#HELP IM LOSING TO THE FICTIONAL CHARACTER INSIDE MY HEAD

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 7

Chapter Seven: Let's Stay the Course and Let the Tension Make Us New

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, LOTS OF ANGST IM SORRY, TW: Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: HI THANK YOU, GUYS, FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT ILY SO MUCH AHHHHHH ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ This chapter is gonna merge with Episodes 7 & 8 hORRAY— Lowkey had to turn to the game for a bit to figure out how I wanted to write this chapter hehe. Please note this chapter is a little bit more serious and heavy than usual. The names used here are fictional and I have no intent to post this chapter to glorify any form of harm. Rape and sexual assault will always be serious topics and should never be taken lightly. This is your final warning to read at your own risk and I am not responsible for any media you consume, dear reader, you have a responsibility and choice as to what content you read, and I urge you to never blame authors for that. As always, the end notes will have the outline of my thoughts if you wanted to read what my thought process was. ANYWAYS ENJOY! GOGOGOGOGOGOGO!

Song: Would've, Could've, Should've by Taylor Swift

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TLOU WORLD 2023

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO – EARLY MORNING

Snowflakes fell from the pale clouds, chilly sky as a crisp wind weaved through the buildings. The bitterness of winter, whalebone-white snow presented itself as an infinite blanket. The gravel-grey skies were bare, and the only sound you could occasionally hear was Joel’s uneven breathing. You had told her to leave you. Ellie didn’t accept that, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing either of you. She dragged both of your bodies next to each other on top of his sleeping bag, strapping and securing you together with rope as she rides her horse into the suburbs, dragging the reigns of your horse.

You managed to close your eyes for a bit, your vision getting a little blurry, and everything seems hazy, you hear the shattering of glass and when you open them again, you are now inside someone’s long-forgotten home. The garage is soaked with blood, and your horse shakes off snow from his head. You and Joel are placed on an old mattress in the basement of the house, as the pain had started to sink in. Breathing becomes a chore in itself. Each breath just gets shorter and shorter, when you try to take a deep breath your body refuses to let it in, a stabbing pain each time you try. Ellie is ripping out a piece of fabric, doing her best to stop Joel’s bleeding, she curses the whole time, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on, you gotta help me. Come on!” While doing so, Joel grabs her hand and painfully wheezes, “Leave. Leave.” Her tone is sharp as she hisses, “Shut up, Joel.” You try and say her name, only for a painful noise to come out of your mouth, “Ellie. Please.” She shakes her head at both of you and Joel breathlessly says, “Take the gun.” Panicked, while trying to multitask as she presses another cloth to your abdomen, “Joel, shut the fuck up!”

Joel grabs her by the collar of her shirt with the remaining strength that he had to bring Ellie to look at him, he weakly says, “You go. You go. You go north. You go to Tommy. You go.” She roughly pulls away from his grasp, falling to the ground with a loud thump. You turn your head to look at Joel who was bleeding out next to you. You can see the tears rimming his eyes, and he's almost comatose. Frail, you grab his hand, squeezing it as you tenderly gaze at him.

In response, she gets up and puts his jacket over him and your own as a blanket, and both of you are almost comatose. The warmth of blankets makes him nervous, suddenly things that are known to comfort him become destructive reminders of loss. Ellie's frustrated and walks upstairs, a kid on a mission, her belief that she could fix this over time, as if every imperfection is a lie, and you watch as a tear falls from Joel’s eye. Each breath you take is agonizing, the sharp stab each time you try to let in causes you to whimper in pain. You feel Joel’s rough hands squeeze your own, still trying to shield and protect you, despite him also hurting.

You see the longing in his eyes as he faces you, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. There’s just something about his face that makes you sad, as much afraid as it’s haunted. He shakily wraps his arm around you and tries his damn hardest to put pressure on your wound even though his energy is fading. You place your head on his chest, your ear right above his faint beating heart, he winces but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he gripped you as tightly as he could, pressing a featherlight kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “Tell me somethin’ good.” You shake your head, “You growin’ soft on me Cowboy?” His eyelids feel heavy as he spoke, “Only for… you. Always you.” You feel your tears slip faintly down your cheeks, “Out of all the things I’ve researched and discovered over the years… nothing will ever compare to what I found here.” The ache in his chest expands as he inhales and says, “Birdie… I…” You shush him delicately, “I’ve never related more to anything or anyone before… I can’t explain it. You are the best thing I never planned.”

Joel shudders in the basement, his breathing becoming shallow with each breath. Wave after wave, he’s more afraid. It’s been a hard year and it’s been a high tide, but his body decides one part at a time. But what about the meantime? How do you ignore the signs that the things you love will fade or get taken away? There's something so strange about human nature, you get so used to the gifts you receive. He is watching the tears slowly continue to slip out of your eyes as he breathes lightly next to you, he still has so much he wants to tell you and still has so much to figure out. When the words came to him for the first time, he knew he was hooked on you. Your quiet charm, the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled, the calmness and chaos you carried. He wanted it all with you. Could it be, you both didn’t stand a chance? How cruel could fate be? To have found you only to lose you in a matter of days.

What was flawless canvas white, and what was kindness in your eyes, is now a blemished masterpiece. You are X-rays of something broken, made up of cold blood and bruises. You noticed your hearing started to fade. In an underwater afterimage, the hearing effect is just a bit less heavy. As time went on the underwater hearing effect started becoming more strong and you barely start hearing people. Into the darkness, you will send your symphonies. A shorthand of existence, a slowly turning key, the voyager will leave you with this modest memory of home.

You believe you’ve seen a ghost, and you don’t know who it is. It just follows you around pretending to exist. Radical acceptance sure feels like surrender, but after just a little longer, everything will make sense. Broken things will be remade, there’s some kind of heaven just around the corner and all this sorrow and agony will be replaced with unimaginable grace. With the remaining strength you had, you took in his darkly golden eyes, a smoldering visage, and warmth like home. The muffled sounds of rapid and loud footsteps from upstairs, the clattering of drawers and cabinets. You take one more breath in, the small part of you has the glimmering light of hope but the shadows keep inviting you to their clutches, and to be honest, it seems so tempting to just give in.

You hear the suppressed sound of Ellie running down to the basement, rushing to your and Joel’s side, you subconsciously wonder what took so long or if she hesitated during the process of looking through the house for supplies. You can blurrily make out the vision of Ellie holding a needle and thread, you let out a small gasp and Ellie only looks at you with worry. Your eyes flutter close, unable to help yourself to watch as she shakily stitches up Joel, he groans in pain every now and then, while you listen to your own blood dripping onto the mattress and sliding down to the concrete floor. You slowly begin to seek comfort in the ensnares of the darkness.

YOUR ORIGINAL OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE — JANUARY 13, 2023

WASHINGTON STATE UNIVERSITY, FUNDAMENTAL QUANTUM PHYSICS LAB — NIGHT

Ever since The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences has decided to award the Nobel Prize in Physics 2022 to three scientists for experiments with entangled photons, establishing the violation of Bell inequalities and pioneering quantum information science. You were immediately intrigued by their findings and continued your own research with the given information. You sit in the dim lighting of the lab, and the glow of the screen hypnotizes you as you continue to scroll through the PDF file, text containing the explanation of quantum entanglement and the possibilities of quantum teleportation.

The mountains of paper, pencils, pens, and highlighters clutter around your large desk. You bring your arms up and stretch your lower back. Waiting for the possible outcome of the  computer-generated model, a theory could change how information is sent and transmitted, including transportation. You suddenly hear your other coworker, Alisha shakily call your name, and you spin your chair around to find her disheveled state. A bruised lip, her hair in a mangled mess, and her eyes red-rimmed, you look down at her once-white lab coat to find blood at the edges. Your eyes widen in concern, “Ali, what happened to–” You didn’t even get the chance to finish, she had made her way across the room to hug you and began to cry in your arms, falling apart piece by piece. You hear her beg and whimper broken words, “Please… Please don’t let him find me… He can’t…”

You then hear the yelling voice of her partner Richard, screaming her name through the halls, and soon enough, outside your door, you try to stand and lock it but since Ali was clinging onto you, you barely got up before the man came barreling through the door. You and Ali flinch at his arrival, wearing around his father’s hand-me-down anger. Your skin crawled and your bones rattled, your muscles screamed of a horror unseen. Ali’s breathing is shortened and you feel her skin become cold, your leg and arm muscles tightened. There is a sound coming from his mouth, but nothing registers as the ringing in your ears has appeared. He marches towards you and Ali, the taste of bile rose to your mouth and you swallowed, the acid rising and burning your throat.

TLOU WORLD 2023

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER…

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — DAY

You wake up choking, the feeling of being smothered overwhelms your body as you try to gasp for air. Ellie is quick to your side, as you cry out in fear and pain, the awful memory of your past that you had buried, had been used against you in your sleep. You take some time to realize where you are, and Ellie is clutching your hand as you try and jerk forward, “Hey… Birdie… shhh… you’re okay,” she said as she gently pushes you down next to Joel. You shiver and whimper, “Ellie…” She shushes you again and lets you drink from a glass of water, you painfully gulp it down, and she gets you to try and eat a bit of food from the rations, you brought with you. Dizzily, you chew and swallow whatever you could, urging yourself not to puke on the teen. 

You turn your head back to Joel, who was shivering, and barely conscious, you weakly speak to Ellie, “Can you… please lift his shirt for me?” The young girl shifts to Joel’s side, doing what she was asked of, the sickly sound of blood that clings onto his flannel has your eyes looking down at the yellow puss seeping from the now closed and stitched-up wound. To put it plainly, everything fucking hurt. You wince as you bring your shirt up to check your abdomen, finding that it had also been patched up and luckily not as infected as Joel’s. You bring your shirt down and watch Ellie take care of Joel, tucking him back in his blanket, and giving him water and a bit of food left placed on top of his blanket. You hoarsely say, “We need an antibiotic for his wound. Are there any in the drawers upstairs? In the medicine cabinet… maybe?” Then teen shakes her head, “No, I checked everything.” You cough a little, before giving her a small nod. 

Ellie looks at the rifle leaning against the wall, and you hear her whisper to you both, “I’m gonna be right back… okay?” You try and call for her, but she doesn’t stop preparing her things, too focused on trying to get you and Joel better and moving. Her footsteps sound heavy as she makes her way upstairs while carrying the heavy rifle on one shoulder, you shudder as if you were seconds from breaking down from the orbit, gravity throws you down. She will discover that life will knock you down and wait for you to stand back up before kicking you in the stomach. But, the only way to make your lungs remember how much they relish the flavor of air is to knock you out completely. Underneath, there is hurt that cannot be soothed by poetry or bandages. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. You weakly grab Joel’s hand from underneath the green and white plaid blanket, squeezing it as you shakily say, “I don’t know if you can hear me… but if you can… Joel, you were good to me. If you're wondering why I've stayed—and for all I know, I'll stay—the truth is because the stars told me to.”

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER…

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — SUNSET

You weren’t sure how long you slept, or how long Ellie had been gone. But you stir to the sound of Ellie’s footsteps running down the wooden creaking stairs. You blink your eyes open, She unzips her jacket and lays the rifle next to Joel, and pulls out a wrapped pouch. You hear the bottles clink as she unwraps them, and she tells you it’s penicillin, she then looks at you shaking your head, “Give it to Joel first.” Ellie sniffs and nods, peeling back the blanket that covers his pale body, you murmur out instructions, “Hold the syringe in your hand like a pencil, with the needle pointed up.” She does as she is told and you continue to guide her through it, “With the cap still on, pull back the plunger to the line on your syringe for your dose. Keep the syringe tip in the medicine. Tap the syringe with your finger to move air bubbles to the top. Then push gently on the plunger to push the air bubbles back into the vial.” As if she was an expert, she does everything perfectly, but she begins to panic about where she would administer the penicillin,  “Okay, the fuck do I put this, Birdie?” You exhale in pain but keep going, “Do not inject it into a vein. You need to administer it on a large muscle, either his back or his thigh.” Ellie exclaims, “I am not pulling down his pants!” You wince at her sudden yelling, and she’s quick to apologize, you groggily get up, everything was spinning but you needed to help her. You tell her, “Okay, turn around.” She does so, still holding the needle for you as you unbuckle his belt and carefully undress him, he groans and you try your best to ignore it. You focus on the task at hand, bringing his jeans down enough to see a portion of his thigh, “Do we have any… alcohol?” You ask and Ellie hands you Joel’s metal flask, your mouth forms a frown but you unscrew the cap and pouring a tiny amount of the vodka as an antiseptic, cleaning it off with the only clean rag left in your bag.

You ask for the needle from Ellie and she hands it to you. Your heart is racing, but you manage to inject him with the required amount of penicillin, you hear Joel sigh with a mix of pain and relief. You redress him quickly and mention to Ellie it’s safe to look again, she turns to see you sitting on the mattress again, watching Joel fall back asleep. You yawn in exhaustion, drearily blinking as you try and center yourself. Ellie says your name and you tiredly bring your eyes to her as she says, “There’s another needle if you wanted to…”

You nodded gratefully and followed the same procedure as before, Ellie turns around as you undressed a part of your jeans, quick to the point of just stabbing the needle into your thigh to get it over with, gritting your teeth as you pushed the plunger down, feeling the antibiotic entering in your system. You zip back up and lean back into the mattress, Ellie hearing you shift causes her to turn around again, and you gently pat the middle of the bed, indicating for her to lay down and rest. She is snug in the middle of you and Joel, her tiny arms wrapped around him, with you kissing the top of her head. Joel leans into her touch, resting his head above hers, and quietly breathes. Your tired eyes slowly close shut and allow yourself the comfort of the people around you.

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — MORNING

As thin as air and as light as snow. The sunlight streaming through the basement window causes you to stir awake once more, Ellie is sitting up in between you and Joel, and she asks, “Do you have to inject him again?” Tiredly, you nod and carefully push yourself up, raising a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. You lift a portion of the shirt while Ellie watches you move skillfully, you sigh in relief as you inspect the injury and the wound already looks slightly better and then you lift your own shirt to see your own abdomen healing as well, you look up to Ellie who tearily laughs, “Thank fucking God.” As you prepare to administer another dose of penicillin, Ellie puts on her jacket and beanie, “I’m gonna go outside and feed the horses, I’ll be back.” You smile, “Please be careful.” She nods and is quick to run up the steps, and you undress Joel once more to inject the antibiotic into his thigh. You place him back into his jeans and place the blanket over him again, wiping away the sweat from his brows as you try and catch your breath. You then let your hand slide down, cupping his cheek tenderly, “Come back to us, Joel. Please, we still need you.” Kissing his head and then laying down to rest next to him, allowing your body to melt with his, the past two days have drained most of your reserved energy, you drift off into a deep slumber.

The crows caw violently as they fly away from the approaching danger, the leaves shake and swirl all around and Ellie is quick to investigate. She hugs the fence and crouches down to see David and his men quickly approaching, searching for Ellie and her two guardians. She curses and dashes back to the house, her boots heavily thudding against the wooden steps down to the basement, she first tries to wake you, but you don’t even stir, you have no more energy to give, each part of you spent trying to care for both of them and barely trying to keep yourself alive. Ellie panics and turns to Joel, shaking and yelling at him, “Joel! Joel, wake up. Joel, wake the fuck up, Joel.”

Ellie moves away to unsheath the knife from his bag and Joel forces his eyes open, she moves back to place the large blade on his chest, grabbing his hand so he could hold it, saying, “Okay, okay, look at me. There are men coming, okay? Birdie isn’t waking up and she’s probably exhausted from all of this. I’m gonna lead them away from you two but if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?” He does reply, still barely conscious and Ellie snaps her fingers at him, “Joel. Joel, do not fall asleep. She needs you to keep her safe. I need you to keep her safe. Do not fall asleep.”

There isn’t enough time to form a reply to Ellie, she instantly bolts up the steps, placing a large cabinet to block and conceal the basement entrance. His eyes close once more, like a final puzzle piece, It all makes perfect sense to him. The heaviness that he holds in his heart's been crushing him.

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — DAY

Joel hears the sound of footsteps from above, each thud causing him to jolt awake from his slumber, he tilts his head to find your beautiful figure stirring, as if your body senses the danger. He pushes himself up from the mattress, having one mission in mind, keeping you safe and alive. He shushes you, kissing away the lines on your forehead, and slowly they disappear. He hears the cabinet being moved, and quickly hides his figure, not enough time or strength yet to hide you as he limps to hide in the shadows.

The sound of floorboards creaks with each step the intruder takes, slowly approaching the landing of the staircase. He sees your resting figure deep asleep and quickly glances around the basement to see if the man who killed his friend was here. This was the moment Joel wished he was younger, quicker, and not in the worst fucking physical pain he has ever felt. The man approaches you, eyes glinting with starvation as he licks his lips, he dives onto you, nailed your wrists to the mattress, and covers your mouth as you screamed awake, shrieking and kicking, screaming for Joel. Your voice threw itself over the edge of your throat and landed at the bottom of your belly. The same way Richard did that night, you cry loudly as you continue to kick and struggle through the flashbacks of the past you had buried.

The sound of screaming from Ali haunts your mind as you hit Richard with all of your strength, he covers your mouth and you bite it fiercely, he curses and spits at you, “You fucking bitch. Come here.” You kneed him, hard, in the genitals, he folds over and you crawl over to the toolboxes on the table above you, he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him.  

You were fighting harder than before. The guy is removing his belt and pulling down his pants. You can barely contain your cries, a bird with a broken wing. You didn’t know when your being and body became something that took up too much space.

You kick him with your other foot again, using your fingernails and clawing his face and skin. This catches him off guard, releasing your ankle, you take the opportunity to grab a metal wrench, swing at him, and walloped him on the head, repeatedly, the crunch of his skull as you hack into him with every pent-up rage you had harbored over the years. Your anger often melts into sadness, it will just disintegrate into shame or fear, and your clenched teeth release into chatter. But he has found the right mix of arrogance and abuse. Telling you again how you are just not understanding the point, reminding you how he is an expert, touching your knee, thigh, and lower back, ignoring you twice, three times, continuing to talk over your screams and plea to stop. Some of us are born chasing disaster. From the moment you entered this world, screaming, you are looking for lightning, the raw of your body, always searching for clever hands.

Joel appears from the shadows, every fiber, every vein, pumping him full of adrenaline, and pure raw rage you have never seen before from him. His eyes were a deep rich black, and his eyebrows were pulled so close together, the lines on his forehead were so prominent as if they were canals and channels of rivers. He pulls the man off of your shaking body, and stabs the man from behind, hitting a part of his neck of the predator, he begins to struggle and you push yourself away from the fight, your back hitting the wall and trying to calm down to no avail. By the time the man has passed out, Joel rolls over to his side, pushing himself up and crawling to you.

When Joel makes it to your scared and confused figure, at first you try punching and kicking at him too, still in survival mode. But he manages to grab you and is desperately hauling you to his chest, one hand cradling your head, the other wrapped around your waist as you loudly wail and dry heave, he rocks your bodies back and forth and strokes your head, trying to soothe your hysteria, “I’m so sorry darlin’, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, my sweet hummin’ bird. Shh, I’m here. I’m so, so, sorry. I’m right here.” 

You were sitting at the back of an ambulance vehicle, a blanket placed over you, the flashing lights and sirens blending together with the occasional radio chatter from an officer. The blood on your hands had dried and stuck to your skin, across from you Ali was giving her statement on what had happened as an EMT continued to check over you, finding bruises on every part of your body. Strangely enough, you felt numb, there was no ounce of guilt or remorse for what had occurred and transpired. You look up at the officer, his pity radiates off of him, and you barely hear him ask for your statement only for the EMT to shoo him off, telling him to come back later, you were still in shock.

You slowly raise your chin, eyes dancing at the sight of the commotion. Like blueprints constantly being rearranged, over microscopes you plan and strain. But every sighting is proof and every heartbeat proves it too.

When it hurts too much, you might fall in love with someone with only one touch. The light shines brightest in the darkest places. Even if truth weighs more than fiction, gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls the tape and you become brave once more. You persevered despite the dangers and never-ending tight escapes, and you are still alive. Nobody will ever be able to comprehend the struggles you had to go through inside just to recover, just to develop, to get to where you are now. Be proud of yourself for battling to save yourself. Be proud of how you managed to survive.

THE ABANDONED SUBURBS, COLORADO — DAY

Joel eventually manages to calm you down, centering you, he tells you, “Darlin’, we need to find Ellie. Okay? You have to continue being brave for me, okay? Can you do that?” He wipes away your tears as you nod, he kisses your forehead and holds your face gently, “There’s my girl. C’mon.” He gets the both of you to stand, and you both drag the man up the steps, not caring if he would sometimes groan in pain. You didn’t have a very violent side, it takes a lot to push you to your limits, but when it does burst out of you, it happens in one go, and it is a blur each time you lash out.

The rattling of the branches causes your ears to perk up in alertness, and Joel lets the predator thump loudly upon the cold snow on purpose. Joel asks you to hide behind the shed, wanting to take care of the other man himself. You hear a voice call out, “Timothy?” And you spot the second raider walking through the broken fence, taking the bait as he spots who you now know as Timothy struggling face down on the crisp white snow, “Oh, shit.” He kneels on the ground to try and help his friend, but Joel comes at him with a force so strong as he hits the man on the head with the butt of the rifle, he falls to the ground instantly and becomes unconscious.

Both of you work together to prop the both of them up into the house, taping both of them with duct tape, and Joel needs to do the rest of the work out of guilt and shame, forcing you to wait down on the steps of the basement. You hear him beating the shit out of Timothy, and he wails in pain with every strike, “Stop, stop. Please.” Your lips form a line and hug your body as you decide to quietly walk up the steps, peeking at the sight.

Your mouth parts open, watching Joel’s violence happen in front of you in real-time. A satisfying crunch could be heard with each punch Joel throws at your assailant, you take a good long look at your man, and can’t help the way your breathing quickened at the thought of him protecting you and trying to save Ellie from these bastards. There is no evil in Joel’s eye, just pure focus and exhaustion. You hear the other voice beg, “Leave him alone.” To which Joel roughly replies, “You’re next.” He pulls out the knife from his back pocket and Timothy begs, “Please, I don’t know any girl.” Joel stabs him in the knee and he yells in pain, “Oh, fuck!” And the other attacker exclaims, “Jesus!” You feel goosebumps rise from every portion of your skin and try to steady your breathing once more. Timothy calls for his friend, “Marco!” And Joel grabs Timothy by his hair, roughly pulling it to get him to look at the man you cared for, his voice drops lower, “No, no, no. He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

If Joel asked you anything in that tone, you would do anything in a heartbeat. You smile knowingly but quickly shake your head at those thoughts, needing to find Ellie. “She’s alive,” Timothy says as he is dripping in blood and the taste of copper buzzes in the air. Joel shakes his head as he asks, “Where?” Timothy doesn’t immediately respond to which Joel twists the knife impaled in his knee, and he begins to cry in pain, “Fuck! Fuck! The town!” Joel's voice booms so loudly, you watch as his spit flies in the air, the room felt like it was shaking and every part of your body felt the vibrations as he yelled, “What town?!” Timothy pants in fear and pain, “Silver Lake.” Joel pushes his head backward and cries out in ache. 

Joel pulls out the map from his back pocket and unfolds it, Timothy begins to stumble over his words as he spoke, “It’s not a real town name. It’s a resort.” Joel’s eyes narrow, “A resort?” Then he quickly pulls the knife from his kneecap, the blood squirting out as he does, Timothy is crying out again but your eyes only watch how efficiently Joel moves. He stands and shoves the handle of the knife into Timothy’s mouth, and your posture shifts, you are now blinking wildly at his actions, and the unexpected rush of heat flows in every direction of your body, you swallow in anticipation.

Joel’s voice is gruff and grave as he instructs him, “You’re gonna point to where we are and where you’re ‘resort’ is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.” Timothy cries as he nods and the muffled sound of his reply, ”Okay.” He does as he is told, his blood becoming the markers of where you are and where you were now heading. Timothy drops the knife from his mouth, letting it fall to his lap, “That’s where we are. I swear.” Joel falls to his knees as he takes in the information, looking down directly at the map and then his hard gaze looks up as Timothy continues to beg, “Go ask him. He’ll tell you. I’m not lying.” There is no moment to react as Joel takes the knife, stands up, and stabs him right through the chest, he wails and screams, and you inadvertently flinch in shock, Joel twists the knife, letting his anger take over. Marco cries out to Joel, “No, No! Shit! Jesus! No! Why the fuck would you do that?! He told you what you wanted!”

