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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 3 years

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Lee bodecker + degradation kink (PRETTY PLEASE)

Pairings - Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Words - 2114

Warnings - spanking, fingering, degrading language, daddy kink, anal fingering, D/s dynamic, edging, orgasm control, facial, cum play, masturbation

a/n - This is just utter filth, literally pwp. I am submitting it to @buckyownsmylife new first anniversary writing challenge. This fic was partially started in Discord last night and my lovelies asked me to write it so here we are. I know the gif is Bucky but I swear I've used all the Lee gifs so I'm moving on, don't be mad at me. It has been beta’d by my new wifey @bitterqueenofhearts who is amazing but any mistakes you see are my fault. If you are under 18 then you shouldn't even be here dude, please kindly scroll on by. Let me know what you think.

You were at a party drinking with your friends when, as usual, things got a little out of control. The Henderson brothers were causing trouble, getting into fights and smashing anything they could pick up. Looking at your best friend Amy you both gave each other the ‘lets go’ signal, but before you make it out the door you hear the police sirens, groaning at what you know is going to happen next. You both take a seat on the porch swing and watch the people around you scatter like cockroaches.

You were all of legal drinking age and technically hadn’t done anything wrong, although Dean’s parents might disagree when they see the damage left behind. You both sat back and waited. Watching the familiar figure of the Sheriff approach, Amy jumps up. “Daddy, you here to take us home? Our ride appears to have vanished.”

He scowls at the two of you, shaking his head and tutting. He walks inside without saying a word and assess the damage, turning to both of you to ask what happened. You both profess to know nothing, telling him truthfully that you were actually planning on leaving when he arrived. He points to the car across the street and gives you the keys to get in.

You climb in the back seat together and giggle about the boys at the party, none of them really caught your eye. You’d always preferred older men, and it’s just a shame that older men don’t usually look twice at you. Looking past your friend and watching her dad through the car window you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing you feel in your core. It doesn’t help much, but it means you can focus on whatever it is she’s talking about now.

Lee climbs in the front seat and winks at you in the rear view mirror, smirking when you bite your lip to suppress your smile. You try your best to ignore him throughout the journey, but he keeps looking at you in the mirror and distracting you. As you pull up to their house, Amy asks if you’ll stay over for the night but you have work in the morning and need to get home. Lee says he’ll drop you off, so you wave to Amy and move to sit in the passenger seat this time so you can direct him to your place.

Pulling up to your new apartment, you thank him and smile as you get out of the car, fishing your keys out from the bottom of your bag as you climb up the steps to the door. You turn back when you hear the car door close and get a fright when you see Lee, marching towards you with a look on his face you don’t recognise. He cages you in at your front door, looking down at you and enjoying feeling you squirm against him.

“I didn’t know you had a new place, finally moved out and acting like a big girl, huh? I think I should take a look around, make sure it’s safe for you. I’m sure your Pops would be grateful.” You nod your head and turn, opening the door and climbing up the stairs to your little home. There wasn’t much to it, just a big room with a bed, a few chairs, a tiny kitchen and a separate bathroom.

You sit on your bed and watch as he checks all the windows and looks around at your things. “What were you thinking wearing that little dress tonight? Were you hoping you’d bring someone back and have five minutes of mediocre sex? I thought you were smarter than that.” He sits down next to you on the bed and places his hand on your knee, his fingers rubbing a pattern that sets you on fire.

He looks around the room once again and sees something shiny sticking out of the drawer on your bedside table, you follow his line of vision and your eyes widen. The box of condoms sticking out of the drawer is not what you want him to see, and even worse, he tells you to stand and pass the box to him.

“Please, Lee, don’t do this. I’m an adult now and I don’t have to do what you ask. Now you’ve taken a look around please feel free to show yourself out.”

As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, making you stand between his thighs and running his hands up and down your back. “Such a big girl are you? I wonder how you would feel if I had to teach you a lesson about respecting your elders? Especially the ones who are trying to make sure you’re safe.”

You whine as his hands travel down your body, gripping your ass firmly and kneading it, spreading the cheeks apart and squeezing until you gasp. “What’s wrong, Princess? I thought you were a grown up now, surely you can handle a little massage?”

Gripping his shoulders you miss what he says, trying to breathe deeply so he doesn’t know how effected you are by his hands on you.

“I told you to get over my lap Princess, don’t make me wait any longer.” You shake your head and look down at him, he’s absolutely serious. Patting his thick thighs and raising his eyebrow, challenging you to defy him. You take a deep breath and lay over him, gasping when you feel him move your dress up and rub over your white cotton panties.ou can feel how wet you are and you know there’s a wet patch soaked through. Without warning he slaps the back of your thigh and chuckles when you squirm against him, hissing as he rubs over the now hot skin. “Count for me, Princess.” Slapping the skin just under your ass, you moan out the number two and grip his thigh as you squirm again.

He grips your cheeks once again, pulling them apart and gripping them firmly. “You know what, I think these little panties might be in the way.” He rips them off you before you can stop him, bringing them up to his face and inhaling the scent on them. “Fuck Princess, you smell amazing. These belong to me now.” He says, stuffing them into the side pocket of his trousers and looking back down at you “lets see, what we have here now?”

His thick hands once again kneading and spreading you apart, he hums to himself when he notices how wet you are and drags his fingers through your slick. Listening as you whine for him, he licks his lips and rubs harder, showing your clit no mercy, the sounds you make have him rock hard.

Stopping for a moment, he waits, listening for your reaction and smirking when you beg for him. “What’s that? You want my fingers back? You know how to ask for them, you little slut.” He waits for your answer, but when you don’t respond he spanks you and admires the jiggle when his hand hits your ass. “You know if you don’t tell Daddy what you want he’s gonna leave you here all alone.”

You push your ass up and wiggle it, silently begging for more. Normally he wouldn’t be so cruel, but he knows you eye fuck him whenever you see him in the uniform. He sees when you clench your thighs together, he even knows that you stare at his hands when you think he’s not watching, biting your lip and probably imaging all the ways he could use them on you.

“Be a good little whore for me and you can have what you want.” He slides his hands over your legs, scratching and nipping at you, enjoying the whimpering he’s causing. “Ok, I guess you don’t want it then. I thought you were going to be good for Daddy, but I suppose I was wrong.”

He hears something so faint he almost misses it. Grabbing your hair in his fist, he pulls you up. “Fuck, Daddy. Please. I need your hands on me.” Grinning at you and letting go of your hair, he pushes two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them and rubbing them over a spot you didn’t even know existed.

“So fucking tight for me. You’re the perfect little whore, aren’t you? I think you need more than my fingers, though. Don’t you?” You moan as he keeps moving his fingers in and out of you, feeling your juices dripping and leaving a wet patch on his thighs.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you almost miss the moment he spits on your tight puckered hole, circling his thumb around it. You make a deep groan from the base of your throat and he slowly pushes the tip of his thumb in, swearing under his breath at how tight you are. He can feel you clenching around him as he fills you up and can’t wait for you anymore. “On your hands and knees in the middle of the bed for me, princess.”

Admiring how easily he gets you to do what he says, he strips down, tilting his head to the side as you look at him over your shoulder. “Touch yourself for me.” He sees the conflict in your eyes but you don’t make him wait too long before rubbing your clit while he watches. “Such a good fucking slut for me, tell me who’s pussy this is.” He asks, slapping his cock against you and slowly pushing in, stopping once just the tip is in and not moving. “I won’t ask you again, who does this pussy belong to?”

You try to push back, you need to cum so badly it hurts, but he just grips your hips painfully tight, stopping you before you can get more of him. “I asked you a question, you better answer me, princess.” You whine and moan out as he holds you still. You want to answer him, you really do, but you also don’t want him to win. Deciding to tease him right back you kneel there completely still and just clench around his tip, smirking when you hear his breathing pick up and the swearing he does under his breath.

It doesn’t last long. He spanks you so hard you almost fall on your face, but his grip on you remains strong. He thrusts forward and you both groan as he finally fills you up, setting a fast pace. It doesn’t take long before you’re both panting and moaning. He slips his thumb back inside your ass pumping it in and out, keeping rhythm with his hips. The feeling is like nothing you’ve experienced before.

“Daddy, I’m so close, please don’t stop, fuck!” You scream out, gripping the sheets below you. He can feel you squeezing him tightly, he knows you’re about to cum, so he stops. You scream out for him to keep going, but he leans forward and chuckles in your ear. Shouldn’t be such a fucking brat then, should you, Princess?” You whimper and immediately start to rub your clit, hoping you can make yourself cum without him.

So close, so fucking close. Before you cum, he flips you over and pins both of your hands above your head in one of his, using his other to slap his cock on your swollen clit, each tap making you whimper. “Who does this pussy belong to?” Finally answering him, you scream out his name and he just shakes his head looking down at you. “Open wide and stick out your tongue.”

You do as you’re told, looking up at him and pleading for him to fuck you again, but he just pouts at you. “Aww, does my little cock slut want to be filled up?” You nod and he grins at you. “As you wish.” Palming his cock and splashing his cum on your face and in your mouth, groaning out your name as he does. You lay there in shock, coated in his cum. “Swallow it.” He demands groaning, as you do as you’re told, sucking it off his fingers as he smears it across your face.

He sits back on the bed, legs open and stares at you. “You may finish yourself off now.” You eagerly spread your legs, but before you can touch yourself, he clears his throat.. Looking up at his smug face, he smiles at you. “But only after you’ve cleaned me up, come and use that mouth of yours, Princess.” It was going to be a long night.

#lee bodecker smut #lee bodeckerxyou #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodeckerxreader #Lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp. He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian. Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #whumptober2021 #day 1 #bound #barbed wire #you have to let go #injury #blood #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #happy ending #precious posts #no editing we die like robins

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honoredbastard · 3 years

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such pretty tears, baby boy ♡

“does this get you off?” “MGH! y/n please-” “ah ah ah-”

✻ ˒ ໍ CHARACTERS ♡ bonten!mikey, bonten!rindou haitani and sadist gn!reader. all above the age of 20. they’re all timeskipped.

✻ ˒ ໍ CONTENT/KINKS ♡ NSFW, EDGING, TYING, OVERSTIMULATION, Y/N BEING A soft SADIST-(?) MASOCHISTS, BOTTOM, BOYS, GIVE NO REICIVE. drug/addiction mention(s). MENTIONS OF PET PLAY.

✻ ˒ ໍ A/N ♡ Y’ALL SADISTIC GN!READER HAS ME BY THE NECK-. i don’t know how to write rindou nor smut well FORGIVE ME GODS OF SMUT- it’s just a little drabble thingy ma jig that really couldn’t be kept in my drafts for too long- manga spoilers? draken will be next time? also toy/gear mentions.

:: ִֶָ MANJIRO “MIKEY” SANO 𓂅

sex with mikey was usually nice, lazy, and quiet. on other days he’d devour your body like a starving man, but in reality he was a little on the frustrated side. sexually. at times he’d be away for business purposes as he’d tell you and leave sanzu or rindou to be your bodyguard. as for rindou you appreciated his company, he didn’t talk to you much but the times you’d cook for him ( he loves your cooking, bad or not this man will devour it in full. so will ran, ran is just all smiles and eating. burnt food? doesn’t bother him. ) and/or just a small conversation was enough for you to smile. although sanzu was a different story, the top trusted bonten members and mikey all shared a loft, including you. so it didn’t take a lot of time to understand sanzu’s.... addiction.

it didn’t bother you much but whenever you came out of your shared room with mikey, he’d stare. just stare at you calmly, sword or gun in hand. sometimes he mistook you for his s/o, other times he was too high to think straight and was sprawled out on the couch. half of his body melting into the floor. you wondered how he could do that comfortably.

but that didn’t matter anymore, mikey was arriving home soon and you snuck around to grab some things around the house. a rope (thank you high sanzu for complying and ordering one), a ball gag, a small paddle that shouldn’t hurt too much, and a blindfold. all things you ordered off the internet after studying in secret for weeks.

when you were alone, lonely, and sexually frustrated you stumbled across bdsm and kinks. of course mikey had kinks and interests that he’d expressed to you which you happily indulged in them. ( his spanks hurt, but they make mikey’s hips thrusting against you afterwards 10x better. ) at the time you just believed you were a maso with a bratty side and mikey had to many kinks to list that left you both in undying pleasure.

all until you were alone all over again, sanzu drunk and on whatever drug he smoked or popped this time. you were free to do as you want. a little on the dangerous side when your boredom stretched for hours on end when sanzu was sober enough to recognize your sneaking presence. at times he’d play along and sneak up behind you ( he’s too good at this when he has his sanity tbh ) and whisper in your ear “what are we hunting this time?” “OH FUCK!!” you’d scream and on reflex threw a fist at the man, who’s arms blocked his face and your fist. “sanzu!” you groaned, heart thumping against your chest like a race horse.

“i’m sorry.” you voice strained, scared that you fucked up this last time with sanzu and he was tired of it. “it’s fine, it’s fine. i’m the one who scared you. sooo... whatcha sneakin’ about for?” he grinned, leaning closer to your face. his eyes felt like he could see your lies before you’d come up with one, so you just told the truth.... parts of it at least. “i didn’t want to wake you and i got ordered stuff that i wanted to use online and i was gonna go get it!”

sanzu’s face that was inches apart from yours leaned away, he smiled politely before trotting back to the couch. “all good, just wanted to make sure boss’ partner wasn’t meetin’ other gang members. y’know?” his body practically melted into the couch, eyes flicking between you and the t.v before getting comfortable. “you know i would never, sanzu!” you grinned, he shrugged, eyes already half-lidded.

yup, he was about as stable as a dizzy ram for a few minutes there. you sighed and marched your way to outside where two small boxes were stacked above a bigger box. those were all toys- anal beads, a small paddle, dildos. you name it, you ordered it. you could already fantasize it- mikey under your touch, tied to a chair with every. single. part of him.... exposed. your body felt a shock through it, biting your lip to remain calm but it was hard for your ideas to settle.

you could already feel a knot building in your stomach that you had to get out badly. mikey would be a couple hours right? when you arrived to your shared space with mikey, you put the boxes in the closet and searched for something of his. something that smelled of him, that made you tingle in all the right places. you found a familiar black shirt so you took it, plopped onto the bed and held it in one hand while the other went to town on yourself. you began losing your mind from the pleasure as you started edging yourself - falling into a fantasy of your own.

mikey body was wearing ropes like clothes, you were staring him down with a smug smirk. eyes slow and attentive, it made mikey twitch when he watched. toes curled when you licked your lips, biting down on your cheek to stop you from devouring him right there. no no no, you had to have your fun. you inched closer to him, eyes never leaving his.

the man unable to speak was bontens number one, his life was right there for you to hold in your palms. you were aware of this, but you treated him like he was another civilian. he, of course, allowed you to. your hands brushed his untouched cock that was dripping with precum, “excited already?” you asked, licking the pent up contents.

mikey, who was gagged, nodded quickly before your warm tongue dragged itself from his base to his already flushed tip. playing with the slit for your own amusement while he tried to buck his hips to no avail. you were aware he’d try to get himself into your mouth, lure you into his trap where he has his way with you and not the other way around.

“ah-ah-ah.” you shook a finger at him, a teasing yet playful tone, your hand wrapped itself around his veiny shaft, slowly but surely raising the speed with each bite you placed on his pale thighs. he twitched and squirmed as he neared his release till you slowed down at the peak moment. you could hear his frustration through his muffled pants and whimpers. your fingers rubbed back and forth across his slit before placing a thumb there.

you looked up at mikey who’s cheeks were redder than a tomato, you kept looking while your mouth neared his inner thighs. you placed hickeys, ran a nail from the inside his hip down his thigh which made him squirm more. his skin flinched at the odd feeling, then you did it with his cock.

that sent him into an odd feeling of pleasure that made his toes curled, breath hitch, and eyes squeeze shut. raising yourself from the ground, you sat onto his lap with open legs for taunting him. “should i remove that ballgag? hmm?” you questioned, blowing into his ear before biting at the lobe. “so sanzu can hear your pleasure as i play with you to my heart content?” you licked behind his ear, his head jerked back slightly - free rain to kiss up and down his neck.

“i’m not letting you cum till you cry for me.. slut.” you clicked in his ear, he shivered at your dominance over him.

I’M GOING TO HELL FOR THIS ONE EVEN IF IT’S SHITTY LMFAO-

:: ִֶָ RINDOU HAITANI 𓂅

sex with rindou was about a mix of everything. it was like those ‘god making me’ tiktoks you’d stumble upon every-so often from your pure boredom. at times you were allowed to go to bonten meetings and overs you weren’t. ( rindou is keen on protecting you from the heavy shit he sees too often. especially if those meetings are fucked up. ) so when you weren’t either someone who was already informed like koko or ran which rindou trusted more than anyone to watch over you, to be your bodyguard.

the problem was, rindou didn’t touch you in the places that craved being touched. your bottom half was aching to feel his hands again, to become red, fading into purple and blues. aching afterwards but getting the best aftercare, you were treated like royalty after you let rindou have his way with you. you even missed his breeding kink that would never end and left you in a shaking mess.

yet although all the offers and signals you threw at him, he brushed you off. now this was getting on your nerves. very much on your nerves. so you set up a plan: overstim and edge your boyfriend beyond compare. you’d give him the best aftercare for a price. you were going to have your way with him, of course you’ll ask for consent and walk him through what you’d do to him. but after that the power exchange was all yours.

you’d both mutually set up on a safe word and if either of you couldn’t speak properly you set up a safe signal. rindou was invested in bdsm and you too, became invested into it. which may have flipped your sadist switch. the idea was to tie rin up or to a chair. you had plenty of gear ( both pet and non pet play ) and way too many restraining gear. which excited you of all the things you could do.

although you knew one thing for sure. you were going to play with his cock till it ached and tears were burning into his cheeks while you tried your way at humiliating him. he’d done this to you many times, restrained you, made your nipples harder than him. it was everything.

when you peered out of your room you saw ran sitting at the dinner table concentrating at something. “should i pester him?” you questioned aloud in a hushed voice, “hm? oh is that you, y/n?” “yes?!” you felt like you got caught, your voice was high pitched and confused which made ran laugh. “at ease, come on over here.” following his orders like a dog, you stumbled your way over to ran awkwardly.

you stared at the cards in awe, “are you playing by yourself?” “actually yes i am! would you like to play with me?” “sure!” you sat time with a smile, yyou seemed focused but your mind was somewhere else. far far away from the ground, it all played out with rindou’s loud moans and occassional grunts as your hand slid down his length. eyes flicking to him than the thing you were working so well for - applying your mouth soon after. though rindou failed your plans for his edging, you still went to town as he filled your mouth, riding his orgasim while you kept going. the pleasure becoming painful but it felt oh-so.... good.

thanks for reading! <3 it was horrible but fun to write 10/10. rindou’s part sucked everything that i had worked on was deleted and i’m still pissed so it’s not great, thank you!

