and then nodded. You turned to head back into your kitchen to get him said cup of water, lingering for a bit to give him enough time to get comfy. And when you returned, he was right where you asked—his clothes in a messy pile on the floor, himself tucked deep under the covers and you could tell by the look on his face that the alcohol was wearing and he was exhausted. The clunk of the Styrofoam to-go cup against your bedside table stirred him just enough to look at you.

“You sleep tight, if you need anything I’ll be in the living room,” you told him, ruffling his already disheveled fringe as you carded them away from his forehead, rummaging through a drawer on your way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind you.

You grabbed an extra pillow from your linen closet on your way back to the living room, a nice throw blanket already splayed across the back of it, so your primary focus was shimmying out of your cocktail dress to pull the oversized tee you’d grabbed over your body. The couch sunk under your weight as you adjusted the pillow up against the armrest and tugged the throw over your body; you reached over to the lamp to click it off a burrow in for the night.

The sun, begging to push through the slats of your partially cracked blinds, illuminated Taeyong’s bare skin as he laid on his stomach, arms tucked up under the pillow he was laying on with the covers pushed down to the small of his back. He licked his dry lips, a groggy sound of discontent pushing from his body as he stirred to somewhat consciousness as you cracked the door open. Slowly, you crept in, trying to be as noiseless as possible before making your way over to the side of your bed. His water cup was mostly empty, which brought a tinge of a smile to your face. At least he was hydrated.

You pushed your hand over his warm back, still more or less in the same spot you left him, and cooed his name. He turned his head away from you, again, prompting you to climb over him to sit up near the top of the bed and peer down at him.

“Taeyong,” you whispered, “Taeyong, it’s time to get up to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” he grumbled and then winced, his hangover headache in full swing.

“It will make you feel better,” you reminded him, still keeping your voice down to not bother him too much. His eyes cracked open to look at you before closing again, just open long enough to judge the distance it would take to lift himself and plop his head back down on your lap. Your hands immediately threaded through his hair to comb through it. He let out an exasperated sigh, obviously happy to be in soothing company considering his condition, and to him, little was more soothing than your tender touches anywhere on him.

“What happened?” he asked, “why do I feel like trash?” he almost groaned, adjusting his arms to be more comfortable around your legs.

“Well, you were out at the club last night with your friends, and you got drunk. Like, really drunk.”

“That explains the headache…” he muttered. “So, how did I end up here?”

“I was there; I suppose you don’t remember. My friends left me early and I didn’t have a ride home and I wanted someone to look out after you considering your condition. You couldn’t tell me the way to your new place, so I brought you here,” you said with a laugh, recalling that you sat down on the couch, gave him some water, finessed him to his own car, and drove him to your place without him fully understanding who you were. You essentially kidnapped him.

“I don’t remember anything,” he admitted, which meant he didn’t remember the kiss.

“Then I suppose you don’t remember hitting on me at the bar or calling me pretty about three times,” you reminded him. You could feel the way he tensed up on your lap, his eyes flying open to stare at the covered window across the room from your bed.

“I literally tried to pick you up and you didn’t… say anything??” he asked.

You laughed. “It was cute! I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“What else don’t I remember?” he asked, almost in agony. He sincerely hoped it didn’t go too far. Hitting on you in the first place was an extreme oversight—the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you or put two and two together was just a blunder.

“Don’t get mad,” you started which piqued his curiosity beyond comprehension. What could you possibly say, the worst-case scenario was—

“We slept together.”

His head shot off your lap and he was upright faster than you could blink.

“We what!”

The panic on his face was so much more than you could ever have imagined. He looked at you wide-eyed, nervous out of his mind. The fact that he didn’t remember anything meant he didn’t remember if proper precautions were taken, which was his primary concern over sleeping with his best friend.

“I’m kidding, Tae!” you exclaimed, reaching out to take both of his arms to calm him down as much as possible. You could almost see his heart racing, almost able to feel the way his blood pumped in such an intense rush. “I brought you home and put you to bed.”

“That’s so not funny!” he complained. “You scared the crap out of me! I thought I was way more responsible than that!”

“Are you calling me irresponsible? After I brought you home?” you questioned, but it was all in more teasing.

“I mean, no! But that’s still not funny!”

“Are you saying you’re put off by the idea of sleeping with me?”

“How do I even answer that?” he asked, blush tinging his cheeks. “I mean, you’re my closest friend. We’re not really in the type of situation that calls for thinking about that? But if I have to answer… I can’t say that I am…”

Now that he seemed a bit calmer, it was time to drop the real bombshell on him. You’d opened up the conversation with that shock tactic. But now you weren’t sure if he’d even believe you.

“Well, that’s good, because you did kiss me.”

Taeyong buffered for a moment, the gears turning in his head to decide if he should believe you or not after you had just fibbed about something so serious.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked. He’d be hard-pressed not to question your motives at this point. “I don’t remember,” he reiterated, looking at you with a knitted brow to display his frustration. His hands were clawing against the comforter, now crumpled on your bed underneath him after scrambling to his knees off your lap.

“I’m not trying to do anything,” you replied tenderly. Having this conversation was welling a handful of feelings deep in your chest, feelings that were pricked at last night when he did kiss you. You swallowed hard, looking at him sternly, trying to relay to him the seriousness of that statement. It was the truth after all. You weren’t sure how else to tell him; what else was there to say besides telling him in plain language, straight up, unadulterated, no frills or run-around.

You cast your gaze down for a moment looking at the way his knees were tucked under him, before trailing up his bare chest, over the centerline of it, over his collarbones, his slender neck, his sharp jaw to his perfect lips you could still remember were as soft as a cloud against your own, slightly parted, ready to say something.

He wasn’t ready for you, but you leaned in anyway, gently putting one hand against his leg and the other to his side, deep into the comforter, and tilted your head up to take his soft lips with your own. Taeyong jolted a bit, and it took a solid moment before the feeling really did become familiar. One of his hands took the wrist of yours against his leg. The other slowly finding its way to your jaw, gingerly stroking his fingertips across the cut of it before filing around your ear, cupping against the side of your neck as he finally leaned into you.

Before too long, you tugged away, feeling your point was made, but he wasn’t ready to let you go. His hand still circled your wrists, so you didn’t depart the kiss too quickly. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, relishing the taste of your lips for a moment longer before his eyes finally opened. You drew back to sit on your own legs again, tugging your hand back to place them both in your lap as you looked at him nervously. Maybe he really didn’t remember anyway and now you were in trouble. The look on his face wasn’t particularly receptive, but sometimes he was difficult to read, especially as his jaw shifted, gaze scanning your face before he made his next move.

“You’re right,” he muttered, leaving you no time to reply as he leaned into you, reaching out to reel you in from behind the back to tug you close to him, slanting his lips back across yours a bit more confidently this time around. One of your hands caught his shoulder to stabilize yourself, especially as he leaned deeper over you, while the other pressed against his warm chest. He continued to lean deeper until your legs shifted out from under you and your back laid against the mattress and he hovered over you, breaking that kiss too, but not without following it up with a couple of tender pecks. Taeyong’s fringe had fallen forward, brushing against your forehead just as your eyes began to open, just to close again as you tilted your chin up to kiss him once more.

He pulled back far enough you couldn’t reach; for a moment, he just wanted to look at you, to observe your features, your eyes and the way they glittered looking at him, your mouth and the way your tongue was trapped between your teeth just behind your glossy lips.

“You really are beautiful…” he whispered, “and you’re right, the second you kissed me… that’s a sensation I can’t forget.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Pride,” he said, “fear, insecurity, stupidity, the list goes on. Most importantly, I’d give up so much before I gave you up.”

“Dummy,” you replied, teasingly shaking your head.

“Don’t remind me,” he answered, leaning over to dodge your face and hide his slight embarrassment against your neck, absolutely adoring the quiet sigh you tried to hide as he kissed against the crook of your neck before you felt his arms dig under you.

“Make breakfast with me?” he asked, hulling you to an upright position again, mostly across his lap before letting you go. You crawled off the bed and reached over to take his hand, lacing it deep with yours as you tugged him towards the kitchen. A genuine smile crossed both of your faces as he followed you, unable to help the desire to turn you against the kitchen counter and kiss you again through that smile, making up for all the lost time he spent worrying about what could happen instead of just going for it.

#taeyong scenarios #nct scenarios #taeyong fluff #nct fluff #taeyong oneshot #nct oneshot #taeyong fic #nct fic #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fluff #lee taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #nct imagines #taeyong x female reader #taeyong x reader

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imgonnapanic · 3 years

Text

Third gym squad with a theater kid s/o:

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tbh, he knew what he was signing up for when he started dating you.

He’s just not used to it, because he doesn’t have many extroverted friends who aren’t annoying pieces of-

I can envision you both going on the hub to watch pirated musicals. Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, you name it.

He loooves your singing voice, even if it’s your nervous purposely bad one.

You love the musicals that include allll the good stuff (trauma, death, tragedy, etc.)

Or the iconic ones. You can’t forget about those.

So you’re less-than-thrilled when your school chooses “Honk! The Musical” for this years play.

It’s a spin off of the ugly duckling that no one has heard of.

And when you come up to Kuroo sulking about this boring play you’re emotionally obliged to do, he can’t help but laugh a little.

But his laughter stops when he sees your eyes down at your shoes.

And then he shuts the fuck up because you’re actually upset.

After assuring that you will still be Broadway material even if you’re dressed up as a goose, you feel a little better.

In the two weeks leading up to auditions, Kuroo is starting to get caught humming “A Poultry Tale” at practice.

I mean, his Spotify feed went from Kendrick Lamar to Legally Blonde within one month of dating you, so cut the guy a break.

The day of auditions, you’re a bundle of nerves as you go over the dumb song again and again.

And Kuroo is like “calm down babe you’re gonna do great.”

That sure did a ton.

“Shut up Heather”

...

“Sorry Heather”

He’s also a bundle of nerves at practice, though. He just couldn’t let you see it.

By now, all of the Nekoma team knows you’re auditioning today, and the minute he walks in he just holds up a hand.

“They’re auditioning as we speak”

He’s not surprised when you get the lead.

He looks like the cat who ate the canary he’s a little amused when he figures out the lead is named “Ugly” but by now he has learned to keep it on the inside.

Your schedule is now jam packed, but that’s okay, because Nationals are also coming up for Kuroo and needs to put in some extra hours at the gym anyways.

You better believe two months later Kuroo is making his entire team buy a ticket.

Kuroo didn’t even get to see you on opening night because of dress rehearsals, but that’s okay.

He cleared his entire schedule that day and now has time to wallow in his own excitement and buy you some flowers.

He’s there with the squad team at 6PM sharp, dressed up, and trying to keep his dignity.

When you first walk on stage, the team snickers a little bit at your costume, but Kuroo was completely enraptured by your singing voice, your blocking, your makeup, everything.

This was much better than the demo CD that they had given you.

Afterwards, he gives you your flowers and is glued to your side for the rest of the night, babbling about how proud he was of you, and how talented you are, Nekoma team be damned.

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukki-poo already had a soft spot for the arts before he met you.

Not that he would tell anyone, ever.

When you started dating him though, it gave him an excuse to share his favorite soundtracks.

“you can hit that note, you know.”

*cue the arguing about how you aren’t Barbara Streisand*

When you two are walking through the hallway with him and you see the poster reading “Auditions for Karasuno High School’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ are open!” You start freaking out.

You love that movie! And Kei tolerates it!

Kei honestly thought you would be Ariel/Prince Eric when he first heard you singing “Part of Your World”

Like, you have the voice of a fucking lark. The directors have to be batshit crazy not to cast you.

In his humble opinion.

So he’s a bit taken aback when you get the role of Flounder, but he’s very proud anyways. Especially after you explain that there’s musical numbers that you’re in that aren’t in the movie.

He just hates your director for no reason now.

Practicing your lines with him in your free time becomes almost inevitable because you both have nothing else better to do.

And he can see how into it you are.

And let me just say that you are killing it.

Seriously. You have no problem getting into character, and Kei doesn’t say this much but-

It’s fucking adorable, okay? He has little goth moths in his stomach.

And he can’t wait to see the show, because then he can show you off.

That doesn’t mean he likes the other first years prying at your progress.

Hinata’s incessant questioning about theater anatomy and the memorization of your lines gets really annoying.

Even for someone with a normal temper like you-

“Yes it’s called the right wing. NOT wing spiker. Yes they’re off book. Now will you shut your trap already?”

Dress Rehearsals come, and you’re spinning around his room, face morphing from complete concentration to happy, go-lucky Flounder.

You, Kei, and Yamaguchi (your little third wheel-) all know the soundtrack pretty much up and down, left and right, backwards and inside out.

He still shivers remembering the time you just walked into his house not registering that Flounder’s makeup looks kind of scary up close-

All of his pride was sacrificed that day. All of it.

On the morning of opening night, Kei was walking you to the school, pretending to be bitchy about it being on a Saturday.

“C’mon, what am I supposed to do all day?”

As luck would have it, he’s stuck sitting next to one Hinata Shoyo. Lovely.

So he sat down next to him, and ignored him the whole show. I mean, it worked, he shut up after thirty seconds.

After the show, Kei has to wait a bit for you to take your makeup off, but when you come running out, he can’t hold back a tiny grin.

“That was good. I’m proud of you.”

And then he took you to dinner because singing makes a bad bleep hungry 😌

Bokuto Kotarou

Listen, you’re loud, Bokuto’s loud-

So basically you two are on a mission to not annoy Akaashi for as long as you can before inevitably getting yelled at for your affection and love and shit.

Now, both of you would love for this to be possible.

But the Frozen soundtrack makes it too difficult.

Especially when you can edit the lyrics just to piss off Konoha.

“Turn away and slAm the door *on Konoha”

“The wind is howling like the storm inside *of Konoha”

The possibilities are endless, really.

The game changer is when you two are belting out the song where Elsa and Anna are arguing.

And you accidentally hit the “I-i-I CANNNNT”

Akaashi is like for the love of GOD just audition for the play.

He quickly realizes that his suggestion was not a good idea.

Since guess what the musical is.

You’re auditioning as a joke, okay? You love Frozen, but this is a Fukurōdani Academy level play.

You didn’t expect to land the role of Olaf.

Your director sat you down and bluntly told you that he thought that you had the charisma and energy to be Olaf, but he knew that you were auditioning for a joke.

He needed you to be committed.

And hell yeah, you were gonna be committed.

At first, Bokuto was super proud of you! His s/o as a lead role? So impressive!

You even taught Bokuto your choreography for “In Summer”

He only retained half of it, but eh.

He’s a volleyball player. He tried.

As rehearsal times became longer and longer, Bokuto was a little upset at himself because he didn’t realize how committed you were until it hit him in the face.

Akaashi is there to get him out of his funk when you aren’t, though.

“They feel the same way when you need to be in the gym longer. It’s just a part of having a passion. Just utilize your time with them wisely.”

This bitch knows full well Bokuto doesn’t do ‘wise’ though, so he also sets to him a little more.

Dress rehearsals start, and Bokuto is always waiting for you to come out of the auditorium to ride the bus home.

You’re just bubbling over with stories about the magic of being on stage.

The lights, the microphones, the costumes, just talking about it makes you nostalgic already.

On opening night, Bokuto and Akaashi are there in the front row, going through the program.

“There’s y/n!!!!”

And you can’t see him because of the blinding spotlight, but you can hear Bokuto cheering for you after you finish “In Summer”

Afterwards he gives you a big hug, and you guys go home and watch Frozen.

Akaashi Keiji

When you start dating Akaashi in your second year at Fukurōdani, you’ve been on stage for the last ten years of your life.

Singing, acting, dancing, you love it all.

You’re even considering making it your career.

Akaashi doesn’t know much about theater at all, but he makes sure to do his research since it’s such a big part of your life.

The company you take acting classes with is having their winter show soon, and you couldn’t be happier when you figure out it’s ‘Into the Woods.’

Akaashi makes the mistake of asking the plot of the story.

“So basically there are these two infertile bakers with dead parents and there’s this witch that’s old and wrinkly and she comes to their house because fifty years ago the bakers dad stole her veggies and took the magic beans that made her look old and wrinkly-“

(A/n: this isn’t even half the plot)

He decides he’ll figure it out when he sees the play.

Akaashi knows that it’s a difficult one, though.

Sondheim doesn’t fuck around.

So you shouldn’t be beating yourself up about cracking on some of the high notes and screaming into your pillow.

He feels like an idiot every time you ask him to give you constructive criticism.

He doesn’t know what to say. “That was good” is obviously not what you want to hear.

When the date of your audition rolls around, he has early morning practice.

So he sends you a text saying how far you’ve come already and he’ll be proud even if you end up being a tree and break a leg (he’s very proud of that part. Theater lingo with Akaashi 101)

He’s very pleased to hear through your extremely fast and animated chattering that you killed it.

You were going to be Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He’s still not sure how that correlates with infertile bakers, but he’ll go with it.

You also have a notoriously hard solo, “Giants in the sky.”

Akaashi is very impressed.

All you two do is practice that song, until Akaashi is half sure he could sing the song if he really gave an effort.

(He tries seriously one time. He can’t sing. To save his life. Sorry Keiji and RIP y/n’s ears.)

“Maybe you’re just not a soprano?”

“I’ll leave the limelight to you.”

Rehearsals always leave you drained. There are so many dance numbers in the play that you have to go over.

And songs, oh god, the songs are pieces of work.

But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, so Keiji stays close, and is endlessly supportive.

You sent him a picture of your Jack costume, and Keiji is like that is kind of adorable ngl-

He walks into the auditorium you’re performing in, and even he’s nervous to be in there. It’s huge.

But when you walk on the stage, and start belting, all the breath leaves his lungs.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. He understands the plot now.

#kuroo #haikyuu headcannons #tsukishima #akaashi #bokuto #kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo headcanons #tsukishima headcanons #akaashi headcanons #bokuto headcannons #haikyuu

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laurenairay · 3 years

Text

Decorating Disaster - J.Markstrom

Summary: what could go wrong with a little competitive holiday baking with your boyfriend Jacob?

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, too much glitter…and he’s on the Flames. Sorry K 😅

A/N: fully in my winter holiday feelings! ❄️ This one is for @danglesnipecelly – I hope it warms your grinchy heart 😘

“Hey älskling, are you busy?”

You looked up from the magazine you were reading at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, shaking your head with a smile. You’d only been reading it in the first place because Jacob had popped out to the grocery store – but now he was back…with multiple bags?

“What are you planning?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at his big grin.

“Nothing!” he said cheerfully, pecking a kiss to your cheek as he whirled past you into the kitchen.

Okay now you knew he was up to something.

“I don’t believe you in the slightest,” you teased, hopping up on the counter as he put the bags down next to you.

“You wound me!” he gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest, making you giggle, “I just thought we could do some baking together this morning,”

What?!

“Baking. You want to bake,” you said dryly.

“Yeah! It’s a fun holiday activity to do together!” Jacob grinned, ignoring your confused expression as he started to rustle through the grocery bags.

You put your hand on top of his to stop him. Seriously, what is he doing?

“J, you don’t even like baking. You purposely steered clear of the kitchen when I made pepparkakor with your mom last year. Why do you really want to do this?” you mused.

Jacob’s grin faded, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Hah, you knew there was a real reason.

3…

2…

1…

“Tanny told the Flames about my last disaster baking attempt and they were all teasing me – I told them that I’d been practicing with you and I was way better than him now,” Jacob admitted.

What a little liar!

“But you haven’t been practicing with me,” you pointed out, trying to stop a grin spreading across your lips.

“Yeah I know…Tanny didn’t believe it either, and he said that I should prove it. Gio turned it into a team group challenge as bonding…but I need to do this!” Jacob sighed.

“So you want to bake…because of a dare?” you snickered, “to save a reputation that is a lie?”

Men. Seriously.

Jacob just grinned, nodding at you. And then that grin turned into a hopeful smile. Oh no. Absolutely not.

“Ohhhh no, count me out,”

“Please? There’s no way Tanny and the others won’t have help too!” Jacob pleaded, “I already know that Elias and Annica are planning on making cookies together!”

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

And if it would make Jacob feel better in front of the team…

“Fine, you ridiculous man. Let’s do some holiday baking,” you sighed fondly.

Jacob whooped and scooped you up off the kitchen counter in his arms, swinging you around in a circle, making you squeal. When he eventually put you back down on your feet, he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, making you lose your breath even more. Wow. Yeah, anything for him, if that was the reaction you’d get.

“Thank you älskling. This is going to be fun, I promise!” Jacob grinned.

“I believe that when I see it,” you giggled.

Now that this was a competition, rather than the fun activity he had initially suggested, you knew Jacob was going to be a nervous mess. There was no way this was ending well. But hey, it would be good teasing material, if nothing else.