Joel walks over to the chair on the side and grabs the rusty metal pipe atop it. The man you have journeyed with, kissed, and cared for is now pushed to his limits. He is tall and domineering over Marco as he squirms and curses at him, “You motherfucker. Fuck you. I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” Joel nods, his voice as bold as whiskey, deep and rich, “You see that woman over there by the corner, watchin’? That’s my girl. Your buddy over there was gon’ touch what is mine. And no one fuckin’ touches anythin’ that’s mine.”

Your eyebrows raise and your breathing lazily declines, as your system creates sparks and tingles all over your skin. The very sensitive part of you aches for Joel, and you allow yourself to lust over him. He claimed you right here, you are his girl, and anyone who hurts you would pay the price. A brutal and torturous death.

“And you know what, it’s okay. I believe him.” Joel said, and raises the pipe and Marco begs, “No, no. No!” The crunching sound of his skull being pried open, Joel using every bit of muscle and strength as he beats him to his death, blood splatters on the wall and the floor, he lets out his rage, and you enjoy every bit of violence that he exhibits right now, knowing he would never hurt you, just the people who threatened you and Ellie’s safety.

By the time Joel drops the pipe to the ground, you are no longer peeking around the corner, you are visibly standing a few feet away behind him, as his broad shoulders rise and fall from his heavy breathing. You are well aware of the shadows in your heart, but you want to feel tectonic shifts and as he turns to face you, he sees the wide-eyed beautiful woman he has given his heart to, not a single bit afraid, yet he can’t help but ask, “So you know all about me?” You nod, “Yes.” He questions, “And you still want me?” You close the distance between the both of you, gently cupping the side of his face. There is no hesitation in your response, “I want you all the more.”

You pack what you can and trek through the snow, the blizzard, and the wind is harsh and colder, you and Joel stumble about but keep pushing on, trying to get to Ellie on time. Joel holds your hand in his, guiding you to the resort on the map, he clutches a stone pillar of an establishment, and you tug his sleeve as you spot the trail of blood staining the icy snow. You and he follow the bloody path and break into the locked door that the trail leads to with the butt of his rifle, ushering you inside and then slamming the large wooden door shut. You and Joel catch your breath, and turn on your flashlights, letting them shine through the dark. You both have your guns drawn at the ready, inspecting the building, Joel crouches down to the bottom shelf, finding Ellie’s pack. You walk deeper into the dark house, following the trail of blood, and pushing past the doors. He finds both of your horses inside, the room and you blink away the tears as you continue to try and be brave. You tiredly bring your flashlight up to hear the weird creaky noise from behind the canoes, you feel Joel behind you as he also points his flashlight to a gruesome sight.

Every step you took was a confirmation, needing to reassure yourself that this was actually in front of you, you had known there was a character named David who was a cannibal but were not fully aware when that would happen or if it would even occur. You  cannot utter the careful words that you needed, you could barely speak out loud. Your heart pounded, your head spun and your eyes saw the three human bodies tied up by their ankles without any heads. It took everything in you not to throw up right there, feeling the reflex crawl up your throat, holding back from gagging at the sight in disgust. Joel stands there speechless as he stares at the dangling corpses, you reach for his hand for comfort, and he squeezes your own as you shakily breathe in and out.

You both exit the building, and point your nose up in the air, smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house. You and Joel rush to the source of the grey clouds of smoke and hear the loud door opening, Ellie’s shaken figure dazedly walking away from the scene. Joel swiftly catches up to the teen and grabs her from behind, which causes Ellie to go back into fight mode, she kicks and screams, “No! Get off of me!” She squirms in his arms, screaming and begging, “Get off!” Joel turns her around, and it takes her a bit to calm down and realize it’s you and Joel, “It’s me.” Joel says and Ellie falls to her knees crying, and punching him. He holds Ellie’s head in her hand, saying, “It’s me. Hey, look. It’s me. It’s me. It’s okay.” And Ellie almost can’t speak, as she hugs him, finally feeling safe. At this moment, Joel says, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

Though not the promised land, nor any perfect plan along your neutral path, there was a single lowered branch. Your ears are ringing at the slightest sound. Like a huge piano descending a million stairs slowly. The noises it produces, however, are only the growing pains of mending. You bring your arms around Ellie, and as the three of you hug, ​​every wrong will be made right, what was adamant, even permanent will have a change of heart and mind. In your disbelief, you'll clear your eyes as if you're seeing light for the very first time. Joel pulls away quickly to remove his jacket to place it over Ellie, holding his backpack in his other hand. The three of you walk away from the smell of smoke, miles away, clutching each other afraid and vulnerable, three panicked souls in the cold, for now, the dissonance disappears.

END NOTES

HORRAY VIOLENCE! (this is a joke- do I need to explain that-) I know, I KNOW THE CHAPTER IS SOOO SHORT PLS THERE WERENT ENOUGH SCENES CALMMMM IM JUST AS SAD but there is only so much I can dOOooo Many songs, quotes, and poems inspired me for this chapter HNGGG THESE WERE VERY VERY exPLICIT AND vIOLENT scenes to write and convey. Some parts of the story were taken from experiences I personally had by literally existing as a woman. The feeling of being unsafe and being taken advantage of is a sad and harsh reality of this world.  YAY FOR TAKING CARE OF JOEL AND GUIDING ELLIE… EVEN THOUGH MF UR STILL INJURED TOO GIRL CHILLLLL RIP HORSEY NOOOOOOOO At first, when I was writing this chapter for both Episodes 7 and 8, I was like, “Fuck, maybe I made a wrong call, Birdie shouldn’t have gotten hurt and should’ve got captured with Ellie.” And then I sat and thought about that for a good 3 hours, and realized that it would be a huge mistake, because Ellie and Joel still needed their resolve, meaning Ellie had to survive on her own for a while. Because there will be times when adults can’t always protect or shield their child from inevitable pain or problems. And essentially, you and Joel already had your own moment last chapter tehe David had it comin’ and only had hiMSELF TO BLAMEEEEE FUCK YOU CREEP, PREDATOR, ABUSER, STINKY MF MAN, YOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED yEaHHHH GET HIM ELLIE!  Bella Ramsy shrieking as she drives the knife into his chest multiple times, and then her last note faltering at the end, absolutely shattered every bit of my being, I love her, she’s so fucking talented, 5/5 stars cast mwah <;3 The way I would give literally anYTHING TO BE HUGGED BY PEDRO LIKE THAT IN COMFORT T^T damn aGHHHH hORRAY MORE PARARALALALLELS WITH YOU AND ELLIE! Fighting for your life and your friend's life in that lab, at this point the school should pay for your therapy bill lol fUCK U RICHARD Also, it’s important to note, the night in that lab was a highly traumatic experience for Birdie, so she essentially froze a tiny bit when she felt like it was happening again. feel free to send me an ask if you have any kweschons, quonserns or klarifiqaystions :> - Grace

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk��@afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale  @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa

[pokefanclaire]

Secret Santa

Hello everyone! I’m no writer but I decided to have a crack at a fan fiction for a ship I absolutely adore. Alfendi Layton x Lucy Baker. Also I don’t own any rights to the game, or characters its purely my weird thoughts.

This fan fiction has mutual pining and teasing but is pretty tame. I’m not entirely sure how to describe this!

Secret Santa

‘Th’ Prof always uses the mug I gifted him for secret Santa. It’s a normal enough looking mug with “World’s greatest detective” printed in black ink and the inside is decorated with a flurry of magnifying glasses facing every which way. I watched him unwrap my gift for ‘im from under the Scotland yard Christmas tree about a month ago and he ‘asnt used another mug from the break room since’ Lucy thought proudly as she eyed the space allocated for making hot drinks.

“Good morning dear Lucy”

Lucy jumped in surprise of his sudden arrival and twirled to see a tired looking Alfendi sporting disheveled placid burgundy hair and 3 day old stubble across his chin.

“slept ‘ere again prof?”

“.. You know you have to fill that with water Baker?”

He gestured to the empty kettle Lucy was absent mindedly staring at. Alfendi laughed light heartedly at his assistants morning forgetfulness.

Lucy stepped aside as Alfendi began to make tea in his favourite mug. He had clearly slept in the mystery room last night she thought, yet his disheveled, unkept appearance did nothing to calm the flutters in her stomach or the increased pounding of her heart against her ribcage from his arrival to the break room.

Noticing the heat rising in her cheeks from his close proximity she snapped her attention toward the fridge to fetch a lemon slice to add to his earl grey tea Placid enjoyed each morning.

The coolness of the fridge gave her cheeks much needed relief, and Lucy gave out an audible sigh of relief.

“’ere ya are Prof”

Lucy beamed turning around. She felt a solid mass suddenly press against her entirety realising the Prof was standing right behind her.

“Sorr’ Prof”

she said stumbling back a step.

“It was entirely my fault I apologise dear Lucy. Are you okay?”

Smiling shyly placid prof tugged at the back of his neck nervously.

“It were nowt Prof, why’d you sleep at the mystery room anyways?” smiling at the nervousness she now felt. “was there some new case?”

“Not at all Lucy, I just didn’t want to get behind on paperwork. And besides my favourite mug is here at Scotland Yard. I really like it, and what it stands for”

Lucy stared at her mentor.

“I think I know who my secret Santa was”

“well you should” Smiled Lucy “been the worlds greatest detective and all that. Piece of cake for a great mind like yours”

Alfendi drank from his mug maintaining piercing eye contact with his dear Lucy.

“...And my dearest assistant, did you happen to find out the identity of your secret Santa?”

“nah Prof’ It was a crazy difficult puzzle with no instructions but it looks lik’ sum kinda box. I spent all Christmas day tryin’ to solve it. My ma and dad had a go too, and my neighbour tried but nowt”

“I wonder who would send you such a thing dear Lucy”

Lucy felt her cheeks burn from his relentless stare. She couldn't remember the last time Alfendi blinked…

“was ‘t you? Prof’”

Of course Lucy had her suspicions with him been the son of the famous Hershal Layton. A Puzzle sounded fitting. But she was a detective constable and all of Scotland Yard would of known that she would find a puzzle an entertaining gift.. Had Alfendi been staring at her this whole time? She watched his sweet amber eyes flicker to a darker, more dangerous shade of yellow.

Alfendi grinned sipping from his mug trying to guess her train of thoughts.

“You know, I’m quite good with puzzles my dear Baker. Can I possibly be of some help to you?”

Before Lucy could answer Alfendi had crossed the room to her. She had just enough time to groan as Potty Prof’s eyes met with hers. From his slightly crouched position he leant over her shoulder and whispered into her ear.

“because I am… the world greatest detective aren’t I Baker?”

“morning folks!” Dustin called glancing over at Lucy and Alfendi with a raised eyebrow “Not interrupting summat am I?”

Alfendi grinned at Dustin, his unkempt messy hair bright crimson.

“You ‘kay Lucy Love?” Dustin smiled, eyebrow still raised questioningly in Lucy’s direction.

Lucy was inches away from the grinning Potty Alfendi’s face, his unshaven dishevelled look making the break room vanish from her vision as heat rose to her cheeks. She took an inward breath, wanting to answer Dustin quickly before suspicion took hold and everyone at Scotland Yard would soon be making fun of her obvious crush on her mentor.

“um yea Dusti’ ta”

she finally managed with an altogether strange look on her face. Alfendi smelt of stale cigarettes, coffee and old books, an intresting and all together appealing combination rushing her senses.

“I’m just fine” Lucy added. Convincing herself this time.

“are you Baker? Because you look a little distracted by something, or someone perhaps?” he teased.

“then see ya Lucy love, have a good’n” Dustin stifled a laugh as he exited the break room noisily jangling his keys. “young love!” he added from half way down the corridor.

Lucy’s cheeks were hot, She could only imagine how uncomfortable she looked to Alfendi as he continued to intimidate her at her eye level.

“Baker, come with me”

He turned on his heels without looking back toward the break room certain Lucy would follow. Lucy hesitated for a split moment, deep in her own thoughts before racing to catch up with her handsome mentor. Out in the corridor, she looked left and right for Alfendi assuming he had gone to the mystery room she skipped up the corridor after him. The door to the mystery room was wide open, with no apparent inhabitant in there she knocked on the door.

“Hello? Prof? Are you here?”

her calls were met with silence but she observed on Alfendi’s desk was the still warm mug of tea, steam escaping the rim. He had to be here, She felt herself falter as she leaned inside the room knowing that it was most likely Potty Prof inside, Lucy felt the familiar heat rising to her cheeks at the thought of her Potty prof, the original Alfendi Layton. Fearless.

Lucy scanned the corridor once more before deciding to search the suspiciously silent Mystery room.

“Prof?”

Hands quickly covered her eyes as the door slammed shut behind her, heated breath brushed against the nape of her neck.

“care to guess which of your dear mentors is here with you?” Whispered Potty..

“Th’ original of course”

Silence fell once more.

“what did you call me just now” twisting to be sure he saw her lips move as she spoke. “not po…did you say original?”

“aye, I mean ya were ‘ere first wernt you? What woul you like me to call ya?”

Dazed Alfendi stared still covering Lucy’s eyes.

“...and Lucy, you aren’t scared are you? Of me I mean. Us”

He moved a hand to the side, brushing through Lucy’s golden hair. She groaned as the familiar scent of the prof fogged her consciousness for the second time that morning. ‘Get it together Lucy, he’s your boss! and this sort of thing isn’t allowed.. besides he’s just teasing. He never goes through with it, jus’ leaves me hanging. He’s all talk, that Potty’ She managed to comfort herself with her thoughts for a moment before allowing one eye to gently flutter open. He stared silently as heat rushed to her cheek turning her a shade of crimson familiar to Potty.

Alfendi gently traced the outline of her cheek with his outstretched fingers casually moving his face closer to hers before lightly brushing his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip.

“what would happen if I.. We just…..gave in Lucy?.”

Lucy stared at him in disbelief, convinced he was teasing as always she roared with hysterical laughter causing her to lose her balance and tumble forward into Alfendi.

“If I knew it was so easy to get you onto my lap Baker, I would of trapped you in the mystery room months ago”

Lucy’s eyes met with his, smiling broadly.

“I know you Prof, its all teasin’ an nowt else”

“one day I wont be able to stop myself Baker?”

Lucy was left feeling confused at the look on the now placid Prof’s face. Well placid Prof isn’t one for teasing, she thought about the living nightmare her life would become if both potty and placid decided to tease her. Shaking the thought from her head she tried to stand steadying herself on the sofa, offering both hands to the Prof she helped him regain his balance.

“Sorry abou’ falling onto you there Prof! I didn’t mean ta”

Alfendi didn’t reply, instead he stared down silently.

“wa is it?”

Her gaze fell on what had taken the Profs attention. Lucy was still holding Alfendi’s hands after helping him up.

“sorr’ Prof!”

Lucy let go of his hands instantly, retracting her arms from his direction.

“….Lu… Lucy… can you do me a favour please?”

Still looking down at his now empty hands.

“o’course Prof, anything”

Beamed Lucy, hoping by now he would of finally stopped teasing for the day.

“Can you try, to be less… perfect in my presence during work hours. I’ve found it very distracting of late” Alfendi didn’t bring his eyes to meet hers, but Lucy giggled at Pottys latest tease.

Alfendi’s hair was a placid, pale wine colour. He looked up with dull amber eyes.

“I mean it Lucy.”

A silence fell between them.

“tea prof?, how ‘bout I make us a brew! Earl grey with a lemon slice kay? Or would the othe’ trouble maker like a coffee?”

Alfendi laughed sheepishly as Lucy skipped from the mystery room toward the Scotland yard break room.

“Tea would be perfect my love”

morning turned to afternoon, and then dusk as 18:00 flashed on Lucy’s wrist watch.

“I’m ‘eading home now Prof, would you like to ride together?”

Alfendi hadn’t heard the question, or ignored his assistants declaration that she intended to leave.

“Is the mysterious puzzle in your backpack Lucy or at home?”

“s’in me backpack, I like it a whole bunch and who knows when i’ll figure it out eh?”

“May I see it Lucy? If you would kindly accept the help of your mentor”

“Sure Prof, I would love you to ‘elp me get a little further with solving the puzzle. Can I grab you some food from the take out place ‘round th’ corner” Understanding Alfendi will tackle her puzzle for a few hours at least.

“May I suggest something similar? I need to return to my apartment building this evening to take care of some household chores, and shave as i’m sure you’ve noticed I failed to remember to bring my razor with me into to work these past few days”

Alfendi ran a hand through his newly emerging beard with a disgusted curl tugging at the edge of his lips.

“we could grab some take away, and we can cycle to my apartment and I can help you with your puzzle while I take care of my chores”

“I uh.. I like it the stubbl’ I mean Prof.it suits ya somthin wicked”

Alfendi looked over at Lucy his hand frozen in the rough patch of hair now inhabiting his cheek.

“Can you confirm please, the newly emerged stubble you like?” Alfendi raised an eyebrow at Lucy.

“wel’ I guess yea.  stubbl’ or ‘least yours”

Lucy stared for a moment before realising she hadn't answered Prof’s next question.

“oh an’ take out at your place would be grand”

Alfendi didn't say a word until they reached the take out place near Scotland yard.

“what do you fancy Lucy? I mean from the take-out menu of course”

He grinned from ear to ear.

“’ello Potty, wondered if you were joining us this evening”

“Do you fancy something Italian Baker?”

“This is a chines’ restaurant silly”

He leaned into Lucy’s scarf sending his warm breath over her ear.

“I’m the something Italian silly”

“no, I don’t fancy any dam’ Italian”

“yes you do Baker”

Alfendi blew warm air over her ear and felt the gooseflesh wash over her exposed skin.

“yes you do.” he repeated.

The pair stood in silence: Alfendi grinning at her blush, Lucy pretending to be very interested in the Chinese food menu.

“now are you ready to order from the Chinese menu?”

[linkspooky]

hey, can you share your thoughts and opinions on dazai osamu's no longer human?(just the book and not in connection with bsd) i read it, i liked it, but i couldnt really relate to it. so im wondering if i should read the setting sun or not. what do you think abt this book?

I don’t think books really need to be relatable to be impactful, but context can help you understand it. In general my advice is the best way to understand a book is to read more books like it. Always, read more books. 

Sure, I can write a repsonse to the text though. The book, not the anime. (Ignore the picture of Dazai, he’s just there to look cute.)

The biggest and most important idea in No Longer Human (Ningen Shikakku).  The most literal translation of the title being  (人間失格)  "Disqualified From Being Human. I bring this up, because use of the character in the title has specific meaning.

人 (hito) : human, person 人間 (ningen): human Generally speaking, 人 is used for people, while 人間 is used for humans as a taxonomic classification. 

Much like English, the fact that a person is a human is usually a given, because in our world, we call those who are humane “people,” and only humans can be humane. Just like you wouldn’t usually count humans with “three humans” and say “three people” instead, the usual way to count three humans in Japanese would also be 三人 instead of 三人間.  “Human society” is 人間社会, etc.

Or to shorten  人 (hito) : human, person 人間 (ningen): human, biological.

So, there’s an extra nuannce there in the translation. The title of the book uses “ningen” as in the sense of taxonomical classification. So, it’s like saying “disqualified from being considered as a part of the human species.” 

I go this far in my intro because most consider Dazai’s work to be a response to Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, (he name drops both Dostoevsky and the novel itself). Both of these novels portray society as a whole as an antagonistic force to one individual, who is considered an outsider to that same society. There’s a lot of similarities between the protagonists, both Raksolnikov and Yozo are terminally ill, show signs of mental illness, and both are characters who show incredible self-awareness and moments of self reflection while at the same time being unable to connect to the feelings or identify with the people around them in any healthy way. 

To connect back to my little rant on the translation of the title though, what could disqualify a person from being considered a human being? Well, they could commit a crime for instance. Then they’d be classified as a crimminal. 

Both protagonists of both novels are crimminals in a sense. However, that’s about where the similarities end. NLH is centrally about the main characters egoism. Society matters so little in NLH, society is just something that hangs ominously in the background to the outsider. 

Now there’s another novel by Dostoevsky that similiarly is recorded in a journal format, and is mainly about the main characters Ego.  Notes from Underground is considered to be one of Dos’s first existentialist novels. Existentialism (to oversimplify) in a sense of what does existing in this world mean? 

That’s why I say the central conflict is not with society itself, but rather within the character’s own head. The outsiders of society only exist within their own heads. Their main challenge is not to grapple with society, morality and law like Raskolnikov but rather to figure out what is inside their own heads and what they live for. 

Which is why the protagonists of both novels are terrible egoists. Their main personality trait is their egocentrism, or rather their inability or unwillingness to try to see or understand the feelings or experiences of others. They are first person narrators who only see the world from their own point of view, but they are not objectve narrators. The only thing they can see, the only thing they can relate to, the only thing they can convey is their feelings to the reader. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald writes a similiar novel from a similiar point of view in This Side of Paraidse, which shows the journey of one young man born into a rich family who grows up to not only lose the love of his life, but also to squander all his fortunes at the end of the story. However, Fitzgerald drops all pretense on what the story is about. The chapter titles are things like, the romantic egoist, the egoist considers, narcissus off duty, all the way to the egoist becomes a personage. 

The book ends like this. 

He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.

“I know myself,” he cried, “but that is all.” 

It’s an egoists journey to developing a personality. To way oversimplify again, ego is yourself that exists in your own head, personage is what you show to others. At the end of This Side of Paradise, the main character gains himself, while at the end of NLH the protagonist loses himself. It’s the same journey but in reverse, it’s a net loss, it’s tragic. 

NLH, This Side of Paradise, and Notes from the Underground are all about egoists who are aware of their own feelings, but aren’t aware of the feelings of others. They’re all ridiculously self absorbed individuals. That’s actually, like, the unreliable narrator trick of the novel. 

Yozo is sympathetic yes, he’s an outsider to society, but at the same time Yozo is not the helpless, miserable victim he portrays himself as. He is not the victim to a cruel society, one he comes from a place of privilege and two he becomes a perpetrator. Hence, the whole... crime and punishment allusions. It’s this added complexity to Yozo that’s what makes the book as brilliant as it is. Yozo is someone who is both victim and perpetrator, but he only sees himself as a victim and the story he tells paints him exclusively as a victim. 

But Yozo’s central problem isn’t society its himself. His conflict and greatest obstacle is always his own ego. The reason we read the book biographically, is because we see him grow up, or rather fail to grow up. As a kid he is sympathetic, as an adult he’s a pretty serial user of people. 

Yozo constantly asks for sympathy, but at the same time he’s not really one to sympathize with others. When he tries to commit suicide with a woman, he reports these events with no remorse at all. 

I removed my coat andput it in the same spot.

We entered the water together.

She died. I was saved. 

He seems real broken up about it. 

That’s also a pattern that repeats again and again with Yozo. If you want to see the real nature of Yozo’s character you should see how he treats both women and children. They exist to make him happy, to soothe his misery, and when they don’t he leaves them. 

Like, out of context. What does this sound like. 

What a holy thing uncorrupted virginity is, I thought. 

I had never slept with a virgin, a girl younger than myself. I’d marry her.

The few times we do meet outside characters we see that Yozo is someone referred to as a crimminal, but refers to himself as a victim. 

“Don’t be cheeky now, I for one have never been tied up like a common crimminal the way you have.” 

I was taken aback. Horiki at heart did not treat me like a fully human being.

If you read No Longer Human as a response to Crime and Punishment, you could even read the many women that Yozo falls into flings with and then promptly abandons as a response to Raskolnikov and Sonya. For Yozo, each woman he meets is his Sonya, they are meant to redeem him and bring him peace, and whn they don’t he leaves. Yozo someone missing the point that, Raskolnikov loved Sonya because he sympathized with her circumstances and suffering while Yozo really only ever cares about his own suffering. 

To bring the discussion back to Notes from the Underground. It’s a story divided into two parts, that really doesn’t work without the second part of the story. In the first part, as we are just fed the main character’s thoughts he looks like some kind of revolutionary philosopher. Then in the second we follow the character though a day in his life and he’s just sort of... socially awkward. He’s not some brilliant thinker, he’s just an outsider who can’t connect with others, like Yozo. The second part is necessary to underwrite the first because in the first part of the journal he looks like a champion, and in the second he’s just pathetic. He’s just some guy. Notes from the Underground also has one of my favorite lines in all of fiction. 

"They won't let me ... I can't be good!" I managed to articulate; then I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, and sobbed on it for a quarter of an hour in genuine hysterics. She came close to me, put her arms round me and stayed motionless in that position.