138 notes · View notes

gukyi · 4 years

Text

that’s the spirit! | myg

summary: min yoongi hates halloween. as his best friend and resident halloween-lover, that is simply unacceptable. but when halloween night rolls around and you and min yoongi feel farther apart than ever before, you discover that what’s come between you is more than just a bad trick, and that no matter what day it is, loving him is the sweetest treat of all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au, halloween!au}

pairing: min yoongi x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, a little angst? (a little i promise) word count: 8k (woohoo! i did it!) warnings: alcohol consumption, underage drunkenness in flashbacks, misunderstandings, helpless but mutual pining, halloween parties, this is halloween during college, what else do you expect a/n: some scenes inspired by love, rosie, my absolute favorite rom-com! happy halloween, and i hope this brings some joy to your life before armageddon i mean election day rolls around! much love 🎃💜

Min Yoongi hates Halloween.

Which is ridiculous, because you assume that there must have been at least one time in his life where he liked it. Halloween is a universally-liked holiday. It was the one day of the year where he, an unbridled child rebelling against authority, got to dress up as his favorite book character, superhero, or movie star, hang out with his friends past sunset, and solicit strangers for free candy. Free candy! How could anyone hate that?

But the thing is, it doesn’t matter what Min Yoongi was like in his youth. Ever since you met him, he has hated Halloween. For reasons completely unbeknownst to you.

Unfortunately for Min Yoongi, just because he hates Halloween doesn’t mean that he gets to spend his October pretending that it doesn’t exist. Because, unlike him, you do not hate Halloween. In fact, you rather like it. So much so that Min Yoongi has to deal with the holiday no matter what. For better…

“Ah! What the fuck!”

Or for worse.

You pop your head out of your bedroom to find Yoongi about to throw down with the fake skeleton you’ve propped up by the door, one of those cheesy ones from Spirit Halloween that make a zombie sound whenever its artificial brain can sense someone near it. He’s got this wide-eyed look on his face, fists up in front of him like he’s going to beat the damn thing senseless, even though Min Yoongi is barely five-feet-ten and has a body that functions exclusively on iced coffee and could probably get taken down by the average third-grader.

Min Yoongi does not have a flight instinct. He only knows how to fight.

He’s muttering to himself by the time you emerge completely from your bedroom, grumbling about how he nearly wet himself at the sight of the thing, fingers glossing over the plastic bones as he inspects them. There he stands in the doorway of your apartment, curled-up fists tucked inside the too-long sleeves of his too-big hoodie, pink lips parted in innocent confusion as he blinks at your apartment’s new resident.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” You chide from where you stand in your room, watching as Yoongi jerks his head up. The sound of your voice seems to catch him off guard for a minute, eyes wide in shock before he realizes that it’s you and his whole body relaxes. “Was that you I just heard screaming outside my apartment, Min Yoongi?”

“No,” Yoongi deadpans, fully aware that the both of you know that it was him. “Must have been someone else.”

“Yes, of course, my mistake,” you tease, coming up behind him to rub his upper arm, the palm of your hand pressing against the worn fabric of his hoodie sleeve as he sighs. “You don’t have a problem with my festive decorations at all, do you?”

“Not those,” Yoongi frowns, pointing to the orange and black streamers hanging above your apartment window, to the mini pumpkins sitting in the center of your dinky kitchen table, to the construction paper cutouts of black cats decorating your walls. He rounds on the skeleton, propped up right next to the door with the sole purpose of scaring whatever visitors you have. “This, I have a problem with. What is this thing?”

You smile proudly. “Reginald.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Yoongi looks at you, positively flabbergasted. “You named it?”

You scoff. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I bought him, he’s mine now, and he needed a name. So I named him Reginald. What’s the issue here?” You weren’t about to buy a twenty-five dollar plastic skeleton, set him up to be your personal doorman, and not give him a name.

“The issue is that this—” he motions to Reginald’s face, “—is the first thing I see when I walk into your apartment, instead of—oh, I don’t know—you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aw, I’m touched,” you say, pressing a hand to your heart. “Didn’t know you always wanted to see my face first thing when you come over.”

Yoongi’s gaze drifts down towards the floor, thumbs twiddling. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, words barely audible. “Why else would I come over?”

“I don’t know, for the ambience, maybe?” You say with a shrug, watching him slide his backpack off of his shoulder and onto the floor by the couch. “Anyway, maybe if you had come with me to Spirit Halloween when I went shopping for decorations, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I had two midterms that week! Two!” Yoongi reminds you.”

“I’m just saying,” you tell him, hands up defensively as you make your way to the kitchen, fishing out two teabags from the cabinet as you set the kettle to boil. You never used to like tea, but a year ago Yoongi convinced you to try this jasmine flower one from the Asian supermarket downtown and you haven’t looked back. Now there’s always at least three spare boxes in your kitchen cupboards, for you and for him. “No time is a bad time to get into the Halloween spirit.”

Yoongi sighs, loud and obvious, because this is the third year in a row you’ve brought up this conversation and it’s not any more convincing than it was the last two times. “Do we have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t we just pretend it’s November Eve?”

“Come on, Yoongi,” you plead, because he’s never given you a good explanation as to why he refuses to spend Halloween with you, and you just want to know why. “Won’t you just celebrate this one stupid holiday with me?”

“So you admit it’s stupid?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You frown at him, crossing your arms as the kettle starts whistling.

Yoongi exhales, reaching over you to pour the boiling water into your teacups, matching His and Hers ones you bought from the sale section of Target last year for Valentine’s Day. “It’s just not my thing. You know that.”

“But we’re college students,” you exclaim. “Halloween is the best when you’re a college student! You get to dress up as whatever you want and go to five different parties and spend the night with your friends without your parents chaperoning you.”

Yoongi purses his lips, unconvinced. “So… basically an opportunity to get piss drunk in a frat house? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“You know that I wouldn’t care what we did if you celebrated Halloween with me,” you say, leaning against the counter as you hold your mug in your hands, the heat warming your palms and steam brushing against the skin of your cheeks. “Even if we just stayed in and watched a movie. Or played one of those horror video games Jungkook’s always talking about.”

“That sounds worse,” Yoongi admits with a helpless laugh. It really does. Neither you nor Yoongi have ever been huge fans of the horror genre Jungkook loves so much.

You chuckle. “Honestly, yeah, forget I said anything about that.”

“You know I just don’t care for Halloween that much,” Yoongi says, gazing down into the swirling brown of his mug, the steam from the water making his glasses fog up. “It’s nothing personal.”

You sigh. That’s about as good of an answer you’re going to be getting out of him. No matter what you suggest, whether it be a house party, a night in, or even just a candy feast, he has always declined, citing his unexplainable dislike for the festivities. The only reason he deals with the holiday in the first place is because you love it so much.

“Will you at least help me carve some pumpkins please?” You ask, a last ditch effort to get him to participate. “The supermarket on Fifteenth Street is having a sale on them, and I wanted to decorate the windowsill. It’s easier with two people, you know.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes, looking hesitant.

“Oh, please, Yoongi? Just this once? It’s not even, like, a strictly Halloween thing. It’s just a fall thing! Plus, we can roast the pumpkin seeds after for a snack,” you plead, placing your cup down on the counter so you can tug on his arms, hands wrapped around his wrists as you stare into his eyes, positively desperate.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Yoongi says with a huff, that resigned tone to his voice that signifies that he’s caving in. “Yes, we can carve pumpkins together. That I will do.”

“Oh my God, really? Yes! Yay, thank you so much!” In a fit of excitement, surprise, and joy, you pull Yoongi in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as he tilts back in shock, tea spilling out over the edge of his mug and onto the linoleum floor beneath your feet, drops of it splashing against your skin.

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Yoongi says, taken aback. Still nestled tightly within your arms, he carefully sets his mug down onto the counter so as to avoid more spilling, his other hand pressing against the small of your back. “I didn’t know pumpkin carving was so important to you.”

You laugh, pulling away as you look into his eyes, crinkled up into fond little crescents. “It’s not. But you are.”

“So cheesy,” Yoongi chides.

“You love it,” you remind him, pressing the side of your body against his as you lean against the counter together. Instinctively, you let your head flop onto his shoulder, fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. “Thanks for doing this for me,” you say softly.

“Of course,” Yoongi says. “Anything for you.”

“Look how festive campus is!”

Yoongi chuckles as he watches you skip down the main walkway, the one that winds right from the west to the east side of campus, relishing in the feeling of autumn. Yoongi always forgets that it’s fall until it hits him like a brick to the head, and suddenly it’s getting dark at five-thirty and he can’t go outside without a proper jacket anymore. It’s a week until November, and Yoongi still refuses to wear anything heavier than a denim jacket, no matter how cold it gets. It can’t be winter yet, right?

“Wow, all the tones really fit the spooky mood,” you tell him, leaves crinkling as your feet step on the fallen foliage, brown and orange and yellow and red.

“How convenient it is that orange happens to be one of Halloween’s signature colors,” Yoongi chides with a roll of his eyes. “Is the Castle still hosting that party next week?”

“The costume one? Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” you tell him with a nod. “We’re still going, right?”

“Only because it’s our first year,” Yoongi reminds you pointedly. “And since you wanna celebrate together so badly.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like it’s such a drag. I know you want to spend time with me.”

Yoongi chuckles to himself, casual and cool. He knows you’re just teasing him but quite frankly, if Yoongi could spend every day of the rest of his life with you, then he would. If he could turn himself into a witch and cast a spell to keep you by his side for the rest of time, then he would. From the moment the two of you met in your dingy dorm, you clicked. And Yoongi knew, in that moment. He just knew.

“Oh my God, look at the pumpkins!”

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, your finger pointing excitedly at the carved pumpkins outside of the dormitories that line the walkway, lit candles nestled safely inside. They’ve got everything from the college logo to video game characters to the face of your lovable-but-memeable university president carved into them, decorating the street with a little more personality than normal.

“They’re so cute, holy shit,” you tell Yoongi fondly, all endeared and heart-eyed, the same way you get when someone walks their dog through campus or a professor sends out an update email with a picture of their newborn grandchild. Yoongi’s only known you a couple of months, but already he’s starting to figure out what makes you tick. “I love them. Don’t you love them, Yoongi?”

You turn around to meet Yoongi’s eyes, and when he looks back at you it feels like his whole heart is lighter. He sees your smile and it makes his body fill with warmth, like someone’s wrapping a blanket around him, like a warm cup of hot cocoa on a cool autumn afternoon. He looks back at you, and it feels like everything is right.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, grinning. “I do.”

The lopsided legs of your creaky kitchen table tremble as the pumpkin hits it.

“Damn, is this thing heavy or am I just getting weaker?” You ask, smoothing out the newspaper spread out on the flat surface of the table, two college students’ best attempt to avoid a mess. They’re old student copies with headlines like Brand New Cafeteria, but is the Food Even Any Good? and New Semester, New Me! sprawled across the front. You care about your school news, you really do, but the members of the newspaper team that hand out the papers practically stuff them down your throat whenever there’s a new issue, which is three times a week and at every street intersection on campus. So you’ve had extras lying around.

“Nope, they’re definitely heavy,” Yoongi agrees as he plops his pumpkin onto the table next to yours with a thud. “Though it’s not like I go to the gym much anyway.”

“Didn’t we say we were gonna try and be healthier this year, since we’re graduating?” You ask.

“That was before that new doughnut place opened up next to the ramen restaurant three streets up,” Yoongi reminds you.

“Maybe grad school?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, reaching over the table to grab the pumpkin carving kits the two of you bought from the drugstore down the road. “Caution. Keep out of reach of children ages three and under,” he reads. “Welp, guess I can’t do this then…”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you say with a deadpan frown, grabbing onto his wrist. “Hold on a minute, Mr. I Promised I Would Do This For My Best Friend.” Yoongi exhales dramatically as you pull him back towards the table, though it’s not as if there was much resistance from him in the first place.

You pry open the plastic wrapping that surrounds the kit, the orange tools eventually popping out of their casing and onto your newspaper-ed table. Sure, you could have probably pulled out two knives from your kitchen drawer and it wouldn’t make a difference, but spending ten dollars each on these two little pumpkin carving kits didn’t seem like a waste of money. For the sake of Halloween spirit, right?

“What do you want to carve?” You ask, handing Yoongi your open kit as you gaze at the instruction manual. Pumpkin carving shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? You cut open the top, pull out all the gunk from the inside, and then carve a face, or something.

“I’m not a very good artist,” Yoongi admits, looking hesitant.

“Well, the good thing about pumpkin carving is that no one expects them to look nice,” you point out. “I think I want to do that anime eyes face emoji. You know the one. Let’s see…”

You grab a hold of the plastic knife that came with the kit, hover the tip over the top of the pumpkin, and stab. It sinks into the squash up to the hilt. That’s the good part.

The bad part is that, because you’re holding onto a knife made out of non-recyclable plastic, moving it once it’s inside the pumpkin is exceedingly difficult. You pull it right and left fruitlessly, watching as the knife sits firmly in place, the handle bending with the curve of your fingers if you tug on it too hard.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Yoongi says with another sigh, abandoning his own pumpkin, which he has already de-stalked in the minutes you weren’t looking his way. “Let me help you.”

Suddenly, you feel a warmth wrap around you. A figure presses against your back, this musky, coffee-laden scent surrounding you, and you watch as Yoongi’s calloused hands slowly envelop yours, fingertips pressing firmly against your skin. It makes you freeze up instinctively, jumping at the sensation of his body around yours, of his torso pressed against your back, of his breath tickling your ear.

“Relax, alright?” He says, voice calm and gentle. He brings your hands to the knife, lets his palms rest against them as your fingers slowly wrap around the handle. You can feel him breathing, feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against you, the heat of his mouth just inches away from your cheek. “It’s just me.”

You force a chuckle. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

You feel Yoongi pause behind you.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Help me,” you insist.

Steadily, albeit a little bit tentatively, Yoongi does. His hand wrapped around yours, together the two of you carve out the top of the pumpkin, his chest pressed firmly against your back, body engulfing you. He feels so close, so goddamn close, like there is barely an inch of space in between the two of you, like if he were to bend down right there and if you were shift yourself around you would see nothing but his face right in front of yours, his hazy brown eyes looking back at you, twinkling in the white light of your kitchen.

It almost makes you want to turn around and look.

“There we go,” Yoongi says, voice suddenly soft, quiet like there’s something else weighing on his tongue. “What are you thinking of carving?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, lips upturned. “Maybe you?”

“I don’t make for a very attractive pumpkin picture,” Yoongi says with a shake of his head, even though that’s total bullshit for a number of reasons.

First of all, a pumpkin portrait is by no means meant to be an attractive portrayal of you, unless you’re Keanu Reeves and you look photogenic no matter what. Second of all, there has never been a time where Yoongi has not looked good. He always does. He did during finals week when his body was made of nothing but iced coffee, he did in freshman year when the two of you would stay awake until the early morning getting vodka spilled all over you in frat houses, and he does now, tired eyes and soft skin, dark hair and pink lips, standing in your apartment like he belongs here, like this is where he was meant to be.

“I think you would,” you tell him honestly. “You’d look good no matter what.”

Yoongi’s silent at that, but you can tell from the way his cheeks are turning red he’s taken the compliment to heart. It makes you want to shower him in them. It makes you want to freeze this moment in time, suspended in reality, and stay like that forever.

“Then I’ll do you,” he says with a grin, because what else would he say? Who else would he choose? You are going to put two matching pumpkins on your windowsill, and they will be of you and him. Messy, Picasso-style portraits carved into the orange skin. Two best friends, together even as fucking pumpkins.

You will carve out a picture of him, and he will carve out a picture of you, and isn’t that what this is really all about?

“Do you think people are gonna get the wrong idea about us?”

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi turns around to face you where you stand in front of your dorm mirror, this giant plastic one hanging on two hooks that you’ve latched onto the door of your room. He knows that you can see him in the mirror, staring back at you with a black mask over his face and a cape draped over his shoulders, the giant yellow emblem printed out on a piece of paper and taped onto his chest. It’s a last minute costume, for sure, but it gets the job done nicely.

“I mean,” you say, fixing the cat ears that sit atop your head. “Do you think people are gonna think we’re a couple, or something?”

Yoongi grins nervously and hopes that you don’t notice. “I mean, we’re just going to a frat party. I doubt it’s going to be light enough to see anything at all. Why?”

“Well, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us,” you say, adjusting the mask over your eyes. Yoongi, unabashedly, rakes his eyes up and down your figure. Your black turtleneck and skintight leather leggings don’t leave very much to the imagination. You’re definitely much more in costume than he is, to say the least.

“We’re freshmen, people already have the wrong idea about us,” Yoongi scoffs.

You turn around just so you can shoot a frown his way. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Why are you so worried about people getting the wrong idea about us?” Yoongi asks you, an eyebrow raised. This does not exactly bode well for him. “We can be Batman and Catwoman together no matter what people think.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just—” You stop in your tracks, letting the words fall off your lips and crash to the floor. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“What? You can tell me,” Yoongi says, concern lacing his voice. He rushes over to you, the two of you staring at your reflections in the mirror. Two friends, clad in black, wearing matching costumes. If Yoongi wasn’t sober right now, maybe he would actually do it.

Maybe.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” you shrug it off with a shake of your head. “I’m happy to be doing this with you. Even if your costume totally sucks.”

“Hey!” Yoongi exclaims defensively. “It is not my fault you came up with this idea last minute even though you already owned everything. I had to pay twenty-five cents to print this in color, you know.”

“A Twenty-five cent costume and you still look good.”

You and Yoongi smile at each other in the mirror, lips turned up as you stare at yourselves, wondering if this is all you will ever be, or if there is something more.

Yoongi sure hopes it’s the latter.

And he’s determined to find out, once and for all, tonight.

You’ve just lit the candles that sit inside yours and Yoongi’s pumpkins when you hear the knock at your door.