“I thought we could do gingerbread men? That way we can get extra points for decoration,” Jacob suggested, “I would’ve said gingerbread people, but there was only the male stencil cutter at the store,”

Fair enough.

“Very strategic, I like it,” you teased.

To be fair, it was a good plan. And meant you could get more creative with it too. Jacob just blushed. “I picked up so many options at the store. Like, all of the decorating options. So there’s lots to choose from,”

“Let’s get the gingerbread going first – we can decide what decorations we’ll do when it’s in the oven,” you mused.

“See, this is why I need your help!” Jacob grinned.

You couldn’t help but grin back. So adorable.

“Alright, let’s find a recipe and get started…”

Making the actual gingerbread took so much longer than it should’ve done. It didn’t make things any easier that one of the ‘competition rules’ was that everything had to be filmed for judging by an impartial panel (aka coach, coach’s wife and the team nutritionist) – so there was way more pressure that you would’ve liked. Jacob almost didn’t sift the flour, would’ve resulted in lumpy batter if you hadn’t corrected him, and he very nearly put sea salt flakes in instead of sugar, which you only just about saved in time. Not to mention the pieces of egg shell he’d dropped in that you asked him to carefully take back out. Each time he looked a little more dejected at the mistakes he was making, but there was no way you were giving up on this. He wanted to do this together, so he was damn well sticking with it. Especially since you were in the competition video too – it was a matter of pride now.

Instead, you put his strong arms to good use in the mixing, which cheered him up a bit (and gave you some excellent eye candy, even if you were sure the video would catch you watching appreciatively), and in the end the dough didn’t turn out looking too bad. After cutting out the figures using the shapes that Jacob had bought, you put the gingerbread men on the trays and into the ovens. And you made sure to set a timer when they were finally in the oven. If they burnt at this point, you thought you would actually cry.

“Is it time to decide on decorations now?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely!” you nodded.

Jacob grinned and quickly washed his hands before sitting down at the kitchen table, making you laugh. You washed your hands and joined him, Jacob pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head that made you blush.

“So the gingerbread men will need to be in the oven for 15 minutes, then we take them out and let them cool in the pans for 10 minutes, before turning them out onto those wire racks you found to cool completely,” you explained.

“And then we decorate?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at your boyfriend, nudging his shoulder, earning a nudge back. “Yes, then we decorate. Although with all of this stuff you bought, I have no idea where to start,”

Like, seriously. There were so many little packets of candy as well as tiny little piping bags of colourful icing (that must’ve come from a kit) – honestly way too much stuff – but just one look at Jacob’s face showed you that he had a plan. Oh this should be fun.

“I was thinking…the colourful chocolate buttons for their tummies, with the blue, green, red and yellow icings for their shorts which we can then pair with the matching edible glitter on top. And then gummy drops for the eyes, with a white icing smile?”

The hopefulness in Jacob’s voice meant there was no way you were countering any of that – and as it was, it all sounded like a great plan.

“Shall I do the icing parts, and then you do the placement of all the candy plus the glitter?” you suggested.

“Sounds like a plan!” he grinned.

The two of you washed up the mess that you had made so far while you waited for gingerbread to cook, only devolving into a water fight once, ending in some sweet slow kisses (that Jacob promised would be edited out of the video before it was shown to the team), and by the time the gingerbread men were cool enough, you could tell Jacob was getting impatient.

“Remember take it slow and steady – they need to look good so you win the competition,” you murmured into his ear, quietly so the camera wouldn’t pick it up.

Jacob blushed slightly but nodded, counting the candy into piles as you started the first of the icing. To be honest, they looked alright. Nothing was burnt, they were all the same size and shape, and they smelled amazing. So you were happy – they were going to taste good at least! And with your little line process with Jacob doing separate tasks to you, the decorating was taking on good shape.

But there was one thing that you were worried about. The edible glitter. Everyone knows that glitter is almost impossible to get rid of if it spills anywhere, and with Jacob’s track record, you were hesitant. But he was so excited about adding that extra winter magic to the gingerbread men that you ignored your concerns and let him get on with it. It would be fine, right?

Time to put your nerves to the test. Jacob yanked on the lid of the edible glitter, but it wouldn’t budge. As he gripped the vial and the cap with both hands, pulling as hard as he could, you felt a bad omen coming over you. But before you could say anything, the cap suddenly flew off of the glitter vial…

…and the glitter exploded everywhere.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his shoulder at the astonished look on his face. Glitter was all over his hands, shirt, jeans, the floor and the poor gingerbread man. Holy shit.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, eyes wide.

You were still giggling as you sat upright, tears at the corners of your eyes. How did you not see this coming?

“We can still save this little guy,” you choked, picking up the figure and tapping the excess glitter off of him onto the table, “and luckily you bought so much glitter that we still have another couple of vials,”

“I’m not going to live this down, am I?” he sighed, although the laughter in his eyes made you feel better.

“Probably not, that’ll probably make some kind of bloopers reel at the very least,” you grinned, “But it was only the first one, so there’s plenty of time to make up for it!”

Jacob just grinned back at you, pecking your lips in a kiss before standing up. “I’ll go wash up, and we can try again?”

“Sounds good to me,” you nodded.

Even if your gingerbread men didn’t win the competition, even if the team teased Jacob for the glitter explosion, you wouldn’t trade these memories for anything. This was going to be a holiday time to remember forever, you just knew it.

#my writing #lauren writes winter #i hope you enjoy this K!#marky being adorable AND competitive? sign me up!#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom fic #jacob markstrom fanfic #jacob markstrom x reader #jacob markstrom blurb #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl blurb #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey blurb

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skloomdumpster · 3 years

Note

Can we talk about the cinnamontography of Fate please

Anooon! What's up with anons spoiling me lately to hear my bafoon takes? Anyway, obligatory disclaimer that I'm REALLY bad with cinematography and it took me three years of movie school to understand what I should've learned in the first semester :)) Read this bs at your own risk >:)

Unlike costume design and plot where I had this huuuge huge rant, I think I cam summarize my feelings here as "not interesting enough". As far as my understanding goes cinematography is how you place your camera, or rather, your characters/world before your lenses and what you're trying to communicate with that.

Fate feels pretty standard and generic regarding this. I think they have only a handful of beautiful shots and that actually communicate something deeper than just simple back and forth, and they also have a handful of disgusting shots that make me, a self declared stupid individual on this matter, look at it like ??? the FUCK.

I don't have long coherent thoughts, so I'll just paste here the pretty and the ugly ones and ramble a bit:

The Pretty Ones

1x01 - The Specialist's training grounds:

I really adore this entire sequence. Camera wise its very purposeful and beautiful. It shows us how the training grounds integrate with the school and I like that it shows all of them actually exercising in different ways, having their own matches and going off on their own. I can really get a feel of how Silva commandeers and oversees their training. Also really adore the rhythm on how they cut between wide shots, to full shots, then medium shots then a back and forth between medium shots and close ups. It makes the scene feel dynamic, the close ups are used to convey familiarity between Sky/Riven and it just flows very quickly, despite being a long sequence.

1x01 - Bloom's face off with her parents:

I think this is a GREAT example of good cinematography in the show, because I fucking hate this scene. Bloom's anger feels real and this is largely because of the framing in this. B starts telling the story to Aisha and we cut to a super close up, we're in Bloom's mental state. We don't know yet what is happening. I like that we zoom out to set the scene, but not enough to remove us from Bloom's deep concentration. Then the harsh cut to Mike removing her door, medium shot, very jarring with what we were just watching, which makes sense because it takes Bloom by surprise! This entire scene has amazing face acting, both Bloom and Vanessa's actresses are talented enough to show their emotions on their faces and they edited with all the audio overlapping, so when B is speaking it's Vanessa we're seeing and vice versa. It's just a little bit more spicy than the average of the show which is to show us the character that is speaking and then so forth and I think it really adds here! Also adore that the camera stays in the hallway when Bloom enters her bedroom, showing us the day turning to night, instead of just harshly cutting to a dark scene! I like the camera, the audience, entering her room slowly, we're prying those memories out of her! Just overall beautiful framing and acting here.

1x01 - Bloom watching her parents:

This fucking scene. Okay this is NOT the greatest example, I think of all the ones mentioned so far is one of the worst. But it does have some pretty cool ideas: Bloom standing outside her family home, having her parents appear very tiny first and hammer in that she's an outside, she's looking at this life through a window. When her parents say "we love you" and we don't see their face, we only see Bloom's in a medium close up, giving in to a full body shoulder, hanging up and choking down the tears. Standing there gazing out to this life where she doesn't belong anymore, where she's just been told she doesn't belong. All while not moving the camera, all in Bloom's face and body acting!! Beautiful. Really beautiful, a trust vote for the audience. Bad point of the scene: giving us the inside of the house, especially showing Vanessa's burn marks up close. If they hadn't been cowards and given her actual full body burns, then we could've done this entire shot far away and outside the place and it would've been 10/10. It's a 7/10 as it stands.

1x02 Saul and Farah walking together: beaaautiful shot, so haunting, so in synch. Oof

1x 02 - The girls find the Burned One's destruction: this shot right here and how haunting it is! How the camera makes it look like this large battle field, when it's actually just five fallen people and probably no distance at all! Literally going over the girl's head! Making them smaller in comparison to the stretch of destruction they just walked in. Pretty!!

FINALLY, the prettiest shot in the entire show:

1x05 - Terra and Riven talk

The DISTANCE between them, the fixed camera, the awkwardness. Riven fully emotionally open and disarmed, legs open, chest open, hands out. Terra holding herself tight, hands clasped, legs shut, arms squeezed in, looking away. A literal friendly battle going on as their background!! God, I don't think i've seen a shot that wordlessly communicates so much so easily in a WHILE. This is the fucking highlight of the entire show, I'm not taking criticism on this one.

The Ugly Ones

Okay this post is pretty damn long, so I'm just going to include two scenes. But there are plenty more :))

1x05 - Sky facing off Silva

This scene is a "framing mistakes 101" . Sky is not the illuminated one, he's not the one who should be under the light. He's metaphorically the one in the dark! And yes, words could be said about this actually meaning Sky is innocent vs Silva's not, but I think it would be much more meaningful if we went with the different approach. Also, in this scene they overuse super close ups so much, it gets boring to watch, none of their facial expressions are groundbreaking and telling us anything new. In the two previous scenes with Bloom's close ups, Bloom snarled and nearly jumped her mom and the other one she was literally in pain while pretending not to be. There are so many things being said through her face. In here Sky is just confused and we know this by the plain dialogue, why do I have to keep seeing his face and then Silva when he speaks and then Sky- It's just boring.

1x04 - Sky and Riven's face off.

There IS such a thing as trying too hard. This scene tries so badly to be edgy and artsy, to be creative! All it manages it's to be nauseating to watch, difficult to comprehend and poorly executed. These two are best friends fighting over something that's been brimming since the pilot of the show, implicitly since before s1 starts. Riven straight up says more than one deep insecurity of his. And YET we have this weird stiff camera, a whole half a yard between them, zero emotional impact. Riven goes on to throw on Sky's face that he's a hypocrite and nothing NOTHING lands! We're so caught up with the camera twirling around that all the emotional punches fly out of the window.

#fate the winx saga #mymeta #answered

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kianadove · 2 years

Text

The Life of a Shihōin Princess!

Part 4

Summary: Kimiyo Shihōin is next in line for the title of Head of the Noble Shihōin clan. This story follows her life from a child to an young adult. She will have many challenges face her. Will she break under the pressure her Aunt Yoruichi Shihōin left behind?

Rating: PG

Pairing: None

Warnings: Growing Up, Language, Fluff, Aging not like humans!!! Tiny, tiny bit of Angst, First Encounters (not aliens, lol), Talking.

Status: On-Going

Word Count: 5,357

A/N: Hi Bugaboos, this whole story was started in like 2008 and I have been adding on to it over the years. I'm re-editing it, but there could be plot holes, and mistakes. It's all been edited by me, so yeah. Sorry. Feel free to comment any you find. I will happily fix them! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story!! <3

My Master List | My Wattpad | My Patreon |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is Saturday, April 2nd, 1892.

It's been a little under a month.

Kisuke is coming over today; I'm so excited. I haven't seen him in two weeks and it's been so boring around the house. We're supposed to go to that spring at the back of the Royal Estate.

I'm pacing in my room, waiting on him to get here.

The door opened around noon and Shinjiro walked in. "Kimiyo-chan, he's just entered the estate." He told me as he watched me walk back and forth.

I stopped and looked over at him, "Is he walking around in his Geta's* today?"

*{A/N} Geta are traditional Japanese footwear with an elevated wooden base held onto the foot with a fabric thong to keep the foot well above the ground.

He nodded and then went to say something.

I flashed to him and grabbed his hand. We, both, were then gone.

"Hmm," Kisuke said as he stopped walking.

I landed ten feet away from him and let go of Shinjiro's hand. I started running toward him, smiling. "Kisuke-kun."

He smiled down at me as I stopped in front of him, "You know you can't be outside the Manor."

I pointed over my shoulder, "It's straight; I brought Shinji-kun with me this time."

Kisuke looked back at Shinjiro and chuckled a little.

"His name is Shinji too?" A man asked, walking out from behind Kisuke.

I looked over at him. He's five foot nine inches with hip-length blonde hair, brown eyes and he's wearing a long-sleeved Captain's haori.

"A Captain?" I inquired, looking him over again, "Is he allowed to be here, Kisuke-kun?" I looked over at Kisuke.

Kisuke laughed, "He wouldn't take no for an answer." He said and then sighed, "Yoruichi-san said it was okay."

I looked back at the man, "Your name, Captain?"

The man's eyebrow rose, "Very demanding, little one," He smiled at me, "I like it."

Kisuke sighed.

"I am Shinji Hirako." Shinji told me and went to say something else.

I cut him off, "Oh, so you're a Shinji?" I asked, smiling. I pointed my hand over my shoulder again, "His name is Shinjiro, actually."

Shinji looked back at Shinjiro. "Hmm."

"Will you be coming with us today, Shinji-sama?" I asked then, smiling up at him.

"Ah," He breathed and rubbed his head, "Don't call me that."

My eyebrows pulled together, "But if I call you, Shinji-kun, it'll confuse you and him." My thumb jabbed backwards.

He smiled down at me, "It'll be alright, just call me 'Shinji-kun.' I like it better."

I shrugged and then looked over to Kisuke. "May we go now?"

He laughed, "If you're ready."

"I'm ready, but you'll need to change." I replied as I looked him over.

He sighed.

I smiled and then grabbed his hand. I took Shinji's hand as well and then we disappeared.

We all came to a stop in front of Shinjiro. I looked back at him.

"What?" Shinji asked, surprised. He looked over at Kisuke, "She can—"

"Come on, Shinji-kun, you'll be left behind." I said, smiling. We were gone again.

All three of us came to a stop in Kisuke's room.

I let go of both their hands and ran toward the door. "Hurry up, you two," I called, running, "I'll be back in five minutes." I disappeared.

Shinji looked over at Kisuke, "She pulled me into her Flash Step."

Kisuke nodded and walked toward the closet. "Hai, she's very good at it."

Shinji shook his head and then pulled his haori off. ...Kisuke-san said she was young, eight, but she's able to flash that quickly while pulling two full-grown men with her... He thought and then shook his head again.

"You better hurry, Captain Hirako," Kisuke said then, "She will be back in five minutes, even if you aren't ready."

Shinji exhaled, "I've told you before, you can call me Shinji." He told him, annoyed.

Kisuke walked back into the room and they finished getting ready.

I knocked on the door, the said minutes later.

"Come in," Kisuke told me and then looked over at Shinji, "Told you."

I walked in and I looked them over. They're out of their Captain Haori's and Kisuke has on his Tabi's now.

I smiled and crossed my arms. "Besides Aunty Yoruichi and Kisuke-kun, I've never tried my flash step against a captain." I said to Shinji.

He looked over at Kisuke and back at me.

"You look pretty fast," I added, "Wanna see which one of us can get out of the Manor faster?"

He smiled at me, "Sounds fun, little one."

My eyebrow rose, "Just a pre-warning."

"Oh?" He asked, curious.

"You can't be seen by any of the guards or you will loss immediately." I informed him and then bent forward. "Kisuke-kun."

"Ready," Kisuke said, "Set...Go!"

Both Shinji and I disappeared. Kisuke sighed and disappeared too.

We slid to a stop in front of Shinjiro.

"Tie!" Shinjiro called.

Both Shinji and I looked over at him, "What?" We hissed together.

Kisuke walked over to us, "I agree with him, it was a clean tie."

I looked over at Shinji and smiled, "Sweet, I'm getting faster."

Shinji let his head fall forward, "I can't believe an 8-year-old tied with my flash step." He grumbled, upset about it. "I must be getting old."

I giggled as a huge smile crossed my face.

Kisuke walked over to me, "Come on; let's walk the rest of the way." He said, moving past me.

I ran over to him with Shinjiro behind me.

Shinji looked around, "Where are we?" He asked, walking toward us.

"We're still in the Royal Estate, but we're at the far northern edge of it." I answered as I skipped ahead of everyone.

"It's quite beautiful here," Shinji replied, mostly to himself, as he continued to look around.

I just laughed as I looked around too.

"So, tell me, why couldn't the guards see me earlier?" Shinji questioned, walking next to Kisuke now.

I looked over my shoulder at him, "Kisuke-kun is breaking the rules right now." I answered, smiling at them.

"You are too," Kisuke hissed at me.

"Haha," I busted out, "I'm not allowed outside the Royal Manor. If I go outside, I have to have my moms' bodyguards with me." I explained as I calmed down.

Shinji looked over at Kisuke and then to Shinjiro. "But you have Shinjiro-kun over there; isn't he your personal guard?"

"He is, but mom's scared of everything." I told him, skipping ahead of them again. "I don't think she'll care this time; I have two very big Captains with me." I looked back at them and winked, laughing.

Shinji laughed and smiled at me.

Kisuke sighed, "She doesn't let you go out even when Yoruichi-san and I are with you, Kimiyo-chan." He called to me, "If you don't calm down, we'll get caught."

I frowned and then disappeared.

"Where—" Shinji asked and then flinched.

I giggled, "May I have a piggy-back ride, Shinji-kun?" I asked with my arms around his neck; I'm hanging on his back.

He busted out laughing, "I suppose so."

"Yah," I said, happily and wrapped my legs around his waist. Or well, I tried too.

"You're so small," He told me, playfully.

I hit his shoulder, "Don't make fun of my size, Shinji-kun." I demanded, "Or I'll make fun of your hair."

He turned his head around and tried to look over his shoulder, "My hair?"

I nodded, "It's very, very girly."

He narrowed his eyes, "No size jokes, got it."

I busted out laughing.

"So Shinjiro-kun," Shinji said as he turned his attention to him, "Won't you get in trouble letting her come outside like this?"

Shinjiro looked away from him, "She does whatever she wants, it's better if I just stay with her than try to stop her, nowadays."

"Oh?" Shinji asked, "You're twice her size—"

Kisuke laughed, "Shinjiro-kun was one of the best assassins when Akemi-sama assigned him to Kimiyo-chan. He's never been able to stop her." He said, cutting Shinji off.

"You're from the Stealth Force?" Shinji questioned, intrigued. "What family are you from?"

"I'm from the Fēng family." Shinjiro told him, walking a couple steps behind us.

"Whoa, so you're deadly, huh?" Shinji asked, smiling back at him.

Shinjiro just smiled at him.

Shinji looked in front of him, "Note to self; never get on his bad side."

I giggled, "Oh, does Shinji-kun scare you, Captain-kun?" I asked in his ear.

He didn't look over at me, but smiled. "I'd be a fool not to be threatened by him."

I looked back at Shinjiro and smiled, "Well, I guess my mom picked a good person to guard me, if he can scare a Captain."

Shinjiro smiled up at me and then winked.

"We're here," Kisuke said then.

I looked over Shinji's shoulder and my eyes widened, "Wow." I said as I disappeared.

Shinji's hair flew over his head, "Ah," He groaned.

I landed by the water's edge. "Kisuke-kun, this is amazing." I squealed and then looked back at him. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He just nodded to me, smiling.

I looked back in front of me.

I'm standing in front of a thirty foot spring. The spring runs up to a mountain cliff and it has a waterfall. The water runs off the top of the mountain down into the spring. In the middle of the spring is a huge boulder; it sits about a foot out of the water.

I smiled again and then dove into the water.

"Hey," Shinji called as he reached out for me.

"Don't worry, Captain Hirako," Shinjiro told him as he took off a bag from his back, "I've brought her extra clothes."

Shinji looked over at him, "Hai, but that water must be still very cold, it's only April." He hissed and looked back at the water. "Where is she?" He asked then, worried; I haven't come up yet.