The protagonist encounters a young prostitute name Liza, he tries to save her at first, but then turns around and starts to treat her terribly and has a mental breakdown in front of her that ends in this line. She finds him pitiable, and comforts him in that moment. 

However, after this moment of comfort he then he goes back to treating her terribly once more. He yells at her, and she grows tired of him. He pays her and she leaves and that’s the end of that relationship. 

See it’s a moment that’s simultaneously, a moment of human connection, but also it shows how the protagonist regards other people and why he can’t connect to them. If you only use other people to comfort your loneliness, you’re going to end up alone either way. The same way the Narrator uses Liza, Yozo chronically uses women. 

However, at the same time. 

“They won’t let me... I can’t be good.” 

Is what I consider the most striking lines in all of fiction. It is both an avoidance or responsibility, and at the same time an utterance of the baisc human desire to be good. It's always everyone else's fault, the problem is with other people. Yet both Narrator, and Yozo want to be good people, they want to connect with others. 

Yozo and the Narrator are crimminals. They are bad people. (A person who has committed a crime isn’t necessarily a bad person but..) However, being a crimminal does not disqualify you as a human being. They are still people who are suffering. The secondary goal of a novel like Crime and Punishment is to show St. Petersburg as a city where everyone is human, and everyone suffers, good and bad people alike. Yozo and the Narrator are miserable, and there’s humanity in that misery. You don’t have to even connect to their feelings, isn’t it bad to see a person suffering? Doesn’t that elicit an emotional response because nobody wants to see other people suffering and in pain. That’s the basic humanity in these characters. Yozo and Narrator aren’t inhuman. They’re just like... normal people. They are anxious, avoidant. They are terminally insecure. They’re socially awkward. They understand themselves better than other people. Those are all just normal human sentiments shared by everyone, it’s just Yozo and Narrator are so egocentric they act like they’re the only people in the world.

Yet the same, just like the moment Liza sympathized with a man who treated her terribly and only saw her as a prostitute, people still sympathize with miserable people and want to ease the suffering of others. That’s why Dazai writes stories for miserable people.

I am writing a tired story for young readers,

not because I want to be different,

or because I am unconcerned with young readers’ tastes.

I write it rather because I know it will please them.

Young readers are tired and old themselves these days,

and my story can bring them no discomfort and no surprises.

It is a story for those who have lost hope.

                                                                       (Osamu Dazai, Of Women)

[aaravos-answers]

Starling, why do you need permission from "Spiky Elves"? @ask-runaan-anything is not a mage; he cannot stop you. (can he?)

Hm. 😏 not with the wings I shall give you. @oliveofthenight @tempestmoon-tdpoc will you teach the starlings to fly?

Fly to Xadia, starlings! 💖 I await your arrival eagerly.

"there are laws against appearances which one cannot control? How odd." first time?

....first time for what?

[kim-seungmine]

dream the night away

title: dream the night away

characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids

genre: slice-of-life, romance, angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!hyunjin, hyunjin centric, inspired by 3racha’s cloud 9 but not really?

warnings: minor character death, sometimes heavy, slow burn (aka i wanted it to be but i wasn’t patient enough), i tried to proofread, i gave up trying to format text convo on tumblr, i think they kiss a lot.

word count: 11.6k i’m so sorry

synopsis: one night, hyunjin wonders how he long can stay floating on cloud 9 before he loses his balance and falls all the way down to the pits of hell. After that, nothing feels right.

disclaimer: this is idol!hyunjin so i just wanna say that this is not how hyunjin is in real life and im not trying to convince you that he feels the things in the story. some parts are inspired by the things they’ve said but everything that happens here is pure fiction... which actually goes without saying since this is a fanfic, but i just feel the need to say it. for my personal long ass author’s note, you can read it below.

Hyunjin is met with darkness when he steps into the dorm. It used to be more packed, it used to be messier, and it used to be really loud. Now he only shares the dorm with the 00z who are surprisingly quiet if you think about it. Seungmin sleeps early, Felix has his headphones stuck to his ears and plays games until the sun rises, and Jisung is snugged somewhere watching movies. On busier days, Seungmin and Felix are at the company for lessons and Jisung spends the night at the studio with Chan and Changbin. Hyunjin, meanwhile, usually has some photoshoots.

However, tonight feels unnaturally quiet, especially since Hyunjin has just won his first Bonsang as a solo artist. He switches the lights on, and his friends are soundlessly huddled together by the fridge, Jisung holding a small cake.

“Surprise!” Seungmin exclaims rather flatly as Hyunjin drops to the floor out of shock, shouting profanities. Felix proceeds to grab some candles from the kitchen counter and lights them up. “Come on, blow the candles."

Hyunjin lets out an amused sigh, rising to his feet before blowing all the candles out. “Please tell me these aren’t those candles that stay lit n—what the hell.”

He continues blowing, his friends giggling while Seungmin groans. “Why did you have to curse? I was about to post that on Instagram Story!”

“Why are we doing this anyways? We’re not 18 anymore,” Hyunjin protests half-heartedly. He can’t really remember the last time they gave each other a proper surprise. It feels like ages ago. Jisung scoffs, searching for a knife inside one of the kitchen drawers. Slicing the cake, he retorts, “Your dramatic ass loves surprises, stop denying it.”

“Anyone has anything to do tonight? The hyungs want to come over,” Felix informs while typing on his phone. Hyunjin’s vibrates after a few seconds; everyone on the Stray Kids group chat must be congratulating him.

Seungmin opens the chat, frowning. “Where’s Jeongin?”

“He hasn’t been replying since hours ago. That brat probably fell asleep. Just ask his bro if he’s home,” Hyunjin suggests, about to reply to Chan’s message when another message pops up.

y/n: sorry i couldnt watch the show

y/n: but i saw the news! congratulations!!

y/n: so proud of you, as always!

Hyunjin’s eyes light up at your messages. It’s been months since he saw you; he’s been busy with his solo debut and you’ve been busy with school. When both of you were children, you often pictured how life would be. Hyunjin would be a famous soccer player for Manchester United and the captain of South Korea national team. You would be studying to become a doctor.

He finds it funny that you’re doing the exact same thing while he’s doing something he never even imagined before. Hyunjin is always amazed at how well you planned your whole life and executed every single plan, albeit not always instantly.

After all these years, though, he dares to say that both of you turned out okay. Amazing, even.

“Order whatever you want. I’m eating outside but I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin tells his friends, bombarding you with messages before you turn your phone off, the thing you always do when you’re about to cram.

Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. I asked whether she wants to eat gopchang with me.”

“You should really be careful.”

“Everyone knows we’re best friends. No one will make a weird rumor or anything.”

Jisung clicks his tongue. “Well, do you?”

Whenever someone talks about you, it always leads to this very conversation. Hyunjin decides to let Jisung’s question (sarcasm) hang in the air, but he knows the answer. Yes, he knows you and him are just best friends. Does he like it that way?

Hyunjin knows the answer to that too. He only pretends that he doesn’t.

You’re already slurping your soup when Hyunjin says hi to the restaurant owners, Mr and Mrs. Jang. “Oh Hyunjinnie, I just watched you on TV. You won something, right?” he asks. His wife ushers him to sit down, putting extra servings of kimchi on the table.

“Why didn’t I get extra kimchi?” You pout, shooting a jealous glare at Hyunjin who’s busy explaining what a Bonsang is to the owners.

“You did a good job, then,” Mrs. Jang coos. “You don’t need to pay today. It’s on us!”

You quickly put your spoon down. “What about me? I barely sleep thesedays, and I’m not as rich as Hyunjin!”

“Aigoo, you started eating before your friend came then demand for free food. You’re lucky we love you as much as we love Hyunjin.”

The couple laugh at your reaction, jokingly scolding you for being whinier than Hyunjin when it used to be the other way around. He smiles, remembering all the times he forced you to eat his eggplants for him and the times when he begged you to help him study because he needed to beat all of his friends.

“Eat,” you scowl. “You only have half an hour to brag. I have a night shift.”

Out of the times you’re being petty towards him, you were only seriously petty once: when he beat your English score in ninth grade although you were the one teaching him. He had to bribe you with a week’s worth of Haribo jellies before you stopped ignoring him.

Hyunjin giggles. “When’s your exam? Tomorrow?”

“Next week,” you whine. “But I have so many things to do! And I think someone stole my notes, I can’t seem to find them anywhere. Do you even understand half the pain I’m going through right now? All I need is one solid hour of sleep.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You widen your eyes, eyeing Hyunjin from head to toe. “Sometimes I forget you’re Stray Kids’ Hyunjin.”

He pretends to stab himself on the chest. “That h-hurts,” he fake-groans. “Then who do you think I am?”

“My neighbor,” you answer. “—who doesn’t even live at home anymore.”

“To be fair, you’re practically holed in hospital now.”

“Yeah but I go home every two weeks? You go home twice a year.”

“Excuse me?! I went home on your birthday… in the middle of a tour! I could’ve been sleeping or practicing, but I came home!”

He always “argues” with you until both of you are out of breath, clutching your chests because it somehow feels hilarious. You drink the last few drops of the soup right from your bowl, setting it back on the table and empty your glass in one go.

“I don’t have enough energy for this,” you sigh dreamily, prepping your head on your arm. “Tell me about everything. Your first Bonsang.”

Hyunjin can still hear his fans’ voices chanting his name and cheering for him as he delivered his speech while sobbing (this is what he hates from solo promotions, nobody else is there to stop him from crying or taking over the mic from him so he could calm himself down). He remembers every single word he said and the proud faces of his fellow artists. The thrill, the triumph, the satisfaction, the love… it’s making him emotional all over again.

He grabs a tissue to blow his nose. “I was surprised when the company said that I was invited. Our group hasn’t made a comeback this year, and although my song did chart quite well, I never expected they would even invite me.”

“They gave me a 5-minute stage! I was so happy, I sent you my rehearsal videos, right?”

You nod, imitating one of the moves in his dance break.

“Everything was even more amazing on stage, with Stays watching me. I think I was possessed during the performance… I was goddamn nervous though.”

“Yeah, I watched it on the way here. You kept licking your lip, I don’t care if your fans think that’s hot. To me you’re just a nervous mess…”

Hyunjin has started to pout when you add, “… who did a very great job nevertheless! It’s just that I’ve known you so long. You can’t hide anything from me.”

He notices how you’re holding your breath, waiting for him to respond. After years, Hyunjin thought he would take negative comments much less seriously, but apparently it didn’t become easier. It became harder, so hard that he had to take a 3-month hiatus last year.

With you, everything is different. You can tell him that he sucks big time and he’ll take it seriously, but he never gets offended. There are a lot of times when people treat him like he’s made of glass (or a snowflake, Seungmin once said), but you treat him the way you’ve always treated him and he loves it. None of his other friends understands, but your honesty is priceless. It’s what keeps him going; he knows you’ll never cherish him less no matter what you say about the way he dances and raps, or the way he looks and behaves. And he’s sure that his honesty also means the world to you. You are each other’s toughest critic, but it will never change anything.

“Hyunjin.” You place your hand over his, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mouth.”

He chuckles, flipping his palm to squeeze your hand. “You idiot. You just stated the facts.”

You squeeze his hand back before pulling away. “I’m looking at Hwang Hyunjin of Stray Kids who sold over 100.000 copies of his first solo album, who won Bonsang for the first time, who gets worshiped by everyone he locks eyes with—except for me of course. I’m a very proud friend.”

“Stop it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but unable to hide his smile once he sees you grinning like a happy child. “How much time do we have left?”

You glance at your phone, sighing when a reminder for you to study pops up. “5 minutes. I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

“Can you even study during your shift?”

“I have to,” you mumble. “Anyways, thanks for dragging me out. I did miss you after all.”

“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, probably too quick for his own good but he doesn’t regret it.

“I’ll be going now.” You stretch your limbs, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Any last words before I go to war?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“Oh, right.”

Chan is the only one awake by the time Hyunjin gets back home. He huffs in regret, knowing that the hyungs decided to stay over to celebrate his Bonsang win. The leader greets him with a bear hug, carefully avoiding Felix and Minho who are fast asleep on the floor. “We’re so happy for you!” he whisper-yells. “How was Y/N?”

Hyunjin returns his hug with an even tighter one. “Thanks hyung. You composed the song after all! And sorry I came back too late.”

Chan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. At some point we forgot why we were here and just started playing mafia.”

“Y/N is fine, anyways, just tired.”

“She’s always tired, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. It turns out that medical students are probably more tired than us.”

Hyunjin leads Chan to his bedroom. Each of the 00z has their own bedroom now. It’s much more convenient and they can arrange their stuff however they want to (they avoid entering Jisung’s room as much as possible), but Hyunjin misses the mess at times. The old dorm was cramped, either too hot or too cold, and way too noisy, but it was home for quite a long time.

Chan seems to be having the same thought. “We miss you kiddos sometimes,” he laughs. “But we fixed that sliding door. It closes properly now.”

“As long as Changbin hyung keeps opening it with too much force it will be broken again in no time. Trust me.”

Both of them are lying on Hyunjin’s king size bed, staring at the sideboard table he dedicates for his music show—and now, music award—trophies. “The kids don’t really say it but they’re all so proud of you. I’m proud of you. I raised you well, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“Kinda?!”

“I’m joking.” Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “You raised all of us. We raised Jeongin. And we raised each other.”

“3racha are almost finished choosing the final songs, you have 2 weeks to relax then we’ll start production right away. Our next tour won’t start until May, so we have plenty of time to prepare everything.”

“Ohhhhh I can feel my bones breaking already. We’re getting old,” Hyunjin whines.

Chan pats his thighs, cracking his knuckles before jumping out of bed. “You’re getting old,” he teases.

“I’m glad, though. Everything finally works out the way we wanted to. I guess we can say that we’re doing well now, right?”

Chan doesn’t wait for Hyunjin to answer and leaves the room right away. The latter ponders the rhetorical question for a while, recalling the goals they have reached for the past few years. Entering the Melon chart (and staying on Top 20 for a week), having one of the most successful world tour, winning prestigious awards at prestigious music awards, 3racha getting acknowledged as the industry’s top composers, 00z winning music shows for their unit debut last year, Jeongin getting drama roles, and last but not least, Hyunjin’s successful solo debut.

Feeling nostalgic, he scrolls through his phone, looking at old photos and silly videos. Looking at the lyrics he wrote on his note app. Then he goes through @realstraykids’ posts on Instagram, from when Jeongin still had braces until tonight. The latest selcas on his own official account are still getting likes, the fans showering him with praises.

Hyunjin has ticked off everything from his wish list. He has reached every goal he set a few years ago. They are doing well. He’s doing well.

He looks at his surroundings, immersing himself in the space and peace of his room that he once craved desperately. He’s supposed to be at peace now, but his mind won’t stop buzzing, asking himself what to do next.

For the very first time, Hyunjin realizes that he’s now floating on Cloud 9. Everything is perfect, he’s living his dream life. But at the back of his head, he can hear the clock ticking, ready to push him over the edge the moment he loses his balance, watching him fall all the way to the pits of hell.

Everything is perfect, but why does his heart feel so empty?

Hyunjin’s brows furrow as he tries to catch some comments the fans are posting. When he was a rookie he couldn’t get used to how fast the comments come in, and it’s something that doesn’t quite change. Probably he got used to it at some point, but they kept gaining fans that the comment section is always extremely active.

“Hyunjin oppa,” he pronounces the words slowly. ”Spo-spoiler please!”

He lifts his head to give the viewers a secretive smile. “Nope.” He wiggles his forefinger. “You have to wait for the teasers!”

“Ohhh the comments! You guys are so excited I can’t keep up!”

More comments flood in, and Hyunjin has to press his phone screen in order to read the one comment he’s been trying to read. “Recommend me a song, please!”

“Uhhh—” He takes some time to think of the songs he’s been listening to, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table while the comments keep coming in, but this time he spots words that stab him right on his gut. With trembling hands, he lifts his phone, clicking the report button as subtle as possible. His vision grows blurry as he reports every single comment that has the word “fuck you”, “die” or “talentless” in it.

The pause has become too long and too awkward, so he stops himself from reporting more and stares at the lens. “Ah, song recommendation!” he exclaims. “I have quite a lot but thesedays I’ve been listening to 00z songs a lot. We had so much fun promoting together.”

Hyunjin feels his other phone vibrating in his pocket, probably his mother checking in. It gives him a boost of energy, and he tells his fans he’ll stay with them for 10 more minutes. “When we’re just talking like this, I’m always reminded that we’ve come so far,” Hyunjin says, a smile on his face. “It feels good to know that all of you are making time for us, for me, after your busy day. And no, I’m not sleepy. Don’t worry, everyone!”

He reads some more comments, mostly cheesy pickup lines to cheer himself up as his brain is still trying to get all the hurtful words out of his system. “Ah, I think I have to go now,” Hyunjin announces lowly. “I have to go back to practice, if not Chan hyung will barge in and drag me back to the practice room.”

“What? You want me to get scolded by Chan hyung? Why are you so mean?!”

Hyunjin ends up staying for 20 more minutes before finally ending the broadcast. Conversation with his fans is something he values a lot; it gives him strength and makes him laugh. It makes him feel loved and he wants his fans to feel the same.

But it’s equally tiring. He has to brace himself for some less-than-nice comments, sometimes they are way too severe for him to handle that the company sues all the commenters. You’ve told him over and over again that those people aren’t his fans.

Everything could’ve been worse. Hyunjin still considers himself very lucky that he has much more fans than haters. Still, he often imagines how it will feel if he has no hater at all, since he does have some friends who seem to only hear pretty words.

Hyunjin stays inside the room for a few more minutes, replying to Seungmin’s messages and assures him that he’ll be back soon. He idly plays one of their songs he hasn’t heard for years, the song that was always included in their setlist before being replaced by some other songs. Hyunjin initially thought he wouldn’t need that song anymore, but tonight, he needs it. Maybe he needs it more now than before.

After making a mental note to ask the other boys to add the song back to the concert’s setlist, Hyunjin leaves, cursing himself for taking too much time to regain his composure.

Should I stop or not? Should I give up or not?

“Hwang Hyunjin, stop coming into my room without my permission! You literally trespassed into someone else’s property!”

Hyunjin groans into his pillow, instantly regretting his decision to pick up your call at midnight. “I didn’t!”

“Don’t lie to me. You took Gureum with you!”

He takes a quick glance at the rabbit plushie he placed on top of his pillow. Last night, he did go home because Kkami (everyone calls him old man now) got a little sick. “I miiiiight have made a quick detour next door when I was about to leave.”

“You’re pathetic. You got soooooo many plushies and toys and cute headbands from fansigns and you stole my Gureum.”

“Stop guilt tripping me! I missed Gureum, okay? Why didn’t you take him to your dorm?”

Hyunjin senses your hesitation as you clear your throat. “Well, sometimes seeing Gureum only makes me miss everyone more, so I just left him at home.”

Now he feels guilty. Your parents are currently staying overseas to take care of your sick little sister. He pictures you coming to an empty home every two weeks, exhausted and not having anyone to welcome you.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Our superstar isn’t busy?”

“I am, but I’m willing to sacrifice my precious time for my best friend.”

You scoff over the phone, but telling him to hurry up before ending the call. Hyunjin packs his clothes and toiletries, along with Gureum—his birthday present for your 11th birthday. You almost never sleep without it, yet the plushie still looks brand new.

Unable to hide his smitten smile, Hyunjin grabs his keys.

The apartment complex where Hyunjin lives has changed a lot over the years. The soccer field he used to play at is now a playground. The little bookstore you loved so much is now a bakery. Now there’s a big shopping mall right across the building. After saving up for a while, Hyunjin asked his parents whether they wanted to move to a bigger place. He kind of hoped that they wouldn’t want it because he wanted to stay close to you (although coming home is a real challenge for him). Luckily, his parents said no.

He enters your door password leisurely, recalling the time when your parents told him to take care of you.

So far, you’ve been the one taking care of him.

Hyunjin heads straight to your bedroom, opening the door and sees you curling on your bed. The mattress he sleeps on whenever he stays over is already laid on the floor.

“Gureum!” you yell when he throws the squishy rabbit to you. Hyunjin drops his bag and settles himself on the mattress, staring up at you.

“How’s your sis?”

You scoot towards the end of the bed, showing him a photo on your phone. Your sister is smiling; she looks much better than before, but still very pale and thin. “I haven’t called her,” Hyunjin admits. “But she got the albums I sent to her. Sent the ones signed by the others too. That kid loves Jisung, do you know that?”

“I got her into Jisung.”

He sits up, looking almost offended. “Your bias is Han Jisung?”

“This world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.” You flash him a cheeky grin. “I wanted to ask you to let me go to the backstage again last tour, but I restrained myself. As your kind best friend, I shouldn’t abuse my privilege.”

“You know that he never cleans his room, right?”

You hum, “Nobody’s perfect, Jinnie.”

“Oh come on!” Hyunjin protests. “If it’s Jeongin I understand although he also never cleans his room. But Jisung? And you’re calling yourself my best friend!”

“He’s funny!” you argue. ”He has a nice voice—it’s really sexy when he raps, he dances well, he wrote all my favorite Stray Kids songs, and he actually had the balls to fight you. A real champ.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, making a gesture to snatch Gureum away from you. “And at the end of the day, you love him,” you add. “He makes you laugh too.”

Well, it’s a fact he can’t refute. You ask, “Do you think I should hit on him or something? Will people call me out? Does he have someone?”

“We are not having this conversation Y/N. I don’t care if both of you are my best friends, you’re not dating Han Jisung. What happened to that ‘hot senior’ Jung Jaehyun? The last time we called, you were so in love with him.”

The mention of Jaehyun’s name causes you to slump into your bed, covering yourself with your thick blanket. “I sort of blew it up,” you mumble. “He asked me on a real date and I said no.”

You seem to hit realization that’s way too late, and now you’re hollering, “I said no to Jung Jaehyun! Oh my God Hyunjin… I’m such an idiot!”

Hyunjin can’t contain his giggles. Relief washes over him; you and Jaehyun seemed rather serious and while he wished you well, the thought of you being with someone else always pains him. He knows he’s not allowed to feel that way just because you’re best friends.

Most of the times, he can’t help it.

“He’s a real gentleman and he said he was into me. ME. Everyone would throw themselves at him but he came up to me and I flat out rejected him. What the hell is wrong with me?!”

You’re rolling on your bed, whining and kicking at the air. “I tried not to think about it but… it was just a date? Even if I didn’t end up dating him at least I could tell my grandchildren that I went on a date with Jung Jaehyun!”

“Is he really that great?” Hyunjin asks, out of curiosity but laced with jealousy he hopes you can’t see. His words sound distant to his own ears, triggering his fear of losing you.

“Yeah, I guess?”

You nudge his legs when he doesn’t respond. “How about you? Everything’s fine? You don’t look happy thesedays.”

Hyunjin never lies to you. You have a full access to his heart; he lets you in on his happiest days when life feels like the shiniest summer. He also lets you in even after the messiest thunderstorm when he feels that everything is fucked up. This time, he wants to lock you out. There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to fix.

His heart is empty—he is empty, and he wants to protect you from the bleakness of it.

“I’m fine, just been arguing with Felix and Minho hyung over the song we’ll perform. It feels too monotone for me, but they think it’s perfect,” he explains, not completely lying. “I don’t know if I’m being selfish but somehow I just can’t let it go.”

“Have you tried explaining to them? Not how you feel, but how the song is. You can always go technical, you don’t need to worry just because Minho is more experienced.”

Hyunjin sighs. “I did, but probably it’s just me.”

“Do you wanna talk things out?” You yawn, squishing Gureum into your chest. “Or do you want to just sleep?”

He glances at the clock. “We both need sleep. It’s almost 3A.M.”

“Alright. Good night—I mean good morning!”

Hyunjin stretches his neck to look at you, your eyes are already closed. He relaxes his body and tries to sleep, but his jumbled mind keeps him awake. Hyunjin waits until you’re fast asleep before scooting closer, softly taking your hand in his before closing his eyes once again. He did it a lot when he was younger, holding your hand until he fell asleep. You nagged at him because it woke you up, but you never told him to stop doing it.

Tonight is no different.

“Hyunjin?”

“Sorry.”

You turn to him, “It’s okay.”

He mumbles a thank you, ready to go to sleep when you move to the mattress. Hyunjin gulps at the close proximity, it’s been too long since you slept on the same bed as him.

“Hyunjin, I missed you.”