You’re sure that Yoongi can hear you from a mile away as you scurry towards the door, white platform heels clapping against the floorboards with every step you take. You’re going to have to practice walking in these a bit more. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought them only a week before Halloween, and maybe you should have at least tried to break them in a little bit.

“Hello?” You swing open the door.

“He—whoa,” Yoongi begins before his eyes widen to the size of the moon as he fully takes in the sight in front of him. “What’s with the—uh, the… dress?” He’s scratching at the nape of his neck, eyes sweeping up and down your body.

You hold out the skirt of your sequined, bedazzled dress as best you can, and grin. “I’m a gogo dancer! What do you think?”

“Wow, I—” Yoongi starts, a little speechless. “I don’t know. Wow. You look… you look nice, Y/N.”

You smile, thankful for the compliment. Yoongi seems weirdly breathless, blinking more often than usual, like he’s trying to convince himself that what he’s seeing is real. Although, you will admit that this dress is much more sparkly than anything else you have in your closet. You reckon a few disco balls were sacrificed to make this costume.

“Why—uh, why did you call me over? Did you need something from me?”

“Actually, yes,” you say, ushering Yoongi into your apartment.

As he’s walking inside, Yoongi notices the pumpkins sitting on your windowsill. “Hey, those look cute together.”

“Don’t they?” You say proudly. Nobody else has commented on them, but then again, you live on the fifth floor of your apartment, so you don’t imagine many people can even see them from ground level. But it’s nice to know that they’re there, and that they mean something. Not to a whole lot of people, but to you. And to him. “But that’s not why I asked you to come over.”

“Why, what’s up?”

You freeze when he looks up at you, like you can hardly will the next few words to come out of your mouth. They’re stuck at the dam of your lips, refusing to budge, because there is this tiny, this little part of you that doesn’t even have the courage to ask. To say it. Because you know already.

“Hoseok’s throwing a party tonight—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“But I know what you’re going to say,” Yoongi says like it’s obvious, because it is. “You’re going to ask me to come with you. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Y/N, but I am not going to go. I’m just not.”

“But it’s not a shitty frat party or anything!” You exclaim, desperately trying to dig yourself out of a hole you’re already six-feet in. “It’s at his place, an apartment across campus, with just some friends of his. There won’t be crazy music and sleazy guys and jungle juice. It’s just going to be a house party.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to go,” Yoongi tells you. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“Why? Why won’t you go?” You demand, because the least your best friend of nearly four years could do is give you a real reason. A real reason as to why he hates Halloween, why he never wants to celebrate it with you, why he never wants to go out with you on your favorite night of the year.

“Because I just don’t want to! Why can’t you just accept that? I don’t want to go!”

Silence. It’s almost as if Yoongi’s shocked he was even speaking so loudly in the first place.

Next to you, the candles flicker.

“I don’t get it,” you say, resigned. “I don’t understand. This is our very last year to celebrate Halloween as college students, as best friends, and you can’t even give me a real excuse as to why you won’t come with me.”

Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean, ‘a real excuse’?”

“Exactly that,” you say sharply. “A real excuse. Even when I offer for us to just stay in and eat KitKats and watch a shiity movie you refuse. All because it’s Halloween. I don’t get it. It’s not the crowds, and it’s not the drinks, and it’s not even the other stuff, like the pumpkins and the decorations. Is it me? Am I the reason you don’t want to celebrate Halloween?”

“No, what the fuck, it’s not you!”

“Then what is it, Yoongi?” You plead, not even making an attempt to lower your voice. Can’t he hear the sheer desperation in your voice? The hopelessness? “Why won’t you just tell me why you don’t ever want to celebrate this goddamn holiday with me? Is it my fault?”

“I just don’t!”

The sound of Yoongi’s shouts echoes throughout your living space, bouncing off of the walls. You look back at him, feeling helpless, but he doesn’t look angry, or enraged. He looks exhausted. Like this conversation has knocked the wind right out of him, stolen the breath from his lungs. Like suddenly the pot has boiled over, only it’s extinguished the flames that kept it burning.

“I just don’t,” Yoongi repeats, fists clenched tightly by his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He gives you one last tired look, matching your own defeated expression, before turning around and walking out of your apartment. The door shuts firmly behind him, neither a slam nor a gentle stop, leaving you stranded in the middle of your living space, watching his silhouette disappear.

You sigh. You don’t think Yoongi will ever tell you why he hates Halloween. And while that may be no fault of your own, you can’t help but feel like it has something to do with you.

Yoongi could probably count the amount of times he’s gone to a frat party on one hand, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t already know everything there is to know about them. In his eyes, once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all.

Still, he supposes that it being Halloween makes this one a little different. Everyone’s in some sort of costume, whether it be good or bad or just plain old lazy, and there are at least a few orange and black decorations lining the walls of the Castle, and they’ve curated a playlist with Halloween songs as well as rap songs Yoongi has heard plenty of times before, so for once, Yoongi will give the fraternity a bit of credit when it comes to their Halloween party-planning.

Beside him, you take another giant chug of your drink from the orange solo cup in your hand, wincing as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down.

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” He says, though he doubts you can even hear him over the music, loud in the kind of way that his ears are going to be ringing far into tomorrow morning.

“I’m fine!” You shout back, even though you are definitely not. The entire room reeks of a mixture of vodka and sickly sweet soda.

“I just want to make sure you’re not overdoing it!” He tells you as the two of you get shoved together from some massive guy pushing past Yoongi and sending him crashing towards you. He catches a glimpse of the contents of your cup, eyebrows raising when he sees that it’s almost empty. You just got that drink five minutes ago.

You smile. “I’m not!”

The song changes, and Yoongi swears that he can feel the entire house shake as everyone screams, cheering as they bounce up and down, dancing to the beat. Next to him, you are finishing the last few drops of whatever’s in your cup, finding an empty ledge to place it down on when you’re done, and pulling him in close to you.

“Let’s dance!” You shriek excitedly.

And who is Yoongi to resist?

He lets you take your hand in his own and parade him around the tiny little space the two of you share, a couple square feet of freedom in this crowded room, chock full of sweaty bodies just like his. Yoongi may not have had as much to drink as you, but the little bit of alcohol in his system is already shutting down normal mental processes like not-staring-at-you-constantly and pretending-that-he-likes-you-just-as-a-friend, sending him into a tizzy whenever he meets your starstruck eyes.

Even in this dingy, sweaty, unventilated fraternity living room, you are beautiful. You are beautiful here, and you are beautiful at three in the morning after twelve straight hours of studying, and you are beautiful after spilling the dining hall’s chicken noodle soup all over yourself.

God, you’re the only person Yoongi is looking at in this room. You’re the only person he sees.

Shaking his head, Yoongi abandons those thoughts as the song comes to an end, a hand wrapped around your wrist as he leans into your ear. “Do you wanna go outside? It’s hot in here!”

“Okay, whatever!” You agree easily, too easygoing after you’ve got a few drinks in you.

Yoongi grabs a hold of your sweaty hand and tugs you towards the back door, one that he thinks leads to a fenced in backyard. You squeeze through the crowd, getting a couple of drinks spilled on your shoes on the way until you reach the back door and Yoongi fumbles with the knob, shaking it a couple of times before it gets loose. Eventually, the two of you stumble outside into the backyard, where a couple of people are playing beer pong and a couple of others look like they’re making out.

It’s a frat party. What else did Yoongi expect?

It’s the end of October, and Yoongi doesn’t even have on a jacket, but the chill of the night has little effect on him after being in a room that’s felt like one hundred degrees for an hour. Out here, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe.

“It’s kinda cold out here, don’t you think?”

Yoongi doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re wrapping yourself up in him, curling into his body and placing his arm around your figure, letting the heat from his frame radiate onto your skin.

“Better than being in there,” Yoongi reasons.

“But aren’t you having fun?”

He looks down to see you looking up with him with big, wide eyes, like you’re afraid that he isn’t having fun, or afraid that you’re enjoying this night more than he is. It makes him smile. “With you, I am.”

You grin at that, turning back to face forward, head pressing into the crook of his neck. “That’s good to hear,” you tell him. “It seemed like you were kinda nervous.”

“Nervous?” His voice cracks as he says it. Fuck.

“Yeah, is there something you wanna tell me? It looks like you’ve been dying to say something all night,” you comment mindlessly, clearly much more observant now than you are when you’re sober. Or perhaps, Yoongi’s just more obvious.

He takes a deep breath, pressing his eyes shut tightly. This is his chance. He knows it.

“Actually, yes, there is,” he says, and it feels like he has to force the words out of his mouth because they’re refusing to come out on their own, pausing at the edge of his lips. It feels like he has to overcome his own mind in order to tell you, feels like every word is a sucker punch to his lungs.

You pull away from him, looking up at Yoongi with big, blinking eyes. It’s a clear night, and Yoongi knows because he can see the fucking stars reflected in your pupils, see them twinkling as your glossy eyes gaze back up at him. You look up at Yoongi and God, you are just so beautiful. You are beautiful, and Yoongi wonders, then, if you know. If you know how Yoongi looks at you. If you know how he feels about you. He is so in love. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. You are beautiful and he is so in love, and he’s been dying to tell you that and this might be his only opportunity to do so, because tomorrow will be a new day and Yoongi won’t have the guts tomorrow. This is his only chance.

You deserve to know.

“Well?” You ask him. “What is it?”

Yoongi wraps his arm around the small of your back, pulls you into him, and presses his lips to yours.

Hoseok’s party is fun. It’s definitely one of the better ones you’ve been to in your four years of university so far. There aren’t too many people, and the drinks are actually good instead of just burning your throat, and his music taste is impeccable.

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever been so unenthused at a party in your whole life. Thriller by Michael Jackson blares from Hoseok’s television speakers, chatter fills the room, and Hoseok’s girlfriend, Haebin, is constantly checking up on you, but never has one place felt so empty.

It’s not really very difficult for you to wonder why.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You whip your head around to find Haein standing by the kitchen table, gesturing towards Hoseok as he’s looking up the recipe for a drink he wants to try.

“You want one? Hoseok’s trying to make Long Island Iced Tea,” Haebin asks. Next to her, Hoseok is struggling to get the measurements right. At least he’s making an attempt.

You stare down at your nearly-full cup of strawberry daiquiri. You took one sip when Haebin first handed it to you thirty minutes ago, and haven’t touched it since. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Haebin sighs, patting Hoseok on the back encouragingly before she makes her way over to where you’re sitting on their couch, pressed up against the arm of the sofa as you mindlessly swirl the drink around in your cup, eyes zoning into the whirlpool you’re creating. She sits down next to you with a smile, with the kind of look on her face that makes you simultaneously thankful for and dread the conversation you’re about to have.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You don’t even believe yourself when you say it.

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me. I just know that Halloween is your favorite holiday and I was wondering if there was something getting you down tonight,” Haebin says in that comforting, gentle sort of way, like an old friend who knows all your tells.

“It’s not a big deal, really. I think I’m just out of it tonight,” you say, not drunk enough to divulge more information but also not sober enough to keep your mouth completely shut.

Haebin smiles at you, lips pursed. “Alright then. If everything’s alright.” She pushes her hands onto her thighs as she gets off of the couch, heading back towards the kitchen to help Hoseok figure out how to mix drinks. But before she leaves you alone, she turns around and says one more thing. “You know, I don’t know why Yoongi’s not here or anything, but I wish that he was. You always look so much happier whenever he’s around.”

And that just sends your mind into meltdown.

Defeated, alone, and best friend-less, you place your cup down on the end table to your left and get up off of the couch, beginning to gather your belongings, your coat and your shoes and your bag, tugging your arms through the sleeves as you storm towards the door, eyebrows knitted together, lips pursed.

“Hey, where are you going—?”

“I gotta go, Haebin. I just—” You pull on a shoe, tugging at the boot as it slips over your heel, “—I gotta go. Thank Hoseok for me, okay? I have to go.”

You only have time to catch Haebin nod, wordless, before you tug open the door to Hoseok’s apartment and stomp outside.

This is the worst Halloween of your life, bar none. The time when you were four and you tripped over a curb on the sidewalk, spraining your ankle doesn’t even come close. It’s your very last year to celebrate Halloween as a college student, to celebrate it by getting dressed up in a low-effort costume and spending time with your friends, and your best friend isn’t even here. He refused.

He refused and you still don’t know why, but worst of all he refused and you still wish he was here. You wish you could have spent time with him tonight. More than anything else. You wish you could have spent the night wrapped up together on your couch, or on your bed, watching your favorite television shows and enjoying each other’s company. You wish you could have curled into his body as the television blared, pressed your head against his shoulder and felt the warmth of his skin on yours. God, you wish you could have.

You wish you could have told him.

You wish you had the guts to.

Twenty minutes later finds you outside one of the dozens of frat parties likely occurring on campus right now, the bass from the music so loud that you can feel it in your eardrums even outside of the building. No part of you wants to go inside something like that, but at this point you start to wonder if maybe hopping different frats is actually your best idea. Get a drink, get drunk, and then move onto the next one. Rinse and repeat until you don’t remember a thing about this terrible, awful night.

As you walk along the sidewalk, you spot another student sitting on the curb underneath a leaf-less tree, a cheap black drugstore masquerade mask covering the top half of his face. He doesn’t seem to be having a particularly enjoyable night either.

Normally, the last thing you’d want to do is sit down next to a stranger whose face is disguised, because who knows what could happen to you if you do, but there are at least twenty people surrounding the two of you, loitering outside the frat house in the hopes that they can eventually get inside. And honestly, you could use a fucking break.

As casually as you can possibly manage, you take a seat next to the boy, a few inches apart from him as he looks up at you. You can’t make out too much in the dim light of the frat house, but he’s illuminated just enough for you to see his eyes widen at the sight of you.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You ask.

He shakes his head.

You smile in thanks, shifting around where you’re seated on the cold cement, eyes drifting all over the place, from the houses across the street to the road to the people standing around, anything to avoid turning back towards the boy and initiating an even more awkward conversation. Sitting down, the world stops spinning, just a little bit. You didn’t have too much to drink at Hoseok’s, but it was enough to loosen your mind.

“Can I say something?” You say loudly, turning towards the boy.

It was enough to loosen your lips too, apparently.

The boy stares back at you, silent.

“I’m sorry, I just need to get this off my chest.” You close your eyes, breathing in and breathing out, feeling your chest rise and fall. “I am not having a great night. And I wish I was out here with another friend of mine, instead. He’s my best friend, actually. He just… didn’t want to come out tonight with me. But I wish he was here, because I love spending time with him, and I miss him.”

The words spill off of your tongue like lava from a volcano, bursting from your lips completely unfiltered. It surprises you, a little, how much you actually have to say. How much has been weighing on your chest.

You don’t expect him to respond. Truthfully, you can’t even believe you’re unloading all of your baggage onto him in the first place. Since when are you the type of person to tell other people about the tragedies of your life?

But then, he says, “You do?”

And it makes you wonder what else you’ve been keeping hidden.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you realize. “I love spending time with him. He makes every day brighter, turns everything he touches into laughter. And I wanted to spend time with him tonight because I actually thought he would want to. You know, we carved pumpkins together a few days ago. Of each other’s faces.” You force out a laugh. “We carved each other’s faces into pumpkins and he still isn’t here tonight. I wanted him to be here because he’s my best friend, and because he makes me so happy, and even other people are noticing what effect he has on me. Noticing how fucking happy he makes me. Because he does. I feel like I’m a better person with him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him and he’s not here and instead of going to look for him I’m sitting here telling you the sob story that is my life and I just wish—”

“Does that mean you love him?” The boy asks softly.

“What?”

“Does that mean you love him?”

You turn to look at the boy, eyebrows raised, almost ready to deny such a thing, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

How could you say you don’t love Yoongi? Of course you do. He is your best friend. You never want to live a day when he’s not by your side. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. He makes you smile and laugh like it’s nobody’s business, brightens your day without even trying. Just seeing him is enough to lift your spirits. Seeing his face on the other side of your apartment door, all ripped jeans and Converse sneakers, hands wrapped in the sleeves of his hoodie, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, pink lips parted in a grin. That image you have of him in your head—it’s one you don’t ever want to forget. He is standing in your apartment, lips upturned, eyes crushed into crescents, smiling at you. He is mid-laugh, grinning from ear to ear at something you said. He is right there.

“Well, yeah,” you say, because what else are you supposed to do? “I guess I do.”

Suddenly, your chest feels a whole lot lighter.

The boy next to you smiles, the dim light barely illuminating his features, but when you look at him there is something so strangely familiar about him, about the way he blinks at you, about the peak of his Cupid’s bow, about how his lips are stretched into a grin. It couldn’t be him… could it?

But before you have time to ask, he is leaning towards you and pressing his lips atop yours, crashing your mouths together in a desperate, messy kiss. His palm presses against your cheek and you can’t help but sink into it, sink into the way his other hand curls around to rest on the small of your back, let yourself be engulfed by him.

You’ve never kissed Yoongi before, but you know that this is what it must be like.

You know, from the way your blood starts to sizzle, sparks rushing through your veins. From the way your heart is pumping, loud and clear in your ears, like it’s been jolted to life. Like a shock is running through your body. Like a warmth is filling you up, from the inside out.

When you part, as Yoongi takes off his mask, he can’t keep the smile off of his face. “I knew it. I knew you loved me.”

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, positively shocked. “I thought you hated Halloween.”

“I do,” Yoongi confirms. “Or, well, I did, I guess.”

“Then what changed?”

“You. Us. We changed,” Yoongi says, motioning between your bodies. “I hated Halloween because it had bad memories for me. Nothing crazy, but, yeah. You don’t remember?”

“What?” Your mouth drops open. “What should I remember?”

“We kissed that night.” Yoongi begins, eyes shifting down towards the ground. Clearly recalling this is awkward for him. “Halloween, freshman year. Outside of the Castle.”

You don’t remember this at all.

“Well, I kissed you and you kissed me, and I thought that we had established then and there that we liked each other. You know, like, really liked each other. But you were so drunk that night. I don’t know what you had, but you could hardly walk by the time I got you back to your dorm. Your roommate was furious with me.” He shakes his head at the memory, replaying in his mind like a movie. “And I thought, okay, we’ll just talk about this tomorrow. But you must have had a wicked headache or something, because I saw you the next day and you said—”

“God, whatever happened last night, I don’t want to know.”