"That girl is like a fish when she gets in the water," Kisuke told him as he sat down on a rock, "I wouldn't worry about her, Shinji-sama."

Shinji looked over at him and back to the water.

I broke the surface and climbed up onto the rock in the middle. I stood up and waved to them. "Come on, what are you doing? Get in!"

All three of them shook their heads.

"Just because the water isn't cold to you, Kimiyo-chan," Shinjiro called to me, "Doesn't mean that it's not cold."

I rolled my eyes and dove back into the water.

Shinji sat down next to Kisuke on the rock and looked around. Shinjiro sat down in front of huge tree and leaned against it. He put on a sakkat* and made it cover his face.

*{A/N} Sakkat is a straw hat that is circular and strong enough to protect the wearer from rain or snow.

"She's been kept a secret, huh?" Shinji inquired then.

"Hai," Kisuke nodded, looking out in front of him, "Hell, I didn't even find out about her until she was 6-years-old." He laughed a little, "And I've been staying here since I was little."

Shinji looked over at him, "Whoa." He said and looked back the water. I'm under the waterfall now. "She's a hyper one, that's for sure."

Kisuke just exhaled.

I dove back under the water and swam to the middle. I swam down to the bottom and looked around. I smiled and swam over to a huge shell. I grabbed it and pulled.

...You're heavy... I hissed in my head and then flew backwards through the water. ...Haha, but not heavy enough... I thought as I kicked up to the surface.

I broke the water and held up the shell. "Look what I found!" I called, holding the shell over my head.

Both Kisuke and Shinji looked over at me; their jaws dropped to the ground.

I'm holding a huge shell, it's about the size of one of my legs, over my head. The shell is blue and purple and it's shining in the sun.

"Kimiyo-chan, I think that shell has things living in it," Kisuke called toward me.

I looked up at it and something started to come out of one of the openings. "Oh," I gasped and laughed. "Sorry, water-animal, I'll put you back, just hold on." I disappeared back into the water.

Shinji busted out laughing, "That must have been heavy." He said and shook his head, "She didn't get scared when that thing started to come out, either." He looked over at Kisuke, "I wonder what was living in there."

Kisuke shrugged, "Probably something that wouldn't want to play with her." He replied and then laughed.

I swam back to the bottom and put down the shell. ...Sorry, I didn't think something would be living in it... I thought and started back up to the surface.

I came up at the water's edge and put on my arms in front of me. I laid my chin on my arms and looked up at them. "So, Shinji-kun, what Squad are you Captain of?"

He looked down at me, "Hmm, that's right, I never told you." He said and then smiled, "I'm the Captain of Squad 5."

My eyes widened, "How's your Third Seat doing?"

"My Third Seat?" He asked, confused.

I smiled, "Gin Ichimaru."

"You've met my Third Seat?" He asked with his eyebrow raised.

"I have; he's tiny with silver hair and he narrows his eyes so he looks like a snake." I told him as I tried to get my eyes to narrow like Gin's. It didn't work and I busted out laughing.

Shinji busted out laughing at my attempt, "Hai, that's him." He shook his head, "When'd you meet him, Kimiyo-chan?"

I had to think about it. "Umm, a month ago, I think."

"Oh?" He said, surprised, "Well, he's young, but he's very skilled."

I giggled, "Aunty Yoruichi thinks I could beat him."

He looked over at me quickly, "Does she?"

"Hai," I answered, "She asked why I held back on him."

Shinji narrowed his eyes, "He attacked you?"

"No way, I attacked him, silly." I splashed water at him.

He gave me a confused look.

"Anyways, you should bring him with you next time. I'd like—" I started to say, smiling.

"Kimiyo-chan!" Both Shinjiro and Kisuke hissed at me.

I looked over at them, "What? I want to fight him again, but this time I won't hold back." I said, seriously.

Shinjiro sighed, "You know he can't find out who you really are."

Kisuke shook his head then, "He's defiantly not coming now; I don't think Shinji-sama would like his Third Seat to be killed."

Shinji looked over at Kisuke, "Killed?" He asked with his eyebrows raised.

Kisuke nodded, "Yoruichi-san has been training her personally since she was about five."

Shinji looked back at me. I just smiled at him.

"I like the kid, Kimiyo-chan, I'd prefer you not hurt him." Shinji told me, seriously.

I sighed, "Fine." I swam back into the water. I dove down and swam toward the bottom.

Bright Blue Flash!

I froze.

The blue light came toward me.

I just looked at it. ...What is that?... I thought as it got closer.

Shinji turned to Kisuke, "She left the estate? It's the only way I can think that she would have met Gin-kun."

Kisuke nodded, "She followed him around for a little bit."

Shinji's eyebrow rose. "Odd, that kid normally doesn't like to be around people."

Kisuke looked over at him, "Yoruichi-san said he was getting used to her. Kimiyo-chan forced him to let her follow him."

Shinji busted out laughing.

The blue light got to me and then it turned into a dragon.

...What?... I gasped and my breath escaped my mouth. I covered my mouth with both of my hands. ...It turned into a dragon... I thought as it swam around me.

I turned with it, so not to lose sight of it.

The blue light dragon made a full circle around me and then swam away. I reached out to it and tried to follow.

Kisuke looked over at the spring, "She's taking her time, coming back up, isn't she?" He said with slightly narrowed eyes.

Shinji glanced at him and then to the water, "I thought you told me not to worry about her."

"Hai, but there's a tunnel in this spring," He answered, "If she finds it; I'll have too—"

I broke the surface and grabbed onto the boulder, gasping for air.

Kisuke and Shinji both stood up.

...I lost it, darn... I hissed as I gasped for air.

"Kimiyo-chan?" Kisuke called, worried.

I looked over at them, "You won't believe what I just saw down there." I called to them.

Kisuke narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Shinji asked, curious.

"I swear I just saw a dragon swimming around me!" I shouted as I climbed up onto the boulder.

They just looked at me for a minute and then both of them were laughing their lungs off.

I narrowed my eyes, "I'm not kidding." I hissed at them, annoyed.

They just kept laughing.

I rolled my eyes and dove back into the water. I swam around at the bottom. ...Stupid Kisuke-kun, Shinji-kun; I've never lied before, why would I now... I thought, pissed off. I froze then, seeing something else. ...What's that?... I thought as I looked at a hole in the mountain. I swam toward it and looked into it. ...It looks like a tunnel. So cool... I swam back up to the surface. "Hey, I just found a tunnel," I called then, "I'm gonna see where it goes." I dove back into the water.

"Wait, Kimiyo-chan!" Kisuke yelled as he ran to the water's edge. "Damnit, I don't want to get wet."

"Where does it lead too?" Shinji asked, walking up next to him.

"The Rukon 1st District," Kisuke hissed. "This spring is what fills their water fountains, but that's not what I'm worried about. That tunnel has caves attached to it; she could get lost in them."

Shinji narrowed his eyes, "Is there any other way into them?"

Kisuke sighed and pulled his shirt open, "No, this is the only way." He threw his shirt onto the rock behind him, "Shinjiro-kun, wake up!"

Shinjiro flinched and looked over at them as his hat fell to the floor. "What's wrong?" He looked around, "Where's Kimiyo-chan?"

"She went into the tunnel," Kisuke answered and then dove into the water.

Shinji sighed and started to take off his shirt.

Shinjiro ran over to the water's edge.

Kisuke broke the surface in front of the waterfall, "The tunnel is at the bottom of the waterfall, when you get to the caves, I'll be waiting." He told them and then went back into the water.

Shinji put his shirt on the rock as Shinjiro took his off.

"See you on the other side, kid," Shinji said and dove into the water.

Shinjiro followed after him.

I walked into the tunnel in front of me and started to move through the cave; it's semi-lit. A green light is lighting the walls and floor. "This place is so cool," I said as I looked around. "I guess I'm underground, it's kinda wet and cold in here."

Kisuke climbed out of the water and looked around at the tunnels in front of him. Shinji broke the surface a couple seconds later and got out. Shinjiro was close behind.

"Man, that was a long time to hold my breath," Shinji complained as he rang-out his hair.

"We're gonna split up," Kisuke told him. "If you think you found her spiritual pressure, don't be fooled, these caves are known to trick people."

"Trick people?" Shinjiro asked, confused.

"They are known as the Lost Caves." Kisuke explained, "Once a person enters them, they become confused and can't ever find their way back to this area."

"WHAT?!?" Shinji and Shinjiro hissed.

"Shinjiro-kun," Kisuke said then.

"Hai?" Shinjiro replied.

"I want you to stay here and wait for us," Kisuke told him, "If you feel any of our spiritual pressure coming toward you, stay where you are." He turned to him, "Shinji-sama and I will let you know by Tenteikūra* when we've found her and are on our way back. Until then, don't move from here for anything, even Kimiyo-chan's spiritual pressure."

*{A/N} Tenteikūra is a Kidō spell. It is Bakudō #77.

Shinjiro nodded, "Yes, sir."

Kisuke looked over at Shinji, "Are you ready?"

Shinji nodded and then pointed in front of him, "I'm taking that way." He said as he started walking toward the tunnel.

Kisuke nodded and walked over to his left, "Then I'll be taking this tunnel."

They both walked into their tunnels and disappeared from Shinjiro's sight.

He looked around, "The lost caves, huh?" He asked and then sat down on the floor, "Well, I'm just gonna stay right here then."

I walked around a curve and stopped. "A Hollow?" I asked taking a step backwards.

SPLASH!

I looked down at my foot; I'd stepped into a puddle. The hollow screamed as it turned toward me. I looked back at it. "Crap, it noticed me." I hissed and took another step backwards.

The hollow started for me and I jumped up into the air. I came down on it and slammed my foot into the top of its head.

I landed on the ground and turned to watch the hollow disappear. I snorted and smiled, "Yeah, that's right, you couldn't handle my super kick."

"AHHHHH," A hollow voice screamed.

I spun around and gasped. "So many..." I breathed, surprised.

Shinji froze and so did Kisuke.

"There's a hollow in here," Kisuke hissed, "Damnit." He started to run forward.

Shinji looked around and then back in front of him. "What?"

A small blue light is floating in the air.

"What is that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

The blue light flew around him and back down the tunnel in front of him.

"I don't know what's going on, but I can feel Kimiyo-chan ahead." He said as he ran after the blue light.

I slid backwards on the wet floor and came to a stop. I looked up at the Hollow in front of me. "You're the last one." I hissed and then my spiritual pressure exploded around me.

Shinji followed the blue light and froze into a statue.

I'm standing with my feet apart and my hands floating in the air at my sides. My hair is flying around my body and you can see purple light surrounding blue light around my body.

...That's a...that's a dragon... Shinji thought as he stared at me.

The dragons head is at my left hand and his neck goes to my right hand; the rest of him disappears there.

Shinji watched the small blue light float over to me and joined with the dragon.

I leaned forward as the Hollow moved closer and then I was in the air. I threw my weight into my left hand as I came down on the hollow's head.

"Ahh," I screamed as I punched it in the head. The dragon moved with my arm.

The hollow stumbled backwards and roared from the pain.

I landed on my feet and smiled, "Take that, ugly beast." I said up to it, laughing.

"Kimiyo-chan!" Shinji yelled and then flashed.

"Ahh," I screamed as I flew across the ground. I exhaled loudly as I hit the wall.

"Damnit," Shinji hissed and looked back at me. The dragon is gone now, along with the purple and blue lights.

He looked back at the hollow, "Going after a little girl!!" He hissed, mad, "You have no shame!!"

I opened my eyes and looked up, "Shinji-kun?" I asked, "When did you get here?"

He snorted, "Just a minute ago." He answered and then pointed his hand out. "Hadō #4: Byakurai." His index finger lifted at the hollow and shot a concentrated lightning bolt at it.

The bolt went through the hollow's head and then dissolved into nothing. The hollow screamed and vanished.

Shinji ran over to me, "You're so dirty," He told me as he helped me get up.

I looked down at myself, "Oh, well, there were a lot of them, so it couldn't be helped." I said and wiped the dirt off my kimono.

"A lot of them?" He asked, confused.

I nodded, "That was the last one!! I'd already killed the other five."

He exhaled, "Sorry for pushing you earlier." He said then.

I looked up at him, "That was you?" I inquired, surprised, "I thought the hollow hit me."

He shook his head, "No, I had to get you out of the way."

I shrugged, "I'm fine, so it's okay." I looked over at the place where the hollow was just at, "You'll have to teach me that move you just did." I told him, smiling.

"Sure, but let's get out of here first." He replied and looked around.

I nodded.

He used Bakudō #77: Tenteikūra to say, "Kisuke-kun, Shinjiro-kun, I've found her."

Kisuke slid to a stop and Shinjiro opened his eyes.

"Now how do we get out of here?" Shinji asked then, looking around.

"Hey, Shinji-kun," I called then. "Do you see that?"

He looked over at me and his eyes narrowed.

I have my back to him and I'm pointing at a small blue light floating by the ceiling.

"I see it," He told me, "Come here." He reached out for me.

Kisuke took a step back, "What is that light?" He asked, looking at a blue light too. He threw out his hands in front of him, "Bakudō #77: Tenteikūra." He then said to Shinji, "What's with that blue light?"

Shinji looked over at his hand, "You can see it too?"

"Hai," Kisuke hissed under his breath.

I looked back at Shinji, "It wants us to follow it, come on, Shinji-kun." I started for the light.

"Wait..." He started to say, however, stopped. His eyes widened as he saw the dragon around me again, circling me. "Kimiyo-chan, can you not see that?"

"What's going on?" Kisuke asked then. "Should I follow the light; I feel like it's telling me too."

"Hai, follow it." Shinji told him, doing just that. "It led me to Kimiyo-chan."

"Alright." Kisuke said and walked toward the light.

I looked over my shoulder at Shinji, "See what?" I asked, "The light, hai, I can see it, I just told you that."

He stopped. ...So, she can't see the dragon surrounding her?... He thought with wide eyes. ...What's going on? Am I just seeing things?... He looked around as he followed me again. ...Is this cave tricking my eyes?...

We saw a light in front of us a couple minutes later and then the blue light disappeared.

"Where'd it go?" I asked, looking around.

...The dragon's gone too... Shinji thought and then said, "Come on, I think we're almost out."

Shinjiro stood up. ...That's Kimiyo-chan and Captain Hirako... He thought as he took a step forward. He looked over to his left. ...And Kisuke-sama...

Shinji and I walked out into the room and I laughed.

"That's so cool, I wonder what that light was," I said as I waved to Shinjiro.

Shinjiro ran over to me, "You're so dirty, what happened to you?" He asked, holding onto my shoulders.

I smiled at him, "I was attacked by some Hollows."

"WHAT?" Shinjiro and Kisuke asked at the same time.

Everyone looked over at him as he walked toward us.

"Don't worry," I told them, smiling, "I handled it."

Shinji walked over to Kisuke, "I have to talk to you about something after we get back." He told him, quietly.

Kisuke nodded and then looked at me, "Shall we get back to the spring, Kimiyo-chan?"

I nodded and ran over to the water. "I bet I can beat all three of you back." I said and then dove into the water.

They all sighed and walked over to the edge. They dove in.

I broke the surface in front of the waterfall, "Whoa, it's so late now," I said, looking up at the sky.

Kisuke and Shinji broke the surface on each side of me.

I laughed, "I win." I told them and then swam for the boulder.

They laughed and went to the water's edge; Shinjiro is behind them. They all got out and started to dry off.

"Shinji-kun, come play with me," I called, standing on the boulder. "We'll have to leave soon."

Both Shinji and Shinjiro looked back at me.

"Oops," I laughed and pointed to Shinjiro. "I meant this Shinji-kun."

Shinji shook his head and Shinjiro laughed as he dove back into the water.

"What did you want to talk about?" Kisuke asked as he sat down on the rock.

Shinji rang his hair out and then threw it over his shoulders. "She wasn't lying when she said she saw a dragon in the water." He told him, quietly.

"I TOLD YOU!" I yelled and then jumped off the boulder into the water.

They both looked over at me as I hit the water.

"What do you mean?" Kisuke asked, "There have never been dragons in the Soul Society."

Shinji sat down next to him, "I don't know if I was seeing things, but when I found her, she was glowing purple and blue." He said, looking up at the sky. He looked over at Kisuke, serious, "In the middle of her body was the head and neck of a dragon. It was surrounding her, Kisuke-kun."

Kisuke's eyes narrowed.

"And those blue lights that lead us out, were a part of the dragon." Shinji continued, "It led me to her."

Kisuke shook his head, "That's a little crazy, Shinji-sama."

"Believe me, I thought the same thing," Shinji replied, leaning forward on his knees, "But when we were talking through Tenteikūra and started to follow those lights—I saw the dragon around her again."

Kisuke narrowed his eyes, "Is that why you asked her if she could see something?"

"Hai," He nodded, "She said she couldn't see it." He shook his head, "When that dragon was around her, her spiritual pressure felt heavy, like being held under water." He exhaled, "No exactly like being under water."

"Her spiritual pressure feels normal." Kisuke said as he looked out at me.

Shinji looked at me too, "Hai..."

"I don't know what to think about it, Shinji-sama," Kisuke said then, "But keep this to yourself for now, alright?"

Shinji nodded, "Who'd believe me anyways, I mean even you don't." He said, laughing.

Kisuke smiled over at him.

"Wait, you do believe me?" Shinji asked, semi-confused.

"It's almost too far fetch for you to make up, Shinji-sama," Kisuke replied and stood up.

"No kidding," Shinji whispered and sighed.

"I'll tell Shinjiro-kun about it," Kisuke said then, "Since he's the one with her all the time, just in case if it ever happens again."

"Good." Shinji said and stood up. "It's starting to get dark."

"Hai, we need to get back," Kisuke said and then called, "Come on, you two. It's time to go."

I whined, but swam over to the edge. I got out and then changed clothes. Shinjiro got out and started to dry off.

Kisuke and Shinji got their shirts back on and walked away from us.

"Wait for me," I called and then flashed onto Kisuke's back.

"I couldn't leave you even, if I wanted too." Kisuke told me, laughing.

"You know it!" I said, happily. I kissed his cheek, "Thank you for today, Kisuke-kun, I had so, so, so much fun."

He sighed and smiled, "I'm glad."

I leaned my chin on his shoulder and closed my eyes, "Sorry for making you three get wet."

They all laughed.

I yawned and then said, "Shinji-kun, I like you, come by again next time Kisuke-kun do—" I fell asleep.

They all looked over at me and shook their heads.

Shinji smiled at me, "Sure thing, little one."

They started back to the Manor then.

5 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

He Loves Love (2/3)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: solo singer! AU

Word count: 7K

Warnings: slowburn, flirty Baek, ehm t-e-n-s-i-o-n

A/N: Finally the second part is here! I apologise if it took a bit longer, but darn, I just realised there is much more that needs to be told. I am so tired rn, I edited it but there still might be grammatical mistakes or typos, so I apologise in advance if it will interrupt your reading time :( I LOVED the feedback I received for the first part, so I really hope I didnt disappoint with this one. Please read the ending note! Enjoy! BTW: did you like the new album? I am having it on replay haha

Masterlist

1 <<<

You never thought you were a person deserving of a deep love or one capable of love. A weird sense of discomfort and impossible feeling overwhelming you was something you connected to that four-letter word. No matter how many times you had a crush (which was, unfortunately, rarely), the excitement wasn't enough for you to give you hope that you would be capable to love.

So when everything started with this famous singer, naturally you had doubts. You didn't want to get too much into detail about why you were feeling the way you were about relationships, but you definitely thought it is normal to think having a relationship with someone like him was ridiculous. He easily could have been playing with you. But you did not have relevant proof for this. Neither did you ever hear a single bad word about his reputation with women.

Just one date, he said. “I really want to take you on a date. A playdate?” he would raise his eyebrow, seducing you.

He didn't understand your point of view on the whole situation. But, what you did not know, was that he had figured you and your personality out, although you would let very little for him to read from your expressions. He admired how you maintained a professional attitude despite your racing pulse or your blown pupils. That, you could hardly control.

You sighed, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You couldn't stop your heart from beating so fast and so loud it was making you a bit dizzy… Let alone you couldn't eat a single thing the whole day because the idea that he was to pick you up at 11pm was making your insides so uneasy, needing to go to the bathroom every hour or, worse, making you almost vomit from the anticipation. He was so attractive, flirtatious, and you couldn't stop thinking about him ever since the shoot had finished. The second day of shooting was, when he asked you out. Very carefully, he formulated his question, but it was his voice, his deep eyes that told you just how much he meant it. And because you didn't have enough time, for he had to leave right after the shoot, you nodded in approval to which he rewarded you with the brightest smile, his eyes gorgeous half-moons, his cheeks puffed up just like he was smiling into the camera while he was being interviewed. Ever so carefully, he for your phone number, and when he saved it, he called you. Declining the call, you unlocked your phone to save his contact and that was when he muttered: “Please, don't lose your phone.”