Hyunjin heard a theory somewhere: 3.A.M-conversations are the most honest. It’s a little over 3A.M now, and he doesn’t how much of that theory is true, but your words fuel something deep within him. The feeling so strong he has to tear his gaze away from you. Hyunjin slowly pulls you into his arms, patting your back in rhythm with the clock.

He grazes his lips on your shoulder, mouthing his reply quietly, “I missed you too.”

You nod against his chest, pulling your hand out of his grasp so you could circle your arms around his torso.

Hyunjin falls asleep almost immediately, succumbing to the warmth and comfort you radiate.

He’s going to be alright.

“Do you think I’ll ever debut?”

Hyunjin takes off his SOPA jacket, plopping onto the bed while you’re munching on a pack of jelly. “Let me sleep for 10 minutes. I have to go to the company after this.”

You slap his thigh. “Why do you always sleep in my room? If I got a dollar everytime you sabotage my bed I’d be really rich now. Get out, you have practice!”

He reaches for your knee, using it as a pillow. Hyunjin feels you soften as you card your hand through his hair. “Is it hard? Are those mean hyungs still bothering you?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Changbin hyung told those motherfuckers to mind their own business.”

“Stop cursing!” you hiss. “It’s not cool, and what if you accidentally curse on broadcast later? You have so much to learn…”

Hyunjin opens his eyes and smiles when he meets your gaze. “Do you think I’ll ever debut?” he repeats his question.

“Have you seen yourself dancing? You’re better than most of the trainees I saw at the open showcase. Plus you have so many girls screaming your name. No offense, but that is definitely a plus point.”

You give his head a little smack when you notice doubt flashing through his orbs. “I believe in you, Hyunjin. Don’t doubt yourself,” you tell him softly. “And if you need someone to give those ‘motherfuckers’ a lesson, just call me. I know some people who can shut them up.”

He lets out an obnoxious gasp. “Are you a gangster now?! Your parents are going to be so disappointed in you. Looks like you have to say goodbye to medical school now…”

You sigh, now it’s your turn to look at Hyunjin with doubt in your eyes. “I’ll get in, right? What if I flunk my results later?”

“This is why I hate smart people,” he bemoans. “You rank first in the whole school, stop saying nonsense.”

Both of you a few more minutes lying in silence. When he waves you goodbye, Hyunjin feels like he can soar.

He’s safe with you, and you’re safe with him.

“Hwang Hyunjin, get off me!”

Hyunjin wakes up to you trying to untangle your legs from his. He catches your flailing legs, removing his before examining your face. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you running late?” you pester, pointing at the clock.

“Lunch?” he asks.

This is supposed to be awkward. Hyunjin can’t recall what happened a few hours ago before blushing—he’s never been that intimate with you before. You two have had a fair share of platonic cuddle sessions, but last night felt different.

“Not yet,” you mutter. “I just woke up. Oh God my back hurts.”

He wants to know whether you feel the same, but you’ve made your way to the bathroom before he could ask anything. “What do you want to eat?” you yell, almost incoherently due to the toothpaste in your mouth.

“You’re not going to shower?” Hyunjin playfully shrieks.

“It’s my day off!”

“My mom must’ve cooked something. Gimme 10 minutes.”

Although he’s done this at least a hundred times, it’s still hard for Hyunjin to leave home. Seeing his he’s never able to stop his heart getting heavier at the sight of bidding his family goodbye until God knows when.

“Please come home more Y/N,” his mother asks you, raising her eyebrow. “Hyunjin seems to randomly pop up whenever you’re here, so please, come home more.”

You smack his back loudly, causing him to let out a choked groan. “I’ll teach him a lesson, don’t worry.”

Hyunjin gives his mother a sheepish smile, knowing all too well what she meant. He pulls you out before she starts grilling him for information, yelling one last goodbye before closing the door. You search for something inside your bag, stopping him from pressing the elevator button.

“You left something?”

“My dorm key,” you answer, walking back to your own unit. “You should just go,” you say. “It’s in the middle of the day anyways, we shouldn’t be seen together.”

Hyunjin follows you inside, watching you rummage through one of the buffet drawers. He notices how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyebrows furrow. As his mind wanders to last night once again, you jab at his stomach lightly. “Hey, you’re spacing out.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin can say. He takes a good look of you, something he always does before he parts ways with you. Before he can stop himself, Hyunjin has wrapped his arms around you, letting you hear his erratic heartbeat. He still misses you, even after spending the whole night together.

Eventually, you pull away. “I’ll go first.” You ruffle his head. “See you when I see you?”

“See you soon,” he corrects you.

You smile, taking your bag from the floor and when he blinks, you’re gone.

Hyunjin still misses you now, even when you were just in his embrace a few minutes ago, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The empty space in his heart seems to expand whenever he thinks about you.

It hurts.

Minho ends the dance practice and everyone collapses on the floor the moment the music stops playing. Hyunjin immediately restarts the discussion they had before practice started.

“We used to sing both Grow Up and You Can Stay, why do we have to choose one now?” he demands while all of them are sprawled on the floor. “Our fans miss it too, I think it’s the perfect chance to bring it back.”

Chan takes a deep breath, nodding at Hyunjin. “I can’t see why not,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t even remember why we abandoned it in the first place.”

Hyunjin does, and he knows Chan does too. It was simple, really. The song that once gave them comfort turned into this big monster made out of their worst nightmares. Each member had cried to the song during some of their concerts, and now performing it in front of everyone always brings back the painful memories.

“Yeah, we should sing it again,” Felix adds, kicking Jisung’s leg so the latter would sit up and voice out his opinion. “Well.” Jisung scratches the back of his head, “I’m cool with it.”

The rest of the group mumbles similar answers and Chan claps, giving Hyunjin a thumbs up. “Hyunjinnie is all grown up,” he praises before gathering his things and leaves. Hyunjin snorts at the leader’s compliment, but his sparkly eyes can’t fool anyone.

He pulls out his phone to relay the happy news to you, but the sparks in his eyes quickly fade when his messages from hours ago are still unread.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

Seungmin checks his phone. “5A.M.”

Hyunjin wipes his sweat, chugging his water. Their American tour starts in a few days, and while he’s ecstatic because they’ll be performing at LA Staples Center for the first time, he also feels uneasy.

He takes out his phone, opening his contacts and stops when he sees your name. He stares at the number he remembers by heart.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks. “If you’re worried about District 9’s formation change, don’t. You nailed it today.”

“District 9…” Hyunjin trails off. “We’re getting too old for District 9.”

Jeongin grunts in agreement. “Whenever we finish my head always spins for like a minute. It’s been too long.”

“Yah,” Seungmin scolds him. “You need to get it checked. What if there’s something wrong with your head?”

The youngest does an exaggerated head banging, earning a kick from the puppy-like boy. Hyunjin chuckles at the two’s antics; some things never really change, and he’s grateful that this is one of those things.

Seungmin throws a playful punch at Jeongin’s stomach one last time before focusing his gaze back on Hyunjin. “Seriously though, did something happen?”

Hyunjin’s brain has a lot of template answers to questions like this, but the cliché words on tip of his tongue feel burning. His friends wait patiently as he fumbles for words, blinking his tears away when he fails to find the right words.

“I don’t even know if there’s anything,” he finally concludes. “It’s just—ever since Bonsang, it’s been hard. It’s been… nothing. Empty.”

Seungmin and Jeongin only nod, as if they understand how he feels. They probably do, Hyunjin thinks. Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe all of his members have experienced it at some point, although at different times. Hyunjin feels slightly relieved at the thought. I’m not insane.

When he was a trainee, he thought everything would be fine once he debuted. It was, to some extent. But he was young and naïve, and when things beyond his control happened, Hyunjin barely managed to stay afloat. People told him how to handle stress, how to voice out his concerns, how to manage his body, mind and soul. He knew how to survive, theoretically.

No one actually taught him nor the other boys, and for an 18 year-old boy, feelings got intense quickly. After some trials and errors, everyone figured that it was best not to bottle up their feelings. Once again, it sounded easy in theory. In reality, with so many things happening at once, most of them eventually created a space in their own heads to seal everything in. They endured.

Jeongin looks at him with hesitation, rubbing his hands together. “It happens,” he reassures him. “It’s okay to worry about it, hyung. But worry about it with me, please!” Jeongin raises his tone. “You can barge into my room anytime. You can annoy the hell out of me, but stop suffering alone, will you?!”

Seungmin can’t miss the chance to tease the maknae. “Says the one who cried alone all night long in the bathtub after losing his voice.”

“If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve passed out,” Hyunjin adds. Jeongin lifts his hands in defeat. “Whatever. But I meant what I said.”

“Our Jeongin is so dependable,” Hyunjin coos.

“You say that all the time.” Jeongin rolls his eyes. “And then still baby me.”

Seungmin takes Hyunjin’s phone from the floor, passing it to the owner. “Call Y/N.”

Hyunjin panics a little. “Why?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Better days start after meeting the person you want to see the most!”

“Speaking of you and Y/N,” Jeongin quips. “You guys aren’t in high school anymore, stop flirting with each other and date already.”

Hyunjin gets a surge of bravery and dials your number, but immediately regrets his decision with each passing minute. He almost ends the call when you finally answer. “Hyunjin?”

“H-hi,” he stammers. “Busy?”

“Kind of... What? What happened?”

“Can we meet? I only need a couple of minutes. You’re in Seoul, right?”

“I am. Hyunjin, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

It’s scaring me too.

“I want to tell you in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

Hyunjin isn’t sure when the lines between best friends and something more started to get blurry. The worse thing is, he realized it way too late and things got complicated before he could do anything about it.

“It’s too late to back out,” he mouths to himself while opening the stairwell door in the hospital you’re currently at. You’re sitting on one of the steps, dozing off as your head hits the wall every now and then.

Hyunjin runs his hand through his hair, guilt consuming him. He sits beside you, pulling your head to his right shoulder. The two of you always attended the same school until high school, when he decided to enroll in SOPA instead of a regular school. Since then, he never really knows what’s going on in your life. You told him about your close friends, the small fights, medical students’ inside jokes, the good looking boys, all the knowledge and experiences you’re grateful for despite the never-ending suffering and constant lack of sleep. You told him everything, but he’s never actually seen you in your world.

You’ve seen enough of his world—you’ve gone to his concerts, awards shows, even fansigns (as a prank because you wanted to see him getting all flustered while pretending not to know you). Hyunjin never has the time or makes an effort to do the same, and while it’s completely understandable due to the nature of his job, he feels like he’s going to lose you.

As he brushes your hair out of your face, Hyunjin asks himself whether he’s good enough for you.

“Whoa,” you suddenly whisper, straightening your body. “Did I fall asleep?”

Hyunjin stops you from getting up. “You must be tired.”

“So are you.” You remove his hand from your head. “So tell me. What’s going on?”

You’re here, sitting beside him, only wanting truth to come out of his mouth. Hyunjin bites his lip, the urge to just let go is eating him up, his soul begging him to get some answers. The familiar hollowness is back, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

This isn’t the first time he cries in front of you, so you just pat his head, waiting for the tears to stop. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You lift his head, eyes looking straight into his. “What for?” you mutter. “Hyunjin, please tell me.”

Hyunjin makes a silent plead at himself to toughen up, but it’s hard when you’re staring at him like this, wide eyes filled with raw concern and sincerity that never fail to touch the deepest part of his heart. “Hmm?” you prompt, still patting his head ever so softly.

“It’s been hard,” Hyunjin sniffles. “It’s hard to look forward to the future. I feel restless all the time. I have nothing to fight for. It’s…,” He makes gestures with his hand in attempt to explain it better. “… empty.”

You wipe his tears with the sleeve of your white coat. “Do you know why you feel that way?”

Hyunjin nods. “We’re doing well, we really are… and that’s probably why. Everything is going too well I don’t know what thrills me anymore. I thought I’d feel content once I reached all of my dreams, but that’s not the case.”

He examines your face, rehearsing the next lines in his head again and again. You cock an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. And the last bit of Hyunjin’s defense crumbles with every blink of your pretty eyes.

“And you… I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right here with me, I still miss you. I have to hold back whenever I’m with you because I don’t want you to run away from me. I love you, Y/N. I don’t know when it all started but maybe I’ve always loved you and it hurts me not being able to tell you that. The emptiness… it gets worse whenever you tell me we shouldn’t be seen together or that you have to go or when you have other boys like Jaehyun who are clearly better for you than I am because they can be there for you. I love you so bad you don’t know how hard it is to go through days without you, without kissing you good night, without hearing you laugh for me. I keep thinking, ‘what if you’re suddenly gone?’ Maybe you’ll leave me someday, maybe you’ll tell me that you can’t be my friend anymore, but I need you, Y/N. I love you and I need you here with me to keep going. I—”

Hyunjin watches you slowly—very slowly—retract your hand from his head as words fail him, and he feels as if his guts are being hammered to pieces. He can’t read your eyes, can’t even try to define what your gaze means.

You eventually stand up, pulling him up with you. “I’m not the answer, Hyunjin,” you mutter. “You can’t expect that you’ll never feel empty again once I say that I accept your feelings. It’s just—it’s not fair. This isn’t just about us not being together.”

“But—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your body start shaking due to all the tension. “I know. That’s how you feel, and I can’t dictate you what to feel and not to feel. Think about it like this…”

You pause to check if he’s still listening to you. He nods, weakly.

“… you spent years working your ass off to get recognition from everyone, and you did it. Don’t ever forget that, I’m begging you. So all of your dreams have come true and you feel lost now… it’s okay. You have a lot of time, Hyunjin. You can always have a new dream, you can have a thousand more. Don’t make me the answer to everything just because you haven’t found any other answer.”

You wait for him to respond, but Hyunjin is frozen to his spot. His world is now upside down, and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fix everything.

Your phone rings, snapping him out of his trance. You look at him apologetically. “I have to go.” Those damn words again. “Ask Seungmin to help you ice your face, you don’t want to show up at the airport with swollen eyes, do you? Call me before you take off, okay? Hyunjin?”

He can only nod, trying his best to give you the most reassuring smile. He feels everything all at once: shock, shame, sadness… but mostly regret because you’re right.

You always are.

“Have fun on tour! Send me all the photos you take!”

Now it’s turn for Hyunjin’s phone to ring as you make your way out, leaving him alone. He’s about to press the green button when the door opens once again. Hyunjin lets his phone ring, watching you fidget with your hands.

He’s still pretty much tongue-tied, but forces himself to ask, “Did you ever… love me? As more than friends?”

To his surprise, you take quick steps towards him, tiptoeing to press your lips on his. Your eyes are closed, your hands are tied to your sides and it takes Hyunjin his whole willpower to refrain himself from pulling your body closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the life out of you. He closes his eyes and just stands there, accepting whatever you’re willing to give him because there’s nothing he yearns more than your love and trust.

Hyunjin almost whines when you pull away with red cheeks and teary eyes. “Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you. Only you.”

It’s Hyunjin’s 10th (or 11th? He can’t really remember) visit to New York, but he’s still as excited as a kid with his lollipop. After years of traveling from country to country, Hyunjin realizes that he just doesn’t get bored, ever. Each place holds a special memory he keeps close to his heart, something sentimental that motivates him to go back every chance he gets.

“Stand there,” he motions at Seungmin—the only one who’s willing to accompany him walking around the Empire State Building for the nth time—to stand at the spot he points at. Seungmin follows his instruction, smiling when Hyunjin starts counting. They examine the result and Seungmin shoves his leg. “I guess you finally learned something.”

Hyunjin feigns hurt, setting his camera’s focus on a group of kids, holding his breath before pressing the shutter. “As if you taught me anything.”

He glances at his bandmate who’s busy taking photos with his own camera. Photo hunting with Seungmin is always in Hyunjin’s “limited free time” itinerary. They’ve strolled around so many cities together, sometimes it takes the whole day if time allows them. Strangely, Seungmin never gets bored of it either and although it’s no surprise since he loves photography more than anything else, Hyunjin is grateful.

“You never say no whenever I ask you to take photos with me,” Hyunjin states. “Why?”

Seungmin frowns. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just wondering,” Hyunjin mumbles. “We do pretty much the same thing everytime. Sometimes I force you to go to the places we’ve been to… don’t you get bored?”

“It’s always different everytime, I thought that’s why sometimes you take photos at the same place? It’s never exactly the same, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin goes through the photos he took in New York last year, smiling at some of them as he recalls the funny anecdotes behind them. When he slips his phone back into his jeans pocket and lets his eyes wander… yes, nothing is exactly the same.

“You truly are a photographer. When’s your next exhibition, Photographer Kim?”

Seungmin snaps his finger. “Ah! Exhibition! I forgot to ask you, why don’t we held a joint exhibition this time?”

“You want to show your photos along with my photos?”

“Why not? Yours are amazing too! And you’re my best friend, it’ll be fun.”

Hyunjin imagines having his photo framed on the wall. Small placards pinned underneath, containing the words he constructs to explain each of them. The fans will come to feel how it feels like to be here behind the lens. Maybe people who don’t even know him will come too, and get a chance to actually know him.

He reaches his phone to relay the idea to you, smiling to himself when he finds messages from you instead.

y/n: [sends a picture]

y/n: ahreum finally woke up today! isnt she pretty?

me: everyone is prettier than you

me: you must be happy!!

y/n: ??????

y/n: oh. she asked me to recommend boygroup songs

y/n: i made her listen to every single skz song

y/n: and your solo songs!!!!

me: awwwwwww

me: and you cant be doing this for free right?

“Is that your best friend slash girlfriend?” Seungmin is suddenly standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You guys are so cute it’s making me feel sick.”

Hyunjin sighs, gazing at the busy street upon him. “We’re not dating. At least not yet.”

“What happened? Just realized that I never really asked.”

“She asked me to come to her when I’m ready.”

Seungmin looks at him quizzically, but decides not to press him further. “Are you ready now?”

They’re flying back to Seoul next week, and while he thought he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, he truly did. He thinks of all the good things that have happened: the sold out shows, the happy tears, his improvement, the upcoming exhibition with Seungmin, and lastly, you—the one who’s patiently waiting for him.

There have been a lot of times when Hyunjin feels like he’s everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It sounds scary, but now he realizes that he only needs to admit that he’s indeed everywhere, but never nowhere.

“Almost.”

The instrumental of Grow Up starts to play and all the boys rush back to their designated positions. The atmosphere turns a bit more sentimental as the bridge approaches, they’re just looking at each other while Minho is singing his part. In the past, they often teased each other during this very part, afraid that they would break down if they let their emotions overtake them. Hyunjin averts his gaze to the audience, watching the beautiful color of their lightsticks light up the huge stadium. As he gestures at some of the fans to stop crying, Hyunjin thanks himself for convincing the others to add the song back to their setlist.

The song comes to an end, and Chan gathers everyone to make a circle. Hyunjin feels pats on his head and back, Chan’s voice drowned by the fans who are still singing. He can’t resist the urge to turn around, so he does just that, and what he won’t trade what he sees for anything.

Their fans are standing there, eyes focused on everyone on stage as they sing each syllable perfectly. Changbin follows his gaze, and soon all of them are facing the audience again, listening to every wish, every hope, and every message relayed through the lyrics of the song.

Hyunjin lifts his mic, eyes darting to Chan who gives him a nod of approval. “Thank you,” he begins. “This is our last stop for this tour, and I can’t be any prouder and thankful to all of you.”

He lets the translator translate his speech before continuing, “I had a lot of worries before the tour started. I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to go through everything.”

“You made our dreams come true,” Hyunjin continues. “You made my dreams come true and I naively thought that was the end of everything. But I learned a lot during this tour, and once again, you made this happen. All the pretty words you told us, they mean a lot. They always will. I realized that this will always be my dream, no matter how many times this has come true. I want to make you, who stay with us throughout everything, happy. I want to be here for a very long time. I want to be with you, to be with the members and our family, for a very long time.”

He stops when he feels he can’t continue anymore, letting the others take the spotlight. He gives each of his bandmates with a loving gaze, stopping at Minho who lets tears roll down his cheeks this time. Jeongin is giggling beside him, walking over to wrap the tsundere hyung in a firm hug.

Hyunjin thinks they’ve really come a long way.

Being back home usually gives Hyunjin a peace of mind, but when he sees no notification on his phone, he feels weird. He dials his mother’s number, his heart grows even more anxious when she picks up.

“Oh Hyunjin-ah, did you just land?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come over here? Or do you have an important schedule?”

“No, we get 2 days off. What’s going on?”

“Y/N’s sister passed away. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we didn’t want you to panic.”

“Eomma! How could you?”

“I’m sorry. This is Y/N’s request as well. She’s been here for 2 days and no one can make her eat anything. Can you take her home?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“You’re going to live in Germany! You’re such a lucky kid!”

The little girl smiles bashfully as you pout at her. “The luckiest girl on Earth,” you add, fixing her messy hair.

“If you’re so jealous of me, why don’t you come along?”

“Are you kidding?” you exclaim. “I’m on my way to be the greatest doctor in this country. You can’t change my mind.”

“Alright, it’s time to go,” your father interrupts, giving you one last hug before whispering things into your ear. Hyunjin steps back to allow you say goodbye to your family, tearing up at the painful sight. Your father, a doctor, accepts an offer to work in a hospital in Germany and takes the whole family with him since your sick little sister needs more intensive treatment.

But you’re staying to become a great doctor like your father, hoping you’ll get a chance to cure your sister later.

“Please take care of her, Hyunjin. We trust you,” your mother tells him. Hyunjin nods, enveloping your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here monitoring her every move and drag her back home whenever she spends too much time at the academy.”

Your sister laughs, bowing to Hyunjin. “I also want a boyfriend like Hyunjinoppa! Please take care of our unnie.”

You yank your hand away from him. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hyunjin seems unbothered by your statement, bowing to your family to annoy you more. “Our family will take care of her, you can trust us.”

Your sister’s smiling face greets Hyunjin as he enters the funeral home. He stares at the photo then closes his eyes to pray, whispering strings of apologies that’s always too late. I’m sorry I never visited you. I’m sorry I failed to take care of your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t call you enough.

He bows to your family, the first bow since years ago, and he wishes he could turn back time. Hyunjin turns to you, gazing into your tired eyes. Your mother pulls him towards you. “She hasn’t eaten at all. Can you please bring her home, Hyunjin? I hope you’re not too busy. I’m sorry that we meet like this.”

“Hyunjin just landed in Seoul. How could you force him to come here?” you snap, returning his gaze. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”

Hyunjin almost yells in frustration, but swallows everything before dragging you out, only tightening his grip on your wrist when you try to pry his hand off of you. You keep shouting at him, yelling at him to stop, but Hyunjin doesn’t budge. He drags you all the way to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

Without waiting for you to move, he lifts your body and sits you down, fastening your seatbelt. “Please don’t push me away,” he pleads. “Why do you always tell me go home, go back to practice, to leave… why?! I promised your parents to take care of you. I promised your sister, why aren’t you letting me do that?!”

“I never asked you to do that,” you mutter through gritted teeth, causing Hyunjin to grip your shoulders.

“You only said that to hurt me,” he replies. “Even now you’re still trying to push me away. I want to be here Y/N. Don’t you want me here?”

You avoid his eyes, keeping your gaze on your clasped hands. “Tell me,” Hyunjin challenges. “Tell me that you don’t want me to stay with you, and I’ll leave.”

He waits for you to respond, letting out a relieved sigh he doesn’t bother hiding when you shake your head. “Want you here. Thank you.”

“Have you cried?”

After your sister was born, you were told not to shed tears in front of her. Your parents always scolded you if you started crying when you saw her in pain, and after some time, it became a habit. A habit that Hyunjin absolutely despises since it makes you suppress your feelings, as if punishing you for having feelings.

“I don’t know… maybe I haven’t.”

“You lost your sister, you can cry. Your parents cried a lot too, it’s fine.”

You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck when tears start to well up. Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple, finding himself tearing up the moment you start sobbing, something he has never witnessed although he’s known you for almost his whole life.

“Is this your Armani suit?” you manage to voice in the middle of sobs and snorts. He takes you into his embrace, chuckling, “Yes, but you can ruin it however you want. Another privilege as my best friend.”

“Can I abuse this privilege?”

“Ruining my expensive suits?”

“No,” you laugh airily. “Crying when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin cups your wet cheeks, gently pushing your hands away when you want to wipe your tears away. “Anytime. You can cry, laugh, curse, get angry, get drunk… you can do anything when you’re with me.”