It’s the middle of the day, the sun high in the crisp November sky, but you have been cradling your forehead ever since Yoongi last dropped you off, back at your dorm, when you were slowly starting to crash.

“What?” His voice is hollow, empty.

“Last night fucked me up real good,” you say with a huff, shaking your head. “I’m glad I don’t remember what happened last night.”

As Yoongi traipses back to square one, his heart shakes in its cage.

“I guess you just didn’t remember,” Yoongi tries to explain, much to your horror as you realize that you and Yoongi have been crushing on each other hopelessly for three years extra without you even realizing it. “So, uh, yeah. That’s why I didn’t like Halloween.”

“You kissed me that night?”

“What?”

“You kissed me that night? Outside of the Castle?”

A tingling on your lips. A faint feeling of warmth. You remember bits of that night. It was cold, and you were freezing in your costume. And you and Yoongi had gone outside to escape the crowd, and he said something, and then you said something, and then he—!

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods. “I did.”

“And I didn’t remember?”

“I mean, you were really drunk.”

Your shoulders sink, the thought of Yoongi, helplessly pining after you for three more years because he thought you didn’t like him like that, because he thought that the love you shared was one-sided, still sticking by your side as your best friend. At the thought of him deciding it was better to be best friends and keep that love hidden than tell you and risk it all over again. At the thought of him accepting what he thought was his fate.

“I’m sorry,” you say. What else is there to tell him? If you had remembered, if you just didn’t say those words, if you had just told him how you felt, this would have all been so much easier.

“It’s okay now,” Yoongi says, expression growing fond as he pulls you in for a hug, sad to see you so gloomy. “You love me and I love you. What more could I want?”

A realization dawns on you.

Pulling apart from him ever so slightly, you quirk an eyebrow. “You know, you could have just kissed me again the next day, and then we wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this. Plus, you would have still liked Halloween.”

Yoongi scoffs, pressing a kiss to your icy cheek. “So what? I like it now, how about that? I fucking love Halloween now. It turned my best friend into my girlfriend. She’s the love of my life. We can celebrate every Halloween together from now on until the end of time.”

You grin, pressing a kiss back on his little button nose, pink from the cold. Finally. “That’s the spirit.”

↳ don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

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dingyuxi · 4 years

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COMPREHENSIVE GIFFING TUTORIAL (vapoursynth + ps cc 2018) + some tips and tricks on color correction, blending and subtitles

You guys asked for it, so here we are! This is by no means the gold standard to giffing. Rather, this is simply my process and my own preferences. Take it as you will. Additionally since I use a mac some of my controls/panels may look different than what you would see for windows users.

DOWNLOADING YOUR SOURCE

This step is extremely important to the quality of your gifset. If you want high-quality gifs I would recommend giffing sources in 1080p whenever possible (especially if you’re going for larger dimensions). You may get away with 720p for smaller gifs. For kdramas, your go-to source would be dr*maday or torrents. (you can search my faq tag if you’d like to know specifics on finding and downloading torrents).

IMPORTING + PROCESSING YOUR FILES WITH VAPOURSYNTH (VS)

Please note that this tutorial does not cover basic installation and set-up of vs. If you would like to know how to download and set-up vapoursynth (it works for both mac and pc) along with some of it’s basics you can find more information at: https://hackmd.io/@nibreon/vapoursynth-book/%2F%40nibreon%2Fvapoursynth-book

Once you’ve identified what portion of your video you’d like to gif, simply drag your video file into VS. Specify the start time and duration of the clip you’d like to import. Typically you’ll be aiming for ~3-8 second clip depending on how big your gifs will be. I am very lazy when it comes to importing. The less of it I have to do, the better. Therefore, I often import clips that are 10-15 seconds long, sometimes even up to 20 seconds. I wouldn’t recommend going over 15 seconds most of the time though, because this will usually bring you over the 500 frames photoshop allows you to import at once. (when I do go over, I will sometimes import the processed VS file into PS in segments). You can also choose to import the VS output as segments if you want all your gifs on separate canvases. (I'll go into more detail on this later)

Once you’ve imported the clip into VS your screen should roughly look like this once the resizer pops up:

In the top left is where you will be applying your cropping, sharpening and denoising filters. Cropping: Keep in mind the Tumblr dimensions: 540px for full-width gifs and 268px for half size gifs, 177/178/177px for 3 gifs across. The height is completely up to your own preference. Usually I work in 540x300px. Once you edit those parameters you can drag/resize your video file to fit your new canvas. Sharpening + Denoising: You can choose to skip this if you would rather sharpen in ps. I personally do all my cropping, denoising and sharpening in vs. I use finesharp and KNML for sharpening and denoising respectively. Once you select those two filters from their drop down menus, be sure the select the checkbox as well. You should now notice 2 additional lines of code in the top right box. The line that reads: video = core.knlm.KNLMeansCL(video, 0, 6, 4, 1.2, channels="YUV") is where you will adjust your denoising parameters. You will only be adjusting those 4 numbers. I usually use: 0, 1, 0, 1.2. Now find the line that reads: video = hnw.FineSharp(video, sstr=0.22). These are your sharpening parameters. once again we’re only adjusting the number at the end. I typically use somewhere between 0.33-0.55. Depending on the quality of your source and preferences these parameters may change.

Here is a breakdown of the KNML parameters (source: @/nibreon HackMD):

Once you have finalized your parameters, copy all the code in that top right box and paste it into your vapoursynth editor. Note: you can ‘inactivate’ certain lines of code by adding the # symbol at the start the line. That line of code will then be greyed-out. This is what your code should now look like (the highlighted section is the part I just copy and pasted):

If you would like to preview your filters and see if you need to make any adjustments, simply navigate to the top bar and select script > preview. If you like what you see, great! If not, you can adjust the parameters directly in the editor until you see a result you’re happy with. Once you’re happy you can move onto the final step in vs: processing.

Processing: Once again, navigate to the top bar and select script > encode video. Another window should pop up. Make sure you set ‘header’ to ‘Y4M’ then click ‘start’. Patiently wait for that to finish processing. The longer your clip is and the more filters you add, the longer it will take.

IMPORTING YOUR CLIP INTO PHOTOSHOP (PS)

Now you’re done with the vapoursynth section! Not too hard, right? I use the timeline method when I gif. To import your video file into ps navigate to file > import > video frames to layers. Here you can use the sliders to further specify what range you would like to import. Make sure the ‘make frame animation’ box is checked. To optimize smoothness of your gif, avoid checking the ‘limit to every _ frames’ box. Hit ‘OK’ and wait for the frames to import. Depending on the size of your clip, ps may notify you that you are importing a large file and it may take a long time to process, simply say ‘ok’ to this. UNLESS you get a message saying it will limit to 500 frames. This means your clips contained more than 500 frames and you should select a smaller section to avoid cutting out any critical parts. (Note: you can always go back and repeat this process to select a smaller range of frames from the same video clip until you’ve imported all the frames you need).

Timing: You can adjust the timing of your gifs before converting to timeline. Select all the frames (Navigate to the icon with the 4 bars at the bottom right of you screen. Select “select all frames”). Click the drop down next to the timing of any of the frames. Select ‘other’ and input a your preferred timing. I personally use ‘0.04′ but I've seen people use anywhere from 0.4-0.8ms. Also as a note: when you convert your gif to timeline it has a tendency to mess up your timing so even if you input 0.04 or 0.05 it won’t actually be that timing later. If you want the true frame rate you can set your timing right before saving. You can also adjust timing at the end. (see export/saving gif section for more info)

Now the next part can be tedious and for that reason I’ve created numerous actions to speed up this process. But for the sake of this tutorial I will walk you through the steps. At the bottom of your screen is your timeline. As you can see, it defaults to frames, but we want to convert this into a smart object so that all your coloring/edits are made to all of the layers. To do this: 1) Navigate to the icon with the 4 bars at the bottom right of you screen. Select “select all frames” 2) Now select all your layers in your layer panel. On mac you can use cmd + option + A as a shortcut. 3) Back to the icon with the 4 bars, select “convert to video timeline” 4) Right click on all layers (which should still all be selected) and find “convert to smart object”

(Aside: Actions) actions are SUPER helpful to streamlining your giffing process. you can find actions people have made available on resource blogs like itsphotoshop OR you can choose to make your own custom actions. To do this, all you need to do is locate your action panel. Then from the controls at the bottom of the panel select the one that looks like a sheet of paper to “create a new action” Once you’ve named it and hit ‘ok’ the record icon should now be red. PS will now basically ‘record’ whatever you do. To stop recording hit the square icon. Now whenever you want ps to execute the same set of steps you just did, you can locate the action you just made and ‘play’ it by selecting the triangle icon. I highly recommend making an action for the steps I just outlined above to convert your gif into a smart object timeline. It will make your process much faster and more painless.

COLORING

Now the fun part! I focus on emphasizing the colors already present in the video source or getting rid of some less-than desirable overtones when I color. It gives the gif a natural look, but makes everything pop a little more. We will be working with selective color, curves, levels, and brightness/contrast mostly. This is the original gif I will be using to demonstrate coloring:

Curves: I always start with curves. The first curve layer I use to set a desirable black point. To do this, locate the top dropper icon from the curves panel and select the darkest point of your image. This will set that section to “true black” Feel free to play around with this until you find a desirable outcome. Now add another curves layer. This one we will be using to adjust the brightness/contrast. First, I always start off with ‘auto’ and see where that takes me. If you like the outcome, great! If you don’t play around with the different curve points until you get an outcome you like.

Selective Color: This adjustment layer will be your best friend. For me, I will typically work with reds, yellows, and black. If the source has a lot of blue/cyan I will use those too. Basically look at your source and determine which base colors you’d like to emphasize/alter. For blacks I usually up the black by +1-5 depending on the source. For reds, it also depends on the source. But I will typically either decrease cyan (to make red stand out more) or increase cyan (to make the red not look so overexposed). You want to be careful here. Overexposing the red can make your skin tones look like red tomatoes! And for my content base, where most of the actors are of asian descent, we should be emphasizing the yellows and NOT the reds (see aside on color correction + skin tones for more info). After altering the reds to my liking, I do the same process for the yellows. To bring back natural skin tones and color, you will likely want to darken the yellows, expose them a bit more and maybe even up the yellow slider. A common rule of thumb: if you want to make any of the colors less exposed, increase the cyan. If you want to increase exposure on any of the colors, decrease the cyan. If you want a color to appear more strongly or prominently, increase the black. The magentas and yellows I use more to adjust hues. You can add multiple selective color layers to further emphasize your changes.

Levels: Now we will work on the lighting some more. This creates more contrast and depth to your gif, often making them look ‘crisper’ To emphasize the bright parts, move the right-hand slider to the left. The emphasize the dark parts, move the left-hand slider to the right. You may also choose to move the middle slider to adjust more neutral lighting. Do so until you find a setting to your liking.

Miscellaneous: Depending on your gif you may need to play with other adjustment layers. Some other ones I often use are the brightness/contrast and exposure to adjust lighting and add more dimension to the gif. For additional color correction I use color balance and to a lesser extent hue/saturation and vibrance.

(Aside: Color correction + skin tones): We are anti-whitewashing and anti-redwashing when it comes to asian media. Like I mentioned earlier, natural asian skin tones have yellow undertones, not red/pink. Therefore when you’re bringing in color you should be mindful of this delicate balance. Adding more red does NOT equal un-whiteashing. Be VERY careful how you balance the yellows with selective color/hues/color balance.

^^ Here is an example of what I mean by overexposing the reds. Poor seungho is looking as sunburnt as a cherry tomato. Note: if your original source is already overexposed with red, fix it! You can do this by applying the same basic principles I explained earlier. Try upping the cyan on the reds in selective color, or shifting the color balance to favor cyan over red with the color balance adjustment layer. You may also choose to favor the yellow over blue.

^^ Now this is straight-up whitewashing. This is what happens when you are not careful with your correction of yellow. I’m not saying you can’t touch the yellow slider or get rid of some yellow form the overall image (because sometimes it is very much needed), but you should be very mindful how your corrections can affect skin tones. If you decide to decrease saturation of yellows, or decrease yellow in the selective color section of the reds, do so with caution. If your reds are looking too pink, add some yellow in the red selective color, up the yellow and black of the yellow selective color.

^^ If you hit that happy medium, you can emphasize the natural skin tones without overexposure. Here the underlying tones are very much still in the yellow range.

(Aside: Blending): I will very briefly talk about how to blend two gifs together. First make sure you’ve imported both your gifs into ps and converted them into the timeline format. On one of the gifs, right click the gif layer in the layer panel > duplicate layer > select the canvas of the gif you’d like to blend the gif with. On the canvas you just copied your second gif to, you can now drag the two layers around the on the canvas to get your desired positioning. On the top gif apply a layer mask. This can be found in your layers panel at the bottom, and is indicated by the white rectangle with the circle. Next, make sure you select the mask in the layer panel (it will show up as a white rectangle on the layer you applied the mask). Grab your paintbrush tool and make sure your color is set to black. Now you can effectively ‘erase’ the part of the top gif you don’t want to show anymore. I recommend setting your brush hardness to 0% to get a smoother transition. You can also play with the opacity settings. If you want to add back in a part you erased, just switch to a white paintbrush and you will be able to undo what you had just ‘erased’ with the black. When you merge the gifs, they will play the same number of frames. This means your blended gif length is limited by the gif with the fewer number of frames. You can move around your timeline layer and shorten the included portion by dragging either end of the timeline layer in until you get both gifs to play the parts you want.

CAPTIONS/SUBTITLES

I often get asked about my subtitle font/styling settings. Personally I find the best fonts for subtitles are calibri and arial. I use calibri with the following settings: 12-14px, bold italic plus faux bold, 1px black stroke (optional: drop shadow set to ‘multiply’ at around 85% opacity), and tracking (VA) set to 75. If you would like your subtitles to fade-in or fade-out you can apply the ‘fade effect’. Locate the b/w square icon in your timeline panel. Select fade and drag it onto your text layer in your timeline. You can then right click on the wedge shape to adjust your fade duration. I usually use 0.35s. If you drag and drop the effect towards the beginning of your text you can get the fade-in effect. To get the fade-out, simply drag and drop your fade towards the end of your text layer.

SAVING/EXPORTING YOUR GIF

We’ve reached the final stretch! If you need to adjust your frame rate timing: you will need to revert your timeline to frames. To do this: 1) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select convert frames > flatten frames into clips. 2) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select convert frames > convert to frame animation > when promoted hit ’ok’. If at this point you see more than one frame in your timeline panel, delete the frames until only one is left. In the example below I would delete the first frame by hitting the trash icon from the timeline panel.

If there is only one frame, leave it as is. 3) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select ‘make frames from layers’ You will most likely need to delete the first frame in your timeline panel (it won’t have your coloring). Sometimes ps adds in some ‘blank’ frames as well, delete those too. Now you can adjust your timing.

Once your timing is set: When you’re saving your gif, just keep in mind it must be under 10mb. Navigate to file > export > save for web. When it comes to your save settings I typically use either selective diffusion or adaptive diffusion. I also also occasionally use adaptive pattern (I find this is best for dark scenes without a lot of contrast). Set colors to 256, quality to bicubic and looping options to forever. If you want to preview your gif, hit the preview button in the bottom left. Otherwise, go ahead a hit ‘save’ and you’re DONE!

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Feel free to check out my ‘ps things’ tag for more photoshop stuff/mini tutorials. Additionally @/nibreon and the hackmd site I linked previously are your best resources for vs questions. If you would like to see my giffing process in motion feel free to check out this video. It’s sped up but you can slow down the playback. Additionally be sure to check out resource blogs like itsphotoshop for more helpful tutorials and resources.

If you reached the end of this beast, kudos to you! I hope this helps and never be afraid to reach out with any questions.

#gif tutorial #itsphotoshop #resources #kdramaedit #ps things #m:tut

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 1

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.4 k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

It absolutely didn’t take you by surprise when your moving day turned out to be the hottest day of the year in Chicago. Not one single shadow spending cloud was to be seen, the temperatures felt like standing next to an actual volcano and your so called ‚friends‘ called off from helping one after one. It all got your blood boiling and made you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it.

Instead you pushed it into the pocket of your pants, brushed some sweaty hair out of your face and continued unloading the first box out of the moving van you had rented.

Before you entered the building you would live in from today on, you took a good look at it. It was a rather spontaneous decision to move in. When you told your college friend, Christina, that your current living situation was very complicated, she offered you a free room in her apartment.

She was living with a lot of people. It would be eight people in total by tonight when you had moved in. For your liking, that was maybe a little bit too many roommates, but you rather took that, than live with your ex-boyfriend any longer.

You climbed up three flights of stairs and with each one the box in your hands got heavier. Knowing, that there were so many more boxes in the van that had to be brought up, made you want to sit down and have a beer already.

There was only one door on the third floor, which also appeared to be the last story of this building. That must be it. You rang the door bell and instantly heard some voices discuss about who would open the door.

A guy with some friendly eyes opened. „You must be Y/N!“ He stepped aside for you to enter the apartment. „I’m Uriah.“

„Are you on your own?“ You didn’t really get a proper chance to introduce yourself because Christina came rushing to Uriah’s side and gave you a brief hug, ignoring your sweaty body. She seemed truly offended by you being alone. Though, she was rather offended by your friends who weren’t there to help you even though they said they would.

You just shrugged and tried to take in the surroundings of your new home. Christina already told you that the apartment covered the whole story, therefore it had a lot of rooms that sheltered a lot of people.

It was a pretty opened concept. The big kitchen space flowed over into a living area and the other way around. Around the center piece, a huge dining table, were sitting three people, chatting the afternoon away. Christina and the guy, who had introduced himself as Uriah, joined the group again. She introduced you to Will, her boyfriend who you already knew from a lot of conversations, and the second couple in this apartment: Tris and Four.

„One roommate is missing, he’s… I don’t know where,“ said Christina and gestured for the remaining people to get up from their chairs. „Are we okay to help you with your stuff?“

She asked as if you had truly something to disagree with her offer. „You would be my life savers,“ you confessed. The help of your new roommates was genuine. The first bonding with them happened through carrying up your heavy boxes three flights of stairs, ranting over the heat and laughing about it because somehow you got along with them very well. Maybe after all the crap that had happened, this could be a good restart.