“I won't save it under your name, that would be too obvious,” you replied quietly, feared of being overheard although you knew nobody would come to the storage room. Everyone was still cleaning up the set. But it was Baekhyun's team that was most probably looking for him by now.

He shook his head gently, making just a tiny step closer, suddenly his face not that far from your. “No,” he breathed, his eyes glinting, “but I will call you when I'm in front of yours. So don't lose it.”

You gave out a small chuckle, shaking your head at his cheesiness. “I cherish my phone, okay? Just like all the people these days. Don't worry, Baekhyun ssi.”

Pursing his lips, he said, before turning to leave: “Just Baekhyun, okay? For you, it's Baekhyun.”

And now, here you were. Waiting for - just Baekhyun - the singer.

You almost jumped out of your skin when your phone vibrated on the tiny table in your one-room apartment. Interesting how a usual vibration of a phone just meant a simple message or a phone call, usually not giving it any meaning. Now it gave you butterflies, another wave of nausea from all the anticipation and just pure bliss at the idea that he was the one giving you a call. Just like he promised, at exactly the time he said he would be there.

The entire time you were coming out of the basement (yes, your apartment was in a basement, having two small windows just under the ceiling) and out to the dark street was unreal. Those two minutes that it took you to leave your place and walk out felt like eternity because you were shaky and nervous from meeting him. There was also a possibility that after spending time with you tonight, you might never hear from him given that he might be disappointed in you, not quite what he thought you would be like.

You just hoped nobody would recognize his car or him…

Please, don't let anyone recognize him. Or they can recognize him and all, but please don't let them catch you with him, okay?

You quickly chided yourself for thinking such silly thoughts and just then you recognized his car. It was the only one with its motor on, quitely purring, the car just as black as the night, all shiny and so… just so Baekhyun. Which meant sexy. Could a car be sexy?

God.

You were going crazy.

Quickly making your way to the vehicle, you opened the door to the passenger seat and swiftly slid onto the leather seat, closing the door behind you with as much gentleness as you could, scared that it would probably just break.

You heard a gentle laugh from your left side and you finally turned to look at him, so mesmerized you couldn't stop the bewitched smile creeping onto your face as you took him in.

“I didn't pay so much money for this car for it to break if you close it roughly,” was what he said, but you could see his mind and gaze were quite unfocused as he let his eyes slide over your features that were ever so gently touched up with some make up. You were thankful he didn't eye you up hungrily like most men did, still a gentleman just like he was until then.

“Well, it ain't my car,” you replied, your smile widening. “And good evening to you.”

His elbow that was resting between you two was making his shoulder and chest so wide, but he was wearing a black, long-sleeved t-shirt so you couldn't make up much of him. Only the long silver chain hanging around his neck. “Good evening,” he muttered dreamily. After another heartbeat, he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

Finally looking ahead and out onto the street, you nodded. “No idea where to, but I trust you. So yeah, I am ready,” you said enthusiastically, not knowing where the positive energy was coming from, but it was welcomed. You looked at him again, to see his bright smile and a resolute nod before he turned to face the front, his right hand expertly putting the vehicle into drive.

The lights in the car were all red, including the seatbelt that was holding you together, because otherwise you might have fallen apart at how you were levitating in the air from the man driving next to you. And boy, did you need some reality check because this all seemed way out of your league for it to be true. So while Baekhyun was talking to you, asking you some questions to get to know you, your right hand slid to the outer side of your thigh and pinched it as hard as could, scared that you would suddenly wake up in your shitty one-room apartment and a bitter taste in your mouth at how real the dream was-

-except it wasn't a dream.

You were in his car.

And currently he was quietly laughing at something silly you replied, most probably not paying attention since you were too busy being scared of having such a vivid dream with him.

There was this whiff of his cologne, that was strangely soft and not quite masculine as you would have expected. It was clean, yet so enthralling it was the only sign you could connect it to you grounding yourself with the current moment.

“I hope you won't dislike my plan too much,” he said after he focused on the road for a minute since there was sudden traffic and he was changing lines. His eyes were checking the side mirrors, and you swallowed.

Biting your lip, you realised all the lip gloss has disappeared since you kept gnawing at it nonstop, too nervous to notice. “It is the company that counts, right?” you tried, but you just felt like everything you said might have earned you bad points.

He smiled, still looking at the road as he took a right, a huge hill next to you. Gazing out of the window, you held your breath.

“Wait,” you muttered, frowning. “Isn't this-”

“I live elsewhere-”

“UN Village?” your tone went almost an octave higher, not being able to tear your gaze away. After you passed the bridge to Hannam-dong, you recognized it immediately since there were so many embassies but you thought you would end up in Itaewon. But he was stopping right there. Turning to him, you gave him a squint. “What are we doing here?”

Since there were no more cars on the road as you were driving up he stole a glance at you. “Don't worry, we aren't going to any of the houses here.”

Your heart sped up again.

“As you know,” he tried, leading the car through streets full of expensive houses and mansions, and you wanted to hide from all the posh, luxurious buildings that seemed to be out of place in a cramped city like Seoul. “I can't just go anywhere I like, unfortunately.” Finally, he stopped the car in front of a house but on the other side of the road so that he wasn't blocking the entrance. “If you don't like it or feel uncomfortable, we can go elsewhere.” Now he turned in the driver's seat, facing you with a slight worry in his eyes. You might have not read him so well, but he honestly wanted to be on a calm place. With you. Alone. No disturbances.

You shook your head, scolding yourself internally for freaking out at him like that. Another bad point, you thought. “Not at all,” you replied, giving him an apologetic smile. “I don't think I've ever even been in the vicinity of this place, is all.”

“I guess I'm the first to bring you here then, eh?”

You chuckled. “Good guess.”

He stared at you for a tad longer than normally, which in your communication studies lecture definitely meant affectionate body language, but you tried not to pay too much attention. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning with his hand to the silent street.

Once outside, you realised his plan was very simple. Walking. Enjoying the bright moonlight above you that was almost in full moon. Oh, the city lights as well. The entire city of Seoul was lying in front of you.

“This is gorgeous,” you breathed out, stopping at some point to just stare and enjoy the pretty view. “I could stare at this the whole night.”

Feeling a presence right next to you, you turned to see his side profile that made you, once again, realise who the hell took you out on a date. Byun fucking Baekhyun. He brought you on your date, and it was walking in UN Village… Just walking in this posh place so that you wouldn't be disturbed. So that you wouldn't be caught.

The last thought right there gave you a powerful bang in your chest, and it only multiplied when the handsome man turned his head to look at you, his eyes soft as he smiled down at you. “I figured you aren't the type to like crowded places,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

You scoffed playfully. “Another good guess. Are you like a mind reader or something?”

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he laughed. “Could be? Sometimes you are quite an open book to me.”

“That sounds like we know each other for a long time, Baekhyun.” ssi, you added in your mind, the idea of being comfortable with him still foreign to you.

Few seconds passed by when he finally hummed. That hum that made wonders to you. “I kinda wish I did.”

Freezing for a brief moment, you dared to look at him with wide eyes. Biting your lip, you tried to come up with a reply quickly, but he faced you as well and stole your breath away. That pull, the attraction was suddenly ignited. “You can always amend that,” was what you managed to say. Inhaling deeply, you continued: “Is that why you… ehm, you gave in a word for my favour at the magazine?”

This time it was Baekhyun who froze, definitely not expecting you to know this information. It was supposed to be between him and you're editor-in-chief. “I-”

“What is your plan, Baekhyun?” you didn't let him speak. “Because…” you trailed off, suddenly your emotions on fire. “Because I want to be straightforward with you, as you know by now. You like me, I know that. But is this a game?”

“No!” his whole body turned to you, deep frown etched into his forehead. “I didn't know you could misinterpret me asking you out on a date as a form of, what, mockery?”

Inside, you knew he already explained himself to you, so that was why you beat yourself up for starting this subject again, but you couldn't help it. Your insecurities were skyrocketing and it didn't make sense for him to be interested in someone so lowly when he had all the glitter and shine within a reach of his hand. “I didn't say mockery,” you said. Opening your mouth to continue, he cut you off, stepping closer.

“What about you? Do you like me?”

You went silent, while your ragged breathing was answering him for you. Not breaking eye contact once, he nodded. “You know, I will need you to confirm with words.”

Starting to shake your head, scared that he caught you, you felt the need to explain, but you could only stutter: “It's not that- I mean I don't-ah! You are a famous personality,” you exclaimed, getting evidently defensive. “Why would you think I won't snap a picture of you and post it on SNS and just, I don't know, expose you?”

“You wouldn't.”

“What makes you so confident?” you dared him, your voice dropping in challenge.

“I trust you.”

“That should be a difficult phrase to say, coming from someone like you. A-list celebrity and artist.”

He kept looking at you, analysing you, but his stance was still confident and honest. “I could be just a normal man if you didn't look at my job.”

“Don't they usually talk about jobs on the first dates?”

He was quiet but he smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I feel honoured you finally consider this as an actual first date, miss.”

Scoffing, you looked away for a second but turned your gaze right back to him, him always being the magnet of your eyes. “You still didn't answer me, mister.”

A playful glint shone in his eye. “To which question again?”

You sighed but you were entertained and butterflies were fluttering in your lower tummy at the situation you found yourself in. “Why would you trust me... I honestly don't know.”

“You aren't ready for my answer, yet.”

At that, you frowned. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged, grinning pridefully. “Exactly what I said.”

“But-”

“You will have to come out for another date, or two-” he stopped abruptly, thinking for a second, his eyes up on the sky before dropping back to your eager orbs, “or three or four, to find out the answer.”

“Till then, I will have you alllllll exposed to the world,” you whispered darkly, widening your eyes at him.

That night, Baekhyun laughed the loudest.

Work, although your favourite thing, suddenly became a small dread and a difficult task to fulfill. Whatever transcriptions you had to do, meetings to attend, come up with ideas and make sure you were growing as an editor and future writer, you needed to speed up your game - or at least keep it up, since the feature with Baekhyun earned you quite the plus points with the editor-in-chief. It was only natural you did not want to disappoint her by any chance.

But you were very, very distracted.

This distraction was there nonstop. If not actively on your mind, then lurking in the back of it, always rudely intruding your train of thoughts about work, your line of work and basically everything that was involving anything in every minute of your waking hour.

Your hand would literally shake, your heart painfully jumping at any vibration of your phone and whenever his name was uttered at work (because you were still perfecting the interview and the pictorial for the release) you would quite literally jump in your chair, looking around frantically hoping to see… his face.

But you were only met with Hyeri's amused grin and a huge stack of papers that needed to be skimmed through. As much as you wished to be thankful for the amount of work that should have helped you get your mind off of him, it wasn't effective at all.

You were completely charmed, swayed and you didn't seem to know how to come back to planet Earth and stand with two solid feet on the ground. It wasn't like you were constantly in touch with him - so maybe that was why you were so restless, unfocused and just useless at whatever you did ever since the date in UN Village. Him being so busy just meant that he really was preparing hard for his comeback. And it also meant that he really didn't want to pressure you, for which you were thankful, and you just swooned more, because ugh, what a considerate gentleman.

So after couple of days of just swimming by at work, making sure all the absolutely necessary parts were thoroughly double-checked and handed in, you decided resolutely, that it was time to get yourself back on track. It wasn't okay for you to act this way because of some man. That was what he implied at the date, right? For you to look at him as just a man with a job…

Of course, when you entered office on a Wednesday with a hot cup of strong English tea in your hand at 8am (you needed to get in earlier to get some extra work done), your phone signalled a happy ding! letting you know you received a text message. No hour would be too early for your heart to react so frantically as you looked at the lit up screen to see the notification with the preview of his message before you unlocked your phone, excitement swallowing all your focused thoughts for the day.

Waiter: good morning!! ^^ i guess you are up already?ㅅ please have a good breakfast!! no caffeine on empty stomach!! i am already on the shoot, ㅠㅠ i hope you will make my long day a bit brighter with your reply hehehehe ><!! (8:02am)

A high-pitched giggle bubbled up in your stomach and out into the empty space of the office. You covered your mouth quickly as you read the lines over and over again, literally hearing his excited voice through the exclamation marks. Biting your lip, you sat down onto your office chair and stared just a bit longer before mulling if you should reply right away or wait a bit. It would look desperate if you replied right away, wouldn't it? But if you wouldn't reply right away, he might not have his phone with him anymore and you would have to wait a lot for his reply and also he was relying on you making his day brighte-

Another fit of giggles took over you as you realised that a message from you could make someone else's day much brighter. That someone else being Baekhyun. Who was waiting. Who was expecting a happy ding! of his own. Preferably from you.

Sighing like a love stricken teenage girl, you started typing before deleting. The cycle went on a few times before you finally resolved to just send the message.

Me: Good morning :) my day is much nicer now that heard from you :P I ate my breakfast but did you eat yours?? I bet you didnt… hope shoot is fun! (8:10am)

There. It should do for a whi-

Ding!

It wasn't even few seconds-

Waiter: shoot isnt fun without a certain editor being present…(8:10am)

Waiter: i had my breakfast!! but dieting only allows so much for now ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Waiter: you leaving for work now? (8:11am)

Me: i'm sure the editor you have now is more professional lol

Me: i actually just arrived to work to get something done before others arrive

Waiter: huhuuu alone in the office?

Waiter: you work hard, just as i always knew you were

Waiter: dont overwork oki?

Waiter: and NO SHE IS NOT MORE PROFESSIONAL she doesnt even smile

Me: you overwork not me

Me: ok ok chill, people not smiling at me is my everyday life, welcome welcome ;)

Waiter: mmmmmm……...

Waiter: ill make up for all the unrequited smiles ^^

You put down your phone for a moment, needing a breather after his last message. No, no, do not by any chance get too attached yet, you chided yourself. But the pain in your cheeks from smiling too much was protesting, letting you feel the taste of the magic that was the man who was eager to talk to you at this hour of the day.

Thinking over what to reply next, another ding rushed in, following other excited ones.

Waiter: ive gotta run, they are calling me now

Waiter: if you feel like it, drop me a msg anytime hihi

Waiter: have a beautiful day

You quickly grabbed your phone, wanting him to see your message before he would face his busy day.

Me: thank you waiter. have a good day

Me: …

Me: I also wouldnt mind you dropping me a message :)

Gosh, you sucked. Texting was not your thing, you were bad at it and just… you felt like your messages were not conveying the real emotions that you were feeling, thinking. Meanwhile he was… wow. Pure passion.

Just before you could finally face the work you planned, you received an email from your editor-in-chief, which you immediately opened in case it would had to be dealt with right away. Only then you noticed it was an official email for your team.

Upcoming Music Awards attendee list, it read.

Your magazine was one of the few that would personally send out writers and photographers to bring its own insight into the various award shows. The magazine had even a special column just for the shows that were happening all over Asia, and your magazine was following its each step.

Quickly skimming through the introductory text she wrote, your eyes finally landed on the list of names of those who would have to attend the show, bringing some good insight into the show itself.

Excitement was burning in your veins as you spotted Hyeri's name and right after hers came yours.

Your name was there. You would go to the awards show. It would be your first time...

Another big step in your career!

Days went by, and you were starting to grow impatient about meeting him. It wasn't like you could do anything about it - he was constantly under supervision of his managers, since he was so packed with various schedules, photoshoots, probably even recordings for shows. You wouldn't know, and you definitely wouldn't be asking him about it. The reason was simple. As much as it must have been interesting to be nosy about his artist life, you were much more interested in him as a human.

As a man.

Weirdly enough for you, he kept in touch with you here and there, always reminding you to drink your water and eat good food. He would wake you up with morning texts and always manage to catch you just before pulling the curtains shut, ready for the bed. Was he a mind reader by any chance? You still wondered...

Just as you were thinking this, he was already making himself present by sending you a message.

Waiter: i was wondering where should i take you next?

Waiter: because it is definitely time for the NEXT

Your heartbeat instantly sped up, hands trembling as you opened his messages. But before he could bombard you more, you already had something in your mind. It was something you thought right after your first date, since you knew the place well you could ensure he wouldn't be caught there.

Me: I have an idea ;)

Waiter: but i am the one calling you ouuuuuuut so I should decide…..

Me: i thought you wanted to make me feel comfortable?

Waiter: yes. that, is true

Me: there might be a slight issue though…

As soon as you saw the read sign next to your message, your phone was ringing, his nickname flashing happily. Hastily, you picked it up, not ready to hear him like this.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he breathed softly, a smile painting his voice. “So… What is this slight issue that would prevent me from seeing you?”

Not trying to give too much attention to your frantic heart at his choice of words, you replied calmly: “Well, you know Asan, right?” He hummed in acknowledgement, sending electric shocks down your spine. “There is this gorgeous place that literally looks like Santorini in Greece.”

He was silent for a moment before responding: “Santorini in Greece?” he asked, slight doubt in his voice. He called your name strictly, but you knew he was being playful with you. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggled, slapping your hand on your mouth to shut out the shriek you let out. “No! I promise you I know the place very well. And at night there is barely a living soul.”

“Now you have my attention,” he laughed quietly, the sound of it somehow intimate. “So the best time is to go in the night, you say?”

“Yeah. We want you to stay unnoticed, don't we?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, obviously not happy he was making meet ups more difficult because of his status. “Would 10 or 11 be safe you think?”

“Definitely,” you answered, smiling brightly.

“Perfect! Then how about tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“Yes, tonight,” you confirmed, closing your eyes.

Knowing the way this Korean Santorini was, you dressed in an elegant baby pink dress, the long wavy skirt coming to your knees, the upper part gorgeously hugging all the right places. You rarely wore this dress, not needing anyone's attention on your chest, but tonight, although very shyly, you wanted to finally shine for someone.

What was this weird feeling pooling in your stomach? You felt it before as well, but this time knowing how he really wanted to meet you and spend time with you, this feeling increased and left you in a pleasurable pain that you didn't dare to think too much into. Being ashamed about your mind and your body's reaction to him, you wanted to pretend he wasn't affecting you.

But it was a concrete fact by now.

You both shared a rather strong chemistry and if it weren't for Baekhyun acting up on his feelings, you would never be in this situation.

Checking the clock, you hurriedly checked yourself once more in the mirror before grabbing your white sweater and heading out.

Just like on the first date, his car was the only car alive on the parking lot at this hour. Quickly making your way towards it, you slipped inside swiftly, closed the door and faced him with a bright grin.

A tired pair of eyes was what welcomed you, but his genuine smile still met them.

“Hey,” you breathed, your eyes running over his features.

“Hi,” his smile widened. Just like the first time, he didn't let his eyes drop down to check you out, but this time you realised you were not that happy with it. This time, you wanted him to check you out. And he better have made it obvious to you.

“You look tired,” you commented, concern flashing over your face.

“Oh, no, I'm good! It was a long day, but now that you are finally sitting here I feel much more energised,” he tried, not looking your way as he reached for the GPS, handing it to you before pulling the seat belt over him again. “Type in the address and we shall head down to Asan.”

Your mind was racing with possible options on how to resolve this situation.

Of course, the best would have been to immediately send him home to have the rest he was obviously so deprived of.

But who were you kidding.

You were selfish and sending him away from you was the last thing on your mind.

So the second option was something you were dreading, but what wouldn't you do?

“I think we should just erm, take a taxi or something, and leave your car here. I don't think you should drive like this. It isn't that far, but at this hour in this state it will be difficult.”

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the wheels turning in his head as he was also brainstorming options. Then he looked at you, calling your name. “Do you have a driving license?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can you drive a car?” he repeated patiently, glint of amusement at your shocked face.

“I can, yes,” you replied, hesitant. This didn't sound good.

“Let's switch then,” he decided, already unbuckling his belt. “You can drive us there, right?”

“What?” you whisper-shouted. “But I can't drive your car! What if I crash it? I wouldn't be able to pay the damage in the next ten years!” you exclaimed, flashes of the possible unfortunate event vivid in your mind.

He chuckled at your outburst before reaching his hand out to mess with your nicely combed hair as he rested his head back on the headrest, giving you an affectionate look. “I trust you, remember? I don't have a problem with you driving my car.”

“But-”

“We can go elsewhere-”

“Okay, let's switch.”

He laughed loudly, the sound giving you an incredible sense of satisfaction. It was you who made him laugh, brightened his features. It was you who was glistening in the reflection of his eyes.

But he didn't move, not yet. His eyes were trained on you, his head still leaned back on the headrest. “I don't want to give you stress,” sweetheart. He bit his lip.

You shook your head, suddenly determined. “Not at all, Baekhyun.”