And that’s all it takes before you start sobbing into his suit again. Hyunjin is standing there for the longest time, sandwiched by the passenger seat and door of his car with you in his arms. He doesn’t care, he will do it all over again, and he will do much more. For you, and only you.

“Where are you? It’s past midnight already!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you’re lucky I’m willing to go home when I have a morning shift tomorrow,” you scold him over the phone.

“It’s my birthday! Wait, it isn’t even my birthday anymore!” he whines in an obnoxious tone that never fails to upset you. He giggles when he hears you huff, the sound of the elevator signaling that you’ve already arrived.

“You asked me to buy you a cake right before I left,” you hiss. “Now open the door, I’m outside.”

The call ends and Hyunjin rushes to the door. You’re carrying the red velvet cake he requested, the candles already lit and Hyunjin tries not to melt at the way you look at him. He did ask you to buy him a cake and “surprise” him at your apartment, but he is nowhere near ready to see you like this: all smiley and cheery for him despite sounding annoyed over the phone.

“Happy birthday,” you sing song, your smile growing wider as he blows the candle. Hyunjin returns your smile before taking the cake from you, pulling you towards your room. “Go get changed, I’ll slice the cake for you.”

A few minutes later, both of you are seated on your couch, talking about every little thing while enjoying the cake. Hyunjin tells you about Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback, a very special one since Minho choreographed the title track. You tell him about various cases that happened in the hospital while wondering if you’ll ever finish medical school and actually be a doctor.

Everything feels the way Hyunjin expects it to be, until you put your empty plate on the table and look at him straight in the eyes. “Hyunjin…”

He quickly swallows and places his plate on the table as well, never breaking eye contact with you. “What?”

You gulp. “Do you remember when I asked you to come find me when you’re ready?”

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Well,” you murmur. “I’m just wondering if you’re… ready.”

Fire lights up in his stomach, and before you can continue, Hyunjin is already trapping you between his body and the couch. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”

You brush his fringe with your fingers. “You were waiting for me?”

“You told me to start dreaming again, so I did,” Hyunjin recalls. “And I realized that all of my dreams are right in front of me—you, my family, the hyungs, Jeongin, the fans… keeping you guys with me is something I’ll always dream of although all of you are already here.”

You pout at him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the proud gleam in your eyes. “Then what’s taking you so long?”

He pinches your nose. “I waited for you to be ready, as you said before, it wasn’t just about us being together. I don’t want you to choose me only because you feel like you need me. I want you to… want me… to love me with a clear head. Just like what you wanted me to do. I want to give you the world, but only if you allow me to.”

You circle your arms around his neck, sighing happily, “You gave me the world, Hyunjin. You listen to me, you console me, you give me a shoulder to cry on. You’re the only one I’ve ever waited for, and I’m so glad that you came back to me.”

Hyunjin is sure that his whole system has stopped working, the words you just uttered feel like the strongest, yet the sweetest liquor he’s ever tasted. He is drunk on the love you offer; he’s drunk on your touch, your smile and everything you want to give him. You’re driving him nuts, completely nuts, but it’s the only thing he wants to feel. You are the only one he yearns to feel.

You seem to sense his burning gaze and start nibbling on your bottom lip. “So this is the part where you kiss me…”

“This is the part where I kiss you…”

You shake your head. “This feels weird. You’re my best friend.”

“You kissed me,” Hyunjin reminds you. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

“No, but—” You pause to let yourself breathe. “I kissed you. This is different, I’m not going to survive you kissing me.”

“For the love of God Y/N, just—”

You point at your lips. “And I still have my lipgloss on!”

Hyunjin is caressing your reddening cheek now, trying to destroy the last bit of your defense. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asks softly.

“It’s sticky! Our lips will get stuck and it won’t be romantic.”

“So what do you want to do? Go into your room and wipe it off with a cotton pad or something?”

“Yeah, let’s do—”

Hyunjin doesn’t let you finish as he finally dives in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that set both of you on fire. He hums when he feels your body relax in his hold, allowing him to savor you with so much longing and want. Hyunjin lets his heart take the lead, kissing you harder whenever you tug the ends of his hair and making him putty under your touch. It never feels enough, it feels like he only gets hungrier everytime you return his kiss, the feeling of your lips moving against his almost destroys him.

Nothing is stopping him now, he came back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin leaves one more open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling away with a loud pop, taking in the sight of you trying to breathe. You slowly meet his eyes with flushed cheeks, eyes mirroring his own and Hyunjin tries to remember every single detail. “God I love you so much,” he hears himself whisper.

You smile, lifting your hand to trace his face delicately. “I love you.”

“Are you mine now?” Hyunjin knows this is childish, but he wants to hear it. He longs to hear it.

Thankfully, you’re willing to play his game tonight. “Only yours.”

“No more mourning over Jung Jaehyun?”

“Jesus Christ, do you need to stoop that low.”

“Yes.” Hyunjin pecks your nose. “He doesn’t listen to K-pop, right? Introduce him to me.”

You roll your eyes. “I love you, why the hell are we talking about Jaehyun now?”

“Then what should we talk about?”

“Since we’re on a competition to ruin the mood, lemme burst your bubble: my parents are moving back in next week so we need another place to do... this.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. “What are we gonna do now?”

You wrap your legs around his torso, making him gasp. “I don’t know, kiss me again? I’m gonna tell you this just once, but I, along with thousands of other people, have always wanted to kiss you. It made me feel pathetic, but it is what it is.”

Hyunjin blushes, but refuses to lose to you. “You tried to make me not kiss you a few minutes ago and now you’re desperate to kiss me. Was I that good?”

“Hmmm I guess so,” you hum.

He swiftly lifts your body, grinning when you tighten your hold around his neck. “Well, I’m yours to kiss now,” he teases, trying to walk into room without knocking into things. You leave soft kisses all over his face, prompting Hyunjin to walk faster so he could just kiss you already.

When your back hit your bed, Hyunjin stops to admire your face. “I kissed you a long time ago, don’t you remember?”

Your eyes widen. “You? Kissed me? With those plush lips? When?!”

“You don’t remember? But it was our first kiss!”

You spend the next few minutes racking your brain before nodding. “Ah, it did happen a long time ago.”

“It’s okay, maybe you wanted to forget that moment. It was your darkest time, and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Shaking your head, you run your thumb along his lip. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

Hyunjin closes the gap between you once again, hoping to chase away all the sorrow inside your soul. You pull him closer, making him practically lying on top of you, feeling your chest rise with each touch of his lips on your skin. “Thank you,” a kiss on each of your eye, “for,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “making me,” a kiss on your lips—this time he lets it linger, “dream,” a kiss on your chin, “again,” and a kiss on your neck.

It took Hyunjin so long to understand the world, and now he still hasn’t understood even half of it. But in the middle of his journey, he met you. He learned to dream, he learned to love you.

And he learned to love himself.

The door opens with a bang, revealing an incredibly panicked Hyunjin. He just finished training when he received a call from you, who said nothing but, “I won’t let you walk home alone.” You wouldn’t end the call throughout his way home, but refused to say anything else and almost making Hyunjin dash to the police station.

Hyunjin sees your shadow, letting out a small scream when he spots you lying on the floor in the dark. He runs to you, about to carry you back into your room when you stop him. “I feel like crying,” you rasp, choking on your saliva. “I can’t stop it.”

It’s been a month since your family left, and while you’re trying your best to be a big girl and live the way you always do, it’s not easy. Hyunjin lies beside you, eyes locked on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You never cry loudly. You never sob nor wail. You just cry silently, mostly in the dark so you can’t see yourself crying.

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, hovering over you before tracing your tears with his lips as if it can stop them. He pecks every wet spot, slowly getting to your lips. He leaves a chaste, barely-there kiss before wrapping his arms around you, whispering comforting things until you start falling asleep on the hard floor.

Hyunjin hopes you’ll allow yourself to cry however you wish to someday.

a/n: i was so happy writing this that i almost cried when i finished because i know i’m going to miss writing this one. this story feels so sentimental, happy and sad at the same time and probably that’s why i feel so attached to it. ive wanted to write this since last year, even before “give my heart a chance”. i always wondered what would happen after we reach our dreams and i hope you’ll feel a little better after reading this (especially if you’re experiencing the same thing). this story is a long journey, but i hope you’ll enjoy it. 

[xnchxntmxnt]

Hey this is for your matchups which again yayyy congrats on nearly 200!! Anyways for my matchup:

1-3) My nickname is Em, she/her and idm who you pair me with

4) I'd describe myself as shy at first then once you get to know me I'll open up, an overthinker and I like to be organized

My hobbies are writing, I really love it alot, I also like to draw if I get time and I love music alot too

In a partner I'd look for someone who makes me laugh and who's patient

For dealbreakers it's pretty general but I couldn't be with someone who doesn't consider other ppl's feelings

5) I don't have an aesthetic but I like pastel aesthetics but then I also like dark aesthetics and light academia so it's a mix I guess

6) Colours to describe me would be teal blue and silver, well according to you anyways

7) Right now I'd say my favourite song is  Tru Luv Street by Awfultune or Fight Night Champion by Cyberbully Mom Club

8) Idk about a specific genre but some artists I like rn are: Awfultune, Carpetgarden, Cavetown, Clem Turner, Cyberbully Mom Club, Girl in Red, Joji, Lorde, Matt Maltese and Twenty One Pilots (sorry that's alot)

9) Ooh and I wanted to include that my favourite book is Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

Thank you in advance and also ily, you deserve all the love and more!! <3

EM MY BELOVED I HAVE DONE IT

@sugasfanfics this was so fun wtf like-- ugh i love this

ANYWAY i know i already kinda spilled the beans but im gonna match you with....

✧𝐴𝑘𝑎𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖 𝐾𝑒𝑖𝑗𝑖✧

AGASHIII

and no it's not just because you're already in love w him i have good reasoning behind this because i said so anyWAY

✧𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑀𝑒𝑡✧

how you met, for in case you cant see my fancy text

Cafe

C a f e

But like

A cafe specifically for nerds

This is just my like 2nd dream job okay but like hear me out

They have coffee & tea & a bookshelf full of old books and a chalkboard

You can write all over the chalkboard

You write super tiny and just let a little mini vent out in the corner because you’re stressed out and need to get everything off your chest

BUT you come back the next day and there’s a little note in the same little corner

Your message is gone

But instead is a little note from someone

“If you ever need to talk to someone, let me know”

And an Instagram username

So you give it a shot and you’re like why not talk to this random person Y’know maybe make a new friend if anything just thank them for the offer

You message him and start talking (and low key stalk his page just to see what he’s like, or maybe that’s just me being a snoop) and he’s actually really cool! So you guys meet up and get coffee and actually start talking all the time it’s really sweet

✧𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠✧

general headcanons

When i think of akaashi, I think of stars

When i think of you, i think of picnics and for some reason, water

Like the ocean

SO EVEN IF ITS NOT THE OCEAN

Your ‘spot’ is by this lake where he took you on a date one time

Maybe for an anniversary or something

But you guys did a little picnic dinner thing and were out when the sun went down so sat and stared at the stars

You buried a rock there and both of you like to stand on that spot where the rock is when youre there with the other

Or send the other a picture like “hiii baby look what i found” w your shoe in the picture

Bokuto is your #1 shipper high key

Like he thinks you two are so cute

He loves you so much too like

He and akaashi are kinda a package deal so like if ur dating akaashi ur dating bokuto just with less kissing (bokuto likes to kiss your cheek or forehead) (after making sure this was ok with akaashi of course) (ur his girlfriend of course)

But anyway just bokuto

He’s so sweet

And so clueless

You two will be walking together and then he’ll just walk up behind you and sling his arms over your shoulders

If youre holding hands w akaashi? He’ll put his hand over both of yours

God now i wanna write a fic but anyway

Bo is just the sweetest and is akaashi’s #1 hype man when he’s worried about a date

He’s ur #2 bc im ur #1 sorry to tell u

Bo totally tried to coin the platonic soulmates thing i love you kou but gtfo my em

Im arguing with fictional characters

ANYWAY

When akaashi is stressed he likes to wrap his arms around you and lay his head against your neck

He’ll never admit it out loud because he thinks its weird but he thinks you smell nice

When he’s starting to overthink too much + spiral he just will grab you and hug you until all the bad thoughts go away

When he thinks to of course

When he doesn’t, there are times you gotta find him and calm him down

Which he loves so much

Sit him down on the floor so he feels more grounded and hold his hand (or hook pinkies that's so cute i jhbflebf) (not the time spencer gtfo)

That way ur not crowding him but you’re still there y'know

And sometimes he’ll talk, sometimes you need to talk him down, sometimes you just sit in silence

Eventually he will lean forward into you and hug you because he doesn't want to talk, but he wants you to know he’s okay

Rub his back, kiss his head, you’ll both be okay

He’s really good with you too

When you’re stressed out he might push a couple buttons but he means well

He just wants to know who made his star upset (he calls you his star or darling convince me otherwise)

So he pushes buttons until you finally talk about it because obviously it’s bothering you why wouldn't you talk about it?? He just wants to fix it??

Sometimes this gets more irritating, sometimes it helps, it depends on the day

But even if you do get into an argument, expect to hear from him before the end of the night apologizing because he feels so bad for arguing with you that he doesn’t even care what the argument was about he just wants to make sure you still love him

I think im getting off topic but tbh this part is always just me rambling lol

Another thing I think of when I think of akaashi is rain. I don't know why but i do

You have to at least know OF the notebook & the rain scene to get this

I don't know the book lol i just know this much and i'm a dork so we’re using it & some quotes just a heads up

But just imagine its pouring and you’re bored and text him like “i wish i could see you but its raining & we didn't really make plans & i don't want you to get caught in the rain anywhere”

This mfer

RUNS ALL THE WAY TO UR HOUSE

JUST SHOWS UP

OUT OF NO WHERE

And being the freakin

book nerd he is

He texts you and goes “I wrote you 365 letters.”

And then just “(come to the door and I’ll finish the quote)”

So you bolt to the front door

And there he is

Soaking wet & smiling like an idiot

“I wrote to you everyday for a year.”

To which you start laughing and barley are able to make out a “it wasn’t over’ (which is the beginning of the next quote) before kissing him

And this jerk pulls you out in the rain with him because WHAT is more romantic than kissing in the rain

Nothing

Anyway he ends up with a cold but you give him some of the clothes you probably stole from him to get into dry clothes and you cuddle under the covers with tea

After you smack him (playfully of course) because “you IDIOT keiji it's pouring out here!!” “I wanted to see you too so i ran over” “you're impossible”

Anyway yeah #emkaashiotp

✧𝐴 𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐼𝑑𝑒𝑎✧

a date idea

Bookstore

I'm really good at naming places aren't i

Anyway

Bookstore date

But do something fun where the two of you have to go through an aisle and find a random page and read it in the like

How do i explain this

Make it sound suuuuper sexual without it actually being that way and not laugh

Whoever loses buys lunch

Lets just say you lose a lot dear im sorry (he insists on buying anyway, sometimes he wins that argument)

You’re smiley :) (guys her smile is so cute ebflbejfb em ILY)

Oh also doesn’t matter if he bought lunch or not he always gets you something

Whether it be that book you decided you couldn't get this time or a little trinket that reminded him of you, or sometimes it’s just ice cream

It’s all very sweet (hahaha pun)

He always walks you home and gives you a little kiss when he drops you off

Doesn’t leave till you’re inside & he knows you’re good

You make him promise to text you when he gets home

Which he does, without fail

✧𝑍𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑐 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦✧

zodiac compatibility

Sagittariuses are very intelligent, fair-minded & honest, similar to a Libra’s cleverness & rationale. Because of this similarity, trust is a huge thing in these relationships. It can be all or nothing, but finding balance is important to keep both people happy. Luckily, Libras are very good at this. From everything I’ve seen, these signs together have a very high compatibility and can have a very long-withstanding and healthy relationship.

✧𝐴𝑒𝑠𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐✧

aesthetic

✧𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡✧

playlist

House of Gold - Twenty-One Pilots

Lvr Boy - awfultune

A Shitty Love Song - Jye

Darling Get Up - awfultune

Something Just Like This - Alex Goot

✧𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑈𝑝✧

runners up

Nishinoya Yuu, Sugawara Koushi

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 1

The Met

Summary: Riley and her husband take a visit to a museum while their kids have lessons

Word Count: ~2.0k 

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”*

Catch up here!

After giving Eleanor, Gabriel, and Theodore breakfast, Riley made her way to the kitchen of their New York penthouse and began making turkey sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies, for what she hoped could be for a picnic in Central Park in the late afternoon after the kids’ practices. 

The sound of the mixer didn’t allow Riley to hear her husband walk into the kitchen. She feels his stiff arms around her waist and chuckles. 

Kissing the back of her head, Theodore asks, “Making a treat for me?”

Riley laughs, removing herself from his grasp to preheat the oven on the other side of the kitchen. “For the kids.”

Theodore looks into the bowl. “Isn’t it a little early to be making dessert?” 

“Actually,” Riley goes back and stops the mixer. “I thought we could go on a little picnic?” She looks at her husband thoughtfully. Bringing her attention back towards the cookies, she continues, “After Gabe’s soccer practice and Ella’s dance class, of course.” 

“Of course,” he repeats. He watches her put the cookie dough in the fridge. “We should ask the kids.” 

Riley turns, holding a piece of bread in her hands. “Do you think they might not want to go?”

“Nah, I’m sure they do.” He walks up to her and collects her in his arms. “But I had other plans for us today.”

A shy smile spreads across Riley’s face. “Which is?”

“A visit to the Met. They’ve a new exhibit.” 

“With the kids?” she removes herself from his embrace with her free hand and goes back to making sandwiches.

“We can ask them to come with.”

“And if they don’t want to?”

Theodore laughs. Letting go of Riley, he goes into the fridge to grab an apple. “Gabe’s old enough to watch over Ella for a couple hours. We’ll bring them back dinner.” 

Gabriel had just turned ten, and Eleanor was still many weeks away from turning eight. Even though her husband argued that they were old enough to be somewhat self sufficient, Riley still felt nervous leaving them alone. 

Noticing the concern on her face, he suggests, “We could also just go during their practice times if that’ll make you feel better, babe.” 

“Thanks, Theo,” she smiles, eyeing the apple. “I just... get worried sometimes. Especially for Gabe.”

Theo gives an understanding nod and takes a bite into his apple, but not before Riley notices the irritation on his face. After ten years, she no longer let it bother her, unless Theo’s annoyance of her and Liam’s son got excessive. She understood that it was difficult for Theo to raise a child that wasn’t his, especially when his wife made it very clear that she was still in love with the father of that child. 

Even though Theo agreed to parent Gabriel with Riley, he was glad that they had their own daughter, Eleanor, so he could at least be a father to her in the ways that he wasn’t with Gabe. 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, right?” Riley turns to fully face him, wanting to keep her husband in a good mood, she tries to explain herself. “It’s just that I don’t want them to do anything foolish or—.”

“Riley. Babe,” Theodore looks at his wife, in her old, dark tank top and a worn pair of jeans. “I know. I worry about them, too. I wanna keep them safe, too.” 

Riley smiles and gives her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers. Turning back to the counter, she finishes making the sandwiches as Theo stands behind her, eating his apple. “I’ll leave these for lunch then, if we’re not going on the picnic. We can get Chinese for dinner, and maybe the cookies could be a snack for later today?” She looks at Theo, and he nods in silent agreement.

-------

Ella and I raced down towards the elevator, Mom and Dad trailing far behind us. We hold the “close doors” button and leave them on our floor as the elevator falls towards the lobby. 

We tumble out, giggling, but Ella freezes and cries, “I forgot my water!” She starts throwing things out of her bag and onto the lobby floor. When Mom and Dad finally come out of the elevator, Mom starts laughing. 

“Forgot this?” she holds out Ella’s bottle to her and helps her put everything back in her bag.

The four of us walk together towards the waiting limo. Once we’re inside, Mom and Dad turn to us. 

“While you guys are at practice,” Dad begins, “Your mother and I will be seeing a new exhibit at the Met.”

“Ou, take pictures for me, please!” Ella requests.

“We’ll pick you up on time, promise,” Mom reassures, caressing my cheek. “You both have your phones on you, yes?”

Ella and I pat our pockets, signaling where we put our devices. 

We reach the indoor soccer courts first. Mom gives me a quick kiss on my forehead and Dad gives me a pat on the back as I fumble out the door with my large bag. I wish Ella good luck during dance practice and head inside. 

I played until I could barely breath. I skipped some of the water breaks, my body wanting to keep moving, so when everyone was hydrating themselves, I continued to dribble and chase after the ball. During the third water break, coach yells at me to “Sit the hell down!” so I relent and down my water in one breath. My parents are planning a trip to Italy next week, and I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to lose that much practice time; I was motivated to work ahead. 

After practice, I wait in the lobby with some of my friends. We talk, but we’re not fully engrossed in the conversation: everyone either has their eyes glued to the doors or to their phones, waiting for their parents to give the signal that it was time to go home. 

I turn on the ringer of my phone and sit back on the bench, waiting for my parents. Dad was usually the punctual one, but since they’d gone to visit a new exhibit, I guessed he wanted to spend a little more time there; Mom and Dad weren’t always free to be able to do things together. 

I take a nap while I wait, but when I wake up, I realize that I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour. Ella’s session would end in a couple minutes, so I shoot her a text hoping that she would see it as soon as she got out. 

Hey.

hi. r u guys on ur way?

No. Mom and Dad haven’t picked me up yet.

rlly? whats taking them so long?????

I’m going to check their location 

She leaves me on read.

It says “loading” but then says unavailable. The Met has wifi right?

weird

Can you check, please?

yessir

After a few moments, she texts me back.

it says the same for me :(( im worried

Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a reason 

I sit in the lobby, trying to calm down Eleanor through text and wave goodbye to all my friends as their parents pick them up. After another half hour, the next set of lessons start for the older kids. The receptionist steals glances at me before finally saying, “Hey Gabriel, is your mom coming to pick you up today?”

“Um,” I look down at the phone in my hand, contemplating whether I should call one of my parents. “I’m not sure.” 

“What about your dad?” she asks.

“No, they should be in the same place. They usually pick me up by now.” 

“We have your grandmother as an emergency number. Want me to call her up and make sure everything’s alright?” she suggests. I want to say no, that there’s no reason to worry, but the sense of dread in my chest threatens to yield tears. 

“Sure,” I allow. 

My mother’s mother lives in Northern New Jersey and visits often, since it’s not too long of a train ride — she’d drive, but parking was difficult, and our reserved underground parking spots in the building was already filled with Dad’s cars. The receptionist introduces herself, then waves me over to talk on the phone. 

“Hell-o!” Grandma greets. “How was practice? Everything okay?”

“Good. Yeah everything’s fine,” I say. “Practice ended almost an hour ago, but I’m still here. And Ella says that Mom and Dad haven’t picked her up, either.” 

“Uh oh,” she says, and I can hear her face fall. “Do you want me to come pick you up? You both can stay with me tonight. Then we will call Mama and tell her you guys are alright. How does that sound?”

I give a sigh of relief. “Yes, please. I’ll tell Ella.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

I fill in my sister, but she doesn’t reply to my texts.

Twenty minutes later, I throw my bag into the trunk of Grandma’s Buick and slide into the back seat next to Ella. She stares at her lap, and I know she’s feeling the same amount of worry and confusion that I am. 

When we reach Grandma’s small town, she asks us if we want dinner. When both of us say we’re not hungry, she still grabs us McDonald’s. 

Mom and Dad don’t answer our calls. We even call Dad’s assistant, but she also says that she hasn’t heard from him.

We eat dinner quietly, with Grandma giving us encouraging kisses and pep talks while we talk about our practices. Afterwards, we go into the living room to quietly watch some Netflix while Grandma makes some apple pie. The smell of it baking in the oven makes me nostalgic for something unknown, and it reminds me of the cookies that Mom was making earlier today. I hear Ella sniffle, and turn to see her silently crying. 

After desert, Grandma gives us some of Mom’s old baggy clothes to sleep in. Ella gets to sleep in Mom’s old room while I sleep in the guest room. My eyes burn from the amount of tears I held back today, and its almost painful to close them. 

...

I wake to the smell of pancakes and a familiar rumble in the pit of my stomach. I brush my teeth, but don’t bother to fix my hair. Ella eats quietly on the island in the kitchen. I slide onto the seat next to her and watch Grandma start making another pancake.

“Good morning!” she says to me. “Could one of you please turn on the news in the living room?”

I allow Ella to keep eating and walk towards the little doorway that separates the living room from the kitchen. Turning on the news, I increase the volume. The image of police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks from a helicopter view flash on the screen while a female reporter narrates the incident. 