Christina offered to drive along with her car to the rental station and take you back to the apartment after dropping of the van. You didn’t have a car yourself and her offer was music in your ears. After that hot day and the physical exhaustion, you really didn’t want to ride your bicycle all the way from the rental place to your new home.

On your way back to the apartment, you asked Christina to stop at a pizza shop. You wanted to grab some dinner for your new roommates, and yourself, after they saved your ass with carrying your stuff all the way up to your new apartment.

When you placed the pizzas on the dining table, where everyone was still sitting at, every hesitation, if they had some at all about you moving in, was gone. Someone who brought pizza was very welcomed to move in.

Even though you were exhausted to your bones, the pizza gave you a small power boost, to continue with some more work after dinner. Before crashing on your mattress tonight, you wanted to unpack some of the stuff still. To your luck, Christina and Tris helped a little with your clothes and setting up a makeshift desk. At some point they left to go to bed. Way past midnight you felt your body giving out rapidly. You needed a shower. And sleep.

Right across from your room was the bathroom. There was still light in the hallway and you heard noises from the living area. The bathroom door was slightly open and you sleepily opened it completely to enter and shut it behind you.

The tiredness in your brain was suddenly gone when you faced a naked man getting out of the shower. You looked at him in shock and all you were able to say was: „What are you doing here?“

„What does it look like?“ He didn’t really hurry up to grab a towel and cover himself. There was too much time passing until a towel finally covered his lower half. Too much time for you to see, well, everything.

When the first shock subsided, you pulled yourself together, and looked at his face. This guy hadn’t been there all day. Still, you knew him.

„What are you doing here,“ you repeated your question in disbelief, this time with a small addition, though, „Eric?“

„I live here. What are you doing here?“

Fuck. No. Please not. „I guess we are roommates then,“ you stated in frustration.

„You are Christina’s friend moving in?“ He grabbed a second towel to dry his hair and looked at your from a weird angle. „Life’s just not fair to me.“

„Tell me about it.“

There you were. Standing in the small bathroom of your new apartment with Eric Coulter. Who lived here as well. You contemplated going back to the rental station immediately, get a van and remove your stuff before you unpacked completely. This was a nightmare. Since starting your first semester, Eric was the pain in your neck you were constantly clashing with. Whenever you started a constructive discussion about a topic, he was the one to drive you verbally crazy. There was no debate he missed and sometimes, you thought, he had taken it a personal mission to piss you off. Because even when he had the same opinion on something, he still had to prove you otherwise.

It had been dislike at first sight.

„Are you done in here then?“

„Why should I be?“ Eric’s discipline to make life more complicated for you was nothing you could deal with right now. Not after the day you had.

„Fine. Whatever,“ you mumbled. Instantly, you regretted opening the bathroom door – a shower had been so necessary – but dealing with Eric right now wasn’t worth it. The few steps across the hallway later, you stumbled over some of the boxes in your room, tripped and fell right on to your mattress. Grumbling, you turned around and saw Eric in the bathroom door inaudibly laughing at you. With your last energy, you slammed the door shut and collapsed back on the mattress. His stupid, grinning face was the last you had in mind before falling into a deep sleep.

/////

The next morning, after sleeping like a baby, you made sure to first take a glance into the bathroom before entering. No Eric. You locked the door, undressed and breathed out in relief when the water hit your skin. The warm water washed away all of yesterdays sweat, soaked your hair and made you feel like a human again.

The water temperature suddenly changed from hot to freezing. Hearing the toilet flush go off indicated why. You peaked out from behind the shower curtain and saw Eric readjust his boxer shorts.

„I locked the door!“ You whisper-screamed at him.

Eric went to wash his hands. At least you’re washing your hands, you thought. „I had to pee.“ He winked at you, left the bathroom and turned the lock into position again when he was back in the hallway. Great, not even a lock can keep him out.

With fresh clothes and still wet hair, you made your way for the kitchen. Your roommates were gathered at the huge dining table, Eric included, and had an awesome looking breakfast. It was ten on a Sunday morning, you didn’t expect all of them to be up yet.

Some ‚good mornings‘ welcomed you and assigned you the seat right across from Eric. Of course.

„How did you sleep?“ Christina poured you a coffee and tried to add milk and sugar but you were able to fetch it from here while it was still black.

„Good,“ you answered with a ‚thank you‘.

„This is Eric, by the way. The roommate you didn’t meet yesterday.“

Your glance went from her bright eyes to Eric, who stared at you like he had only now registered you sitting across from him. „We had the pleasure already,“ you stated and took a long sip, not breaking eye contact with him.

He was the first one to look away, which made you sink back in your chair with a winning grin on your lips.

During breakfast your roommates instructed you on how this living together worked. Who cleaned when and what, what team is when doing the weekly grocery haul and why you don’t flush the toilet when someone is taking a shower. When Uriah mentioned that, you turned your head to Eric and caught his glance. He didn’t seem to be impressed by your death stare.

Christina offered to help again with unpacking after breakfast. Still within the second she closed the door to your room, she popped the question. „Do you and Eric know each other?“

You groaned. „Kinda,“ you said as you turned to look at her. „Do you remember me constantly complaining about a guy in one of my classes who’s always driving me crazy?“

„That’s Eric?“ Christina’s face went blank and her jaw dropped. She flung the door open and entered, without knocking, the room next to yours – Eric’s room. You could hear his voice telling her to get out and knock the next time. Christina replied something but you couldn’t understand it. Was she telling him to stop his bullshit debates with you, now that you were living here? You couldn’t tell, even though you pressed an ear to the wall. They were both talking, but too quietly for you to understand a word.

You still wondered about that incident a week later. Christina just didn’t come back after bursting into Eric’s room. And he wasn’t to be seen ever since. Like he had just vanished. Which he didn’t because you could hear him come into his room late at night and leave it early in the mornings. Summer break meant he didn’t leave for classes and it bugged you that you even thought about this so much. You shouldn’t care. At all.

You did care.

„Chris?“ You knocked on hers and Will’s door. Will answered to ‚come in‘. You opened their door and only saw him laying on the floor in front of a fan. The heat was still very prominent. Instead of asking where Christina was, you asked him if he was fine.

„Totally fine. Just very hot.“

„Same,“ you replied, regretting it a little to not having asked Christina if there was air conditioning in the apartment before you moved in.

„Christina is out with Uriah. Doing the weekly grocery haul. Uriah jumped in for me,“ Will rolled around to lay on his stomach and looked at you with a dramatic expression on his face, „I just couldn’t. Too. Hot.“

With an amused smile you closed the door again and went to the kitchen to get some more water. Even though it was summer break, you still did a lot for college. There was a study you had engaged in and wanted to work on further. Sitting back down at your desk, you lost yourself in analysing the newest data that had come in.

You didn’t know for how long he stood there in silence until you noticed him. Eric leaned in your opened doorframe and observed what you were doing. You turned to him in your chair.

„Can I help you with something, Mr. Invisible?“ You really really wanted to know if you had done something wrong for him to disappear so completely from the apartment. Within the next second, all the exhausting memories of debates with him came back and you were feeling a little less guilty. Still, you wanted to know.

„Just wanted to let you know that, whatever Christina might have told you, is not true.“

„What’s that supposed to mean?“

„That it’s not true.“

„What is not true?“

„My reasons for always debating with you.“ Eric’s look was puzzled and he tried to understand the confusion on your face. Or his own confusion. Then his eyes widened a little. „Wait, she didn’t talk to you?“

„Talk to me about why you’re such a pain in my neck? No!“ You wished she would’ve. For the last week you had tried to question her about that incident but she always managed to change the topic. Wait… „What are those reasons?“

„There are no reasons. And if there are any,“ he grew uncomfortable, „they are just not true.“

„You confuse me,“ you stated.

„Great,“ Eric replied. „At least once I managed to do that after never being able to do so in our debates.“ He left. Just left and let you sit in your room with a thousand question marks in your head.

Christina wouldn’t get a single minute of peace when she got home. Not until she told you what had happened a week ago. Even if you had to kidnap her on your bike to a donut shop and sugar-shock her to get information. You would get information. That was for sure.

/////

to be continued

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hpdabbles · 4 years

Text

Ronald “Pretty one” Weasley

I couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation I had on discord and so here. Ron Weasley becoming the Pretty Weasley

“Alright, you know what? I will not allow this.” Harry said one night after walking in on Ron trying on the robes his mother sent. The Yule Ball was but two weeks away, with neither of them being able to find dates yet, Ron had hope to try on the robes and see what they look like.

He felt utterly miserable staring at his reflection and Harry wouldn’t stand for it. His friend walked over with a set jaw, a firm frown and a stride that promise he would burn the world down if needed to get what he wanted. Ron often wondered how Harry could be so intense all the time, wasn’t he ever exhausted? “Off with the robes Ron.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Off with the robes. You aren’t wearing those. Burn them if you must.” Harry repeated planting himself before his friend, hands on his hips. Briefly Ron thought of his mother when she was on a rant about the twins. “I’m going to get you something better to wear.”

A rush of shame and outrage sprung through the red head’s body, his face clouding over. He can’t figure out what to do with all the emotions, so he lashes out. “I don’t need your pity!”

“It’s not pity! You’re my best friend! I want to help” Harry insists and it was only due to the fact he has seen the same expression on the Boy-Who-Lived’s face when he attempted to convince Ron he hadn’t put his name in the goblet.

The red head pursed his lips but he nodded anyway. He could always find a way to pay his friend back, because he would be paying him back. Ron refused to be anyone charity case. “Fine. How exactly are you going to get me new dress robes?”

Harry practically lit up as if he thought of a brilliant idea. “Okay so I’ve been thinking a lot about this. We can’t leave the castle but you know who can? Dobby!”

At once the little house elf appeared in the room. “Harry Potter has called for Dobby?”

“Yes, Dobby, you are a free elf yeah? Would you be able to leave Hogwarts and buy something I need?”

“Dobby has no master! Dobby can go buy for Harry Potter” The little elf chirps and Ron is honestly surprised by Harry’s idea because he hadn’t even consider the house elf to be able to leave the castle at all. “What is Harry Potter needing?”

Harry’s green eyes twist to lock with Ron’s ocean blue, and they crinkle as his friend gestures at him. “Dress robes for Ron. Something. Something really nice.”

Dobby freezes then frowns. He gives Ron a calculating look which is something the pureblood never thought he would see on a house elf. He feels himself hunching over, a reaction of anyone staring at him for too long.

Dobby snaps his fingers and a measuring tape appearing at his side. “Dobby works in kitchens now, but Dobby would buy Malfoys robes when Dobby was not free. Dobby can find Wheezy robes. Dobby will make sure to find ones that work with Wheezy’s skin tone and eyes. Arms out Wheezy!”

“Um” Ron says throwing his arms out in a straight line at either of his sides. Harry grins taking a seat on the bed as the measuring tape zip and zaps around him. “Thank you Dobby. What do you mean with my skin tone and eyes.”

Dobby wrinkles his nose. “Dobby learned all about that while working for Malfoys Dobby did. Wheezy never dresses for the right colors, but Dobby knows which is best. Dark or falls yes, not bright.”

Ron had no idea what that meant but after a few minutes, the house elf proclaim he was finished and would be off to commission a outfit for the Weasley. Harry gave him a few galleons to pay for it, then he carefully folded up the old robes Mrs. Weasley sent Ron, to throw into a box under the red head’s bed, never to see the light of day again.

“Now, what to do about your hair....” Harry starts but Ron raises his hands to his head, backing away from the other male who has picked up a pair of scissors.

“Oh no! You are not coming anywhere near me with those mate!”

“But-”

“No Harry”

“Fine” The boy huffs. He placed the scissors back on the night table near him and throws himself onto the bed. “I suppose we can find someone else to do it.”

That was easier send then done. Alas over the two weeks where they were waiting for Ron’s pending dress robe order, the two could not find someone who could do a decent cut and someone Ron trusted enough near his hair. They were so distracted with helping Ron for the big day they forgot about finding dates until Hermione reminded them the day off that Harry had to be on time with his date before hand to do the first walz.

“oh no, I forgot about the date” His best friend whispered in horror as the two boys got ready. Ron himself was also in peril. The dance was to start in two hours and there was no sign of Dobby, his hair was still long and he didn’t have a date. Harry at least was wearing the robes his mother bought with his money and while he didn’t look like huge celerity of his status at least he had the proper attire.

“We are both so-wait. We both don’t have have...a date” Ron starts stating at Harry. The Potter stares back with a blank expression, bless his soul but the boy could be so dense. “Mate we could go together.”

“Together? Wouldn’t that be...odd? Professor McGonagall said I needed a date, so people would think you and I are on a date.” Harry says slowly. He’s body language gives away to his discomfort but Ron knows Harry isn’t oppose to going with a bloke, he is just worried about how others will react. He gets like that whenever something from his upbringing comes to mind. The Weasley rolls his eyes.

“Those muggles really do have everything backwards don’t they? Mate no one will care if you and I are male. Half the school is bent.”

“What really? Is this like the twins thing?”

“Twins are not that rare Harry. Almost every family has at least one set of twins in every three generations.”

“They are rare. In the muggle world at least.”

“Good thing we aren’t there then.” Ron then remembers he hasn’t gotten robes and wilts, throwing himself on the bed. “Though if Dobby doesn’t come back soon I understand not wanting to be seen with me in those dreadful dress robes Mum sent.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you Ron. Never. Your my best friend.” Harry says earnestly and the red head can’t help but crack a smile at that. He knows he has insecurities that can’t be resolved with simple words but sometimes Harry makes them a little bearable. “If you want to, please be my date. I rather it be with someone I know anyway.”

“I...” What does one say to that. “I guess it be cool”

Ron cringed as the words left his mouth but Harry relaxed. The Potter looked at the time on the clock and shrugged. “May as well shower Ron. Whatever your wearing won’t matter if you smell like sweat.”

“Hey! I do not smell!” The red head shouts offended but the teasing eases something in him and he finds himself gathering what he needs for shower. Harry’s laughter followed him into the bathroom, until later when Ron was stepping under the water, Harry knocked on the door.

“I’m going to meet you there!”

He shouted back a agreement, unable to hear of Harry walked away or not as he shampooed his hair. Half-way into scrubbing his body, a soft pop was heard and Ron screams as Dobby rips away the shower curtains.

“Dobby brought Wheezy- stop screaming it only Dobby- Dobby brought Wheezy’s robes and Dobby will be helping Wheezy hair.” The little house elf proclaims as the teen desperately tries to cover himself. “Out! Out! Much to do, Wheezy mustn’t be late!”

“Let me at least put some pants on!”

The House elf plants the boy into a chair, and snaps his fingers into three rapid sessions, a comb, sessions and a spray bottle flout around the Weasley who eyes the items with true free. “Dobby do you know what you are doing?”

“Dobby has personally cared for Lucius Malfoy’s hair since he was seven! Dobby knows what to do!”

Thinking of the man’s long fabulous hair “Alright...”

Later Ron is rushing to get to the meeting point. He barely had time to check his reflection since Dobby insisted on another shower after the haircut, and that he help him into the dress robes. He was also spread with some kind of cologne but when it came to see how he look he was honestly stun.

The fall color- which turn out to mean colors ranging from red to browns in different shades. Ron’s were dark red with dark brown- dress robes Dobby picked out for him fit him to the perfect cut meant to highlight all of his best features. They hugged his upper chest and arms but it wasn’t like the hand-me-downs that he got from his siblings who were all broader and shorter then he.

For as long as he could remember Ron had always felt like he was a weed kind of built, tall but scrawny. He never imagine getting clothes that were meant to fit him made him look so different. He seems lean.

His hair was cut shorter now too, not in layers that he had worn since young but more posh and even. Ron never thought he would look good like that but the cut made him look nice, make his eyes pop and his freckles stand out.

He liked it.

He really did.

For the first time, he felt good.

Harry was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs the other champions and their dates already there and Ron was surprise to see Hermione hanging off of Victor Krum’s arm. Merlin but she looked like a goddess.

Ron felt himself flattered for only a second because Harry looked up and his already large eyes widen. “Ron! You look amazing!”

The others were also looking stun and with more confidence he made his way to his best friend. Hermione claps her hands “Ron, you look great. Confidence makes you very fetching!”

He felt his face heating up. Harry presses his shoulder to his, short the boy may be but it makes it easier to speak “Thanks ‘Mione. You look beautiful.”

Around them more and more people start to hand out compliments and Ron thinks, this, this might be his thing. He could be the pretty Weasley. He could learn how to dress well and maybe he could ask Dobby to teach him. Maybe Ron could even learn how to make his own clothes, or make modifications to the hand me downs so they fit as they should. So he could look lean all the time.

He knows it could be shallow but...

but he deserves to feel good, to look in the mirror and like what he sees. At least that's what Harry says as they stumble through the first waltz grinning at each other for being goofs and Hermione encourages his idea later while the three get some punch.

She claims it doesn’t matter what others think because it’s self-care and self-love, something she is always up for. Ron gives her a goofy smile, and then Harry invites him to another dance, while they are dancing- this song a upbeat one and not a formal waltz thank goodness- his best friends stares a little at him before blurting. “Ron, I think I like girls and boys.”

The red head raises a brow, “yeah? Is it Cedric?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. I won’t tell him yet I just...wanted you to know. Have I told you how nice you look?”

“At least a dozen times mate, but thanks.” He laughs as the two spin around avoiding a different pair. “Tell that bloke soon yeah? You deserve someone nice.”

Harry blushes “I’ll tell him. Thanks Ron.”

#hpdabbles #Harry Potter #ron weasley #In this house we respect Ron Weasley #Ron has the glow up he deserves #Harry is a good friend #Harry/Ron #Harry having a bi awaking for ROn #Hermione is always down for self-care and self-love #Ron strut it!

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radiorenjun · 4 years

Text

I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, slight cussing or swearing, body pains, unrequited love, Jaemin finally getting karma for what he’s done, a bit of crying, brief mentions of death and flashbacks.

• Word count : 7.4k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: viii, ix

They say karma hits back at the best of times. In this case, it was no different with Na Jaemin.

As time went on Jaemin finds himself longing and missing your presence by every passing moment. It’s been a full month since you started avoiding him like the plague, never daring to meet his eyes or even turning your head to acknowledge his presence in the classroom. It was as if you hadn’t spent most of your life hanging out with each other. As if you two were complete strangers.