His eyes turned into gorgeous half-moons, loving the hue of pink and red kissing your puffed up cheeks from the flush that he was obviously causing you. Slowly, he was getting more and more assured about the effect he had on you, and he wouldn't lie if he said he was starting to like it quite too much given how shy and innocent and cutely professional you were trying to be with him.

“Eerm,” you let out, baffled by his intense stare. But he was still not moving, so you decided to reciprocate the intense stare, the purring of the motor a completely closed out noise by now. If elephants would start falling from the sky, you both would have been oblivious. “Should we… change?” you asked quietly, as you also rested your head on the headrest, your left cheek touching the soft leather of his car.

He also adjusted his face to have a better look at you. “Are you sure you will be alright?” he mimicked your silent voice, but to you it seemed loud in the quiet space.

Not answering right away, you let yourself enjoy his eyes on you, just as you wanted him to. What you couldn't imagine before though, was the softness of his demeanor, tenderness and something- affection? How could you know? You still had to explore him, his facial expressions, his ways of telling you how he was feeling...Licking your lips at the thought, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them. His lips, although ever-so-slightly, lifted. “Yes. You will be right here, guiding me right?”

“Of course! I will be the captain,” he said as he lifted his head from the rest as he leaned in, utterly unable to keep any distance between you two any longer, “and you will be the ship.”

Successfully, you made it to the highway that was leading you outside of Seoul. Not daring to be close to the speed limit, you still drove the car in an acceptable manner, not even daring to blink in case some idiot of a driver would jump in front of you which would lead you crashing Baekhyun's car.

You heard a soft laugh from your right before you saw a hand in your line of vision. It landed on your right one, leaving it there briefly, but still long enough to give you a complete heart-attack. “Relax,” he said, entertained. “The steering wheel didn't do you no wrong. Your knuckles are literally white.”

Knowing yourself all to well, you were about to spill some nasty swear words, because you couldn't drive and do conversation, let alone being touched by fucking Byun Baekhyun. “Okay, okay, I am relaxing just don't-” you stopped abruptly as he retrieved his hand and gave you a quizzical look, “ehm, just, rest, would you? We have a date to attend to after the arrival.”

It was silent for literally one second before he bursted out into a huge fit of laughter, making him wheeze. “God, you're so cute. I didn't know you were this blunt while driving!”

Biting your lip, you felt your face heat up from the points he made about you. “Please,” you sighed, “just don't pay attention to me.”

“Now I kind of want to annoy you, though,” he replied, coughing his laugh away as a mischievous grin was overtaking his features. “Who knows what might I get out of you by the end of this ride?” his flirty tone was taking lead.

“Baekhyun,” you warned, not giving a damn about keeping your image clean and kind.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice like honey. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Scoffing, but smiling anyway, you looked at the side mirror, about to switch lanes, turning to the direction of Cheonan, Asan. “Am I going in the right way?”

With that he immediately checked, but you knew you were going to the right one, based on the signs that he didn't seem to pay attention to. He checked the GPS that was lying in his lap, before he looked on the road. “You are. Keep going straight.”

Even though you couldn't see him, your peripheral vision was on spot. His seat was pushed more backwards, as yours was pushed towards the steering wheel, since his legs were longer than yours. He was sitting comfortably, his right hand gripping the holder above the window as he was looking ahead on the road, occasionally letting his gaze rest on your side profile before looking back, scared you would catch him staring.

It was silent for a bit, but you didn't want to break it, hoping he would get a peace of mind, and just rest up.

Then you heard it. A tired sigh as you sensed he leaned back on the seat even more. “How was your day? I hope I wasn't too pushy with my request to meet tonight.”

“Not at all,” you breathed, “I was glad you asked.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself as he finally let his eyes close for a moment, enjoying your company and the fact that you were driving his car. So cute as you solely focused on the road, but one of his touches and you were on fire. He licked his lips. “I would have asked way earlier,” he started, making a slight pause, hoping his words wouldn't scare you away, “but I really didn't want to push you.”

Silently, you were dying to hear more of what he had to say, you heart causing you slight problems with focusing on the highway that was, thankfully, almost empty, except buses and trucks.

“Heck, I would have called you out as soon as I brought you home last time.”

To this, you giggled, feeling like on cloud 9 from his confession.

“You're laughing at me?” he cracked one eye open, once again unable to stop himself as he poked the side of your right thigh.

You giggled more before almost losing balance with the car.

He stopped, seeing your face. “Oh, sorry, sorry.”

No, don't be, you thought, now completely on fire. Touch me more.

Just as you told him, Santorini, or also called Blue Crystal Village, was silent, the small streets full of white, traditional Greek houses making you smile right away. If you tried just a little bit, you could easily believe you were actually in Santorini, if only there wouldn't be signs in hangul everywhere.

Finally standing on your shaky legs, you heard Baekhyun lock the car and joining you in front so you could start walking. It was a very, very foreign urge, but once he was next to you, you had the need to take his hand. However, you knew you were nowhere near close to that stage. You still couldn't easily let him slip between your fingers.

“Wow, this place is literally Greece,” he laughed quietly as he looked at your reaction before motioning with his head to start walking.

He had a cap now securely on his head, which was good for a coverup, but you hated the shadow it was throwing on his eyes.

“This used to be my favourite place once,” you told him, “very, very good getaway when you want some quiet time.” You walked in the streets, the fairy lights connected from one house to the other, some displaying hearts, others just big light bulbs. The streets were all lit up prettily, just as you remembered. “In fact, I used to come here whenever something was bothering me.”

“Really? Want to share something more?” he urged, playfully pushing you with his elbow.

And so you talked about your university studies, and various memories that were tied to the streets you were currently walking on. He was such a great listener, although you preferred him when he was speaking. Simply, because you loved his voice, the expressions he made, his body language.

And he was able to show it all to you through that one hour and half that you wandered around, took pictures with the fairly lights and the houses, and eventually sat down at a little convenience store that had a small table and plastic chairs outside. Baekhyun insisted on buying you both a drink - lemonade. You couldn't help but smile fondly at this gesture.

“I don't really like drinking alcohol,” he explained as he sat down opposite you.

Just like that, you got to know him better. You got to realise how deep and serious he could be, a complete opposite of the playful puppy he was on set. Of course, he would always make sure to be flirty, and the electric shocks you got whenever your hands would accidentally touch while walking, would be too painful, borderline unbearable.

It escalated completely when both of you stopped in front of the car. You were ready to drive back, still worried he would be tired.

As he unlocked the car and you opened the door, he suddenly pushed it back, letting it close. You turned, only to be surprised at the proximity of his body.

“Sorry,” he let out a breathy chuckle, “Just… I don't think I can get out of the car and give you a proper bye once we arrive at yours.”

What did he mean by this proper bye?

Your heart fell at the realisation.

Would this be the time where he would tell you he wouldn't be seeing you again?

Before the panic could take over, he continued: “I really enjoyed my time with you tonight. Also, I will be driving back!” he exclaimed with a wide smile.

Confused, you nodded and gave a small smile, ready to turn when he held you by your wrist and gently brought you to him. The action caused your breath to hitch, legs getting shaky at his warm touch. “I just,” he started again, but he shook his head once before lifting his left hand and held your cheek gently. This was the moment where you could have sworn you would go down on your knees. “You're so beautiful,” he murmured, looking at your lips. And he was leaning in. His breath fanning your right cheek. His wet lips touching your skin, giving you a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, heaving out a shaky breath. “I like you. Even more now,” he whispered. Slowly pulling away, but not too far, he whispered as he let his hand that was still on your cheek slide towards your hairline, his thumb caressing your skin. “Could you now tell me using your words?”

“Wha-”

“Do you like me?” he murmured, his eyes gently smiling at you before his gaze dropped again on your now parted lips. “I need you to confirm it. Out loud.”

Now or never. You might have been already falling too hard, when you spoke: “I like you.”

He leaned in, giving you hopes of receiving your first kiss. But he merely gave a lingering kiss to your other cheek. Baekhyun let his lips hover over your flushed skin as he made his way to your lips, once again lingering there for a brief second, giving you false, painful hopes, before he brought them up to your forehead and finally, pressed them there. “Awesome.”

---

There. Will. Be. A. Next. Part. (final)

Cause its just too much what I have in mind! I hope I didnt disappoint. Please, let me know what you thought! I love to hear any feedback! 😇

Btw can you guess why is his nickname "waiter"? ^^

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fic #Baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #exo fic #Exo scenario #exo imagine #exo fanfiction #baekhyun ff #baekhyun au #my writings

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eugene-not-flynn · 4 years

Text

cavalry

word count: 1414

summary: Eugene’s been kidnapped. a short New Dream Rescue!fic.

Warnings: some elements of Eugene!whump, blood, injury, passing out, kidnapping, being tied to a chair, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: first time writing for the tangled fandom, so of course this is nerve-wracking. But I’m also working on just getting back into the habit of writing after a few weeks of hiatus. So I wrote this fun little thing, mostly as a way to try out new characters and dynamics. Not meant to be Serious Fic. I haven’t read much in this fandom, so I dunno if kidnapped!Eugene is a trope in this fandom, but I think it probably is. If so, posting this in the name of the “two cakes” theory. Hope you all enjoy! Edited (loosely) by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

...

Eugene blinks as he wakes up, squinting against the limited sunlight that filters through the tiny window at the top of the cell. Is it a cell? He’s not sure, though he wouldn’t know what else to call a small room with a single wooden door in front of him, surrounded by stone walls and a hard, unforgiving floor. He takes a breath, wincing slightly as the smell of mold and copper assaults his nostrils.

He should be used to it by now, he figures. How many days has he been here? At least three. Maybe more than that. The sunlight helps with keeping track of time, though he’d been in and out of consciousness a bit too much for Eugene to have any semblance of confidence about the passage of time.

He flexes his grip experimentally against the rope that anchors his wrists to the arms of the chair he’s in. There’s no give. They must have replaced the ropes while he’d been unconscious. Eugene sighs. So much for the slow progress he’d been making on stretching the ropes out.

He hangs his head and immediately regrets it as the room spins slightly. Eugene clenches his eyes shut against the slight roll in his stomach, and it’s not until he tastes something sharp and metallic that he realizes he bit his already-split lip. He spits the blood out to the side as it floods his mouth.

“Okay,” Eugene says slowly, “Plan B, then.”

Except he doesn’t have a plan B. He had been taken at least three days ago. He’d exhausted most of his usual escape routines, and the fact that they kept him tied to the chair, even during their… interrogations… meant that he was limited in his ability to use and manipulate the space around him like he usually did. There was no hiding-and-ambush, no jerry-rigging a lockpick set, and the stone walls and floor meant there was no digging-your-way-out escape either.

He can’t give up, though. The sunlight through the tiny window reminds him of Rapunzel. He wonders if she even knows that he’d been taken yet. He’d been out with the guard patrolling the northern border of their kingdom when he’d been taken in the night. They’d been half-way through a week-long venture. So it would take the guard at least three days to get back to Corona. If the guard hadn’t also been ambushed. And that didn’t even account for the fact that Eugene still didn’t have a clue where he was.

He’d managed to glean from his brief exchanges with the people who came into his cell to knock him around that they weren’t from Corona, and that they didn’t seem to have a personal grudge against Flynn Rider like Eugene had first assumed. With a few smart remarks and carefully placed questions, Eugene had learned that they knew enough about the crown to know who Rapunzel was, and her parents, and had taken Eugene in an effort to force the crown’s hand for… something.

It had been an oddly gratifying feeling for Eugene. Most of the other times he’d been targeted, it had been for Flynn Rider. Now he was wanted for being Eugene. He figures that maybe there was something kind of nice about that. In a morbid sort of way.

Or maybe it was the concussion talking.

A loud crash on the other side of the door startles Eugene out of his thoughts. There’s muffled shouting, doors opening and distant thuds. Eugene thinks maybe another prisoner tried to escape. He doesn’t know who else these people had taken, but he knows that he is not the only one they’re keeping. He’d been hearing the screams for the past three days.

Then a horse whinnies and he shouldn’t because hope like that is dangerous, but Eugene finds himself thinking it anyway. Max?

There’s a heavy thud against his door that rattles it against the hinges. A muffled voice yelling something. A feminine voice. Eugene’s heart lurches towards the sound but he doesn’t dare think the name. Because if it’s not, if it’s not her, Eugene thinks something might break inside of him.

The lock clicks and the door slams open and Eugene squints against the light, trying to make out the silhouette.

“Get them out of here, Atilla!”

For the first time, Eugene is grateful he’s sitting in a chair because he thinks that if he were standing, his knees might’ve given out on him. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. And the silhouette is familiar and of course—of course—she’s holding a frying pan.

“Sunshine,” Eugene greets, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears, “Gosh, it’s good to see you.”

He hears Rapunzel gasp slightly as she rushes into the cell. “Eugene!”

She’s moving faster than Eugene thinks is possible, but the back of his mind mentions the concussion again. He wonders, with a terrifying jolt, if this whole thing is some kind of elaborate hallucination. But then Rapunzel is cupping his face in her hands and the touch is real and solid and achingly gentle.

Eugene sinks into it a little. He offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Is this where I say you should see the other guy?”

Her green eyes—gosh but Eugene could stare into them forever—flit over his face, her brows pinching together in concern. Eugene thinks perhaps his attempts at a smile may have really looked more like a grimace. Her lips press into a thin line before she swallows.

“Pascal,” she says, who appears on her shoulder. Eugene blinks a few times. Where did he come from? “Think you can undo these ropes?”

“Frog, you’d have my undying gratitude.” Eugene flexes against them and tries not to grimace as the harsh texture rubs against already raw skin.

Pascal rushes down Rapunzel’s arm and inspects the bindings more closely, then shoots a look back to Rapunzel that Eugene cannot decipher. He almost wants to call it apologetic. Rapunzel frowns, but nods once. Eugene sees that spark of determination set into her eyes. She brushes her fingers softly through the strands of his hair that are into Eugene’s face.

“We’re getting you out of here, Eugene. Okay?” Before he can respond, Rapunzel glances over her shoulder and gives a sharp whistle. Maximus appears in the doorway and if a horse could look concerned, Eugene is pretty sure that’s how he’d describe the look on the steed’s face.

Eugene feels a laugh bubble up his chest. “You really brought the whole cavalry, didn’t you, Blondie?”

Rapunzel, evidently, doesn’t find the situation as funny as Eugene does. “Just hang on, Eugene. You’ll be okay.”

Eugene doesn’t really doubt that. Rapunzel is here. A part of him always felt like everything would be okay as long as she was there, with her relentless persistence and optimism.

“Eugene…” There’s a look in Rapunzel’s eyes—wide and soft and something else—that Eugene cannot decipher right now, but it does make him acutely aware that he just said his thoughts aloud.

Max and Pascal work together and manage to quickly undo the ropes around Eugene’s hands and feet. Rapunzel wraps Eugene’s arm around her shoulders and braces a hand carefully against the center of his chest. Eugene does his best to stifle the wince as it sends a sharp burst of pain through him.

“Sorry!” Rapunzel says, always closely attuned to how the people around her react, no matter how small the change.

“It’s okay,” Eugene assures her softly. “Just—ah.” He winces as Rapunzel helps him stand.

He takes a step forward and his knees immediately give out. Rapunzel catches him, and is really the only thing that keeps Eugene from pitching face-first into the floor. The room is tilting and spinning and it occurs to him that he probably won’t be able to walk out of here.

“Max,” Rapunzel says urgently. “Think you can carry Eugene?”

Max huffs a breath in affirmation. Rapunzel helps Eugene swing up into Max’s saddle, and Eugene is proud of himself that he only whimpers a little at the jolt of pain that floods his chest as his ribs are jostled in the process. He instinctively wraps an arm around himself as if he can physically hold his ribcage together.

“Rapunzel—” he grimaces.

“I’m right behind you, Eugene. We’ve got you.”

Eugene sees her soft smile and the determined set to her jaw before his vision tunnels and then goes dark.

#tangled #tangled fanfiction #tangled fanfic #new dream #eugene fitzherbert #kidnapped!eugene #blood #blood mention #injury #kidnapping #how do i tag #yikes #rescue!fic #aksfjksldjf is this intense for this fandom?#i literally do not know #ive gotten a little used to writing for witcher #which has a different canon baseline for gore and injury than tangled obv #hhhh

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beebrainedstudios · 3 years

Note

Maybe Rhy and Holland?

Thanks for the prompt! Here’s a little Aftermath AU Holland and Rhy (information about the AU can be found here). This is set only a few months after the Osaron showdown, when Holland’s still adjusting to his new surroundings and Rhy careful attempts at bridge-building. I apologize for any mistakes, these prompts will likely be a bit less edited than my usual work.

For anyone who’s interested, the ask prompt can be found here!

“What’s wrong?”

Holland didn’t turn from the mirror, his eyes drifting instead to see Rhy Maresh’s reflection stretched out beside his own. The ex-prince was lounging in the doorway to Holland’s rooms, a golden shaft of light against the murky green of the wall, and his presence would have been an intrusion if he hadn’t knocked on the doorframe a few seconds earlier. The tap-tap-tap of bone on wood had clipped through the silence that filled the room, momentarily shocking Holland out of his task.

Rhy was always careful to do that, to knock, even in open rooms, tapping his boots or ringing his knuckles against the wall to warn Holland of his arrival. It was a small consideration, likely intended to be discrete, but it was appreciated; Holland didn’t like to be approached from behind, not without warning.

Holland huffed, unwilling to bother speaking while he was concentrated on his task. His mind was honed in on the feeling of hair against one hand, wood in the other. The knife he was using was sharp, and he was bringing it close to fingers; any Antari was used to cuts, but he wasn’t eager to shed his blood, especially into his hair. The red would stain the white that he’d been instructed to carefully mind- he knew how blood darkened bone-blonde and his hair was lighter than the Danes’. The last thing he needed was for the Arnesians to notice another dusty flaw in his appearance.

Rhy took the sound as an invitation- it wasn’t- and slipped into the room, walking closer to where the first fallen tufts of hair littered the emerald carpet. There he stopped and said nothing, watching Holland work for a minute, his eyes filled with thoughts that Holland had only half a mind to hear. He knew this game. Rhy was waiting for him to go first, to set the boundaries of their interaction, to see his mood for the day. Like the tapping, Holland thought it a touching, if inefficient practice; the fact that’d he’d let Rhy within his sight should have been enough of a hint. He rarely let anyone near him, particularly in his private quarters, but he made exceptions for the young king, if only because it was his palace to begin with.

He was surprised at how much Rhy had grown on him, shockingly persistent in the face of Holland’s stony apathy. Kind of like a weed.

Today, however, Holland was busy and Rhy seemed quiet. Yet neither man said anything, and Holland eventually began to cut again, trying to concentrate only on the sensation of his hair between his fingers, shearing through an inch at a time, trying to keep the ends even. The last time he’d done this, he’d had Osaron looming over his shoulder and a furious desperation in him; he hadn’t wanted his hair cut, he’d wanted it gone. It had been quick, choppy, and a mess, but it had been good enough. Now he was hoping to keep it a little longer and neater. He had the time, and it needed to match the finery he had been housed and clothed in.

It needed to look nice, and Holland didn’t know if he’d be able to recognize what that looked like.

“Your hair’s dry.”

Holland stopped cutting in shock and glanced back at Rhy’s reflection. The king was running a shorn lock of hair between his fingers with a thoughtful look on his face. Just as Holland’s gaze fell on him, he slowly opened his hand, the white threads falling from his fingers like snow back to the floor.

Something small and angry inside Holland sparked then- a little bit of grief, pride, shame, and the dread that always rose when he cut his hair- and he snorted at Rhy’s tone, turning back to the mirror and starting to cut again. He refused to meet Rhy’s eyes. “It’s fine, your Majesty, or is it too ugly for your illustrious court?” The knife was moving quicker now, dangerously close to his fingertips, but Holland didn’t care. He couldn’t. He’d been angry all day, and it was sudden and unfair but now he was angry at Rhy because the king had somehow managed to find him in the middle of something terribly vulnerable that shouldn’t be, and he’d been snapped out of his very careful reverie that had kept him from remembering why he was doing this, and now he could feel Rhy’s eyes on him, reading his posture like the blasted words he loved so much.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, for the love of magic and whatever else you care about, please leave. Not today, not now, leave.

Rhy didn’t. He stepped back a little, giving Holland space, and he sighed. When Holland stopped cutting to glare at him in the mirror, the king’s eyes were tired with more than just the weight of the throne. But he wasn’t angry at Holland’s outburst; he never was, though Holland wouldn’t have blamed him. Keeping up with the former Antari’s mood- with his trauma, as the old priest had called it- must have been exhausting. Perhaps he’d learned his understanding from Kell.