“On the evening of May seventeenth, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was bombed by an unidentified group. Investigations are underway and the city has been closed off, including trains and bus routes into and out of the city, along with roads and bridges. 

“Many dead bodies have been found, and many others are severely injured. CEO of Blaise Enterprises, Mister Theodore Blaise, has been found dead. The whereabouts of his wife, Riley Brooks, are unknown. Senator Nicolae Adebayo sustained serious injuries, as did many other persons.”

Ella’s screams drown out the sound of my heart thundering in my ears. Grandma rushes towards her and collects her off of the floor and into her arms. I stare at them, the reporters’ voices and the smell of the pancake burning melt into the background as I take a shaky breath and allow my tears to fall. 

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 59 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 59 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Chapter 22: The Search

Rage, grief and mortification warred in Captain Mord’s heart as he looked at the map-table where he had sent Kurin in such anger.  The worst was that, even if the Grandalor’s sailors were a boarding party, Kurin had been right.  

The law was as clear as his anger was deep.  While it was believed that the Grandalor’s sailors were castaways, the Longin had been required to pick them up, if only to hold them for trial.  At least some of them paid in blood for their treachery!  But they got what they came for.  We may never see her again…  The thought trailed off into unbearable pain.

Bron’s arm was trailing.  He had bruises, one on his back, between the shoulder blades and one on the inside of his elbow.  It was not serious but if his attacker had used a knife instead of that silly, weighted sack of fish-leather, he would have been dead.  

Other crewmen were beginning to tell their tales of the battle and they were slowly realizing the same things.  The assailants had been too few to have any hope of taking a ship like the Longin.  Also, none of their enemies had been armed with anything but a padded leather cosh. It was as if they were trying not to hurt anyone on the ship. Some fools were even trying to tie that Sea Hawk to the attack.  It was just lost in the fog.  

Then they began to hear, Kurin’s gone!  The bastards had kidnaped her! But that made no sense.  They could have simply killed her.  They had already tried to do it once.  It would have been far less risky.

Looking at the map-table clearly, Captain Mord saw what he has missed the first time.  There in the tallow, written in Kurin’s neat handwriting, was a note.

“Captain: The Grandalor’s crew needs justice.  Their rights under the second G. L. have been violated.  I have gone to help them.  Kurin”

First they tried to kill her, now this!  No matter what excuse, they have stolen her!  In anger, partly at himself and partly at Kurin for being so gullible, he wiped out the note before any other should notice it.  Details aren’t important!   Whatever ruse they used, they kidnapped Kurin!  The Grandalor is guilty!

Captain Mord returned forward, where one of the boarders lay propped against the foremast.  The man had been stabbed deeply but still lived. Feebly he extended a hand holding a folded tallow-slate, hinged shut to protect its message.

Weakly he said to the enraged Mord, “Captain, read this. It’s from my Captain.  We were to be your hostages for Kurin’s return…” He slumped lax, dead from his wounds, the tallow-slate falling from his fingers with a small clatter onto the Longin’s deck.

Captain Mord kicked the tallow-slate away unread.  “Toss this Grandalor trash over the side,” he ordered.

His crew looked at him aghast.  Nobody moved.  Mord became angrier and yelled, “Dump him!  That’s an order!”  At last, a few deck-hands took the man’s body and dragged him to the rail.  An Orca began to sing.  They dropped him in fear.  One noticed the tallow-slate and picked it up as he retreated.

Captain Mord realized that nobody would touch the body since the whale had begun to sing and heaved it over the side himself.  The whale’s song went on for another ten minutes.  

When it was done, Captain Mord ordered, “Swab up this blood and straighten up the area.”  His men did do that, though they had begun to whisper among themselves as they worked.

Kurin disentangled herself from the joyous hug that Tanlin was giving her and said, “I need to see your log first, then all of the sickbay documentation.  I want to see all of the Purser’s accounts and look over Master Selked’s shop.  After that, I am going to interview virtually everyone on board.”

Tanlin let her go, becoming brisk, now that there was a task at hand.  “Oi’m glad.  Wen do ye wont t’ begin?”

“If I can eat in here, I’ll begin now,” said Kurin.  “I need to start with the beginning of the indenture trade.  I have to know about that in detail if I am to save your ship from Scattering.”

Tanlin got up and went to the long shelf holding the Logs of the Grandalor. As she was going down the line, absently tapping the spines of the volumes with her left index finger, she said thoughtfully, “T’ere’s somet’in’ t’at ye’ll find wen ye get t’ t’e interviews. Oi didnae mention ‘t before because ‘t wa’nae important in t’e way t’at ye asked about.  ‘T does bear on ‘ow t’is ship wad respond t’ a penalty o’ Scatterin’.  

“Every person on t’is ship’s adopted.  All o’ t’em are now named Grandalor, m’sel’ included.  ‘T happened t’e morning after our flight began.  T’ey knew t’at t’e ship wa’ implicated in murder an’ chose t’is way o’ tellin’ Barad an’ m’sel’ t’at t’ey wad nae abandon us.  

“Oi joined t’em.”  She swallowed past a hard lump in her throat and a tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

“Princamorn wa’ but a name t’ m’ an’ t’e Grandalor’s home.  Oi dinnae wont t’ lose ‘t.”  

Intently, Kurin said, “I see.  That makes a difference — to me at least,” she looked sharply at Tanlin, “if it was a voluntary thing.”

Tanlin was already fishing the necessary volume of the log from its shelf and looked back over her shoulder.  “Twas.  T’ey’d planned t’ do ‘t publicly, in t’e main square o’ t’e Gat’ering, ‘ad reserved ‘t, in fact, wen we ‘ad t’ flee.  T’ey came t’ m’ first.  Twas a total an’ welcome surprise.  T’e only light in some very dark days.”  She found the place that she was looking for in the book and gave it to Kurin.

Kurin settled cross-legged on Tanlin’s bunk with the book in her lap and began turning pages one at a time, glancing at each page and moving on.  Tanlin watched as Kurin leafed through the volume of the log, almost twenty Gatherings old.

There was a scratching noise at the cabin’s window.  Tanlin smiled to herself as it swung inward and Skye’s head poked into the cabin. The Wide Wing looked alertly about and stepped into the room.  The bird turned about on the sill and used her beak to push the window closed and then hop-fluttered to the table in front of Tanlin, who chucked her under the beak and stroked her under a slightly raised wing.

Skye settled on the table and waited quietly.  Kurin looked up with a smile and said, “Who’s trained who, here?”

Tanlin replied lightly but sort of seriously, “T’ey made m’ part o’ t’eir rookery flock an’ welcomed m’ t’ t’eir nest.  Could Oi do less?”

Before there was any answer possible, Tahm returned with food, cups, utensils and trays.  He set out the table, working nonchalantly around the sitting bird.  Kurin put the log aside and came to the table.

“I take it that this happens a lot?” she said with a genuine smile.

It was Tahm who answered, “Every time that the Captain eats in. Sometimes it’s Skye, here.  Sometimes it’s Thunderhead.  I’m told that after the chicks are grown, it’ll be both of ‘em. Better behaved than many of the crew.”

The main course that he laid out was a Strong Skin roast.  The bird looked sideways at Tanlin, who nodded.  The bird promptly dove her beak into the edge of the roast and peeled off a strip.  She began to bite it into bits which she swallowed quickly.

Kurin watched in fascination.  “Better get yers w’ile ye still ‘ave a chance, Skye’s stoking up for ‘er chicks,” said Tanlin.  She reached out, speared the roast with a chopstick and cut off slices with the knife that Kurin remembered from their first meeting.  She piled the slices onto a tray along with a generous serving of red weed bread buns and seaweed salad.  She handed the tray to Kurin and poured water into a cup.

“Sweet, sour or bitter flavor in yer woter?”

“Plain, please.  Flavors for water?  I never heard of any such thing.”

“Tis a Grandalor specialty.  Barad told m’ t’at Kurti showed ‘t to ‘im shortly after she started t’ work as ‘is cabin-girl.”

“Now that puzzles me.  I know what you told me at the Gathering but why would a skilled diver and stores clerk like Kurti stoop to becoming a cabin-girl?” Kurin asked around a mouth full of salad.

Tanlin considered for a moment and fed Skye a few more bits of roast before answering.  “Oi wa’ still in m’ coma then.  According t’ both Barad an’ Doctor Corin, she knew t’at she might die from ‘er lung parasite infection.  Twas gettin’ worse in spite o’ t’e treatments.  Doctor Corin wa’ just about t’ put ‘er on t’e invalid list.  She wa’ in sickbay gettin’ a treatment wen she met Barad.  ‘E’d come by t’ sickbay t’ look in on m’.

“‘E offered ‘er t’e light work job t’at ‘ad just come open, due t’ Chena’s untimely deat’.  Kurti ‘ated bein’ useless.  She jumped at t’e chance t’ avoid t’e invalid list an’ stay useful.  T’ keep t’e seriousness o’ ‘er condition bein’ a matter o’ common gossip, Barad ordered ‘t kept secret.  Barad could be considerate sometimes, even t’en.”

“I think that I see.  The Barad that the fleet saw was something of a fiction?”

Tanlin leaned back nervously in her chair and gripped her right hand with her left.  “Oi truly wish t’at Oi could say t’at but Oi promised ye t’e trut’.  Tis a longish tale.  

“Barad wa’ always a somew’at calculatin’ man.  Once, long ago, Barad an’ Selked were married t’ twins from t’e Muline an’ by all accounts t’ey were ‘appy.  

“An epidemic o’ fire cough swept t’e ship.  Both Teralas, Selked’s wife, an’ Teralat, Barad’s wife, were among t’e nearly forty percent o’ t’e ship’s crew ‘oo died.  Barad almost went mad wit’ grief, an’ dealt wit’ ‘t by calculatin’ almost everything.  T’at’s ‘ow he became t’e Barad t’at you knew.

“Shortly after t’at, t’e Ca’tain died in ‘is sleep.  A Coriolis storm wa’ comin’ an’ t’e crew needed command.  T’ey took Barad’s orders an’ ‘e got t’e Grandalor t’rough safe, even t’ough t’e ship wa’ massively undermanned.

“‘E wa’ elected Ca’tain after t’e storm.  At t’e Gat’ering t’at followed, ‘is election wa’ challenged by yer Ca’tain Mord.  ‘E almost cost Barad both ‘is Ca’taincy an’ ‘is life.  In t’e end, t’e Council up’eld Barad by only two votes.  Even t’ose ‘oo voted in ‘is favor sponsored a resolution t’at t’ey did so only because t’e evidence against ‘im wa’ nae sufficient. T’at wa’ t’e origin o’ t’e grudge t’at ‘e ‘eld against Ca’tain Mord an’ t’e Naral fleet as a ‘ole.

“Barad rebuilt t’e crew by takin’ in t’e scupper sweepin’s o’ t’e fleet.  T’e ones t’at naebody else wanted.  T’e Grandalor became a refuge for t’ose wit’ nae ot’er place t’ go.  Barad took t’em on a case by case basis an’ let t’em swim t’ Iren, if ‘e believed t’at a last chance would nae ‘elp.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

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[maddiesup]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @ohbabycupcakes thank u💖

RULES: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things then tag 10 people + leave comments on all of them

This is gonna be hard, where do I even start?

1) Keith (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Okay I'm- trying not to laugh too hard because oh boy, this show was a complete mess. BUT Keith still stays as one of my favorite characters ever just because no matter how badly I was hurt by vld he'll always be precious to me 💖 He's hotheaded, cool and a lone wolf, but needs affection more than anyone else on the team. He's easy for me to relate to as I am more likely to push someone away than to keep them close just to avoid being hurt as well. His development is amazing tho and I love love him so much 😭 also it might be just that I have a soft spot for emo characters lmao

2) Todoroki Shoto (Boku no Hero Academia)

This just reinforces my statement earlier since Todoroki is pretty emo too :') But in a different way than Keith. If you are a part of bnha fandom you know he's generally a little bit overrated, but I couldn't help falling in love with him at first sight anyway lol His backstory is tragic but he keeps pursuing his dream and damn is he good at it. Also the combo of fire and ice is aesthetic goals. However, what I admire the most about Shoto is probably his loyalty to his friends, his will to fight and sometimes his goofy attitude (even if he probably isn't aware that he's being goofy lol) In conclusion: I love him, let's move on.

3) Uenoyama Ritsuka (Given)

Can I just stop to say how much I love given for a moment? Like I've never seen a bl anime/manga that would portray gay characters so respectfully 😭❤️ Ue is basically me gay panicking, I feel the boy so much :') OH also what's up with gays & guitars bc first given, then why r u and now also 2gether :') (I might be falling in love with this trope help) okay so: Ue is panicking when he starts liking Mafuyu but he handles it so well in a way? He doesn't deny his crush even if he is slow to notice it lol He's straightforward and sometimes a little bit rough around the edges, but even if he's supposed to be "the cool guy" we see him in the most hilarious settings and that just makes me love him all the more 💖 he respects Mafuyu and his boundaries and I want more of that in bl anime please

4) Eiji & Ash (Banana Fish)

Uhhhh this anime,,, I CANNOT choose between Ash and Eiji, I'm gonna forever see them as a pair and that's simply it. Ash is another emo one I would like to say that but he's actually not. He's backstory is heartbreaking and the life he has to live is dangerous and scary. He gets used to this reality where he has no one to rely on and no one to trust but then Eiji appears tearing his walls down and making him finally be able to show his soft and sensitive side to someone. Eiji is like a salve for his wounds and yes, I'm still emotional about it bc their relationship is one of the best developped I've ever seen. Their bond is so strong it's beautiful, they would literally die for each other. It's so apparent that they love each other and care for each other so much (don't mind me crying in the corner)

5) Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

PJ technically got me into fantasy/sci-fi in elementary school and it stays at the top of my favorite book series list ever (big props to Uncle Rick 👏) The whole series is funny and I would say pretty light-hearted even tho you know,,, Percy saves the world several times, lol, usual demigod things™. He's lovable. Son of Poseidon so he has seaweeds instead of a brain (or so you thought, he is brilliant at strategic planning and has a charisma to be a great leader), has a very good sense of humor, is loyal and would risk everything for his friends. Also he loves his girlfriend very much and I was crying while reading the House of Hades but no one needed to know that oh well. I'm also gonna mention Nico de Angelo here, since he fell in love with Percy (didn't we all tho) and was the first gay character I saw portrayed in the book and oh do I love him 😭💖

6) 707 (Mystic Messenger)

Was I losing sleep over this game? I was. Do I regret anything? Absolutely not. I think my choices are pretty boring tho, since Seven is literally everyone's favorite but oh boy there's a reason for that. Apart from being a talented hacker who knows too much (and I think is cautious of us the most at the start) he has a lovely happy-go-lucky personality composed of all the lame jokes, questions "have you eaten already" and anxiety (another emo one). He's that type of a character who will always try to make you laugh but you never know what's going on inside his head. He's mysterious and we don't get to know him well till his route so pretty much till the end of the game lol. Also he loves his brother, phd pepper, honey buddha chips and Elizabeth 3rd the most in this entire world and I love him for that

7) Evan Hansen (Dear Evan Hansen)

ANOTHER EMO ONE okay but hear me out Evan has social anxiety and its portrayal is almost too real for me. He makes a big oopsie which at the start seems like a little innocent lie but then snowballs to enormous sizes. He gains everything in this bargain, a best (dead) friend, a caring mother, a father, a girlfriend even - and then everything falls apart since it all is built on one fat lie. He makes a lot of mistakes and then some more but you get it and you feel for him, and you cry with him and you're happy for him. And when all of this is over you're glad that he's still there trying his best, taking it one day at a time. And sidenote: Ben Platt's voice is angelic and I love him as Evan 💖💖💖

8) Isak (SKAM)

Another gay panicking one. I'm starting to realize there's a set of traits that I particularly like in fictional characters lol But ye, when I was watching skam ofc it was the third season which gripped me the most and kept me on the edge, bc yet again Isak taking an "are you gay" test was way too real for me. He makes a lot of mistakes along the way of figuring out his sexuality and sometimes stuff with Evan becomes really messy (for both of them) but he stays with him nevertheless ❤️ Skam is literally so good in its portrayal of the characters :') Anyways: alt er love 💖

9) Viktor & Yuuri (Yuri on Ice)

Em, another one that I absolutely can't break up to just one bc how could I? Yuri on ice got me into skating ❤️ I went to an ice rink for the first time bc of this anime and I almost died but now look at me actually finishing my first three months of ice skating training and watching real life figure skating competitions :') Little did I know then. But they're not only my favourites bc of that, I genuinely love the development of their relationship from fan - idol through skater - couch to lovers and history makers in the end. I love how Yuuri is a ball of insecurities and how Viktor manages to reassure him. I love how Viktor fell in love with drunk Yuuri clinging to him. I love how at first Yuuri wasn't able to get too close to Viktor without getting flustered and it changes so drastically to them basically always holding onto each other. I love how Viktor was stuck with no inspiration but then Yuuri came and turned his world upside down. I love how they support and respect each other. I could probably go on into eternity like that and Yuri on ice isn't even the best anime I've ever seen but it's certainly my favourite one ❤️

10) Tutor (WHY R U)

I can't believe I'm so obsessed with thai dramas rn and I'm only gonna include Tor on this list smh He's mental attitude inspires me. He's able to hold so much and appears totally unfazed even if he's barely holding on inside. He's hardworking and doesn't want others to pity him since he can manage it all just fine. He has a kind heart, he's a wonderful friend (especially to Hwa, he always listens to her, gives her pieces of advise, supports her and tries to cheer her up). He never forgets to say thank you when he genuinely feels grateful. But as we've seen he also is passionate and when he loves he LOVES. Also he's the biggest tease to Fighter and I love him for that :') I am so satisfied just by seeing him happy, please do not change that whyru gods 🙏

As it appears I'm done .-. I have no idea what have just happened and if my rambling even makes sense but not that I care at this point. If you read this far, please drink some water now, that was a lot of reading to go through ❤️

Tagging: @wir-ro, @saecookie and any other 8 people who might want to ksks (im too tired to tag lmao)

Don't be like me and go to bed at reasonable hours despite this whole quarantine thing .-. thank again Doreen for tagging since it was really fun 🥺❤️

[pacifv]

HE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Mik      Age: 26      Contact: IM, discord

Character(s) I rp: Eden ( in bleach ) -- I have other ocs but that’s another story Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Eden... ? Current Fandom(s): Bleach , so far Fandom(s) you have an AU for:  more fantasy esque ones?  My language(s): spanish , english  Themes I’m interested in for rp:   Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: fantasy , religious

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO   only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?:   YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?:  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?:  IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting:  IM since this is pretty much new . just slap me with that and if you have some ideas , better --- if not let just brainstorm with what we have in hand . 

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner:  some minimal idea of the context and eden’s character . some ideas if possible . more than often I have gotten people straight up jump with no clue of what even is going on in my side character wise . 

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?:  depends , most likely really stop trying or let it sink . I’m not much of a person who would pressure for ideas when they don’t even come naturally for me in these kind of situations . 

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?:  First of all , ask what they particularly want and if they read the bio . and of course , have their bio as well ( if oc or any relevant hc on vague canons ) . I am honestly a bit shy on the input but if I found a ground to start letting my imagination loose ( like , something in common between characters or something that clicks well with my muse ) I can suggest several things . but in any case , I’m pretty passive and it’s a lot of gives and takes . 

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: depends on the thread , the time and the interest . things that go downtown in the excitement scale are :/  and I can’t blame anyone for dropping a thread . not all the time you will have muse for them , tho , if it was a relevant thread I would ask at least . - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?:  pretty much free to tell me or not . I’m no one to judge.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?:  losing muse , interest , time ... pretty much the same . feeling like my muse is going too OOC for the sake of the other muse or smth .  - Will you tell your partner?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?   YES / NO. - And why?:  I am very old school and having some OOC interaction to at least know how things are going , it’s as much as I can ask here .  - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?:  I mean , I should . it can turn me off a bit but it’s just natural ? there’s no way something can be perfect or be of someone’s taste . plus I am not that smart to be fully aware of all the things around the motif and IRL information I use on my muse . I’m no book , buddy. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way?  YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?:  development , exploring the muse , seeing what works and doesn’t work . often new blogs for me are basically prototypes , they are and will  most likely have minor or major modifications as my imagination starts working and getting excited . besides , in the basics , you can hardly manage to cover all ( if anything ) of how one’s muse would react to X situation .

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:  a lot of quincy lore , come up with more personal connections with other quincies , fully develop a backstory and a post war scenario . cultural exploration  --- relationships of all kinds . 

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore:  pretty much I am fine with anything as long as we don’t cross the gross line . but I’m not afraid of the dark .

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: absurdly basic and with no context given . not even have an idea of what is the deal between muses . I can squeeze my brain but there is as much as i can do with little information .

What type of characters catch your interest the most?:  quirky ones , conflictive ones , most likely muses with specific motifs that spark my interest -- deepness . Aesthetically interesting ones . but overall , those who have out of the normal personalities . 

What type of characters catch your interest the least?:  personalities that doesn’t work or do not harmonize with the context of their characters . that’s all I can say .

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?:  I am.... creative ? gdi I did this meme already but it’s hard to reply these two ones. I am easily excitable . if we end up in a ship , expect me to be pampering af . I really enjoy the exploration of relations between people , emotions and psychological stuff tied around it . I do like casual and also very deep things . I’m not afraid of dealing with heavy topics . I like horror ???? also I am very into the secondary character role , as in : my muse is here to help your muse to grow or insight . that stuff . not much of a protagonist role in RPs. 

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: I’m .... very.... sporadic . My mood is annoying esp when I’m “new” blog around kind of thing . I’m shy , even if I don’t seem so --- I get pretty anxious over details . I am impatient --- with myself . I want to do so many things at the same time I end up overwhelmed . 

Do you rp smut?:  YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?:  mmmmmmmmm , both. Depends on mood and context tbh . - Anything you would not want to rp there?:  nothing I can think from the top of my head.

Are ships important to you?:   YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?:   YES / NO. Do you use read more?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?:  again , I’m big mood for interpersonal relationships ( romantic or not ) , the pros and cos of certain traits , ideology clash , personality clash , anything that comes in a relation that could make it come and go .  - What is your smut tag?: unholy.

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: all are hella okay for me . pre- est is my jam bc jesus christ the awkward first encounters make me go blue screen .

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:  the fact she is basically a “religious fanatic” , with a quirky personality and a questionable morality , considering she has an inner conflict between the wellness of her race and her loyalty towards yhwach . At least pre war . post war , she has a flipped personality were she is mostly bitter and more angsty but will go from fanatic to straight up hater . 

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:   bland personalities ? not sure myself , Eden is pretty much ready for anything since her personality is pretty laid back . I guess I would say shinigamis in general --- since she basically is stuck inside Silbern . - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:  Quincies , ofc . and people who are willing to put up with her crap .

- What interests your Muse(s) in general:  the prosperity of the quincy , doing a proper duty , order , tea , annoying the fuck out of people . being eerie ....  - What do they desire, is their goal?:  the ideal world as thought by Yhwach --- later on simply for her kind to survive after losing the war and being left to their luck . - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:  mmm , appearance  and reactions to her witty or narcisistic comments .  - What do they value in a person?:    loyalty , uniqueness . - What themes do they like talking about?:  most likely about the order of the army , tea stuff , herself (?) , but she is also a lot for debates and insight . - Which themes bore them?:  rebellious , silly thoughts . justice related topics . anything that critics her loyalty/life style . 

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?:  the first war was enough ? most likely losing comrades --- yhwach sacrificing the quincy for power later on .  - What could possibly trigger them?:  the simple sight of anyone laying a finger of the quincy for being against their views .   - What could set them off, enrage them?:  nothing. she cannot literally , physically get angry or enraged . but if we are talking bitter , that would be completely post war and it’s just the mention of yhwach’s name or those who went to god’s palace with him .  - What could lead to an instant kill?:  invasion of silbern , chaos . 

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?:  chaos , rebels , shinigami , anyone against the quincy . - Is there someone /-thing they love?:   her race , her pride , herself .

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  just .... come to her and say hi . she is literally wandering around silbern all the time ( quincy speaking tho ) . for others , eh ... good luck . and wait post war (?) - Where are they usually to find?:  Silbern ... then Siberia . 