At first, Jaemin tried ignoring the empty feeling inside of him whenever you pass by without giving him a slight glance. Trying to focus on whatever he was doing and not turn his head whenever he heard somebody calling out your name or whenever he hears your voice nearby. But it appears to be getting harder and harder as time goes by.

He finds himself thinking back to all the things you both used to do together wherever he goes.

More or less, he doesn’t notice how his smile would quickly turn into a frown when he sees you hang around and act too friendly with Renjun. But then again, who was he to tell you what to do? He should be thrilled that you’ve finally decided to let go of him and get off his back. Yet again, he doesn’t seem too happy.

It seemed as if the world has turned upside down. Jaemin hadn’t noticed how many habits he developed in your absence from his life. He usually finds himself staring longingly at the shit polaroid the two of your took back when you were fourteen on your senior middle school field trip. A small smile stretching across his face when his mind wandered back to the exact moment when and where you took it.

“Jaemin!” you hissed loudly as you took your bag to pull out your polaroid camera that your grandma had bought you earlier on your birthday. You were both currently on break after a long hike and hours of camp activities. Jaemin turned his head, seeing you pull out your camera and blowing some dust off of it. Jaemin smiled as he shoved his hand in his own bag which had a hidden package of fluffy white marshmallows.

You were saving them for the bonfire later that night but what’s the harm in eating a few right? Jaemin shoved a marshmallow in his mouth as he got up to sit next to you on the dirty floor, the satisfying crunching sound of dried leaves being crumpled under his beige colored boots. “I thought you weren’t allowed to bring devices into camp,” Jaemin slumped down on the spot beside you, watching you fidget with your camera.

“I got permission from Mr.Jung. He said I could take some pics for the sake of saving memories, as long as I don’t blame him if I lose it,” you chuckled, turning to your best friend before your eyes lit up at the marshmallows in his palm. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from your camera to your pleading expression, puppy eyes boring into his, opening your mouth in a large ‘o’ shape.

Jaemin bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing, his hand picking up one of the marshmallows in the other before aiming it towards your mouth. When you leaned forward to gobble up the treat in between his finger, he pulled away teasingly, causing you to let out a short frown. He giggled at your reaction, pulling the marshmallow close to you before pulling away once again once you leaned forward.

“Jaemin, stop and let me have a marshmallow, you greedy goblin!” you whined, bumping your shoulder rather harshly against his teasingly. Jaemin broke into a fit of giggles, nodding with a giggly, “okay, okay. Chill out.”

He popped the fluffy treat into your mouth where you started humming in content, “thank you,” you replied melodiously with a wide smile. Jaemin laughed, ruffling your already messy hair before pulling his hat off his head to plop it lopsidedly on your head. You furrowed your brows, scrunching your nose as you pouted almost menacingly at him causing him to smile innocently and pinch your nose in between his free hand that wasn’t carrying the marshmallows.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, turning on your camera before Jaemin took it out of your grasp. “How much do you have left?” Jaemin asked, referring to the contents inside of your camera. You suddenly turned to him, camera closer to your face, quickly snapping a quick picture of his taken aback state. The flash coming from your camera nearly blinding him, causing black spots to line his vision for a couple of seconds. “Three, now.” you pulled the polaroid out of the dispenser, blowing on it smugly before shaking the piece of film in between your fingers.

“Great, then you don’t mind if we finish the last four polaroids on us?” Jaemin raised his brow in a rather flirtatious way. “Whatever, my grandma’s gonna gush about us either way, saying how pissed off she’ll be if we don’t end up as soulmates.” You shrugged as Jaemin lifted the camera to angle it so the two of you would be in the frame. Your grandmother was one of those people who were convinced that you two were going to be soulmates in the future. “That’s a risk I’ll be willing to take,” he nods with a laugh.

“Enough blabbering and put on a really ugly face so I can save it in my scrapbook, Na.” you joked, winking awkwardly at the camera as you brought your hand closer to your eye for a peace sign, hovering your index finger above the camera button. “Oh y/n, always so desperate to have more cringey pictures of me, aren’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a crush on me,” he smirked, causing you to lower your camera to purse your lips and roll your eyes at him.

“Just shut up and take a picture before I tell Mr. Seo that you’ve been eating all the marshmallows during the hike,” you threatened weakly, raising the camera once again to get a better angle. Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle before sucking in the corners of his lips into his mouth to make a duck face before his finger slowly slides onto the camera button, clicking it rather quickly.

For the next three shots, you two continued to goof off with either you or Jaemin ruining the last three photos. Only finally having a decent one when you threatened to burn his x-box if you didn’t get this last picture right. One polaroid had a picture of you pushing Jaemin’s face away from the camera, resulting in you showing your pearly white teeth.

“Shining shimmering splendid” as Jaemin liked to say.

The other was a slightly less blurry than the precious one, with Jaemin trapping you squealing and squirming in his arms, scrunching your face in disgust. You soon revealed that you had kept this in your scrapbook that you were so devoted to at the time.

The last picture was the clearest picture out of the four. A picture of you laughing brightly, hands pushing against Jaemin’s face, his lips puckered up to give you a teasing, friendly kiss. “I’m definitely keeping this,” Jaemin giggled, holding the polaroid in between his fingers with amusement written all over his face. You peeked at the photo in question, letting out a huff as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, it was a mistake to watch the Titanic with you,” you shoved Jaemin teasingly with a snicker, stuffing the other polaroids in the front pocket of your backpack. Jaemin pouted letting out a small “humph” as he crossed his arms rather childishly, “please?” he said, coming closer to you to poke your cheek.

You snickered at your best friend who was now pinching your cheek and chanting “please” in a playfully aggressive tone. “Pay me,” you stuck your tongue out jokingly, jaw dropping a second afterwards when you saw Jaemin pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “How much?” he asked, shuffling through his almost empty wallet. (He spent all the pocket money his parents gave him for a can of coke the seniors were selling during the hike, despite your protests)

You let out a laugh. “You idiot, I wasn’t serious, put your wallet back in before it cries at how empty it is, Jaemin.” you retorted, smacking his arm lightly as Jaemin smiled like a dork at your expression. “Oh, I see how this is. You just want to see how broke and empty my wallet is, didn’t you? You ” he accused, wiggling a finger in your face.

“Yes, I definitely wanted to see how broke you are after I told you multiple times that the juice our moms packed us is way more worth it than some soda our senior offered. Definitely not because I was joking or anything,” you laughed sarcastically, rolling your eyes at the boy who let out an embarrassed giggle. “Shut up!” he laughed, flicking your forehead.

“It was just coca cola, you nitwit. You have no right to complain considering you practically begged me to buy you one as well,” he retorted, pinching your cheek rather hard. “I only asked! It’s your own fault that you decided to buy me one, for all you knew I could’ve shared yours! But no, you’re a greedy little shit that wants to drink a whole can of cola by himself!” you shot back, laughing along as you pushed his hand away from your face.

“Clearly, coca cola means much more to you than our friendship. I can’t handle this betrayal!” you raised your arm to cover your eyes with the back of your hand dramatically, wailing like a banshee as Jaemin’s jaw dropped, feeling slightly offended at how you unceremoniously exclaimed his betrayal for the whole class to hear.

“L/N!”

Jaemin smiled to himself at the vivid memory, remembering how you both laughed so hard the majority of your whole trip, so hard that your stomachs’ were aching. Remembering how you squealed his name in alarm when you were squirming in his hold, trying to get out of his arms when Jaemin tried to place a kiss on your forehead in front of everyone to mess with you. Your classmates were surprisingly unfazed by the immense amount of platonic affection displayed in front of them, but you couldn’t blame them. This is Na Jaemin we’re talking about. The boy who flirted with his nurse while getting an injection in his ass.

Though, Jaemin never realized how mature you both have gotten since then. How since your 16th birthday, you stopped having midnight texts that made you both grip your own stomachs out of laughter. How you both stopped joking around as much. How this whole soulmate ordeal tore your friendship apart.

Jaemin would like to convince himself that this was all your fault. You were the one that caused your relationship to fall, with your over the top devotion to making him love you more than a friend would. He would like to think that if it weren’t for you being so clingy and dramatic when professing your love, he wouldn’t have lost his childhood best friend.

He sighed softly as he closed his locker, gripping his biology book against his side with one hand and gripping the saddle of his bag in the other. Jaemin despised this empty feeling in his chest.The feeling that as if something had gone missing in his life. The same feeling of how he lost his newest transformers action figure back when he was nine years old.

As he turned around the corner, pausing in his step as his eyes widened slightly to see you leaning against the locker with your friends. A bright expression on your face as you listened to your friend ranting bout whatever Jisung did to fool the newest math substitute teacher into giving them a free period.

Jaemin felt his mouth running dry, words stuck in his throat, a sudden uneasy feeling piling up into his chest. He scoffed lightly to himself, mentally scolding himself for his sudden nervousness. ‘Why am I getting nervous over this? It’s just y/n after all.’ he thought with furrowed brows before shaking the thought out of his head, huffing to himself before continuing on forward.

It felt as if the world had slowed down for a dramatic effect. As Jaemin passed by you and your friend, he couldn’t help but look at you in the corner of his eye, catching a small glimpse of your laughing figure. And to his surprise, your eyes darted to his own, catching his piercing gaze. Both of your eyes met for a brief moment, the sound of students chattering around you growing deaf for a split second.

That is, until Jaemin got snapped back into reality when he watched the happiness from your eyes evaporate. A sad, hurt expression replacing it as your pupils moved away from his own, he watched your head turn to look at your nails, pretending to listen to whatever your friend was saying as you tried to mask your hurt with a slight smile.

Jaemin’s heart ached, a frown taking place on his own lips as he tears his gaze away from your figure to look down on the tiled floor. Jaemin let out a loud exhale as he makes his way to class, There was something hurtful about the way your eyes instantly dart away to avoid his gaze, his heart aching at the thought that you couldn’t even look at him. Were you that upset bout the dinner party? He couldn’t recall the last time you were this upset.

As Jaemin sat on his usual spot in his Biology class, he began to get lost in his thoughts. The closest thing he remembered to you being this upset over something was when-

He was snapped out of his thoughts in a flash when he heard a loud container being dropped in front of him. Jaemin jumped in his seat at the startling noise, turning his head to the source of the action. Unsurprisingly, it was non other than his oh-so-precious seatmate, Lee Donghyuck himself. “What’s gotten you so pissed off? You looked as if you poured orange into your cereal instead of milk,” Donghyuck snickered.

“That’s a possible option considering I’m lactose intolerant, Hyuck.” Jaemin shot back with a rather sardonic tone. Hyuck chuckled, slumping in his seat beside Jaemin before continuing to speak. “Reminds me of when I bought you milk bingsu,” he snickers causing Jaemin to let out a soft chuckle, pushing the side of the older boy’s head away in retaliation. “You bitch, you knew I was allergic. Why couldn’t you just get me a fruit bingsu instead? Instead, you made y/n buy it.” Jaemin stopped himself from speaking any further, his mind drifting away to recall the wonderful memory.

“Jaemin, my good pal. You absolutely need to try this place’s milk bingsu.” Hyuck exclaimed as he sat down on the empty seat with his other friends with two big bowls of milk bingsu in his hands. Jaemin glanced up from his phone, a deadpanned expression spreading across his face as he slumped back in his seat with an offended frown plastered on his face.

“Lee Haechan, you know very well I’m lactose intolerant. Why couldn’t you just get a fruit bingsu?” Jaemin groaned, eyes glaring at his older friend who merely shrugged innocently as the rest of their friends dig into the scrumptious dessert with soft snickers coming out of their mouths. “The audacity,” Yeoreum snickered, waving a spoonful of the dessert in front of Jaemin’s face.

Jaemin huffed, blowing out a puff of air as he crossed his arms against his chest. “This speaks so much bout our friendship right now. Clearly, you guys don’t care bout me.” he muttered under his breath like a little 5 year old boy throwing a tantrum in his car when his mother said that they have food at home when he wanted Mc Donald’s.

“You’re such a baby. If you want one so much, go buy some.” Jeno chuckled, shoving Jaemin by the shoulder playfully causing Jaemin to let out a soft laugh. “Shut up, you know very well that I’ve gone broke from buying the latest Final Fantasy game.” he laughed, patting the empty wallet hidden in his jacket pocket.

“No wonder I couldn’t understand you. You’re speaking in broke with us rich kids, go away peasant.” Hyuck joked, earning a hard punch on the shoulder from the younger boy. “It was worth it,” he spat back. “ I’m good with starving for the rest of the month if it means I get to spend my whole weekend procrastinating on assignments for that glorious game,” he smiled in defeat.

“You big baby, I’ll buy it.” you sighed, standing up from your seat which was across the table from Jaemin’s, pulling out your own wallet from your hoodie, causing Jaemin’s jaw to drop. “Your girlfriend buying your meal for you, how romantic. Such a gentleman, Mister. Na Jaemin.” Hyuck applauded, clapping his hand together with each word that spews out of the idiot’s mouth.

“Y/n, you really don’t have to-” Jaemin insisted, standing up from his chair to look at you. Trying to swallow down the typical feeling of annoyance piling up in his chest whenever he talks to you, Jaemin tried to ignore the coos and howls of your friends gushing about how cute you two are. You had found out two of you were soulmates almost 6 months ago, and ever since then, things changed between you two.

You smiled briefly. At that time, Jaemin couldn’t decipher if she was just oblivious to the fact that he was annoyed and uncomfortable at that situation or you were just putting up a facade to mask your hurt when you saw his annoyed expression. “Hush, it’s not unusual for me to buy you things, Jaemin.” you grinned cheekily, walking up to the cashier and ignoring Jaemin’s annoyed whines.

Jaemin rolled his eyes at you in annoyance before sitting down and slumping in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Hey, at least you get a fruit bingsu,” Hyuck snickered. “Just like you wanted, right?” he leaned forward to pinch Jaemin’s cheeks, receiving a hard smack in response from the younger boy, an annoyed expression plastered across his face.

“Shut up, Hyuck.” he snarled, slumping in his seat in annoyance.

“Welp, no matter. I got you some cookies.” Hyuck sighed, pushing the container towards Jaemin, causing him to lift his brow questioningly. “Cookies?” he asked, surprised. “What’s the occasion? You never gave me anything before,” Jaemin opened it to reveal that the container was filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. “You seem pretty down these days so I figured you needed the old cheering up by your best pal, Haechan!” he exclaimed with enthusiastic jazz hands.

Jaemin chuckled lightly, grabbing one cookie. “Don’t worry, they’re those dark chocolate, no milk kinds of cookies. You won’t have to go to the bathroom with a stomach ache later on,” Donghyuck snickered, patting Jaemin’s back when Jaemin looks at him and the cookie suspiciously. “Where did you even get these? “ Jaemin asked, inspecting the cookie with furrowed brows, eyeing Donghyuck suspiciously as if Donghyuck had poisoned said cookie.

“Relax, Jaemin. I didn’t make them, so no pranks, I can promise you that.” Hyuck waved the back of his hand at Jaemin, telling him that he’s telling the truth. Jaemin shrugged, opening his mouth to eat the cookie before Hyuck spoke up again. “I got it from y/n,” Hyuck added on, making Jaemin pause, pulling the cookie away from his mouth.

“I think I’m good,” Jaemin muttered lowly, putting the cookie back into the container. ”Oh come on, Jaemin! I bet you missed tasting her cookies. Sure, you two aren’t haven’t been on speaking terms lately. But what’s stopping you from eating her Thursday Cookies? They’re literally to die for! Plus, you’re acting as if she poisoned them or something, it’s nothing like you never had before.” Hyuck groaned, grabbing two pieces of cookies and shoving one into Jaemin’s grip and tossing the other into his mouth.

Hyuck watched Jaemin from the corner of his eye, feeling sort of uneasy at the sad puppy-like expression plastered on his best friend’s face as he stared down at the cookie as if he was lost. “What’s wrong?” Hyuck asked with a raised brow, pushing back his bangs which almost covered his eyes. He might need a trim before Mark complains bout how his hair is gonna poke him in the eyes all the time.

Jaemin looks up at his friend with a startled expression as if Hyuck had snapped him out of his thoughts, Jaemin opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to think of something to say. “I’ve never had her cookies before,” Jaemin confessed, leaning his head against his palm, his elbow on the table. Hyuck’s eyes widened at the surprising statement, leaning forward to tell whether Jaemin is lying or not.

He wasn’t.

“WHAT?!” Hyuck exclaimed, attracting their classmates’ attention. Jaemin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the eyes of his classmates. “You couldn’t say that any louder, huh, Hyuck?” he shot back with a scowl. Though, Donghyuck didn’t care about the concerned eyes of his classmates boring into his skull for interrupting their conversation with his dramatic antics. “Don’t change the subject, Na.” Hyuck pointed a finger at his friend, a deep frown adorning his lips.

“What? I’m not,” Jaemin sighed heavily, looking back at his friend with a bored expression. “Stop lying!” Hyuck exclaimed, pressing his index finger against Jaemin’s nose. Jaemin raised his brow, “I’m really not, Hyuck. Why are you making such a big deal of this?” he asked with furrowed brows, concerned of his friend’s sanity. He really couldn’t remember why he was friends with Donghyuck at that given moment.

Donghyuck was acting as if he had just found out Jaemin is secretly those aliens that rule over the government, waiting for the right moment to start a world wide apocalypse. (according to Renjun’s theory during their shared art class, that is)

“Dude. I’m not an idiot, you practically received a life’s worth of her delicious cookies every week! How have you not tried at least one of these? These are literally heaven baked cookies! A salvation of life! The only thing that’s worth living in life! The-”

“Remind me how you’re not single again?”

Hyuck frowned, a pout appearing on his lips afterwards as Jaemin grinned proudly in response. “Whatever, what I mean is. I would literally send you death glares from across the hall because you were one lucky bastard to be receiving a large ass jar of cookies every week while I’m stuck here begging y/n for cookies only to receive, ‘oh, I gave them all to Jaemin.’ every week of my life.” he huffed, crossing his arms with a deep frown on his lips.

Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly at the statement, eyes falling back on the chocolate chip cookie in between his fingers. Did you really spend your time baking him cookies every week? He felt his heart flutter at the thought, a warm feeling in his stomach suddenly appeared as he eyed the cookie.

“Hey Jaemin?”

Jaemin looks up from his locker, humming to see none other than your presence. “Y/n?” he raised his brow, stuffing his Chemistry textbook into his locker and grabbing his Math textbook as he speaks. “What’s up?” he asked in a bored tone, adverting his gaze back to the contents of his locker, pulling out the books he needs for his next class.