Not that Holland wanted it. Or deserved it.

“It wasn’t an insult, Holland.” Rhy said quietly, and there was not a shred of offence in his tone, only forgiveness. “Your hair is dry, most likely due to the weather. It’s a drier season right now than your body is used to; it happens to us Arnesians, too, all the time. There’s stuff you can put in your hair to help.”

He paused, then spoke again. “You look fine.”

Holland’s hands stilled, and the angry heat inside him boiled into thick shameful tar. He had grown weary of lashing out at Rhy like this, when the new king was so unwilling to do so in kind. One day, they’d be okay, and the next he would be trapped with the Danes on one shoulder and Rhy on the other. He was too nice to Holland, and the Antari never knew what to do with it. He expected the first blow every time they spoke, and every time, he was disappointed.

There was no apology ready on his tongue, but Rhy as usual had guessed he was upset and evidently didn’t mind, because he only stepped closer again as if Holland hadn’t just snapped at him. Holland sighed in frustration, the tension in his chest loosening as he gave up and finally dropped the knife- he was practically done, anyway- turning in his chair to look Rhy in the eyes. The prince smiled gently at him, and it was the worn grin of a no-longer-prince who had expected his nervousness and was pleased to see it start to ebb. “I came in to tell you that Luc and I are going out tonight, and we want you to come.”

Holland rolled his eyes, breathing out more anxiety with each breath, trying to uncoil it from his chest. Then he shook a hand through his hair, sending white threads falling like hay from a loft. “Rhy, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not exactly presentable right now.”

Rhy’s face twisted into a pout, purposefully childish and annoyingly endearing. “You always say that.”

Holland didn’t answer; Rhy was right. He didn’t usually join the king and the pirate on their evening escapades, which were supposedly marked with disguises and lots of liquor. This London was too bright, too happy even at night after all that he had brought upon it, and he felt like a stain against the cheerful backdrop every time he left his rooms. The clothes he wore were still too dull compared to everyone else, and there were so many eyes on him, drawn to his scars, his eyes, his hair. He didn’t fit in, a pebble among gemstones; the last thing he wanted was to burden Rhy and Alucard with it.

Rhy cocked his head as he watched Holland think, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes. After a moment’s contemplation, new energy sparked off his skin, warming the stillness in the room, and Holland realized with horror that the king had an idea.

“Nevermind, new plan. Have you ever met Calla?”

Holland ignored the name in favor of protest. “I never agreed to g-”

Rhy wasn’t listening, instead turning to look hurriedly around the room.

“You’ll like her, she used to help me with Kell’s wardrobe.”

“Wait, that lady? I thought you said that she died.”

Rhy was flitting around the room now, prepping for the trip that Holland silently resigned himself to joining. He swept up Holland’s cane and coat, tossing them both to Holland and smiling when he rose without fuss and put them on. Earlier exhaustion forgotten, he then trotted out the door with Holland on his heels, a fine trail of white following after them out of the room. Holland pitied whoever would have to clean it up, but he had little time to dwell on it between trying to follow Rhy through the maze of the palace and keeping up with his eager prattling.

“Lila misidentified the body, she showed up a few days after Kell left. A real pity they missed it- they both adore her- but she’s great at her job and I’m sure she’d love to meet you, all we have to do is find you something new to wea-”

Holland’s pace slowed a fraction. “Are we going clothes shopping? Now?”

“Yes, now. You need a distraction and some serious accessorizing advice. Maybe if you like your appearance, you’ll be more willing to join me and Luc when we go out.”

Holland started to scoff, but Rhy cut him off with a tiny kick to his boot.

“I hardly think this is an aesthetic issue- ”

“It is. I know it and you’re coming whether you like it or not. You want something to match your charming new haircut, don’t you?”

“Does it really look okay?”

Rhy laughed as they both stepped outside, a sound somewhere between a song and a bell. Luc was already waiting in one of the more discrete royal carriages, and Holland could hear him calling out the window for them to hurry up.

Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so bad. At least the company would be tolerable.

“Of course, Holland. I’d never have let you leave the palace if it didn’t. Now stop sighing and get in the carriage.”

#adsom #adsom fic #adsom aftermath au #rhy maresh #holland vosijk #alucard emery #adsom fanfiction #adsom au #sometimes trauma shows up in weird ways #in hollands case its with his hair due to astrids tendency to mess with it #luckily for holland #rhy is an excellent judge of character #who cant hold a grudge to save his life #hurt/comfort #i think #the asks for this are open everyone #Ask Bee #Bee Asks #Bee Writes

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wynniewright · 4 years

Text

Little Piece of Heaven (M)

→ Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader (female)

→ Word Count: 8k

→ Genre: Valentine’s Day AU | First time (sort of) AU | Fluff | Smut

→ Warnings: Implied past abuse (Previous relationship), reader has a little trauma, reader doesn’t like to be touched, first time sex with boyfriend, first time sex after past abuse, so much fluff, mild mention of panic attacks and oncoming attacks, soft boyfriend Joon, fingering, cunnilingus, making out, dry humping, face-sitting, protected sex (be smart kiddos), cockwarming if you squint, sort of porn with little mention of plot (?), empowered abuse survivor, probably the most fluffy writing with dark undertones, implied first attempt with Joon, Joon is a saint and everyone needs one of him, I think that’s it

→ Summary: A sexually abusive relationship left her untouchable and almost inconsolable, until a white knight named Namjoon made his way into her heart, mind, and soul. Three years of a relationship together with constant attempts to stop the panic attacks and test the boundaries of intimacy, Y/N decides Valentine’s Day is the perfect day to show him how much she appreciates his presence and how much she’s improved… all because of him.

→ A/N: Okay, so I tried with the warnings but I just wanted to state things a little better down here for those interested. A better description for those wondering if it’s going to be triggering for them: It’s about a girl who finally reaches the point in healing after her previous abuse to successfully make love to her partner. He’s not abusive, there’s nothing triggering or any mentions of the actual abuse. It’s very mellow and calm, extremely soft with oral consent, so if you don’t find any of that triggering, you’re safe.

→ A/N Part 2: I fixed the “fat” instead of “sat” mistake and the others I could see. If anyone else sees something off, lemme know. My editing software didn’t flag out of place words so excuse the dumb mistakes c: ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE 100+ LIKES!

The jingling of keys and gentle closing of the door signaled the arrival of my boyfriend. The sounds echoed through our tiny one-bedroom apartment despite his every attempt to not make too much noise in case I was asleep.

Namjoon spent every waking moment at school with a job at the campus bookstore on top of his night classes. His schedule took a bit of getting used to at first, but paired with my morning classes and afternoon tutoring gig, it worked out in the end. It ended up working well for the both of us, aside from the fact that I was always in bed before he got home. At least we still got to go to sleep and wake up next to each other.

I heard him set his keys down on the island counter and start walking back towards the bedroom. The thudding of his boots stopped at our open doorway and I swore I could hear him wiggling his feet out of them. He waddled across the floor in his socks before the the rustling sounds of his clothes brought a smile to my face. He was always an awkward one, especially when it came to changing clothes. It was more like him wrestling himself out of them rather than stripping.

I remembered the week I no longer cringed at the sound of his zipper. When I could actually laugh at the thought of him tripping over his pant legs when he couldn't get them off completely.

A lot had changed since then.

"Hey, baby. I'm home," he whispered, sliding into bed behind me and tucking himself under the covers to snuggle up to my back. He didn't hold me tight, instead opting to throw a loose arm over my waist as his front barely touched my back.

The thick layer of darkness flooding the room didn't stop me from taking a peek at his arm to see what he wore. As expected, I noticed the little bit of sweater paw caused by only Joon's most favorite t-shirt in his closet. Despite the cuteness of it all, a small part of me was almost grateful that he wasn't bare.

I frowned at the though, placing my arm atop the one draped over my side. "Hey."

I only sat there for a moment before forcing myself to turn around and face him. After a long day at work and school, I liked to take some time at the end of the night to look at him. He always had such a soft look on his face whenever I checked him out, letting me do it for as long as I wanted with no interruptions. Sometimes I thought that maybe he got a kick out of my little routine. Who knew.

His soft brown eyes focused in on my face, adjusting to the sudden darkness as I scooted myself a tad bit closer to him. Even in the dark, I saw his little dimples poke through as he smiled at our closeness.

"Did I wake you?" He asked, his fingers sauntering up my arm to cup my cheek in his palm with hesitance.

I nuzzled the side of my face into his hand, pressing a quick kiss to it with a consenting smile. Nothing hurt me more than to watch him walk on eggshells more than he already did for me. It wasn't fair to him.

"No, I was waiting for you to come home. How was your day?"

He brushed back the little hairs that framed the side of my face and grazed his knuckles across my skin.

"Work was decent. Our new hire, Jimin, started today and we got along quite well. He seems pretty cool. As for school, well -- it was school. If I look at one more calculus problem tonight, I'm going to scream. I'm actually going to have nightmares about it," he giggled and I found myself laughing along with him.

I wasn't good enough in math to be in calculus but I spent enough time studying with Joon to know that the workload was ridiculous. Especially with midterms around the corner.

"I'm glad your day went well," I mumbled, leaning forward to brush my nose gently against his. It wasn't a big gesture but we both shared a love for the little things.

"Yeah, I am too." He nudged my nose with his and hummed.

"Hey babe?" I smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Leaning forward, I pressed a delicate kiss to his beautiful pink lips, the ones I could never get enough of. I sighed out against him at the warmth of his face, no doubt his body was as warm if not warmer. I brushed that thought off by clearing my throat. One step at a time.

"Happy Valentine's, babygirl. Couldn't imagine a better way to spend it than this," Joonie muttered with his lips still flush against mine. He pushed our foreheads together, nose skimming alongside one another as we laid there peacefully.

I loved any chance to sit with him that close, but even with him laying all snug beside me, something felt off. No matter how close the two of us got, we couldn't get our bodies to be that intimate either. In my mind, I loved him, trusted him. That didn't stop me from having to remind him that none of it was his fault, even if his hand or close proximity was the trigger. It felt like a burden to want to love somebody when your body and mind didn't match up. It dragged him down and upset him more than I would ever forgive myself for.

And somehow, the consolation for us both was the amount of progress I'd made in three short years Namjoon and I were together. When we first met, everything was so much worse. I wouldn't let him hold my hand or give me a hug until six months into knowing him, and it was only because he was different. He was the only person I didn't have to force myself to be okay around and the only person who knew the extent and cause of my fear. I remembered thinking to myself, 'Why would someone like him be with someone like me.' Over the years, he made it his job to make sure I knew the answer to that.

I'm not broken.

After that, we spent months working on sleeping in the same room, since some of the first attempts ended with panicking that freaked him out as much as it did me. Still it never came close to how bad it was when we tried sleeping in the same bed.

Namjoon's gentle fingers danced across my cheek and I let the thoughts of the person I used to be float away with each touch.

"Everything okay?" He asked me while his thumbs ran over the smooth flesh of my cheek. While I was in thought, he seemed to have pulled a bit away to watch me. He always knew exactly when I needed to stop thinking so much. It was one of the many reasons I continued to push my boundaries with him.

"Yeah, everything's fine." I smiled and turned my head to press a quick peck to his rough palm. "I've been thinking a lot about something recently." His eyes grew wide, as if I said something worth making him nervous when it was the other way around.

A couple months before, I started seeing a sex therapist to help me with my intimacy issues. I passed it off as tutoring work because I didn't want to disappoint Joon if it didn't work out. I felt stupid for lying to him about something so important, especially when he was the only support system I had.

But it worked. A few months of working with her and searching myself, Joon and I went further than we had before. We slept in the same bed, pretty much snuggled up against one another every night with no attacks and no stress. He was smart, way smart enough to notice that things had gotten better. So why not tell him?

I bit my lip as I tried to word what I wanted to say. 'I want to have sex with you' was a little brazen and 'let's try to make love' sounded cringy in my head. Doubt clouded my thoughts as I recalled the last time we had this conversation. It didn't go well.

"I don't know... how to uh," I started, only to look up into his eyes and realize I was completely unprepared to bring it up with him. Did that mean I wasn't ready?

No, no. I was definitely ready.

I pushed myself to sit up, leaning against the wall behind the head of our bed and curling my knees up to my chest. As soon as I did that, he sat up in alarm with his hand placed on mine in support.

"It's nothing bad, I promise. I've spent a lot of time thinking about you and... us. It's weird to see how far we've come over the past few years and I've realized something. There's something I want to try, because I trust you and it's something I want to share with you." I trailed on, my eyes beginning to wander before I forced myself to refocus my attention on him.

He looked a little nervous, even after I promised it wasn't something bad. In a weird way, I felt relieved that he was anxious to hear what I was anxious to say.

"I want... I want to have sex with you." Clearing my throat, I forced it out. I didn't have enough energy to keep stressing over it.

He didn't exactly react immediately. Whether that was a good or bad thing was beyond me. I could see the wheels turning in his head, no doubt trying to make sense of what I said and piece together the implication.

Maybe I shouldn't have said anything to him. Maybe in his own way, he wasn't ready to try again so soon after the last time. What if he didn't want to do that with me? What if he settled for me because we could hardly be anything more than platonic?

"I don't understand. What changed?" His grip on my hand tightened, not enough to hurt me but instead reinforcing his support.

"Me. I've changed. I've grown so much with you and I've been thinking about this a lot because it's something I've wanted to give you. You deserve at least this much, and I know that's not a valid reason to have sex with someone and it's not the only one. I started seeing a therapist to help me get over... everything. I wanted it to be a possible option for us and our relationship," I spewed out. My words must've come out quick, since Joon grew closer to me with a more concerned look on his face. It was the same face he made when he was trying to memorize a new formula or work out a difficult equation.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and if we have to take years to get past everything, then we will. There's no rush." He took my face into both his hands and looked me straight in the eyes, reminding me exactly why I wanted to do this for him. It was the same reason I longed to be intimate with him. I wanted him to push me on my back and whisper how much he loved me while we make love and that's what we were going to do. No matter what it took.

I couldn't help but smile at his protectiveness, not to mention the thought of being with him for the rest of my life.

Reaching up, I grabbed at his cheeks with my own sweater paw-covered hands, cupping his face like he always did to me. And with a calmness I didn't know I had in me, I kissed him. His eyes took a couple of seconds to close before I felt his lashes flutter against my cheeks. That's when I knew I finally had him.

He released a quivering breath as our lips parted but before he could pull away from me, I pushed myself up onto my knees with confidence. His velvety lips were gentle against my own as he mirrored my actions until we both knelt on the bed with our bodies pressed tightly together. I pulled him into me, taking his plush bottom lip into my mouth to smooth my tongue over it with practiced ease. He released a soft huff against me, moving a hand to brush some hair behind my ear while the other slid down my waist. His fingers pressed into the soft skin there with purpose, somehow managing to ease the frenzy my heart went through. He made me feel safe and loved and protected.

Ah, I loved him.

I moved my arm to wrap around his next, securing him to me as our kiss became more open. The more our mouths molded to one another, his will to resist faded into nothing as he finally opened his mouth up to me. Our tongues danced and tangled, leaving me dizzy and completely oblivious to the outside world. I forgot the broken girl who was afraid of him, despite knowing he'd never hurt her. I forgot the times we struggled to try and physically love each other, as if our lips and teeth erased all the dark.

Namjoon pulled away from me for a brief second with a thin string of our mixed saliva connecting the two of us. He kept his eyes on me in a gaze that I couldn't recognize. I scrunched my brows.

"Tell me that this isn't what you want and I'll stop. You know I would do nothing to hurt you," he choked out with pain in his voice. My thoughts drifted back to the last time he said those words, right before out whole night fell apart. All because of me.

I pushed myself up higher, straightening my back and gathering as much confidence as I could. Running my fingers through his soft brunette locks, I dug my fingers in enough to hold him there. "Please don't stop," I whispered, scanning over his face to watch it melt with resolve. Without the hesitance he held from before, he closed the distance between us once more and framed my face with his hands as he kissed me sweetly.

With my answer clear for the both of us, he supported my back and laid me down to sweep my legs out from underneath me. He rested himself above me with no part of him aside from his arms and lips touching me as he held himself up. His arms were wobbling with the exertion to balance on the mattress and keep off of me. He didn't want to touch me. That wouldn't do.

"I want you to make love to me, baby," I mumbled against him, retracting my arms from his neck to grip at his shirt and pull him down onto me. As his body came into contact with mine, an odd and unfamiliar heat burned between my legs. He pressed up against me completely, his hard-on flush against my core. I wasn't used to the warmth there let alone the new set of hips spreading my legs open.

I let out a noise I hardly recognized as he drove his hips gently into mine, earning a soft groan from Joon and a few pecks along my jaw. Goosebumps raised the hair on my right side as he buried his face in my neck to leave a trail of wet kisses.

"I'm going to do a lot more than that, babygirl. I'm going to show you that you're my world and you deserve everything I have to offer you."

He traveled down my neck, lips ghosting across my skin until the neckline of my shirt got in the way. I peered down in time to watch his finger run down my chest and stomach, skimming down my body until he reached the hem. He paused to look up at me with the obvious question lingering in his eyes.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, playing with the bottom of the shirt until I bit my lip and nodded 'yes'. Despite my answer, he didn't move.

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N. Out loud. I'm not making any mistakes this time." He pushed himself back up to press a chaste kiss to my lips before I cleared my throat out of nervousness. Even with mild anxiety, I knew what I wanted.

"Yes."

He scanned my face once more before taking my word, fingertips sliding underneath the shirt to pull it up. He inched it up my body until the bottom of my breast poked out from beneath, and still he kept his eyes on my face. I leaned up to help him remove my shirt completely, baring myself naked from the waist up for his eyes to feast on. Only he didn't. Almost a year since he'd seen that much of me and he couldn't take his eyes off my face. If something made me cry that night, chances pointed at that small notion.

The same dopey smile stuck on his lips as he traced my bottom lip with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful." His smile grew bigger and I couldn't help but smile myself. The heat on my cheeks made it difficult to look at him in the eyes, but I pushed past that. I nuzzled against his hand and gathered the strength to look up at him.

He leaned in for another kiss, this one sloppier and somehow more comforting than the others. His lips cushioned mine, tongue smoothing over what he could until our teeth clashed and I lost sight of what was mine and what was his.

The kiss didn't last as long as I wanted it to, instead he broke it off to once again travel his way down my body. His hands slid into mine, providing me with some support as his lips traveled down my collarbone and the top of my breast. His chin skimmed over my nipple and forced me to suck in a sharp breath. His lips ghosted across my chest until it reached the peak, his lips taking in my hardening nipple. The first thought on my mind was how perfect his lips felt on me, despite how much my mind fought against the idea of someone being physical with me. A little pit of fear pooled in the bottom of my stomach at the familiar feeling on my chest brought back memories of him.

But it wasn't him. There was nobody capable of making me feel as good as I did in that moment. Nobody but my Namjoon.

I opened my eyes and realized I didn't remember shutting them. Joon looked up at me with practiced patience and understanding before resuming his task. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach, making sure to even peck the little freckle I had at the top of my cleavage.

"Welcome back," he grinned, maintaining eye contact as his tongue poked out from between his lips and leisurely swiped across my other nipple. It didn't take long for him to coax it into full hardness to match the other.

I scrunched my nose up in embarrassment, pursing my lips. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You came back to me." Something about the way he spoke made my heart skip a beat and almost jump out of my ribs.

"I love you," I mumbled, reaching down to play with his soft brunette locks as he skimmed his nose down the front of my body.

Joon pulled one of his hands from my grasp and let it glide down the side of my body until he settled on the pajama shorts I wore. I tightened my legs together some, lifting my body half for a second to adjust my position. The material, along with my underwear, clung to my skin uncomfortable, almost as if it was suffocating that part of me.

"What do you want, love? Want me to take these off?" He cooed, pressing soft kisses between my breasts before looking up at me with the adoration he always held for me. I reached down to let my fingers run wild in his beautiful blond locks, etching the picture of his chin on my chest and hair hanging low on his forehead into my mind.

I moved my hand from his head and down his neck to grin the collar of his shirt. I hadn't seen the tanned expanse of his smooth skin for a year. A full year.

The thought along brought tears to my eyes. Everything that I needed, he gave to me. Anything I wanted or didn't want, he made happen without question or hesitation. I always knew how much effort he out into making sure I felt safe and comfortable,, but at what cost? Not being able to get dressed in the same room as me or being forced to wear clothes to bed even if it was hot and sweaty?

"Baby. Everything okay?" Joon's voice snapped me back into the moment and I tried to keep myself blushing at the thought of being called out once again.

I cleared my throat and blinked away the tears, putting on a small smile and tugged at his shirt. “I want to see you, Joonie. I want this off,” I admitted to him.