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?:  She is no saint , clearly . She has a questionable sense of things like loyalty and preservation of her race . she is honestly all over the place

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  honestly stole from @skyvar​  Tagging:  no one in particular.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Through His Eyes - Part 1

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no wayan attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST starting 2nd April.

Index:  Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

“JAEBUM!”

He jolted up, his breathing erratic as he darted his eyes around the darkened area searching for you. He didn’t see you anywhere and realised he was within his private studio and not on the stage that had almost killed you. Glancing to the calendar on the wall, Jaebum sighed, noting it to be almost three weeks since it happened. Shaking his limbs awake, he stared at the screen in front of him, still blank as it had been before his unwanted nap.

“Coffee,” Jaebum muttered to himself and got up, grabbing his wallet from the desk and then walking out of the small studio that he normally lived and breathed in. He took the automatic path to the exit of the entertainment building, unaware whether the people he passed were talking to him or not. Jaebum was relieved to see no one was waiting for him on the outside, and stopped, feeling that emotion turn into frustration. All the flashing lights and reporters that had been hounding him for a single sentence in the days after the accident had now forgotten about what happened; satisfied with the generic statements released by JYP’s media team, as well as from MBC Station. Jaebum wasn’t though, and he wanted to scream to the heavens, wondering how everyone could still move on. How anyone could forget about you lying in the hospital unconscious.

Failing to follow his original plan for the coffee shop across from his agency, Jaebum headed into the subway, soon finding the platform he required and waited for the train. He felt in his pockets for his mobile, wishing the normal jingle of his car keys were there as well. Jaebum knew given his state of mind, having them wouldn’t be of any help to him, but his rationale wasn’t exactly dictating how he was living right now.

It was almost ironic that no one seemed to notice who he was, given that when Jaebum most wanted to be invisible, he could never get any peace. Right now, more than ever, he wanted to hear it was going to be okay from someone on the street, anyone who could give him the comfort that he couldn’t seem to receive from all those close to him. Jaebum’s frazzled thoughts fell back onto you laying in the hospital and he sighed, wondering if only your comfort would settle him now.

Boarding the train, he took a seat near a door, tapping his foot mindlessly as he watched the stops fly by. Soon, the station he required came into sight and Jaebum followed the masses of afternoon passengers out and made his way to the nearby hospital, taking in a deep breath before going inside.

The hospital seemed to be his second home these days, and Jaebum was grateful that everyone was too busy being injured, sick or going about their business to realise how often he was walking the halls. Taking the elevator to the eleventh floor, he stepped out and greeted the nurses politely as he entered the ward, walking down to the room Jaebum knew every single detail of extensively. The door that was normally closed was uncharacteristically ajar and he peered around the corner, his eyes widening at the chaos happening within.

It was the first time in the last sixteen days that Jaebum had seen your eyes open. Without any regard for the medical staff or family, he shifted forward for a closer look, his chest tightening with a pain he couldn’t describe fully. Your body seemed to be wrestling against the others, and you were making odd gurgled screams, making tears well up in his eyes at your panic. Jaebum hesitated briefly before reaching for your right arm, connecting with your hand like he had so many times over recent visits. He smiled, feeling your hand grip onto his and then slowly relax.

Jaebum’s emotions overwhelmed him, and he wiped them aside, clearing his throat enough to splutter out a feeble apology, feeling his knees grow weak with relief. He fell to the ground beside the bed but didn’t let go of your hand, the staff working around him as you both remained connected with one another. Jaebum felt another hand upon his shoulder and glanced up to see your mother there, nodding her head softly. The chaos he walked into seemed to diffuse and soon there was only the three of you in there. He moved his head to look up at your pale complexion, your eyes still open and silently crying. He then stared at the difference, seeing the tube now away from your mouth.

You were finally awake.

Jaebum waited for an immeasurable time outside of your room, the doctors evaluating the damage. Your body was wheeled back and forth from the room, and as the sky outside changed from dusk to pure darkness, he wondered just how dark the world would be to you now.

He already knew that they hadn’t been able to save your eyesight, the faulty beam holding up the stage lights and sound system had swung the edge of a light shutter right into your face. But he had been hopeful all the same, right up until the stillness had come and the blank look within your eyes. He knew you couldn’t see anyone then, and his stomach had dropped lower than it had when he had seen you crumpled on the ground the day it happened.

Jaebum squashed down his self-hatred when he noticed your mother come out into the hallway, straightening up in the plastic seat. She smiled and sat down beside him, picking up his hand within hers.

“You promised me three days,” she said softly, and Jaebum couldn’t tell if she was exhausted or just being gentle with him.

He nodded, unable to speak.

“They said she will walk again. Her bone within her cheek has healed really well so far as well. She will be able to talk soon and return to normal activities too. You need to stop worrying so much.”

“Normal activities,” Jaebum repeated, but without the hopeful tone your mother had used. Looking at the woman, her eyes diverted and fell to her lap. “How can someone who is blind return to their old life?”

“With adjustments, Y/N will be able to do everything she used to do.”

“Except see,” he concluded and both of them sat there quietly, unsure of how to respond to each other anymore.

“You need to return to your normal activities too. I called your manager and-”

“It should have been me.” Her sharp inhale made Jaebum look towards the tired mother. He hadn’t spoken the words aloud to her yet, not having the courage before. Jaebum stared at her in earnest, grabbing her other hand as well. “Y/N shouldn’t be suffering like this. It was me who was in the firing line. It was my position to be up on that stage, not hers.”

She didn’t say anything and he got up, running a hand through his hair agitatedly and paced the hallway. Jaebum finally stopped and he held his gaze on the older woman. She was torn by the grief of her now disabled child, and the remaining shred of rationale that he had lost, telling her this was an accident. She sighed and finally shook her head, looking at him as his own mother had been during all of this.

“Y/N made her choice, Jaebum. Now we all need to live with it. Won’t you just accept it as it is? Her medical bills have all been paid for by MBC and they have paid us already for the faulty equipment. Y/N won’t have to suffer any more to get what she needs to help her return to living outside of this hospital. You can’t do any more than you have. Don’t you need to return to where you belong?”

Jaebum laughed hollowly, wondering where that was now. He looked in through the small window of your room, watching you sleep in amongst all the white. Jaebum had met thousands of fans in his line of work as an idol, and you were someone who he remembered over the years from fan signings and concerts. It wasn’t until recently that Jaebum had a name to the face, you had won an exclusive pass to follow GOT7 around for a day. Shaking his head, he wondered if you would feel that was a curse instead of a blessing now.

“Jaebum, please. Unless Y/N calls for you, can’t you move on now?” Your mother’s voice entered his thoughts and Jaebum snapped his focus to her plea. She smiled gently. “You’re only hurting yourself more.”

“Not until she speaks to me. Then I’ll go.”

Jaebum hesitated outside the door, peering inside the room before sliding the barrier open. The two people within the room were alerted to his presence, and he smiled weakly as he bowed, the older woman frowning lightly but expressing no desire to kick him out either. Jaebum took this as approval to move into the room further and smiled at you in the bed sitting up.

“Who is it?” your small voice asked, tilting your head towards your mother and then angling it as if your ear could decipher who he was.

“Who do you think?” the woman replied, clucking slightly under her breath and then got up. “Y/N, I’m just going to get some lunch. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. That’s all you’re getting too, young man.”

Jaebum nodded and bowed again, watching the woman leave the room, and then turned back to you. Your hands were fumbling to check that your hospital clothing was presentable and he grinned as they then moved to find your head.

“Your hair looks fine, and you’re not being indecent in any way. Do you want me to help you reach your head?”

“Didn’t my Mum tell you to stop visiting? I thought there was some rule you both agreed upon.”

“What was that?” Jaebum feigned innocence, sitting down on the vacated chair by the bed and looked at you. Your face seemed to brighten with his presence and Jaebum felt his own mood lighten. “Though maybe you need to clean your face.”

“What, why?!” you exclaimed, clumsily reaching for your face and smacking your chin in the process. “Ouch!”

Jaebum cringed and gently reached over to flick the small remnants of your breakfast from your face. He could tell his action seemed to infuriate you, and he sighed heavily by getting it wrong again. He just wanted to help you. All the same, Jaebum quietly retreated and cleared his throat. “When do you get to go home?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?” You didn’t answer and so he watched your expression, having found over the last few days that it would showcase more than your words would. You seemed nervous. “I heard that your Mother has had a lot of handy things installed in your apartment.”

“Including herself,” you replied, defeated. Your head turned away from him and Jaebum looked away as well. He knew you were living with your university friends before the accident. Now you would have to return there but live with your mother instead, your friends politely making room for her by moving out entirely. Jaebum couldn’t tell whether they had gone only because of your mother though.

“You’ll have to give me your address sometime.”

You smiled lightly, tilting your head again towards his sentence. He was relieved to see you not look so troubled. “Why, so you can stalk me there too?”

“Stalk?!”

“How many other Ahgase’s out there could say they get visited by the leader of their favourite idol group, huh?”

Jaebum grinned. “Isn’t it nice to be special?”

“Special, that’s one way to put it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he faltered, inwardly groaning at how his words had reminded you. You were right; Jaebum wouldn’t be so invested in a fan’s wellbeing like he was of yours naturally. You had become special in many ways, and you were both trying to find your way through this nightmare.

He watched as you completely retreated into your head, your blank stare letting him know there would be no more talking in today’s visit. Jaebum sighed, hoping that the journey you were both on now would not remain as undecided as each day went by.

_________________

[Part 2]

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[cockbiteproductions]

you know i'm coming in with the request for Prime Numbers

i have to google if 1 is a prime number or not Every Single Time i think about prime numbers. it is not. maybe i will remember that one day.

this ended up being a bit long so i’ll put it under a readmore.

2: Favorite book?

sorry but i don’t know how to read....... again.... no favorite book. very sorry but all i read is fic. but the most recent book i read was never let me go by kazuo ishiguro which i enjoyed. english class got me reading books man. i’ve read like 5 of these fuckers this semester. one of my favorite fanfics ever is atlas by distractedkat i guess. and swinging pendulum by cywscross but that one is incomplete. i read ghettoside a true story of murder in 11th grade and liked that a lot. again, not a favorite. just a book i enjoyed.

3: Favorite fictional character?

just one? just one??? if it’s just One it’s ahsoka tano...... she man..... just She. close runner up is jared kleinman though tbh. he’s really shot up in the rankings. very different characters but i love them both very much. well the Similarities are the snark / sarcasm. ahsoka is like. role model material. and wife material. and like. unabashedly badass and strong through hardship and brave and just. cool as hell. child me growing up watching tcw was like oh my god i want to be her. jared is more like. oh god i relate to this disaster man. 

5: What’s your favorite fictional ship? (Canon or otherwise)

again..... just one? i know ship means like. romantic relationship. but fuck that. my favorite relationship is the weird brother/sister father/daughter relationship anakin skywalker and ahsoka tano have going on. man. just. Them. if i had to pick romantic relationship uh i guess currently it’s evan hansen and jared kleinman. (it’s the tragedy. i’m a fan of unhappy endings ok... the only thing i like more than an unhappy ending is a banger fix it fic. get the Ouch of the unhappy ending in comparison to the happy ending. + time travel so an in canon character Knows about the unhappy ending and gets to experience the good one? good shit.... im on a tangent.)

7: List 3 negative traits you have

- lazy. i do nothing every day all day......

- coward. I Be Scared.

- clingy. still thinking about that time an ex friend said i was too annoying bc i talked to them too much. rip. thanks for being my source of anxiety whenever i think i’m talking to people too much now.

11: How do you decide when it’s time to cut someone out of your life for good?

i just generally lose contact with people. i can only recall ever making a conscious decision to cut someone out of my life a few times ever. once was winter/spring of last year when a friend of mine was a real ass to me. but a lot of the time i intentionally distance myself because of [do my friends hate me or do i just need to go to sleep] and i didn’t go to sleep.

13: What are your favorite lyrics currently?

“cemeteries never do provide the answers of the questions to inside” from velociraptor by joe iconis

“we find the solution to escape our fate. it lies in the equal distribution of our weight.” from last on land by joe iconis.

“i tried to give her something real but all she wanted was a show. and i’m not much of a jester, seems i’m more like a clown. i try, everything and anything to paint my face and blow up a balloon but there was no air left to give. it left me long ago.” from don’t love her anymore by maria wirries.

“you lead with your heart and i’ll lead with my heart (let’s talk it out) and we’ll talk it out, let’s talk it out.” from talk it out by asia kate dillon.

“and it ain’t just about the blood. shout out to the families that’s families cause of love.” from family by roman banks.

17: If you could make a wish, what would you wish for if you knew it would come true?

what a question........ i’d like a donut right now. i have donuts and they’re in the kitchen but i am sitting on the couch and don’t feel like moving. so a donut in my hand right now. that’d be nice. or i’d wish for this couch to be more comfy. oh wait. i’d like to wish for pandemic over.

19: How do you handle heartbreak? Is it something that’s easy for you to get over, or something you struggle with?

don’t have to deal with heartbreak if you never heart broken in the first place [rollsafe.jpg]. uh but for real, really badly. i just don’t deal with it for months at a time and then end up crying for like a solid 2-3 hours straight when i finally think about it a bit too much. and then repeat. and then eventually i get over it. it works pretty well except for the times where i am crying for 2-3 hrs at a time.

27: What helps you realize that you have a crush on someone?

misread this question as “what helps you when you realize you have a crush on someone” and was quite confused for a moment. uh i would like to think i am pretty self aware, so i realize it pretty quickly. but it basically boils down to I Actively Look Forward to talking to them. which also applies to like friends though. idk man i crush on a lot of people for like 10 minutes and then get over it just as quickly. i guess the difference between the 10 minute crushes and the people who fuck me up is like. my time investment in this person. how often i spend thinking about them when i am not interacting with them + how much i interact with them. oH no i realized after typing all this that 3*9 is 27 oops. oh well you get an extra answer.

29: Do you think zodiac signs can influence someone’s personality to an extent?

only if they let it. if the person thinks its important and spends a fair amount of time learning about it then they’ll probably internalize some of it. i mean it’s like that thing about names influencing the kind of person people become except names are things everyone pays attention to and is actually relevant.

31: What does ‘self care’ look like for you?

sleeping in or taking a nap. which i do. a lot. and should do now. it’s 1:30 am. i just love being unconscious. no thoughts head empty time. temporary death. no dealing with anything. blanket soft.

37: Have you ever been surprised by someone staying in your life?

no not really. i have to have expectations that are differed from to be surprised. my lack of like. awareness about my place in people’s lives means i don’t really expect people to stick around or plan for that. which sounds sad but it’s just not something i really think about. really it’s that expectation bit. i don’t think about it so i don’t have any expectations so i’m not surprised.

41: How do you show you care?

caring about people is for losers. insert sunglasses face emoji. uh generally just telling someone about [something that reminded me of them] or sending someone something i think they’d appreciate like a song or meme or whatever.

43: Which of the seven deadly sins do you feel represents you the most?

sloth. im a lazy fucker. if i could not do anything forever i might. or maybe gluttony but not for food. for like. things that make me happy. overindulgence in media when i should be doing other things. i have no self control. see below.

47: What are you passionate about?

very generally, fiction. the amount of time i invest in thinking about or consuming [fiction, fan generated or otherwise] is honestly ridiculous. stories are just cool man. escapism babey!

[mythiica]

Reader x Shingen Takeda - By Your Side

Title: By Your Side

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Shingen Takeda

Genre: angst, romance, fluff, fucking slow burn and im proud of it

Warnings: Minor spoilers

Intended Gender Audience: Female audience

Word Count: 3097 words (holy shit)

Shameless self promo: My dA has a lot more than my tumblr... I’m working on it

Other comments: Slight spoilers if you havent been up to chapter 5 of his route ; some of it is fictional and idk if it happens in his route, but i will specify that in the description ; don’t read if you dont want any spoilers 

Shingen reacted faster than you did, jumping in front of you at the last millisecond so that the arrow landed in his shoulder rather than in your heart. He crumbled before you nearly immediately, clutching the arrow by the hilt to pull it out.

You screamed and fell to your knees, trying to slap his hands away. “Stop it! If you take it out, it’ll bleed.”

He grunted and pushed you away once he saw the blood on your hands from trying to help. “It’s poisoned, if I don’t take it out, I’ll die slowly. Would you rather me die slowly and painfully, over the course of a month? Or quickly but with mercy?” With a guttural groan, the yanked the arrow out but immediately covered the wound with one of the piece of fabric dangling from his uniform.

“You’re already dying!” you scream at the top of your lungs.

His eyes flashed open, regret and sadness pooling in his charcoal eyes.

You ripped the sleeve of your kimono and wrapped it around his chest to stop the bleeding as much as possible. “Yukimura told me… you have pneumonia. And it’s killing you.” Gripping his arm, you helped im up slowly to get him on his horse.

“(Y/n)...”

“Don’t say anything. You’ll just kill yourself faster,” you scold him firmly. You’re very angry with Shingen, but above that, you just want him to be okay.

He gives you a flirtatious smile when your hand lands on his thigh after you help him onto the horse. “Wandering someplace when I’m partially immobilized? Not that I’m complaining… I just didn’t think you’d be so forward.”

“Shingen” you warn.

“Maybe I should have revealed of my sickness earlier… you’d have cared for me like you are now…”

When you shoot him a glare, he only laughs, but then clutches his side and begins coughing violently. He slumps forward with a moan, not able to sit up straight anymore. You kick off your slippers as you remove the outermost and thickest layer of your elaborate outfit.

Shingen watches you from the corner of his eye, struggling to find a witty comment to make about you removing your clothes. “Maybe save that for another night? I wouldn’t usually decline a beautiful goddess as yourself, but I’m in a bit of a-”

“Shut up already,” you scoff as you put your foot in the stirrup and swing your other leg. With one hand holding the reigns, you force Shingen’s semi-limp arms around your body so that he doesn’t fall off the horse on the way back to the castle. You don’t need to tell him to keep his hands above the equator, because he’s drifting in and out of consciousness with every passing moment.

The forest scenery whizzes past you, but you pull back sharply when you see a shadow to the right. You’re worried that it’s Nobunaga or someone else that would try to stop you. You weren’t exactly in the shape for fighting off a feudal warlord, especially with an injured one to protect as well.

“(Y/n)!” a familiar voice called. Yukimura appeared out of the trees, his clothes saturated with blood – hopefully not his. “I saw you flee with Lord Shingen!”

“How much farther to the castle?”

He turned around and motioned. “Not much, come on!”

You’re relieved to see the faint glow of the castle, and arrive only a few minutes later. As you dismount, a few vassals lift Shingen from the horse and rush him to a nearby room to tend to his wounds. He groans and shifts, making the bleeding suddenly worse as it soaked through the dirty layers of stained fabric. His arm fell limp as a soft breathe escaped his lips and his eyes closed.

He melted into unconsciousness and you found yourself crying for his safety. You took a step forward to follow them, but Sasuke held you back.

“Let me go! We can help him, we know things from the fu-”

But Sasuke covered your mouth with a hand. “If this is history repairing itself for the damage we have already done, then we cannot interfere or we might cease to exist,” he explains solemnly.

You choked back tears, not completely understanding how concerned you were about him. “H-He can’t die…”

Sasuke pulled you into a hug to calm you. “He’s strong. He’ll be alright…”

You sat at the door of Shingen’s room for probably an hour until Sasuke forced you to bathe and change your bloodied clothes. You only ate under the circumstances that someone tell you immediately when Shingen was stabilized.

Despite being very tired, you did not dare go to sleep.

After eating, you sat in front of Shingen’s room and waited for any news. Another two hours crawled by before Keshin slipped out. He nearly stepped on you, but then apologized immediately.

“Yukimura told me what happened… He protected you, and he’s there because of you now.”

You wiped your eyes and stood up. With all the conviction you could muster, you pointed an angry finger at Kenshin and scolded him. “I didn’t ask him to catch an arrow for me! But I did what I could and I immediately brought him back here so that he could get the medical attention he needed. I couldn’t bear to watch him die, so he is in there because of me! You were busy fulfilling your blood lust on the battlefield that you didn’t arrive until an hour ago. Don’t lecture me about Shingen, because I already feel guilty about it.”

Kenshin’s eyes widened at your words and felt bad about making you cry again. He pulled out a small cloth from the depths of his uniform and offered it to you.

“Don’t cry over Shingen. He might think that you’re in love with him…” He turned away to leave, but then called over his shoulder, “You can go in and stay with him. For now…”

You nearly ran into the wall, forgetting that a door separated you from Shingen. Inside though, you found wads of red towels, needles scattered over the mats, and fresh bandages.

Shingen was still unconscious, but his breathing was laboured and sweat glistened on his skin. You sit on your knees and take his hand in yours – Shingen’s breathing slows down, and he mumbles something you can’t hear.

The moon waned slowly, and before you knew it, morning arrived. You tended to him throughout the night, rewrapping his bandages for him when someone would come to check on him. The doctors were rather surprised by how nimble you were with your hands were.

As dawn’s light filtered through the doors, you curled up next to Shingen as he shivered from running a fever. He trembled uncontrollably, so you placed your hand over his broad chest, directly on his heart. It seemed to comfort him, as his breathing once again steadied to a normal beat.

A gentle sleep claimed you without protest, and you had awful nightmares of waking up to Shingen dead.

You shot up abruptly at one point, and after coming to your senses, you immediately checked on Shingen. He was right next to you, breathing shallowly like he had been a few hours ago.

It’s night again, which meant you had slept through an entire day without being disturbed. His hair was matted with sweat, but his eyebrows were relaxed and made him look younger in a way. You took a moment to admire the soft bend in his nose that contrasted from his sharp jawline. He looked so handsome, even if you tried to deny it.

“Shingen?” you asked softly.

He did not respond, meaning he was still unconscious, or really good at pretending to be asleep.

You tapped his arm gently. “Shingen?”

But he still did not reply.

A sigh escaped your lips as you settled your head back down in the crook of his arm.

But you don’t remember his arm being extended when you went to sleep. It was next to his body… had he moved it subconsciously because he got a cramp?

Shrugging it off, you closed your eyes and drifted back off to sleep, slightly comforted by the sound of his breathing and heartbeat.

When you woke up again, it’s not sudden. Your eyes fluttered open and immediately met Shingen’s half-lidded eyes. He wore his infamous smile, but did not say anything.

You spent a few minutes, just staring at each other.

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, and neither did he.

But you cleared your throat and scooted back from him a bit. Cold wrapped around you immediately, no longer close to his warm body.

“You’re awake… thank goodness…”

Shingen tried to sit up, but winces as he bent his body.

“S-Stop, you’ll break the stitches!” You sat up and placed a firm hand on his chest to keep him down.

“Princess…”

You gaze relocked with his.

“You saved me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you with an arrow in your chest in the middle of a battlefield.”

He laughed, but it came out strained. “You very well could have. And you could have run back to Oda, or someone else from there. Why didn’t you?”

You struggled to reply. “I… uh…”

Shingen cupped his hand over yours as it still lingered on his chest.

Part of you wanted to continue to deny everything you feel for him, but a voice protested at that thought. How much longer could you resist him? You’d basically given yourself up when you took it upon yourself to stay by his side for two days after he was injured. Even if Shingen did not know that, it was only a matter of time, and it seemed like Kenshin and Yukimura already knew your feelings.

“(Y/n)?”

His voice made your heart melt, and tears prickled in your eyes. Gripping his shirt, you let your hair fall over your face to obscure the fact that you had again started to cry.

“I couldn’t lose you… I don’t know what type of Stockholm Syndrome voodoo you’ve done to me, but I can’t explain it… I just know that I couldn’t leave you there. I had to make sure you were okay…”

Shingen looked at you, confused by some of the terms you used, but his hand migrated up to your cheek as he tucked your hair behind your ears. “It makes me very happy to hear that, (Y/n).”

The tenderness in his voice was nothing like his flirty personality. This was genuine, as if you were the only person in the world with him.

You completely burst into tears. “But you didn’t tell me you were sick! Why do you push yourself?” you demand, wringing out the fabric in your clenched fist.

“I’m a warlord, we are defined by our territories and by our powe-”

“But what if you die?!”

You were leaning over his chest, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks and splattered onto him. He lifted his other hand to cup your face, and his thumbs gently stroked away the tears as they fell.

“Would be sad if I died?”

You open your eyes and freeze.

Yes.

Where is the will to voice it though?

You want to scream it, but something holds you back.

He sees you, troubled by this, and pulls your face down slightly, closer to his. “(Y/n)?”