“So, I baked you some cookies. I used your mom’s recipe for your favorite peanut butter and dark chocolate chip cookies that we used to eat as kids together.” you exclaimed, handing him a clear air-tight glass jar filled to the brim with delicious cookies. Jaemin looked at the jar filled with cookies before sighing up at you, tired eyes boring into yours. “Y/n, as much as I love accepting gifts from you and as much as I love the fact that you care about me, but you really need to stop doing this.” Jaemin sighed, stretching out his hand to give you back your cookies.

“What?” you frowned slightly. “It’s just too much, I appreciate you giving me so much of these cookies. But it’s kind of a waste to give me so many don’t you think? I mean, I know loads of people who would want your cookies way more than I do. You’ve given me so much cookies, I’m not even eating them!” Jaemin exclaimed almost exasperatedly, sighing heavily afterwards. His eyes glancing at the jar filled with delicious treats to your soft pleading eyes boring into his.

“Come on, it’s just a jar of cookies. It would mean a lot if you accept them, I worked hard to bake them,” you pouted, giving him that look you often use to make him give in. Jaemin would often compare your expression to that iphone emoji with puppy pleading eyes whenever he gives in to your wants and needs. Jaemin almost let out a scowl at your remark, almost retorting back with a ‘it’s your own fault. I didn’t ask for cookies in the first place.’

He tried his best not to roll his eyes, sighing in defeat as he gave in to your pleas. “Fine, only because I can’t say no to that look,” he huffed, masking his annoyance with a pout of his own, shoving the jar of cookies into the front pocket of his bag. He watched as your puppy-like pout morph into a happy, pleased expression, reminding him of the cute emoticons he always used in his phone. He didn’t know why but It always brings a small smile to his lips to see your happy expression.

“Yay!” you cheered rather enthusiastically. “Why do you like giving me cookies so much anyways? It’s a becoming a weekly routine now for me to get cookies from you.” Jaemin chuckled as you both began to walk side by side to your next class. He watched as you shrugged simply, eyes forward, waving at a few students who passed by. “I just like giving gifts to my soulmate,” you giggled at him, skipping away from him before he could scold you for saying it out loud.

He shrugged, taking a bite out of the cookie before widening his eyes at the sweet taste. He let out a surprised hum, eyeing the cookie as if he was Aladdin and the cookie was the golden lamp with a genie inside. “Good, right?” Hyuck chuckled, amused by his friend’s expression. “ I still can’t believe you never tried these before. She says she got the recipes from Buzzfeed but I don’t buy it, I’ve tried making some with Mark but they don’t taste nearly as good as hers.” Hyuck blabbered on.

“On a rare occasions she would hand them over. But those are only when your ungrateful ass kept refusing her cookies. Like, it often made me think, ‘why couldn’t Mark bake as well as-” Hyuck’s words eventually gone deaf to the younger boy’s ears, head filled with his own loud thoughts as the sweet flavor of the cookie entranced his taste buds.

He remembers constantly rejecting your gifts every time you came up to him with hands hidden behind your back, trying every possible excuse in the book so that you would possibly give them to someone else. Or even suggesting that you should give them to Hyuck whenever Jaemin spotted him talking to Jeno across the hall in the corner of his eye. Avoiding your slightly saddened expression. On rare occasions, you would give in with a sad smile and give them to either Jeno, Haechan or some other lucky soul that gets to have free cookies.

“Like, I’ve had her give me some of her super special recipes but they just hit differently from hers you kno-”

“It taste like her hugs.”

“What?”

Jaemin’s eyes widened when he realized he said that last bit out loud, his head turning to his friend who mirrored his wide eyed expression. There was a pregnant pause between the two boys, taking in the words that accidentally slipped out of Jaemin’s mouth. Jaemin opened his mouth to speak, trying to come up with something to say to cover up the previous statement he had made.

Hyuck furrowed his brows at his friend.

“You can taste hugs?”

“Mr. Lee is coming!” someone exclaimed, causing Hyuck and Jaemin to sit up in their chairs. Jaemin shoved the rest of the half eaten cookie into his mouth as Hyuck quickly closed the container and snuck it quickly into his bag, trying to act as casual as possible as their teacher walked into class with his usual stoic expression.

“Good morning, class. We have no time to waste, exams are in a month. Please open your textbooks to page 67.” their teacher announced in his typical booming voice, turning around to start explaining on the whiteboard in front of them. Jaemin glanced at Hyuck for a split second, diverting his gaze away when he caught his eye. Hyuck shrugged simply, burying his head into his arms into a sleeping position.

Jaemin wasn’t surprised to see Hyuck closing his eyes in content, thus, not paying attention to the lecture. It wasn’t such an unusual thing for Lee Donghyuck to doze off during class, thus ignoring the whole lecturing and depending on other students for notes or seniors for cheat sheets. Jaemin hoped Hyuck would let go of what he said earlier or even better, pretend it never happened.

As Jaemin advert his eyes back to the whiteboard and started to listen to Mr. Lee’s explanations, he didn’t realize Hyuck, whose face was hidden and buried in his arms, was staring into darkness with sad half-lidded eyes. He knew full well who Jaemin was talking about, he knew what was happening with Jaemin. The fate of those who rejected their soulmate’s love. He knew this would happen eventually but he didn’t expect this to happen so soon.

Deep down, he felt sympathy for what’s to come to his dear friend. He knew from here on out, it’s going to be a roller coaster of emotions for his dear friends and he was afraid of finding out the end to their story.

Jaemin often spent his Thursdays hanging out at the arcade with his friends right after practice. As the good friend Jaemin was, he would often go broke from treating his team for some food and beverages. (As long as they didn’t get on his bad side or anything) Especially for those who were feeling down that whole week. Jaemin was more than willing to sacrifice his wallet’s contents for the sake of his friends smiling again.

But this time, to Jaemin’s surprise, Jeno was the one who offered to sacrifice his wallet for the team this week. Due to the exhaustion and stress of his constant chest pains, wrist pains, long endless assignments and his upcoming midterm exams, all he wanted to do that weekend was get at least 18 hours of sleep and binge watch the latest series that just came out recently.

But since, Jeno, the one and only Jeno who was the one who usually encourages the rest of the team to make Jaemin’s wallet an empty little bitch, was willing to empty out his pockets this time. He couldn’t say no. Hell if Jeno was the one paying, that meant someone in the team was feeling down or needed a real cheering up.

Plus, it was finally his turn to scream, “BUY EVERYTHING YOU CAN. JENO’S PAYING, WHOEVER’S GOT THE MOST EXPENSIVE SHIT WILL GET A FREE JAR OF COOKIES!”

You can tell Jaemin had been waiting decades to say that.

But sadly, he was too tired from all the pain he was dealing with every hour of his day that he was basically dragging himself across the floor when they arrived at the mall, making their way to the arcade with Jeno and Haechan’s arms slung over Jaemin’s shoulder, making a little skip with every step they take. “How do you guys have the energy for this?” Jaemin croaked, putting on a sloppy smile to mask his exhaustion.

“Said by the guy who drinks expresso every morning with what? Four extra shots? With no water nor sugar? Six times a day?” Hyuck replied in a sassy tone, nodding his head cockily at the younger boy. “Besides, it’s a once in a life time opportunity to make our Lee Jeno broke and penniless. The thought of Jeno’s wallet crying out of hunger will always be my mood booster.” he added on with a proud smirk, causing Jeno to roll is eyes.

“Plus, you, my friend, looks exhausted as hell. You need some refreshing fun time with your best buds, Jeno and Haechan!” Jeno exclaimed with a proud smile, whipping out his VIP card in between his fingers like some kind of weird card trick. (which he rarely whips out when going to the arcade because why bother bringing a wallet when Jaemin or Chenle exists in their friend group?)

“What?” Jaemin deadpanned, brows furrowed in confusion.

“We exist, too, hyung!” Chenle exclaimed behind them in an offended tone, waving his hand in the air to alert his seniors that his existence was right behind them. “Honestly, we’re here because Haechan-hyung said Jeno-hyung finally brought his wallet,” Jisung snickered, finally lifting his eyes up from the nintendo switch his mom bought him a couple months ago.

“Not wrong, really.” Chenle shrugged, pulling Jaemin forward so that they could walk side by side with their seniors. “You know, you’re the rich one here. Why don’t you treat your seniors once in a while,” Jaemin teased, sending the Chinese boy a cheeky grin. “That’s because you’re mean. I don’t treat mean people,” he replied back with a cackle.

“I brought you kimchi last week, you ungrateful brat.” Jaemin hissed back as the five of them entered the crowded arcade, music booming loudly in their ears, bright lights from the arcade games nearly blinding their eyes. “What game should we play first?” Hyuck clapped his hands, rubbing them against each other with a sinister expression as Jeno came up to the counter to check his VIP card, nervously opening his wallet.

“Oh, what bout those-” as Jisung continues to speak, pointing at a random direction. The wide grin on Jaemin’s face soon dissipated when he heard a familiar laugh through the symphony of random gaming music. His head turned to see the source to confirm his suspicions, eyes widening when he saw you laughing with a bunch of your other friends.

What made his smile evaporate in a second was the sight of Renjun right beside you, leaning his arm against the game you were playing, laughing along with you as the rest of your friends continued to cheer for you to win. Jaemin felt the oh-so-familiar electrifying sting under the skin beneath his wristwatch, wincing slightly at the burning pain. He tried to mask his pain and turn his head away, his heart feeling heavy at the sight happening a few meters away from him.

Jaemin snuck his aching wrist into the baggy pockets of his jacket. Eyes back to his friends who were laughing at Jeno’s puppy-like expression to his now half empty wallet. He bit back a pained hiss, his heart beat muffling the loud noise around him as he watched Renjun lean closer to you to look closer at the game screen, his blood boiling at the mere sight.

He turned his gaze away following his friends to the long aisle of racing games, watching as Hyuck grabbed the play card from Jeno’s fingers and hopped into one of the games. “Jaemin get over here so I can beat your ass!” Hyuck exclaimed eagerly as Jaemin let out a soft sigh and sat on the empty seat inb between Hyuck and Jisung.

“The one with the lowest score has to chug down Jaemin’s disgusting Starbucks order,” Chenle snickered, sliding the card against the slot before handing it to Jaemin. “Then I’ll gladly lose on purpose, my drink tastes like rainbows and unicorns, thank you very much” Jaemin laughs, carefully taking out his aching wrist to grip the fake steering wheel, ignoring the excruciating pain in his skin as he passes the card to Donghyuck.

“Shut up, Jaemin.” Hyuck teased as they begun to play.

Jaemin’s mind fluttered through the nostalgic memories of his childhood with you, remembering the first time your parents ever brought you to the arcade. When they had to use a certain amount of those silver or gold coins to play games. As Jaemin walked side by side with his friends, sipping his Starbucks order in his right hand (he lost the game on purpose because despite the empty pain in his chest, he could always distract his mind away from the pain with his precious expresso that Jeno payed) and his left back in his pockets.

Jaemin’s eyes paused at the familiar aisle of crane games, remembering those lovely times when you were both still in middle school, you would always play crane games to see who would get the most prizes. Coming home with a bag filled with plushies or small toys and wide grins on your faces as both of your parents just stared at the two of you in disappointment for spending their money on crane games.

‘It’s an investment’ you would always say whenever you ran towards the crane games with Jaemin trailing right behind you, whining bout how you rarely play the other fun games just to waste your money in a bunch of small hand sized plushies. ‘Investment into what exactly? You have a bunch of plushies in your shelf that aren’t doing anything but collecting dust,’ he would chuckle as he watched you slip a coin or two into the machine with your tongue stuck out in concentration. ‘Into my happiness,’ you would reply with a smug expression before focusing on the crane inside the glass box.

He smiled to himself at the memory, his eyes catching a few kids gathering up at the crane games, screaming and hollering every few seconds when their friend accidentally moved the crane too far from the doll. His chest aching once again when a brief memory of when you two were in your first year of middle school, screaming whenever the timer runs out right when you were bout to drop the claw with his hands filled with a towers worth of plushies and you laughing in victory like a maniac as you both watched the pocket money in your wallet slowly disintegrate into nothingness.

“You’re into crane games, Jaemin?” Jeno asked, causing Jaemin to snap out of his thoughts. “Huh?” Jaemin turned to look at his friends, his mind still in a blurry haze. “You’ve been staring at those kids as if they had stolen your last candy bar,” Jeno commented with a slight laugh, nodding his head towards the group of kids, screaming in victory when the claw machine dropped the large stuffed animal into the gigantic slot.

“It just reminded me of something,” Jaemin put on a slight smile, shaking his head with a light laugh, continuing on drinking his expresso and moving on forward to the music games. Hyuck gave Jeno a worried look, who sent him back a concerned look of his own as the two of them caught up with Jaemin. (Chenle and Jisung went to the snack bar near the arcade to get some snacks to sneak in the movies later)

“You okay, buddy? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently,” Hyuck asked in a concerned tone, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin turned to Hyuck with eyes void of emotion, a frown displayed on his face as he casually sipped his drink. “Yeah? I guess,” he shrugged simply, avoiding Hyuck’s concerned eyes.

“You sure? You don’t look too well,” Jeno asked, brows furrowed even more as Jaemin let out a small nod. He could feel his heart getting heavy with each second, his wrist aching even more as he tried to avoid his friends’ worried expressions, trying to act nonchalant as if he wasn’t clenching his fist tightly in his pocket to try to suppress the excruciating pain he was enduring.

“Guys, really, I’m fine.” Jaemin forced a smile on to his face, turning his head away from Hyuck and Jeno. At that exact moment, Jaemin regretted turning his head away. His eyes widened to see you with your friends, your arm was wrapped around a gigantic penguin plushie, talking to Renjun with a wide smile, a laugh eliciting from you when Renjun said something that Jaemin couldn’t make out.

“Did you really have to spend most of your money on a bunch of plushies?” Renjun chuckled, nodding to Yebin who was carrying three shopping bags worth of random plushies. You giggled, nodding as you reached up to pinch Renjun’s cheek eagerly. “It’s an investment into my happiness, leave me alone Injun.” you giggled, clutching the penguin tighter against you when you felt it slipping in between your arms.

Renjun slapped your hand away from his cheek, huffing out exasperatedly before grabbing your plushie from your arms and into his. “Let me carry that,” he sighs, adjusting his grip slightly before sending you a soft smile. “Renjun you really don’t have to,” you frowned, tugging the flippers of the penguin as if he was going to give you back your plushie.

“I’ve already made Youngheum and Yebin my slaves, I don’t need you stooping into their levels,” you joke, dodging the dog plushie Yebin had threw at you right after Youngheum let out a dramatic, “BETRAYAL!” as they dropped shopping bags filled with your prizes unceremoniously.

“Shut up and let me carry this for you, you ungrateful little shit.” Renjun chuckled, using a hand to carry the life-sized penguin plushie to flick your forehead. “The audacity, I’ll be sure to bake you guys a fuck ton of cookies this week,” you snickered as Hyunjin let out a laugh. “I want cookies too!” he exclaimed, shaking your shoulders vigorously as he whined.

Jaemin let out a loud groan of pain as he felt an intense stinging sensation, his heart was beating erratically in his ears. “Jaemin, you okay?” Hyuck asked, pulling his arm away from Jaemin’s shoulders as Jaemin bit his lip to suppress a hiss. Jeno and Hyuck turned to see what Jaemin was glaring at, eyes widening at you standing so closely to Renjun.

“Jaem-”

Their eyes widened when they silently watched Jaemin pulling his wrist out of his pocket, tugging his wrist watch down to see the oh-so-familiar tattoo glowing a bright blood crimson red. The words were stuck in their throat, they didn’t know what to say. Or if they could even say anything as they silently watched their friend bit his lip and clench his eyes shut at the pain of his wrist and chest.

“Shit, what’s going on?” Jisung’s deep voiced cut through the tense atmosphere, causing Jeno and Hyuck to turn to see Jisung and Chenle with their jaws dropped, arms filled with snacks as they stared at their Team Captain with horrified eyes. Jaemin’s eyes were glossy from the intense pain, his chest was aching like hell, his heartbeat muffling the music around him as he hissed out in pain, eyes still on your figure laughing with Renjun.

“Get Jaemin, out of here. I knew this was going to happen but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” Jeno ordered, trying to pull Jaemin out of the arcade but the boy could barely move. The pain getting more intense and intense by the second as Jaemin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two figures standing not even a couple meters away from them.

“Jaemin come on, it’s gonna get even worse if you stay here.”

T A G G I N G : @lixseu @morks-watermelon @cherrystay @candiednickles @12am-musings @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @d-nghyck @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @aconeptun @comically-sleep-deprived @wtfhaechan @chaeshii

TAG LIST IS : O P E N E D ! do inform me if you changed your url. I couldn’t tag three people i’m so sorry idk what’s going on

#NCT-WRITERS #jaemin #NCT #jaemin x reader #jaemin angst #nct x reader #nct dream jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct x you #nct dream x reader #nct dream na jaemin x reader #nct dream

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a-sirens-melody · 4 years

Text

Darkwing Duck’s Greatest Enemy: Type 1 Diabetes (And Definitely Not Self Loathing)

Quick author's note: Launchpad switches between he/they throughout the fic, just so no one gets confused! If you have any questions abt diabetes, feel free to ask me. With that said, enjoy!

***

So far, tonight has gone really well.

It's date night, and this time they're spending it eating takeout from Hamburger Hippo and watching Darkwing Duck at Launchpad's place. Wrappers lay on the floor, ignored in favor of watching Darkwing kick Megavolt’s ass on screen.

Drake is currently leaning into Launchpad's side on the couch, his partner’s arm wrapped around his waist. It all feels so cozy and domestic that he never wants it to end.

And then, because Drake must have seriously pissed off some powerful being in a past life, it happens.

Megavolt’s face becomes blurry, and it's a little harder to focus on the TV. A quick look around the room tells him that, actually, it's hard to focus on anything right now. He knows what this means; he's gotten better at picking up on the signs after twenty-eight years of living with a half-functioning pancreas.

His blood sugar’s starting to drop.

He tries to close his eyes and listen instead, but the shake of his hands quickly corrects him. He is dropping and he needs to find something to eat. Even though he just ate, like, an hour ago.

Dammit.

“Drake?”