A boyish grin plastered itself on his face as he nuzzled the side of my breast. "Would you like to take it off?" he asked when I realized I hadn't let go of him.

I nodded eagerly, yet the tight ball in my tummy lurched in disagreement. I took a deep breath as he rolled to the side and took me with him, taking me by surprise. I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me when I landed on top of him, chests smooshed together and our lips barely an inch apart. We didn't stay that was for long. He sat up and guided my legs to wrap around his body, a position we were very comfortable with already.

My heart thumped in my chest and for a moment, a knot formed in my throat and made it difficult to breath. His hands moved from my waist to cup at both sides of my cheeks as he pressed tender kisses to the center of my face. In some ways, I could've compared him to a guide dog that knew exactly what to do when I broke down. He recognized everything immediately and didn't hesitate to start showering me with kisses as we kept still. it was out own way of telling my body and mind to adapt to something new and uncomfortable - that it was alright and safe. Every peck to my skin broke down the lump in my throat until I felt like I could breathe again.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," I repeated to myself as my boyfriend nodded, something I followed to help the rapid beat of my heart.

"We don't have to go any further than this, babygirl. We've already come so far," he grinned, flashing his dimples as he skimmed his nose lovingly against mine.

He used 'we' not 'you'. He always took every opportunity to show me that we were a team and every time I picked up on the detail, it made me want to cry. I never needed reminding of how much he cared for me because he showed me in even the smallest of things.

Without responding back to him, I let my hands wander down the flat planes of his torso, surfing over his chest and exploring every dip and bump of muscle with my fingertips. It almost felt wrong to be touching him with such confidence after so much time has passed since the last - and first - time. But deep down, it made me excited. The surface of myself wanted nothing more than to play the helpless lamb that shied away from attention while underneath it all, I longed for him to touch me like nobody had before.

Trying to refrain from thinking too much, I let my fingers fall towards the bottom of his shirt, pinching the material between my fingers as I nibbled on my lip. With a nod of encouragement from Namjoon and a finger thumbing at my bottom lip, I let my hands wander under his shirt to meet his bare flesh for the first time.

He was warm -- no. He was hot. His stomach convulsed under my touch and I almost let out a soft 'awe' knowing that this was the first time he was touched in a long while. Just knowing that warming my cheeks and raised a confidence in me that I didn't know was there. With enough conviction to move my hesitant body, I pulled his shirt up and over his head to expose him to my eyes.

For the first time, I dropped my eyes from out lingering gaze to admire the wide expanse of his chest. He was beautiful and tanned, muscles evidence of the daily workouts he loved so much. His chest and stomach rose and sank with each deep breath, making me reach out and touch his heart.

What was he feeling? Was his heart beating quick like mine was?

With a quick press of my palm to his peck, I confirmed with a giggle that he too was either as excited or as nervous as I was. His heart thumped beneath my hand and I couldn't help the joy that bubbled in my chest as I realized it was beating for me.

With a triumphant smile, I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips against his, missing the way he felt against me. Namjoon matched my tenderness with a soft passion of his own, taking my lips in between his own and pulling me closer. I moved my hands from his front, choosing to drape them around his neck to play with his hair and explore the smooth skin of his back.

He let out a soft groan as I glided my fingernails across his neck, positioning his hands on my waist before releasing my lips. I took in a deep breath of air to calm the slow burning in my lungs when Joon nudged my head to the side with his nose. his lips trailed a pathway down my neck, leaving little pecks and open-mouthed kisses in its wake. He buried his face in my neck once more, giving the sensitive area more attention and enjoying the wave of goosebumps that flushed that side of my body. His hands tightened their grip on my hips and I knew what he was asking of me.

I took a couple of small breaths to steady myself, rubbing eh side of my face against his before gently rocking my lips forward into his. My sudden actions forced a light moan from him as his body immediately reacted by pushing back against me.

It was difficult to describe the feeling I was experiencing between us. I continued rocking against him in search for an answer to what it was, how it felt, and how I felt about it. The pit of fear and anxiousness that remained made itself known again, rising up to my chest. I fought back against it by coiling my arms around his neck and letting out a whimper as I pushed myself to continue.

His hands stilled on my hips as he held them tightly, halting my movements to pull back from my neck and look at me with those big brown eyes. "Talk to me, babygirl."

"I can't feel... this." I sighed, brushing my hair over my shoulder to cover my chest as I was flooded with self-conscious thoughts. "I just -- I don't feel anything."

He caught my chin between his index finger and thumb, tugging up to keep my gaze locked with his. "Alright, that's fine, baby. Do you want to stop?" He offered me a genuine way out, but I shook my head. I didn't want to stop now that we'd come so far.

"I don't want to stop until I feel something."

"Mm, well if I remember right, you definitely felt my tongue last time. How about letting me taste you, babygirl?" I sputtered at how forward he was about it and could practically feel the red in my cheeks and ears.

"Okay," I agreed and melted against him, moving to shuffle off of him when his hands blocked me from doing so. I raised a questioning brow at him as he grinned the most bashful smile I'd ever seen on him.

"I want to do it a little differently this time. I want you to sit on my face," he breathed out almost too quick and quiet for me to understand. He laid back on the bed with me still seated on top of him and it took me a moment to process what he meant by that. My eyes widened as he gestured for me to move up closer to him, closer to his head. I choked down the hesitation and crawled up his body until I was sitting on his chest. While looking down at him, I realized I was still wearing my shorts.

"Joonie, what about my--" I began to ask before he cut me off by yanking me forward until I hovered right above his head. From there, I could see his eyes but not much below it. He stared up at me with warmth, eyes glistening with want as his breath heated the crotch of my clothes.

He hummed underneath me, turning his head to press fluttery kisses to the inside of my bare thighs. He smoothed his hands over my hips and down my legs, massaging circles into my flesh to relax my tightened legs. I took the opportunity to let my head fall back and eyes close, remembering the first time I felt his tongue on me.

I recalled the softness of his touch, the gentleness his fingers possessed as he skimmed over my sensitive thighs and core. I thought back to the way he held my hand in his and let them rest on my stomach to remind me that he was there. Just... slightly further down. Right on cue, his hand found mine and intertwined our fingers together.

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and my heart dropped as the cold air hit my most sensitive parts. I looked down to see him peeling the material to the side to reveal my quivering pussy. He wasted no time in dipping his slick tongue in to lick a bold stripe between my lower lips. It pulled a soft moan from my throat and curled my toes with a jolt of pleasure. His warm touch fluttered across my skin while leaving a wet trail around my clit, purposefully avoiding it as he teased me. I could only take so much before my hips began rocking on their own accord, brushing the little nub of sensitivity against his nose as he stuck his tongue in me.

With wide eyes, I looked down at him and my heart almost skipped a beat when I noticed him staring up at me. There was a playfulness sparkling in his eyes, a heated look that only added to the sensations of his tongue. I scrunched my face up a bit as my ears flushed pink with embarrassment.

Slowly, he pulled his tongue out of me only to push it in again with greater force. My body reacted immediately, my chest pushing itself out as I let my head loll back. His nose brushed up against my throbbing clit and I almost whined when he barely showed it any attention.

"Joonie, stop teasing me," I pouted. My throat was dry and hoarse but I pushed past the uncomfortable rub.

"Sorry. I was committing those beautiful sounds of yours to memory." He grinned and carried on his onslaught of teasing. Right when I was about to take things into my own hands, his lips attached to the little bundle of nerves, lapping over it with his tongue as he pushed a finger to my clenching hole. My breath caught in my throat as he felt my stomach tense. He felt me pause and held my hand tighter, turning his head to press some soft kisses to the inside of my thighs before landing on my clit with a groan of his own.

I raised my hips some to accommodate his hand, giving him enough space to run a finger through the slick between my legs and push it into me until I hit the first knuckle. Taking so little still felt like so much, the newfound pressure inside me feeling foreign and unwanted in some way that I shoved back deep down.

I wanted it -- I wanted him. My heart burned with need but my body wouldn't dare lower onto his finger despite how much I yearned for it.

"I-I need a moment."

As soon as those words tumbled from my lips, all hold he had on me dropped and he let me roll over onto the bed beside him. I covered my face with my arms as a wave of darkness washed over me and crept into my thoughts.

I was right there with him again.

Those eyes that led me into his arms only for him to betray me. Those hands that comforted me only so he could mark me as his and that pressure between my legs sealed the deal.

You're not here. You're not here... I repeated to myself, attempting to break myself out of my own thoughts. It wasn't him. I wasn't there with him. I was there with Namjoon, the man I loved and the man who loved me. The one who proved time and time again that I was the center of his world and his light.

As if reading my mind, long arms wrapped themselves snug around my body and surrounded me with their comforting warmth as he whispered something into my ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying at first, only recognizing the soft tone he used. I honed in on that, on him, wanting nothing more than to come back to him.

"It's alright, baby. I've got you. You're safe. I'll protect you," he repeated over and over again until the high-pitched buzzing dissipated from my ears.

I choked out a sob as I searched for his face in the darkness, cupping it between both hands to set my lips with his. The hint of my wetness on his lips didn't seem to bother either one of us, only proving to support my mental mantra. I wasn't there with him.

"I know. You've got me," I mumbled against his lips before an onslaught of love and adoration for my boyfriend filled me to the brim. I molded my mouth to his, devouring the soft hums and grumbles he gave me as I hoisted my leg up and over his, pulling him even closer to me.

His hands wandered back down to my core, leaving quick little touches around my thighs as he trailed closer. Finally, his large fingers cupped my heat and I rolled my hips into them, suddenly needing much more than that.

He prodded me with his finger to gauge my reaction, dragging his finger through the slick remaining from his tongue. When he was met with an unrestrained moan, he gently pressed into me. The unsettling lack of comfort was the same as the first time, until he pushed in enough to brush past a spot I'd almost forgotten was there. His touch forced a sound out of me that I hardly recognized, somewhere between a cry and a moan. Regardless, it urged him on, spurring him to retract his finger and push it right back in to find that spot once more.

I pushed my chest into his, feeding off the energy his tongue across my bottom lip gave. I bucked my hips against his hand enough to signal that I was okay now before nibbling on his lip. I inhaled sharply when a second finger joined his first. It was an understatement to say it was a tight fit since it'd been a long time since I'd had anything inside me. Oddly enough, nothing felt bad about the stretch I felt, instead the slow burn of his touch grew on me and left me wanting more. He thrusted his fingers into me, pushing them deep inside to skim across my g-spot each time until I involuntarily clenched around him.

We pulled out lips apart for a moment to catch our breaths but his motions against me continues, our bodies rocking together as he worked me open. Our foreheads bumped against each other, labored breaths mingling between out lips as they brushed together. The simplicity of such a intimate position made my heart pound violently behind my ribs as a tight ball welled up inside my lower half.

Joon must've felt me clench around his fingers because he pulled back a moment to look at the nervous smile I wore.

"Can I make you cum like this?"He asked, slowing his movements down a bit to prologue the pending orgasms that was gathering strength inside me.

"What about you?" I bounced the question back to him, running my fingertips along the smooth flesh of his jaw before settling on his chest to distract myself from the gently onslaught of pleasure his fingers kept delivering.

"If you're comfortable with more, then we don't have to stop after this. I'm happy with either outcome," he beamed, pressing a quick peck to the tip of my chilly nose.

I nodded. "I-I want you to make me cum like this, then. Please." The last word came out more like a whine as he took no time to adjust his rhythm and speed to his new objective.

The feeling of his fingers inside of me was overwhelming, the euphoric pump of ecstasy spreading from his fingers through my body. It flowed through my veins, reaching my arms and legs and making them tighten uncontrollably. My eyes glazed over and my toes curled as the wave of pleasure washed over me.

I gripped tightly onto Joon’s shoulder, pressing my head back against his as the feeling crashed over me. I shut my eyes and tried to breath through the tremendous amount of pressure flowing through me but instead held my breath without a second thought. A ringing filled my ears and I'm sure dark spots would've danced across my vision if I'd kept my eyes open.

I hardly noticed how much my body tensed in his arms. It wasn't until a feeling of relaxation and bliss took me over that I realized I'd trapped his hand between my legs. I quickly released his hand and buried my face into his body with heated cheeks.

"What are you hiding for?" He chuckled, the vibrations moving through his neck and chest to tickle at my face.

"Mm. I can't believe I did that."

I could hear the smile in his voice as he responded with, "I can I always believe in you."

I laughed at his sappiness, ignoring the way it made my heart race and brought fresh tears to my eyes. I brushed my nose along his neck, pressing little kisses to his flushed skin while I reached for the little foil packet I placed under the pillow earlier.

Once it was within my reach, I waved it in front of us both, keeping my face buried in him for the time being. My cheeks couldn't get any hotter but I didn't think I could handle the heat of his knowing gaze on me.

He gingerly took it from my hand before rubbing soft shaped into my back, coaxing me to come out of hiding. I poked my head out to meet his soft eyes, nuzzling into his knuckles as he skimmed them across my face.

"Are you sure?" He asked once more although we both knew my answer.

I rubbed my thighs together to relieve some of the aching left in the wake of my climax. I surprised myself, feeling the same bubble of pressure grow in me, only it felt like it needed to be popped. It was slightly uncomfortable to have slick coating the inside of my legs, soaking my probably ruined panties and shorts. I found it funny that I out of all people would walk away from Valentine's Day with my first ruined set of underwear. Sort of made me feel victorious in a way. Without bothering to say anything, I slipped off the soaking material, hopefully tossing it somewhere close to the hamper. When I laid back down and coated my naked legs with my own wetness, Joon's eyes snapped down and lock to the movement. I swore he moaned out when he saw me working myself up, almost clumsily pushing down his old sweat and underwear to leave himself bare for me.

He worked the condom open and pulled it out, tossing the foil to the side. He didn't seem to care whether it landed on the bed or the floor as he kept his sight on my legs. The image was enough to make him grow even harder than he was before.

"Ugh, fuck," he mumbled under his breath as he rolled the condom on. "I forgot how much I hated these things." I couldn't take my eyes off of him, even after he rubbed the cheap condom lube of his hand and wrapped his arms around me again.

I wanted to get used to him, get to know his body and how all the different parts felt against mine. But later. Even as we tackled so much together, I didn't think I had it in me to do those things yet. Yet.

"I want you to sit on me, baby. Can you do that for me? I want to feel you," he whispered in my ear and guided my leg up and over his waist until I straddled over him. Being on top once again made me think back to sitting on his face and how good he felt underneath me.

I sat up and adjusted my position until my soaked core brushed along the underside of his covered cock. The lube on the condom smelled awful and synthetic, making me wrinkled my nose in disgust before a simple peck smoothed it away.

"Here. Hold up." He pushed us up with his hips and legs, moving us back toward the headboard so he could lean up against it. He bent his legs behind me, almost cradling me with his body as we sat there chest to chest, brushing our noses together. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist in a comforting, protective hold, nudging my head back to press his lips onto mine.

I sighed into the kiss, weaving my fingers in his soft locks as I rolled my hips along his hard shaft, consuming the little groan he let out. I pushed myself up from my knees for a moment and Joon took the hint, lowering a hand to pump his cock a few times before rubbing the top against me as a warning. His lips traveled down my jaw before he settled in the crook of my neck, heating it with his warm air and wet kisses.

"Please, Joon," I swallowed and released his hair from my grip, too afraid to hurt him if I got scared. I settled on loosely tangling my arms around his neck and pushing my head to his as I slowly lowered myself down onto him.

The intrusion felt something between uncomfortable stiffness and a sort of completed feeling. I'd only gotten about an inch of him in when I stopped, processing the delicious stretch of his cock when I almost thanked him aloud for prepping me beforehand.

Not that I thought much about it since I never had a need to, but he was decent size. I wasn't the best person in describing the perfect male specimen but the way he filled me up didn't need any explaining. He left me huffing for more, almost overwhelming me with the first half. We both let out strings of moans as we gripped onto each other for support.

"Mm, Joonie," I whimpered when he met my hips halfway, thrusting up into me with such restraint that it made my eyes roll back. Goosebumps raised the hair on my skin as he filled me to the brim.

I ignored the emotional side of me that wanted to flare up. I wanted to cry in happiness but I pushed it aside. We struggled for so long with me feeling broken and hating myself because of it, so i was going to enjoy the one moment of pure intimacy I had with him.

Neither of us moving drove me crazy, to the point where I lifted myself and rolled my hips back down onto him fully that time. My head fell back as I repeated the movements, grinding myself against him relentlessly.

"O-oh my god," he grunted, fingertips pressing into my hips with enough pressure to leave marks if he wanted to, but I paid no attention to it as a million others floated through my mind. My mind was so flooded that I couldn't differentiate one thought from another.

It didn't take long for my body to adapt to the sweet burn as stretching turned into something way more angelic. We rocked against one another, with me grinding down onto him as he met my thrusts with his own, pulling noises out of us both that I'd never heard before. I drank in those melodic tones coming from the alluring deep voice I adored so much and watched as the throbbing pulse of his heart made the vein in his neck more prominent. Neither of us held back sounds, instead relishing in the way our hips smacked, or the way we breathed -- even the way the headboard banged against the wall behind it.

Namjoon guided the rhythm of my hips with his grip on my waist, his forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made the little hairs that framed his face stick to him as he worked himself closer to orgasm.

My legs grew tired but I still clung onto him with everything I had, everything I felt. Even when didn't lower myself as far as before, he pushed up into me over and over to make sure to hit my g-spit and make me see stars. my legs tensed outside his hips, pressing up against him as my breath became shallow and my body tensed.

"B-baby, I'm close," I panted. I tried to hold back my orgasm for him to get closer to his, but with one powerful stroke into me, the world came shattering down. I wound tightly around him, burying my face into the side of his head to breath in the faint scent of my rose shampoo. I smiled brightly, despite my twitching core and fatigued thighs, and stroked my fingers through his hair as his length turned soft inside me.

We stayed in that position for what felt like hours. There were a few minutes that I wanted to interrupt the silence to say something but I didn't feel the need to break such a peaceful moment so soon.

Joonie rubbed at my back and held me to him as his breath finally regained its normal pattern. The thrumming of his heart under my chest could've put me to sleep right then and there, even if it was beating as fast as mine was.

“I love you so much,” he told me with such love and adoration in his voice that for the millionth time that night, I thought I was going to cry.

It was the perfect time to get things off my chest, to tell him how I felt and why I felt that way. How I was proud of him and loved him as much as any living thing could love something.

“You know,” I began before my mouth dried out some. I cleared my throat and tried to continue, “My therapist said something a couple of weeks ago and since she did, I feel… different.” I was the first to move, pulling my head back despite my aching muscles and locked my eyes with his to watch him process everything. He nodded at me with a supportive smile.

“She told me that I wasn’t broken. She said that I’m going through something that a lot of other people -- survivors -- experience. I remember I asked her how they got through it, how they continued to live their lives and even start dating again. You know what she told me? She said that the first thing they did was connect their mind and body back into one, that I needed to be present. Second, I needed a supportive person in my life that would make me feel comfortable, safe, and protected. She told me that a lot of people after having those two things end up trying things out with their partner and it comes naturally. My goal was to feel comfortable and safe and protected enough to be free and let myself go. I trust you more than anything in the world and I love you far more than anyone can love another person. which is why I wanted to show you that you’re the only person capable of healing me.”

A fat tear rolled down my cheek and I moved to catch it, only I was slower than Namjoon. His hands wiped it away and framed my face in his palms. I didn’t miss the way his eyes glittered with unshed tears as he leaned forward and eskimo kissed me before we both let out our own happy giggles.

“This is officially the best Valentine's Day ever. Just don't forget that I love you more.” Joon leaned forward and grabbed the duvet from behind me, pulling it over the both of us as we sat there together still.

“No. I love you most. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments or just pm me if you want to privately talk. I used a different editing method this time so I hope it turned out okay~

#btsbookclub #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts smut #smut #fluff #mature #bts fanfic

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therealjammy · 4 years

Text

The End of the Line

AN: I’m just adding to the pain train. Don’t mind me. This is also an excuse to work out the hellish week I’ve had. Also, please forgive the mistakes, I stayed up way too late trying to finish this and edited all 4,100-something words in half an hour.

Heavy angst ahead. I’m so sorry

1. Excerpt from Nazim Hikmet’s poem “Before time runs out, my rose...”

Read it on Ao3, too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555409

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There comes a point in time when one realizes their own weight. It hits suddenly, like an unexpected wave when one is swimming in the middle of the ocean, and they realize the series of events leading to the wave are all in a perfect line. But how to stay afloat, wonders the swimmer, when your life preserver might go down with you? When you’re tired of fighting against the waves?