The way he said your name – the sadness in his voice made the reality of the situation so much more clear to you. Even if you were from a different time, and even if he was destined to die, you couldn’t hold back anymore. It wasn’t fair to either of you at this point. Shingen had invested so much in you, and you in him.

“Y-Yes,” you confess. “If you died…”

Shingen waited eagerly for your words, his heart racing furiously.

“If you died,” you choked back more tears at the thought of it, “I’d never leave this room again… I’d never sew again, and I’d never smile again!”

“But you have a beautiful smile…”

You felt a grin tugging at your lips as you scoffed. “But you’ve never seen m-”

Even with a high fever from a poisonous arrow, immense blood loss, and with a terrible case of pneumonia pushing him closer to death, he still managed to trick you and win his age old bet. You had completely forgotten about it in the moment.

His smile returned and his hand reached the back of your neck. “There... it is…”

“I suppose that means you’ve won-”

“I suppose it does.”

You bit your lip slightly, but were taken aback by the next thing he says. “I only made that bet because I wanted to be the only person your shared your smile with.”

“What about the kiss?”

He shook his head. “I’m not a pervert. I would never force a goddess as yourself to kiss a broken and beaten human like myself. I’m not worth your lips.”

You released his shirt and place a hand on his jaw.

Shingen’s eyes lit up with hope. He meant what he said, but that didn’t mean you can’t find a loophole.

“I’m no goddess… You just say that to tease me.”

“You’re the most beautiful goddess, (Y/n). And you’ve saved me so many times without knowing it.”

His words pained you deeply, but also made your heart flutter. You leaned forward, until your face was only a few centimeters away from his. You felt his hot breath on your lips, as if he were continuing to tease you.

You tugged on his lip gently, closed your eyes, and let yourself kiss him.

The kiss was slow at first, the two of your savouring the moment before your hands tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer to you. Despite lacking much energy, Shingen matched the passion in the kiss, his arm snaking around your waist to grip on to you tightly to ensure that you wouldn’t disappear suddenly. His tongue pressed against your lips and pried your mouth open until it wrapped around your own tongue. You moaned into the kiss, the vibrations making him taste better somehow.

He sat back slightly to catch his breath – in the moment you completely forgot that he was sick. You wanted to continue kissing him; you wanted to kiss his beautifully sharp jaw, and that soft bend in his nose. You wanted to bless the sad bags under his eyes that take away from how handsome he is, and you wanted to kiss his hands that feels so perfect on your waist.

Shingen licked his lips, relishing in his victory silently before turning his head slightly to smile at you. “A kiss from a goddess… better than I could ever dream…”

His muscles relaxed slightly, but he still kept a protective hand on you.

You’re not worried about him, he’s just exhausted his energy because he’s still feverish. So you lie with him, cupping your hand over his chest like you had earlier. As he drifted off to sleep, you kissed his cheek and jaw gently for good luck in a way. You knew that everything would be alright.

The next morning, you woke up to Kenshin’s worried face. “For a minute, I thought that he might have given you his fever, but good thing you’re awake. Shingen’s doing better already, and as much as he didn’t want to leave you, I thought it was unfitting for him to continue to sleep drenched in sweat and blood.” “Where is he?”

“In the garden, waiting for you. I’ve brought a change of clothes as well, so you may go and see him.”

Kenshin seemed more relaxed, so you assumed that Shingen had said something.

As if he read your mind, Kenshin cleared his throat. “I heard some of your conversation last night.”

You immediately blushed.

“I apologize for being harsh on you. I can see now that your relationship with him is pure and makes him happy.”

“Thank you,” you said as you accepted the clothing.

“Best not keep him waiting though.”

As he left, you called out. “Is he going to be okay though? I doubt that he would tell me the truth if I asked him.”

Kenshin smiled. Genuinely. “He calls you a goddess… and there may be some truth to that because he’s doing quite well. The signs of the pneumonia are fading rapidly, and he seems to be breathing clearer than before he fell ill.”

With an elated heart you changed as quickly as you could so you could see him sooner. The kimono was beautiful – so you tied your hair up and pinned with an equally gorgeous clip before applying the slightest bit of rouge to your lips and cheeks.

Gathering your skirt in your hand, you ran out of the room and down the open corridors to the garden. You heard Shingen’s laugh before you turned the corner, and it only made you run faster.

He sat in a chair and conversated with Yukimura and Sasuke. With the beautiful scenery behind him, your heart swelled with happiness – to see him laughing and smiling so carelessly with his friends. There were two empty seats; one for you and one for Kenshin.

Shingen saw you from the corner of his eye and then turned to face you. He stands up slowly from his chair as you jump off the few steps and walk quickly towards him, not wanting to run and trip. His arms were stretched outwards, and you basically leaped onto him.

Just like Kenshin has said, he seemed like a changed person – no illness to hold him back. His strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you off the ground slightly.

Just like last night, you wanted to kiss him ridiculously, but decided to restrain yourself in presence of others.

Kenshin cleared his throat, and Shingen set you down gently. The three of you took your seats and began to eat the lavish food sprawled across the table.

Sasuke and Yukimura talked about what to do about Nobunaga and the others with Shingen inputting every so often. His hand fell under the table and caught your own hand before he locked his fingers with yours.

You didn’t know what the future would hold  – with Nobunaga or with returning home to your own time period.

All you knew was that everything would be alright, as long as Shingen was by your side.

[jenosweave]

college!kun

FINALLY A KUN REQUEST!! this is one of my favorites please enjoy and don’t let me flop!!

let’s start w the basics…

major: linguistics

minor: comparative literature

extracurriculars: book club

other: literally writing his own novel??

school life

kun is such a good student

he always does his work on time and tries to get ahead when he can

he’s a plug too

he'll even do his friends’ readings and summarize it for them if they have a particularly busy week

he doesn’t allow himself to be used though

he just loves and appreciates his friends so much and wants to help them be successful when there are things they cant control that can get in the way of that

kun really enjoys his studies

his required courses are really stimulating and keep him on his toes

he loves leaving class every day feeling like he’s one step closer to understanding where language comes from and why we communicate the way we do

kun’s passion for linguistics sprouted from his adoration of reading

he’s a member of every book he could find on campus

he firmly believes the more you read, the more perspectives you’re able to see, which in turn, makes you a generally more enlightened and compassionate person

kun loves reading and language so much that he decided to just write his own book over the summer for fun

he sent a “very rough draft” to a local publisher

just for experience

and to get him used to rejection in case he ever wants to seriously pursue a career in writing someday

but now he’s fucked because

they actually liked it??? so he kind of has a book deal now??

which he was not expecting at all

there were a lot of comments for him to address as he expected

and the first one he decided to deal with was the lack of a love interest for his protagonist

except there’s only one problem with that

he has no idea how to successfully write for a love interest

so he does what any normal young writer would do to get inspiration

and goes to the university’s monthly speed dating event in the quad

early stages

you had been “too single for too long,” according to your best friend

and the only way you could get them to shut up about it was if you attended one of the school’s speed dating nights

and you decided it was worth the trouble, and made your way to the quad to get this over with

you had exactly two and a half minutes with every person you’d “date”

and for the most part, those two and a half minutes couldn’t go by fast enough

after talking to other students who only cared about football, trucks, and battlestar galactica, you were about ready to up and go

but your second to last “date” changed your mind

his name was kun

“alright this is gonna go by quick, so i’m gonna take the reigns if you don’t mind,” he spoke

he was oddly productive

you nodded

“great!’ he smiled. “any hobbies?”

“well, i love to read an-”

“reading? me too! what genres are you into?”

a wide smile stretched across his smooth face and his pupils dilated noticeably UGH CUTIE

“i mean, i like fantasy, historical fiction, biographies, science fi-”

“no way! me too!” he interrupts. “i just like all books so much!! i’m writing my own actually!”

you thought that was mighty impressive and asked him what his book is about

and he told you he can’t disclose that information because of his publishing deal

and youre like,,,, wA i T.. PUBLISHER?? THAT’S SO COOL!!

and he goes, “thank you! maybe you’d like to come and read it sometime when it’s finished.”

you couldn’t help but blush and turn your head away

and that’s when you noticed you only had ten seconds left on the stopwatch

you hurriedly seized the pen the event organizers had left on the desk and grabbed kun by the wrist, taking him by surprise and causing a slight gasp to escape his lips

you messily scribbled your number onto his forearm

and as soon as you had finished writing your digits, the timer rang

as you both departed from the table, kun shouted at you from a distance “how am i supposed to read this chicken scratch?!”

you shot him a smile playfully and shouted back

“text me!”

you didn’t receive a text that night

or the night after

but the night after that, your phone dinged as soon as you hopped out of the shower

“hey! this is kun from the speed dating thing. i hope this is the right number. i’ve already texted three wrong people and have had to explain myself to each of them. it’s really embarrassing. please confirm if this is you!”

you sent him a simple “:)” in response

“so does that mean you’re down to get a coffee with me tomorrow?”

“:)”

the next morning, you had the first of many, many morning coffee breaks outside the school library

these quick little meetups usually concluded with a quick sift through the library, where you’d each recommend each other your favorite books and read the prologues to each other over a hot cup of coffee

at first, the librarians used to kick you out for having drinks inside, but now youre clever and just hide your cups under your jackets

this became a weekly occurrence

and then it started happening twice a week

and now you basically see kun every other day

he even managed to get you to join the biographical book club with him, something you’d be way too nervous to do before meeting him

kun was such a good guy

you knew he was smart and funny and you knew he was caring and fun to be around

but what you didn’t know is that he had been smitten with you from the second you scribbled your number onto his arm

one day, as you were studying for your last final of the semester, you got a call from kun

you sent him the automated response, “sorry, i cant talk right now”

but he called right back anyway

“what is it?” you answered

“i’m sorry if you’re studying but this is super important and im so excited and i just have to tell someone!”

“what’s up kun?”

“my book! it’s finished! and i finally added in the love interest like the publishers asked!”

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU BITCH

“finish studying! then we can facetime and i can read you a chapter!”

and so for the next thirty nights (even over your winter break), you and kun would facetime so he could read you a chapter until the book was finished

and you’d give him pointers at the end of each one so he could go back and revise once you had gone to sleep

the plot was incredible, honestly

the protagonist was a divorced middle-aged man whose wife left him for being too aggressive and absent-minded all the time

in the divorce, the wife got full custody of their teenage son

but when she goes on a business trip, the protagonist gets to watch the son

however, when he goes to pick the son up to take him to his house, hes nowhere to be found

so the novel follows this poor guy trying to find his missing son

but no one seems to be listening to him, so hes losing his mind

he’s working alongside the police and falls for the dci leading the investigation

and basically in the end it turns out he’s schizophrenic and his wife and son never existed at all

all of this was in his imagination

and he had just been showing up to the police station every day like a crazy person

kun did so much research for that

he even got the accuracy of his portrayal of a schizophrenic checked by his pal psych major!jungwoo

on the night kun finally finished reading to you

you were sh0000000000000k like what the fuck all that trouble for it all to be fake?? genius kun!!

so he asked for your feedback on the development and personalities of all his characters

you complimented him on how well he portrayed the dci

they weren’t your typical love interest

they were headstrong and witty and educated

and they were determined to help the protagonist find his son when no one else was listening to him

“you like them?” he asked you

“yes! they were so different than i had expe-”

“i was hoping you’d like them. i was inspired by you.”

your heart BURST!!!

“KUN THAT’S SO SWEET!”

and that’s when he explained to you why he went to speed dating to begin with, and told you he was so glad to have met you

because you were the “perfect muse”

and then he asked if you’d like to be his s/o

and of course

you said yes bc duh?? he’s kun?? 

relationship

kun is the cutest bf ever!!!

nothing has really changed between you two

you still have library and car dates

but now you hold hands sometimes

and when kun is feeling extra bold, he gives you a peck on the cheek

you guys have such a cute and innocent relationship

you can often be seen together on the campus quad where you met for the first time, you in kuns arms, him tickling your stomach to make you giggle

he’s so sweet and is so considerate of your needs

out of all the boys, he’s hands down the one most likely to change for you if you guys hit a rough patch

he always pays for food

which kind of ticks you off because what if one day he goes broke

but all he really cares about is your happiness and satisfaction

and he really just wants you to know that no one loves you quite like he does

and he tells you every day how grateful he is to have you in his life

[bigboobshaunt]

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Owain/Brady smut, a commission for an anonymous client

~2k words

Commission info

On Ao3

“’Twas a cold and stormy night when the lonesome hero staggered back through the deep, dark forest, breaching the town’s borders. The pungent blood of his enemies still dripped down his sword, being washed ever slowly by the falling rain, but the man did not concern himself with such trifling matters… he had to report his victory to the townsfolk, and he planned to see it through!”

“Is it time for my part yet?”

“Psst, no, not yet! I’ll signal it to you when it is, don’t worry!”

“Sorry, I forgot… yer stories can be weirdly engrossing sometimes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, and I’ll even ignore the ‘sometimes’ part… but anyways, as I was saying! Ahem… The hero’s legs grow more and more tired, his muscles suddenly seem to weigh like lead... but he is unflinching in his walk. The deed is done, but his quest is not yet truly over before he notified the person who asked that of him in the first place...”

Conspicuously, Owain pointed his index finger at his lover, who cleared his throat before giving off his clearly rehearsed dialogue. “O brave hero with the dark countenance, is it you I spy in this humble church’s worn down gates? Have ya – I mean – have you returned safely from your task? Are the people of this small town truly safe from the er, Battling Brigands of the Bloodthirsty Beast?”

“Heeeey, you promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I promised that only IF ya workshopped the name a lil’ more. Didja forget?”

“I suppose you win this one, but... back to the story… Yes, your holiness, I have vanquished the great evil that assailed all of the honorable and fair people of this town! Never again shall you know fear like this. Never again shall you have to lock your doors at night, send your children away in the night, nor lock up your most prized of possessions… and for that I, too, am thankful. I wish, however, that I could say I was unharmed, but that is not so… Fate seems to have seen fit to brand me with this wound in my stomach, and I am afraid I am not long for this world… but it pains me none to go, knowing you shall sleep safely from now on.”

“Please, brave hero, don’t say things like that! Here… I can nurse you back to health, if you follow me to my chambers. I couldn’t bear to lose a soul as noble as yours, especially after such a great deed! I shall devote my all to you until you are safe from harm, just as you have done for us… and for me.”

Grabbing Brady’s left hand, Owain squeezed it and gently lifted it closer to his lips, placing the softest of kisses on the back of it. “O kind priest… your words touch me deeply, stoking the very fires of my soul which slumber in my chest. I’ll accept your offer on the condition that you allow me to stay here after I get better… I would like to help with rebuilding this church and this town. They should shine brightly, as warmly as its inhabitants and as beautiful as you.”

Though such effusive praise was being given to a fictionalized version of himself, Brady couldn’t help but to give Owain a small smile, added to by the pink coloration that began to show on his cheeks.

Tenderly, Brady let go of Owain’s hand and trailed down Owain’s body, undoing the buttons on his nightshirt with dexterous fingers, trained by years of violin practice.

“Impressed by my physique, I see? You needn’t say a thing – it is only within my obligations as a wandering hero to keep my body in top shape, and ensure that I am always ready for combat… I will once again be in peak condition after you finish patching m-” Owain stopped in the middle of his speech, surprised at the look his partner had given him.

Before he knew it, Brady had bridged the gap between them, and he kissed him voraciously. Feeling the healer’s hands cup his pectorals, Owain moaned into the sudden kiss, trying his best to match Brady’s sudden hunger for him.

“Heh… I’m not sure the hero and the priest would start off like this so soon, but I’m certainly not complaining,” Owain snorted, burying his nose in Brady’s neck, embracing him tightly and taking a whiff of the man’s scent.

“Ya don’t know how impatient the priest can get… waitin’ in an empty church, worryin’ ‘bout the hero… specially if he already had feelings for ‘im before.”

“Even with all of my practice… I can’t match up to your artistic touch. You’re a genius, Brady! Backstory! It’s exactly what this tale needs! A slow burn romance between its title characters… I am sure that I can make it happen...” Owain said, sweetly gazing into Brady’s eyes before they kissed again.

Fondling Owain’s plush chest with one hand, Brady used the other one to untie his own nightshirt, finishing that by pulling down his bottoms and freeing his desperate erection.

“Now then… shall I tell you of how I got said wound? I was there, right in the middle of the brigands’ hideout and I knew I must have been getting closer to their boss’ room. When the heat of battle subsided, and silence reigned, I walked atop the goons’ fallen bodies to reach a-”

Without warning, Brady pushed Owain down onto his back, and with a determined tug, he pulled down his husband’s undergarments, licking his lips at the sight of the exposed cock before him, as though he had just found an oasis after being stranded in a desert for weeks.

Leaning closer, Brady dragged his tongue down Owain’s body, starting at his shapely pecs and making his way down the toned, strong abs before arriving at his lower body. Brady wasted no time before pressing Owain’s well-endowed member against his face, nuzzling its length and giving it quick pecks.

Burying his nose at the base of it, where the cock met the balls, Brady sniffed his lover’s privates deeply, taking in their unique scent, which only served to heighten his own arousal. Taking one of Owain’s balls into his mouth, Brady sucked on it, closing his eyes as he tasted the wonderful, salty taste of the sac, which while he loved, he knew it couldn’t compare to another of Owain’s tastes that he hoped to try that night...

Looking up, he noticed how Owain’s face seemed frozen in surprise, and he knew he had to perform expertly and give his all to satisfy. Diligently, Brady wrapped a hand around the mast of Owain’s cock and pulled down the man’s rather tight foreskin, exposing the previously concealed mushroom head.

Vividly, Brady remembered a saying he had heard, that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach… and though he understood what it meant, he had to disagree. The way to hold their attention was definitely through the tip of his cock.

Drawing the head into his mouth, Brady gave it the most thorough of licks, covering all its surface with his saliva and then sucking on it with gusto. Owain’s cock was another of his favorite tastes, and he was determined to treat both himself and his beloved.

Making a show of it, Brady removed the head from his mouth with an audible pop, before giving the entire length of the member a lick – from Owain’s balls, covered with a dusting of blond fur, to the wide tip, which was perfect for spreading out his ass for the thick shaft to come whenever it entered him.

“Oh, Brady… gods,” Owain let out, cursing under his breath as his husband worked on his shaft with his lips and tongue.

Chuckling at the thought of having managed to get Owain himself lost in his roleplay’s script, Brady gave the slit atop Owain’s cockhead a final, teasing lick before he opened up his mouth to swallow more of its size.

No matter how often they fucked, handling Owain’s girth was never truly easy. Brady could feel tears escape the corners of his eyes as he fought his gag reflex. He was not going to back down now. Not before he showed Owain what he was capable of.

Working Owain’s shaft deeper into his throat, Brady massaged his own aching cock, his hand gliding much more smoothly once his fingers and his member were wet with pre cum. He moaned to the best of his abilities, given Owain’s member was still in his mouth.

Pulling it out almost felt unnatural, like his mouth did not feel right when Owain’s throbbing dick wasn’t in it. Not wanting to go without it much longer, Brady caught his breath and swallowed the wet member once more.

Throwing his head back, Owain grabbed a fistful of Brady’s hair, calling out to a multitude of gods when the man sped up his rhythm for bobbing his head up and down the thick shaft.

Feeling his own release draw near, Brady felt a surge of happiness course through his body as he conquered his own gag reflex, being met with a face-full of Owain’s musky dark blond pubes when he finally managed to deepthroat his beloved.

“Fuck my mouth… please,” Brady whispered when he withdrew the member from his mouth. Forcing himself to say such a naughty line may have been difficult for him in any other context, but it was made easier by how prompt Owain was to comply.

Still holding on to Brady’s gelled, spiky hair, Owain pressed the man’s face against his crotch and bucked into it, being careful not to start too roughly, but slowly building the strength of his thrusts until  his balls began to slap against Brady’s chin.

Brady knew he would choke on Owain’s cock and then still thank him, had he been rougher to start with, but the tender approach his husband had, which extended to even something as flagrantly sexual as this, was yet another of Brady’s favorite things about his man.

The way Owain’s cock tasted and the way it twitched inside his mouth, coupled with the rapid nature of the thrusts and the physicality of them, the proximity to Owain’s skin and its scent… Brady could no longer resist and his fast stroking of his own cock lead to his seed splattering onto their sheets.

Pulling himself away from the middle of the swordsman’s muscular thighs, Brady gasped for air and stuck out his tongue, looking up expectantly at Owain as he brought himself closer to the tip of Owain’s cock.

Making a fist around his cock, Owain slapped it softly against Brady’s cheeks, only then noticing the drool that had dripped down the corners of Brady’s mouth.

Pointing his erection towards Brady’s tongue, Owain pleasured himself, feeling how much more sensitive Brady’s blowjob had made his member. He only needed to jerk his cock for a few dozen times before his seed landed on his husband’s tongue and on his face.

Swallowing the plentiful load, Brady used his fingers to find the remaining droplets, which he then licked clean. “So… do ya think I can improvise?”

In lieu of a reply, Owain extended his hand to Brady, pulling him into an impassioned, hungry kiss.

Afterwards, Brady rested his head on Owain’s plump, sweat-covered chest, hearing his beloved’s heartbeats slowing down to a steadier rhythm and feeling as though he was listening to the most calming symphony.

“You caught me… with my guard down this time… next time I’ll be the one who surprises you during roleplay. Mark my words… my love.”

Snorting, Brady sighed contentedly, drifting off to sleep with the most pleasant of smiles upon his lips.

[s-omething]

i reaaaaaaaaally wanted to do this and now the feeling is gone actually that is good because now i have somewhere to start, and its exaclty that i really want to start drwaing again, i really want to start reading again, watching stuff i like again, loving something, tattooing, planning, making, creating, i really want to do everything nothing feels how it should or used to, nothing hits, nothing makes me feel anything, im deeply bored by everything and right now talking about it, i thought i would feel something, like i usually feel when im writing, but nothing comes and i rlly feel like stopping right here of course i wont, im not just gonna give up.  point is, im bored, i have all these references in my head, all that pop culture where characters feel exactly lke this, fiction where i can see myself not having to look directly at me, where it hurts the most.  “i got bored one day and i put everything in a bagel” and “i dont feel anything. it is so boring (...) i try to find ways of making myself feel something more and more and it doesnt make any difference, i hurt myself, it doesnt hurt. i buy what i want, i dont want it. i do what i like, i dont like it.” and at some points i just dont care anymore, im just waiting and waiting, i almost think “maybe in two or three months when things start happening, i just have to wait until then, and life will start and i will feel something again and i just wait, and it is so stupid to accept such thing when i have this suffocating fear of losing my life, wasting my youth.  and its “and i wake up in the middle of the night, its like i can feel time moving. how can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?”  and oh all of Sidelines, if im being honest “im not afraid of anything at all, not dying in a fire not being broke again. im not afraid of living on a fault line cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry...”  and yes everything else a burning hill says it too in general, it almost feels like life stopped and since it stopped, i should not feel anything but shit keep happening and life continues moving and moving and going away i dont want to be stuck!!!! i hate it, i hate not moving, its impossible actually to just stay still, and being bored feels like being dead so sometimes  this bursts inside me and i feel everything i feel alive and its so strong that i want to scream and laugh and sing and do everything and i feel llike time is not enough for all the things i want to do and live and that sometimes depresses me into not doing a single thing i feel suffocated when time is moving too fast too, i guess and i stay awake too much and even tho im tired, im euphoric and i do things that i should have done like cleaning and doing general chores.  but then i get exhausted fast and suddenly im sleeping too much again, not trying anything, not doing anything i get stuck on scrolling for hours and hours and i really wasted hole days like that, almost everyday high or drunk or both, which helps a lot with feeling boredom because when im not sober, being bored doesnt hurt, it turns into... being alone in a good way, with no problem, no time, nothing, just alone and completely quiet. but im still not here and floating around is not how i want to spend my youth.  i want to create, to connect and scream, laugh, cry like im dying just because i am, because im alive, and i want to feel very fucking alive and fuck, besides all of this, i feel completely okay, or just so numb that nothing rlly hurts, so im just... ok  i might spend all days meditating to believe im just a rock, you know? maybe thats what i need, to be here? but being a rock lifts all of the worries away, cause nothing matters irght? that movie knows everything, fuck!!! im not sure if writing about all this has done something, i dont feel like anything rlly shifted in me, and i was rlly hoping it would i was hoping i  would get some clarity and understand all the connections about the state i am, understand where they come from and where they will go, how to change it, just anything i guess i will just wait for the next time i go crazy and feel everything again, hope it happens soon