You’ve been floating for ages, the seas calm, but lately the waves have become choppy, and what were once clear skies are now cloud-filled. And the fog… That fog is thick and it’ll just keep getting thicker, until you can’t even see what’s in front of you. And if there is a lighthouse—which you’re certain there is, on some days—the light comes in and out of focus, a candle getting brighter and then dimmer in a breeze. The light, of course, being Jamie. Always Jamie. Your lighthouse. Your anchor. Your poor, burdened anchor, who looks as tired as you feel.

The guilt hits you when she comes home, opening the door with a long sigh, tossing her purse onto the couch. You notice the dark half-moons underneath her eyes, the result of staying up with you in the middle of the night when you’d woken from a night terror. If you close your eyes, you can still see the monochrome of it, some beautiful, long-haired woman hovering over you, face screwed up in effort, a strong, damp hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

“How’s it goin’, Poppins?” Jamie asks.

Papers are spread on the round kitchen table, accompanied by accounting books and expenses receipts. You remember, suddenly, you’d said you’d have the work done by the time Jamie got home. There’s more than half still to do, and a long pencil line disrupts the muted colors in the accounting book. You shake your head to clear the fog. “It’s uh… I’m sorry. It’s not done. I…”

“‘S all right. Shit takes time, doesn’t it?”

“Not this much.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm from the early autumn sun she’d walked in. “Take a break. Help me decide what to do for dinner. My head’s empty.”

You hum. Lean your head against her forearm. Her skin is warm underneath your cheek. She smells like lilies and soil and berry hand soap. “Okay,” you murmur.

There’s a drawer in the kitchen, just below the knife holder, that bears an abysmal amount of takeout menus. Some are from tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that are no longer open that neither of you felt like tossing out. Others are from restaurants you frequent. Appetite being what it is, nothing calls loud enough for you to hear, so you pull one at random and hand it over.

“Right,” says Jamie, giving it a glance. “Chinese it is.”

You eat dinner on the parlor floor, small boxes of fried rice and noodles and various flavors of chicken spread between you, chopsticks clicking to each other. Jamie is a pro with them now. You’d had to teach her how to use them. It was at a sushi restaurant in San Francisco, a name you can’t remember, but you recall the distinctly Asian décor and Jamie’s sighs of frustration.

“I’m too fuckin’ white for this, Poppins,” she said. “Better off with a fork.”

“You’re holding it wrong,” you said, smiling. You took the top stick from her hand and set it aside, allowing her to focus only on the bottom one. “Hold this one like a pencil. Mm-hmm.” You picked up the other one. “Keep it like that. Now, let this one rest on top of those two fingers, and use your index finger to pinch it to the other one.” She did. “Just like that.” You helped her snag a salmon roll between them, but she did the work of bringing it to her mouth.

You can’t remember when it’d finally clicked for her. Only that it had.

Jamie cracks open the fortune cookies. Passes one to you.

“If it’s a bad one,” she says, “I’m burnin’ it.” She takes a bite of the cookie first. You’d told her, once again in California, that it would bring bad luck if she didn’t. Jamie reads, “Let your heart give away its biggest secret today.” She sighs. “Well shit.”

Yours says, “A very bright future is ahead of you.” You laugh. Not with amusement. Just at the irony. You flick the small piece of paper away into the shadows. It lands with a soft click. You ask softly, “Is yours wrong, too?”

“No,” Jamie says. “It’s bang on.” A mask of nervousness descends upon her face, but you notice the nuances of excitement, too. “I was thinkin’… We could get the paperwork this week. Fill it out, have someone witness the signing… I mean, it’ll take a bit for the official certificate to come in, but…” She trails off, both giddiness and nervousness dancing on her features and in her gestures.

“We’ll celebrate,” she continues, hands clasping yours. “Splurge on a fancy bottle of wine. Somethin’ vintage.”

You like her dreams. They’re big and grand, a painting waiting to be seen in a gallery.

“And we’ll call Owen. He’ll shout on the other end of the line, I’m sure.”

The image pulls a smile from your lips. “It’s wonderful.” You lean to kiss her. The Lady, blissfully, is silent, tucked into some corner or other, claws retracted, dozing. You feel Jamie’s touch on your face. The soft press of her mouth against yours. Had this been earlier, much earlier, when you were more wholly yourself, you would’ve pulled her into you until you were both sprawled on the rug and made love there, boxes be damned, until, with much effort, you rose on unsteady legs to clean up and stumble to the bedroom, where it might continue. But you are fading like ink in water, and there is no pull of desire.

“Oi,” Jamie whispers, holding your face between gentle hands, “what’s the face?”

You shake your head. “I… can’t give you what you want.”

“You think it matters?”

“It should.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Poppins,” she says. “Sex is like dessert. Somethin’ you want and can have. Or choose not to have. There’s a reason it’s had last.” A tear falls warmly onto your cheek. She catches it with the pad of her thumb, wiping it smoothly away. “It’s the main course that’s most important.” She kisses your forehead. “Sweets come in other forms.”

Like gestures. Like little kisses she gives you in passing, or a touch that lingers.

Sleep comes easier that night, with her reminder. With her soft warmth and flannel shirt that’s gone soft from the many washes it’s had. The only dream is a string of bubbles rising to a freshly disturbed surface, obscuring two figures standing on a shore you can’t see. Like they’re floating.

—

You go into work less and less. You do what you can from home: filling out orders in the book, writing in the specific details, filing paperwork and doing accounting. It is an altogether different weight, sometimes overwhelming. And the less you go into work, the more you find yourself getting lost in your own head, thinking of water and pale hands and feeling a simmering impatience. The drifting happens in the oddest of moments—in the middle of discussing an arrangement, or going over the different types of flowers that would suit the mood for an engagement party, or in the middle of the most mundane things. Cleaning the house. Preparing an edible dinner. Plucking the drain in the bath.

No, you think, but the thought dissolves. You feel her stirring. Waking again to find herself still trapped. You barely hear the front door open, the thunk of Jamie’s purse as it lands on the loveseat, the clop, clop of her boots, the closing of your bedroom door so she can change into house clothes.

The Lady’s reflection appears in the faucet.

You stare at each other.

Sounds from the bedroom float to your ear. The squeaking of the bedframe as Jamie’s weight settles on it. A few seconds of silence followed by a sigh, and another, heavier one.

Once, moons ago now, on a day you had felt the Lady’s weight more prominently than you had since leaving Bly, Jamie came home while you worked on the books, diligently adding up the expenses by hand with paper and pencil. Your mind drifted until there was a strange, silent bubble surrounding you. You were barely aware of the bedroom door closing, of the sounds that happened shortly afterwards. At least until telling sighs reached your ears and told you she was not, in fact, changing out of her work clothes.

The bubble gone, you sat and listened, everything sharp, a familiar knot tying itself in the pit of your stomach. It was quiet, what she was doing, but not quiet enough; you stood just as you heard her breathing pause.

You opened the bedroom door. She was a silhouette in the late evening light, trembling on the heels of a first, intense orgasm, gasping from both it and surprise. It took you three strides to stand over her.

“Dani,” Jamie breathed, “I’m sorry—”

You cut her off with a kiss. The interruption was a pleasant surprise, and the mood that filled you was one you were glad for. You felt like yourself, in moments like these; you could just be Dani and Jamie, not Dani with the Lady crawling under your skin and pulling you back into the fog.

She wrapped you in her arms, even as you worked her already unbuttoned jeans from her hips, even when you slid down to follow your hands with your mouth, keeping the pace slow so as not to overwhelm her. Still, she didn’t last long, already taut from the wake of the first, your name tumbling from her mouth in an ecstasy-filled whisper, the sounds thereafter muted inside her hand. You cursed the thin walls of the apartment and people’s irritating nosiness.

“Christ,” Jamie sighed when you came back up to kiss her.

“Hmm,” you said, smiling a little now. “Thank you for the interruption.”

“Workin’ out some frustrations?”

“You could say that.” You brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Our business isn’t cheap.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She kissed you softly, cupped your face tenderly between her hands. “Want anything?” she murmured.

“Just you,” you said, helping her fumble with the button on your jeans so she could slip her hand between its sides.

You do not go to her.

You hear her come, a string of stilted curses and harsh, stuttering breaths, but it is far away, on some shore you cannot reach. There is only the empty tub and the silver faucet, in whose face is the Lady. All stringy, wet hair and pristine white dress. Faceless.

Jamie will wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Pat her damp face and neck dry with the dish towel from the stove. Attempt to make dinner, thinking you’re still freshening up, only coming in when she realizes you’re taking an awfully long time, or when she needs your rescue.

However much you want to, you find you cannot move. Even though you’re cold. You stay as if glued to the spot, knees pulled against your chest, chin resting on them, staring at the woman who is not you.

If I reach out, you wonder, tilting your head to the side, will I feel you? Will you feel like metal or will you feel like mud…?

“Dani?”

You gasp. Your hand falls back to your knee.

“Hey.” She wraps a fresh towel around your shoulders. “Been here a while, huh?”

The Lady isn’t in the silver face. You see you, damp hair falling around your shoulders, expression that of someone washing up on shore and surprised to find they haven’t drowned. “A little while,” you say. “Is dinner…?”

“I’ve got it started, at least. Haven’t had pasta primavera in a bit.”

“Last time you made it, it was a wreck.”

Jamie smiles. “It was, wasn’t it?” She adjusts the towel, dabs at a few lingering water spots on your cheek. “Let’s get you outta here, cold girl.”

Warm dinner smells fill the apartment. Bell peppers and squash and zucchini, all tossed in a skillet with bowtie pasta. Wine accompanies the dish, a red you’d gotten from Owen when you’d gone to Paris to announce your engagement. Jamie lights a plain white candle and sets it in the middle of the table.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “It’s good.”

“Didn’t set off the smoke alarm this time,” Jamie says. “It’s an improvement.”

Despite how good it is, you can only stand a few bites and a few sips of wine. You pass your plate to Jamie, who clears it, bringing back a memory of the warm kitchen at Bly, Hannah and Owen at the sink, Jamie picking over what Flora and Miles left on their plates.

“Our human Hoover strikes again,” Hannah said. “Less work for us.”

“Not just good at gardenin’,” Jamie said. “I’m always happy to make less work for you.”

Later, you dry the dishes, keeping your back to the sink, averting your eyes from the plates’ shiny faces.

“I uh…” Jamie begins after a minute. “I could use your help with somethin’ tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm?”

“Just an arrangement. I need your expert eyes.”

The phrase brings a faint smile to your lips. Your eyes haven’t felt expert for a while. And what joy there was in assisting with arrangements feels almost forced. The emotion itself is muted, along with everything else. Yet you ask, “What flowers?”

“Roses. Simple enough.”

Jamie brings home Starbucks in the morning. Blonde roasts, with cream and sugar. Old habits, she says, as she hands your cup over. You think of the greenhouse after your first kiss. The warmth of the autumn sunlight filtering through the windows.

“You ready?” Jamie says.

“Yeah.”

The walk to The Leafling is only a few blocks. There’s a light breeze. It rustles the leaves on the oak trees, whispering through the branches. The sunlight is warm. The weather is a perfect mix of summer and autumn, but you think it isn’t you who is wholly absorbing it. The tempest of the Lady seems soothed by it, and when you walk by the market displaying the morning’s freshly picked apples, you see a field of green and a girl in a white dress sauntering after a man in clothes long out of fashion. The image disappears as soon as it had come, as brief as the scent of apples.

The shop opens at nine. There’s a little over an hour until then. Jamie uses it to go over the arrangement, wondering which flowers should be used to compliment the roses, whose color is as crimson as blood. She says the woman whom it’s for doesn’t want a stereotypical banquet of roses—stereotypical, in this case, meaning roses paired with baby’s breath, despite the combination being a classic—and Jamie rolls her eyes as she says it. “But in America, the customer’s always right,” she continues, “as much of a pain in my arse as it is.”

“Well…” You think for a moment. Baby’s breath is white. White and crimson are aesthetically pleasing when paired together. “What kind of tone does she want to set?”

“Somethin’ original. I know,” Jamie says, throwing up her hands at your puzzled look, “not very helpful. Please don’t shoot the messenger.”

You think for a minute. “We could try something smaller and… white. Daisies, maybe.”

Jamie nods. “All right.”

You hold the roses in a plastic sheet, telling Jamie where to place the daises so it’ll look the best. Two between the roses in front, and two between the three roses in the back. She’s careful not to touch either flower’s petals. She steps back to admire it from afar. This close to you, the roses are overly sweet, the smell cloying, reminding you of clothes stashed away, of how the petals were once used to mask the scent of death. Jamie’s mouth moves in the shape of Y’know, I think that is the least stereotypical thing we’ve made. Her smile is small, but proud and bright. You see it. All you can think of is a deathbed.

“You all right?” Jamie says. “Does it look wrong?”

You shake your head no.

Gently, she takes the banquet from you, setting the bunch carefully in an empty glass vase. “What’re you thinkin’, Dani?” she asks.

The words are soft when they leave you. “They smell like death.”

The mask of worry becomes darker on Jamie’s features, and you wonder, after you’ve told her, if she’ll think every flower in the shop reminds you of death. You hate the feeling coursing through your chest—worry that she won’t want you here, in the place you’d dreamed and built together, that she’ll want to hide the flowers for the sake of keeping you comfortable.

“That’s a new one,” she says quietly, and you nod in agreement. She sighs, gives the arrangement a quick once-over. “We can go with the daisies, then. It looks pretty. Romance and new beginnings.”

The banquet that had been the two of you once gets picked up later that morning by a man in his mid-thirties planning on proposing to his girlfriend. He’d looked happy, you think, sinking into darker thoughts, love making him punch-drunk. Their future stretched like a highway before them, time not a question on their minds but something infinite.

—

On a Sunday, when The Leafling is closed, you accompany Jamie to pick up the paperwork. Nervousness travels between you like electrodes. You feel it on the walk to the county clerk’s office (?), and inside it. You’re joined by other couples, all with the same goal in mind. It all feels odd. Not in a bad way, but in a surreal way. Time, it seems, has been as kind as it can, letting you get this far. But the cruelty lies in the unknown, in that dark space that asks, How much longer?

Your handwriting is not what it used to be. Neat cursive has turned into half-legible chicken scratch; next to Jamie’s curling print, it embarrasses you. Such a silly thing turns your cheeks into burning coals.

“Oi,” Jamie whispers, sensing as she always does, taking your hand in hers. “Least it’s not Russian cursive, yeah? Completely illegible.”

It gets a laugh. A soft one, but a laugh nonetheless.

“There we are,” Jamie says.

You get home and Jamie pulls a bottle of white wine from the liquor cabinet. A Gewürztraminer. The bottle is green, the label white.

“Where’d you get that one?” you ask.

Jamie pauses in pouring the first glass. “Napa Valley.”

“When…?”

“Three years ago.” She turns to the fridge and plucks a postcard down. Classic lettering, with NAPA VALLEY spread across the bottom. The picture is of acres of grapevines, with a large white building in the background.

“Livin’ here wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Jamie said. A pale arm hung out the rented Land Rover’s window, whose view was of the rolling hills and the sharp bunches of grapevines. “We could get pricey wine whenever we wanted.”

“And wine drunk every night,” you said, leaning to kiss her cheek.

“Sure, Poppins, if you want a hellish hangover the next day.”

“God,” you say, this time covering your face with both your hands. “Ninety-seven. I…” The water’s coming in fast. Too fast.

Hands find your shoulders. “Dani,” Jamie says, her tone serious but soft, “it’s all right. It’s okay to forget things. Memory’s fallible.”

Fallible. It is. And everything else, too, if one wanted to get philosophical about it.

“Come on,” she says, leading you to the couch. “Let’s give the religious nuts a reason to complain further about us disturbin’ the Sabbath with our agenda.”

Jamie fetches a book from the small shelf in the room and carries her wineglass over. She propels you down until your head is lying in her lap, one hand tracing lines over the soft hair just above your ear. Exhaustion pulls at you. Your eyes drift closed as she flips through pages. Darkness fills them when she reads from a page.

Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned and destroyed,

before time runs out, my rose,

and my heart is still on its branch,

in this night of May on the quay we must sit

on the red barrels in front of the warehouses.

The canal across fades into darkness.

A barge is passing,

my rose, let’s say hello,

let’s say hello to the barge with the yellow cabin.

Is she on her way to Belgium or to Holland?

In the cabin door a woman with a white apron

is smiling sweetly.

Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned down and destroyed,

before the time runs out, my rose…

People of Paris, people of Paris,

You mustn’t let Paris be burned and destroyed…1

—

The call comes on a Tuesday. Jamie, detaching herself from the last of the dishes that need drying, turns business-like, posture stiffer, voice more professional.

“Clayton residence,” she says.

“Flora residence,” Flora said, attempting to sound adult but failing. “Hello?”

A pause.

“Speaking.”

Another.

“Oh.” Her tone is lighter. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“What was it?” you say once she’s hung up.

There’s a large smile on Jamie’s face. “It’s the certificate.”

You smile, too, as much as you can. She captures it between her hands, pressing her forehead to yours. She says, “I’ll go. You stay. Find us something to celebrate with.”

“Oh…” You trail off. There’s plenty of wine in the liquor cabinet. And candles on a little iron shelf in the bathroom. An idea forms. “Sure you can trust me with that?” you ask.

“Definitely.”

She changes into something more appropriate while you light the candles. Pauses next to you to tell you she’ll be back. Kisses your hair. Says, “Keep those burnin’, yeah? And make room for two.”

Time slows while she’s gone. And despite the better day, the fog rolls in, filling your head while the tub fills with water, until you’re leaning, and the Lady is your shadow. You are dead to the world until Jamie, home again, shakes you away. The tub has overflown. Water pools on the tile, travelling over it and to the wood of the hallway. You didn’t realize, you say apologetically, to which she says water’s easy to clean up.

You ask if she sees her.

She says, “I only see you.”

You nearly collapse into the steadying arm she holds against your back. “I’m so tired, Jamie,” you tell her. And you are. You’ve been treading water too long. There is no anchor, except the one you cannot cling to anymore. No lighthouse. No life preserver. Jamie declines your words, firmly, fighting back tears. Shaking her head as if the very action will change the course of everything.

“No one’s going anywhere.”

But I’m sinking, you want to say. I’ve been sinking since I invited her in. I’ve been clinging to everything I could, and it still isn’t enough. You shake your head, too. “What if I’m here,” you whisper, “sitting next to you… but I’m just really her?”

“One day at a time,” Jamie answers. The age-old mantra.

—

There comes a point when one realizes their own weight. It isn’t so sudden anymore. You’ve become used to it. One day at a time. Treading water, still. Looking for the lighthouse. For the life preserver, finding her living, too, in shadows she won’t talk about. And still you go to her. You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Her familiar smell fills your nose. You want to confess everything into the soft skin of her neck, adding more to what you’d told her the night she’d come home announcing your union was civil, but it would be too much, right now. Too much weight for your Atlas to bear. You hold her as tightly as you dare, and you whisper, “I love you.”

She squeezes your hand. I know, it says. I always have.

You fall asleep with her beside you, your arm thrown over her, lightly gripping her favorite flannel shirt.

The Lady, awake again, brings you claws and teeth.

A dream of water. Jamie standing over it. An arm, clearly yours, breaking the surface and grabbing her, pulling her to the depths.

You wake with your hand reaching out for her neck.

You relax it. Knowing, now, it was high time to let the life preserver go.

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #now i'm gonna really go to bed but i just wanted to post this here for the tumblr crowd #it's on my ao3 too

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that. (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind. I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep. Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row??? So we might see her right away?? No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before? Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave. --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What? Is she reading a childrens’ book? --Oh. She’s eulogizing Gamzee. So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person. (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point. Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup??? --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side. That would make sense. You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much? Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again? Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it. ...Huh. Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia. Phew! Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here? Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense? And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah. I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them. That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way. You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm. It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL. Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something. And a black tail? This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe. Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress. Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN. I don’t see anything over her mouth! Did she stick something in it, or drug her? File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair. Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then? --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember. Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade? I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun. AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl. How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK. Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like. Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts? Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text? What color exactly... “#D00009”? Huh. That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707. In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago... no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color. (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out? That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image! FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power. Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!? D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right? Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear? I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck? WHY would you do that? Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”? What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh? Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden. Properly dramatic? You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative. Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now. From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring. I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um. What? Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again??? Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping. I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though. Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads. (But still June. Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course. (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty? We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence. (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit. And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve. Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her? Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion. Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh. Hm... huh? hhhh. huh? what, but. Why would. ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange. Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?) Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave? Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe? Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update. Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed. For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it? Or skimming it? But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that. Weird. Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here. About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really? That was speculated about? :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything.

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side. To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers. Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up. Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character.

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out.

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy. --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid... but I think we can make an exception here? I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half. Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria?

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight. BUSY day I had. Y’all take care!

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #Homestuck Commentary

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