He opens his eyes and notices that the episode is paused. He hadn't even realized, he was so caught up in his symptoms. The second thing he notices is Launchpad looking right at him.

He guesses that they felt his shaking because there's concern in their eyes now. A brief wave of guilt sweeps over him and he almost misses their question. “Is your blood sugar low?”

He finds it's a little hard to form words right now (and that scares him, it always does), so he nods his head slightly and hums.

“I'm gonna go get you a juice box.”

The arm wrapped around him vanishes as LP gets up. He helps him lay down on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He's still cold without his boyfriend, though, so Drake can't help the small whine that escapes him. God, he sounds pathetic.

Launchpad's eyes soften and they lean down to kiss his forehead. “I'll be right back, okay?”

A little embarrassed, Drake nods and watches the other duck head to his fridge. He closes his eyes again and almost sighs in relief as he's met with darkness. You can't lose your focus if there's nothing to focus on in the first place.

Did that even make sense? Whatever. His brain’s not working properly right now.

The sounds of his partner rummaging through the shelves fill the air. Drake is reminded of earlier when things felt so domestic between them. It's only been a couple of months since they started dating, but Launchpad already feels like the home he never had.

Drake doesn't know how he got so lucky; sometimes it all feels like a dream.

Launchpad leaving is his worst nightmare. He knows he's being a little dramatic, but his anxiety gets the better of him sometimes. He's too much, too expensive, too-

“Found it!” Footsteps pull Drake out of his thoughts and he cracks his eyes open. Launchpad already tore off the wrapping on the plastic straw and stuck it in the box. He holds it out now and places it near Drake's beak. “Drink this, okay?”

He moves the straw into his mouth with a hum and starts sucking the juice down, only stunned for a second at the chill. Fruit punch, his mind distantly informs him. It's his favorite flavor, but he's too focused on getting it into his system to really appreciate it right now.

When the juice box is thoroughly drained, he gives his boyfriend a small smile. He feels like he can talk without sounding like he's drunk now, so he says, “thanks, LP.”

“Anytime,” is the warm reply he receives. If Drake was of sound mind, he would kiss Launchpad breathless and maybe, maybe, utter those three little words that have grown harder to ignore as of late.

I love you.

The words are barely on the tip of his tongue even now. Yikes, his filter's pretty weak already. He tries to stuff the words down by chewing on the straw. Struggling with one of the disadvantages of diabetes is not his ideal confession scenario. Besides, it's way too soon to say that. Right? Right.

“Didn't think you kept juice boxes in your fridge,” he says instead. Not only is he trying to distract himself from his low brain feelings, he's genuinely curious. He doesn't recall seeing any juice boxes in LP’s fridge the last time he was here, and their favorite flavor is apple.

“Nah. Not for myself, at least.” They smile fondly at him. “I remembered that it's your favorite flavor, though, and I wanted to have something for whenever you went low over here.”

Wait.

Launchpad bought those for him? Specifically for him? And remembered his favorite flavor from a conversation they had three months ago when they asked Drake what he usually ate when his blood sugar went low?

That's...

“That's really sweet of you, LP. Thanks.” He says, because he's not really sure what to say. It's such a small act of kindness, something he's not used to, and he doesn't know how to deal with the sudden warmth in his chest.

He's too low for this. Feeling more intense emotions is a very frequent symptom of his when he's low, that's what this is. Yeah. Definitely.

His boyfriend's smile turns shy. “You don't have to thank me. Whatever helps you the most. Speaking of which, do you want me to bring your kit over here? I mean, obviously you feel low, but. Better to have an exact number, right?” Launchpad rambles, hand reaching to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

That's a good point, actually. He has to be in the 40’s if he's feeling this bad. “Yes, please.”

Launchpad reaches to the side of his couch where Drake's bag is. Inside is his blood sugar kit (complete with a pricker, replaceable barrels, meter, test strips, insulin, and syringes), various small snacks in case he goes low when he's out, and a glucagon. He really hopes that last item is not going to be needed tonight.

He probably shouldn't have dropped the bag there, but he wanted to start their date. Can you really blame him?

The kit is found and placed onto the couch. Drake starts to reach for it, but suddenly there's a hand covering his.

“Can I check you, please?” He looks up and finds Launchpad staring at him. “I don't- if you don't want me to touch your stuff, I get it, but. You feel bad. So will you let me do it?”

You...want to help me? You don't want me to do this on my own?

“Sure. Just ask if you dunno what goes where, okay?” Drake says, thankful that his voice is somewhat steadier than his hands.

His partner nods and gets to work. They asked once how everything in the kit worked so Drake laid it all out and taught him. It felt nice having someone who wanted to listen to him talk about diabetes stuff.

He hears the test strip bottle close with a pop and the pricker calibrate with a ca-click. Just as Launchpad asks, he holds out a finger and lets his mind drift.

It's really not something he's used to, having someone around that he trusts will take care of him. For as long as he can remember, Drake could only rely on himself to get through whatever diabetic crisis he faced.

He was eight when he was diagnosed. At first, his parents did most of the hard work. He picked up on checking his blood sugar pretty quickly, but they would manage all his carb ratios and injections.

Then, they just sort of…stopped. Like they had only done it for him in the first place because he was too young to fully understand. By the time he was thirteen, he did pretty much everything on his own. So much so that more often than not on the tri-monthly visits to his endocrinologist, the car ride would be spent drilling his parents on what the past three months had been like.

Not that they ever told him they didn't care or want to care to his face. No, Drake had just picked up on it. But the night he overheard them talking about medical expenses was a particularly rude awakening.

He couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to watch some Darkwing Duck. He barely made it out of his bedroom when he heard voices.

“Why's everything gotta be so damn expensive!?”

Ah. His dad was looking at bills. So much for a DW marathon in peace and quiet. Drake had one foot back in his bedroom when he heard his mother reply.

“It doesn't really help that our current bank account looks like that, either…”

Forget going back to bed, his curiosity was peaked. He stayed still, straining to hear.

He wished he hadn't at what he heard next.

“Yeah, well, having a defective kid ain't cheap. Why couldn't you have had a normal one?”

To this day, he still remembers how his heart sank to his stomach.

Defective.

Is that why they stopped helping? Why, at age sixteen, it was unspoken knowledge that Drake managed everything on his own? They didn't see a literal child in need, they saw a column of dollar signs. A black hole that sucked up all their cash and never gave it back.

His mom stayed quiet, and that hurt even more. She didn't care, either. Neither one of them did.

They were both selfish assholes that only cared about the alcohol they could've had stocked in their kitchen.

He cried himself to sleep that night, mourning the days when he could still trust his parents to take care of him and wishing he didn't have to live like this. If no one wanted to help him, he’d suck it up on his own. No one wanted to take care of him? Fine. Drake Mallard didn't need anyone else. He was better off on his own.

Those horrible feelings crash over him like a tidal wave now, twenty years later, and he doesn't know why they're here but he's overwhelmed by it all.

Why can't he just have a normal body? Why does his condition have to be so expensive and annoying and miserable sometimes? Why does he have to be so dependent on people when he tells himself that he’s better off working alone, when no one in his life has loved him enough to care anyway?

There's a price tag on his head (not just physical, because diabetes is a greedy little bitch), and it's only a matter of time until Launchpad figures this out. He won't want to stay up late to keep checking, to keep buying syringes or insulin or tests strips. He won't stay forever, and it's all Drake's fault, for getting so attached and having a broken, shitty body.

“Drake? Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. There are tears in his eyes, a few of which have spilled down his cheeks.

“Uh,” his voice cracks. He wipes away the tears with his other hand. “No. N-no, you didn't do anything wrong. What were you doing?”

Launchpad cocks his head to the side and squints in concern. He knows there's more to Drake's answer, but he doesn't push yet. “I pricked your finger and put the blood in. You didn't even flinch, but I thought that was ‘cause you're used to this. Was there another reason?”

“I'm sorry.” And before Launchpad can start to ask for what? with his mouth already open, Drake rushes to say, “I'm sorry that out of all the people you could date, you got stuck with a chronically ill mess like me. You deserve a normal partner, and god you have no idea how badly I wish I was, but I'm not. I'll always be a burden and I know you won't want to stick around to deal with all the shit that comes with diabetes.

“Not that I don't want you to stay, please don't think that, but…” More tears fall and he brushes them aside, accidentally smearing blood on his feathers. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me, and I don't want it to stop.”

He doesn't take his eyes off of Launchpad as he cries. If this were a cartoon, he would laugh at how quickly their expression changes. Confusion, concern, and realization flash across their face before their eyes soften again in concern.

“Baby,” they say, reaching out to cradle Drake's face. They gently wipe away the blood with their thumb, and Drake feels weak. Loving touches were something he was never given as a child, and it's taken some getting used to. It burns, unfamiliar and wonderful, every time Launchpad touches him. All he can do in this moment is lean into it and shut his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” He groans internally as he opens his eyes. Later, when his blood sugar isn't so low and he can properly think, he’ll recall the look on his boyfriend's face as determined. “I love you, so much. You're not a burden, and you never will be. Being with you is a new experience, sure, but it's a good one. It's not your fault your body's like this, and it doesn't make you any less amazing.

“Heck, if anything, it makes you even more so. You have to do more to stay healthy than most people, and you're really good at it! St. Canard is a better place with Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard.” Launchpad leans in to kiss his forehead. “They were wrong, you're not unlovable.”

He's so gentle, so sweet, and it's all too much for Drake to wrap his mind around. Never mind the low, he's just heard what he's secretly always wanted to. He is good. He is loved. He...needs to know what his blood sugar actually was before he cries an entire ocean. One more thing, though.

“Uh,” seems like a good place to start as he scrambles to pick up the pieces of himself. He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you. Sorry I dumped all of that onto you, I don't know where it came from tonight, but. Thanks. I really needed that.”

LP still looks a little sad and it makes his heart hurt, but he bites down on his beak to avoid apologizing again. “No problem. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere.” He strokes his cheek some more, and Drake sighs.

“This is nice and all, but,” his eyes dart to the meter still sitting in front of him. They got distracted for too long and now the little screen is dark. “Did you catch the number that showed up?”

“Buh?” Launchpad's eyes widen as he remembers what they were doing before. “Oh, dang it! Sorry! Do I need to do it again, or-”

Eh, they probably should, but Drake doesn't want to. It hasn't been too long anyways, maybe five minutes? He’ll be fine. “No, you're good, just press the button with the arrows. All the pricks get stored so you can look at them later.”

Any distress on their face is quickly replaced by a beaming smile. “Neat!” They do as Drake asked, and a number pops up: 46.

“Lovely,” Drake groans. “And I just ate. Maybe I just took too much insulin. Or am I getting sick? If I can't keep anything down in the next hour, I swear-”

LP snapping his fingers in his face pulls him away from his rambling. “Hello? Earth to Drake Mallard. I dunno what made you low, but we gotta fix it first. Would more juice work?”

Oh yeah. Hm, more juice or something else? Even though he feels exhausted, going to sleep is a bad idea. He's gotta stay up until he's back in range, so…

“Actually, do you have any Pep?” Launchpad tilts his head and furrows his brow as Drake explains. “Normally I wouldn't ask, but I think something with that much sugar would really help. Plus, the caffeine will keep me awake.”

They look less confused now, but their head remains tilted slightly. “There's not that much caffeine in Pep, though.”

“You forget I don't drink the regular Peps nearly as often as you do, LP.” The last time he actually had one was...ten years ago? They work great for treating a low quickly and that's the only time he ever cares to drink them. It's not worth the extra insulin or highs to try to look normal.

“Oh yeah! So you're not used to the sugar.” He nods. “Okay, be right back.” Launchpad takes about twenty seconds to get a Pep and come back to Drake. The tab's already open. “Uh, do you need to drink the whole thing right now?”

He really shouldn't, the juice is probably still processing. Still, it's very tempting to chug the entire thing just to put more sugar in his body. But he wants his blood sugar to be normal, not sky high. “No, I'll probably drink half of it right now. Thank you.” He takes the Pep and sips, blinking at the sheer amount of sugar flooding his taste buds.

The fact that most people drink enough of this stuff to where they hardly notice it boggles his mind. Not that the diet stuff is really healthier, but it's definitely a different taste.

Guess he's pulling a graveyard shift tonight. But at least he's with Launchpad.

(That's the other thing about drinking regular sodas; he gets really hyper. Last time, he couldn't fall asleep until exactly two am. Being tired but unable to sleep is the absolute worst feeling, and you can't change Drake's mind.)

Now that he can think a little more clearly, he realizes something.

“I can't drive like this,” he says. Driving with a low blood sugar is really dangerous, and not his usual kind. It's the kind of dangerous that could get himself, or someone else, or even both, killed. “And I'm definitely not walking home anytime soon, so. Guess our date’s been extended?”

Launchpad blinks at him, then claps his hands together and grins. “You're staying overnight! I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, obviously, but. Yay!” He rocks on his heels before catching himself and looking away, a faint blush appearing on his face. “Anyways, is there anything else you need?”

Drake's about to reply not right now, thank you, but then he realizes something that's actually pretty important.

“Wait, since I'm staying here tonight, could I use your bathroom really quick? I, uh, need to take my binder off,” he admits. He’d forgotten it was even there until he remembered wait, you need to take that off before you go to sleep. He put it on about a half hour after he woke up, which was at noon, and it's midnight now so...oops. It's past time to take it off.

His boyfriend nods. “Yeah, no worries! Do what you gotta do. Wait.” His brow furrows. “You need me to help you over there?”

“I,” he falters. “Wouldn't mind it if you did.” The sugar's kicking in now, but he still doesn't trust himself. Given how clumsy he is? Better safe than sorry.

Launchpad holds his arms as he walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, Launchpad sitting in front of it just in case, and turns to the mirror. His shirt hits the floor, soon followed by his binder. A sigh of relief fills the air as he folds it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing it. Tomorrow will have to be a skip day just to stay on the safe side.

(Hormones aren't a concern; he's not on them right now and is perfectly fine with that. The cost of that and insulin would be hard to juggle, anyways.)

He opens the door to find Launchpad staring at him, and he smiles shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad smiles back, and holds out his hand. Drake takes it and pulls his boyfriend to his feet. They walk back to the couch together. “So, what are we doing? You can't go to sleep until your blood sugar's back up and we were in the middle of an episode of Darkwing Duck.”

“I like the way you think,” Drake teases. “So long as you check every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen asleep yet.” He sits down in his original spot.

“Whatever you need,” they reply, and sit down next to him. They wrap their around his waist and Drake leans into their side as he tries to find the remote. It occurs to him just then that there's still something he hasn't said yet. Something bigger than “thank you.”

He taps LP on the shoulder. They turn to look at him and oh no, he's already flustered. “I just. You said you, uh, loved me earlier and I wanted to say that, that I love you too.” His face is burning, and he got quieter at the end, but at least it’s out in the open now.

Launchpad’s eyes soften and he tilts his head close enough to kiss Drake. It's a quick peck, but sweet nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's smiling. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

Drake only blushes more and buries his face in Launchpad's chest. He can feel Launchpad chuckle and oh. Oh, that's really nice. He likes that a lot. He would stay right here, but the sounds of the Darkwing Duck episode are a siren song that never fails to lure him in.

They stay there, watching episode after episode and Launchpad checking in every so often. By the time Drake's blood sugar has gone back to normal, he stops watching and starts really thinking about the events of the night.

He doesn't have to do this on his own anymore. Someone actually wants to take care of him now.

He is loved. Really, truly loved. And he’ll never let Launchpad go.

#IT WORKS ON MOBILE #thank you god #anyways tada!!#ducktales #darkwing duck #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #my writing #drake has t1d the fic basically #and really bad parents but that's not new

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childishfluff · 4 years

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Little Kitten- [TommyInnit Pet Regression Oneshot]

Pet Regressor/Kitten!TommyInnit, CGs/Handlers!Wilbur and Tubbo

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten. He liked cat ears and playing with balls of yarn, and curling up in a little ball to take a nap. None of this was a problem until Wilbur and Tubbo came to stay at his house for a week, and he had to hide both a littlespace, *and* a kittenspace. And when Tubbo continuously calls him a "kitten" due to his results on a stupid internet "what animal am I" quiz, and Wilbur literally pets him while cuddling, he realizes he wasn't going to last a day. He was simply a little kitten. And now his friends knew that. -- This is non-sexual, sfw age+pet regression, dni if your nsfw/abdl/ageplay/petplay/cgl/ect. If any of the creators included in this work say *anything* about being uncomfy with fan fiction/of agere content including them, I will take this down and/or modify it appropriately. If they have already said something that I'm unaware of, please let me know.

A/N: so I was reading some tommy centric fics and the idea of Catboy!Tommy popped in my head, which eventually evolved into Kitten Regressor!Tommy as I brainstormed and this 4000-something oneshot happened. To my knowledge, there are no other pet regression fics in this fandom, and this is my first pet regression fic. If I misrepresented something, or you just wanna tell me something cool about pet regression in the comments, feel free too lmk in the reblogs/replies/in my ask box after reading!

For those who don't know, pet regression is similar to age regression. Pet Space (kittenspace,puppyspace,ect) is a separate headspace that someone can slip into, where they act like a different critter or creature. It can be used for all the same reasons as agere, and the online communities overlap a ton! You can look into it more, but that's the gist of it! It's nonsexual, safe for minors, and it ISN'T P3TPL@Y! also warning for a very brief mention of kinks and "getting off" (tommy basically saying that he's not into petplay) at the beginning.

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten.

Figuring this out was confusing for him. Even after discovering why he liked acting like a toddler sometimes, and why it helped him, he had to figure out why he also found comfort in pretending to be an animal. At first, he thought that this cutesy cat-like headspace was just him playing around while little, pretending to be one of his favorite creatures.

But then, he noticed how different his behaviors were when he got like this versus when he was just being a kid. It was really annoying, because he could research anything without stumbling across kinks that he was sure he wasn't into.

Just because the thought of wearing cat ears and curling up in someones lap and being pet softly made him happy, didn't mean he got off on it. Eventually, though, he discovered pet regression.

The pet regression community was overlapped, heavily, with the age regression and age dreaming ones he already secretly took part in. He was shocked he hadn't stumbled across it during his late-night scrollings through the "littlespace" tumblr tags.

Just like when he discovered his littlespace, he bought things online with money saved up from streaming, telling his family it was supplies for a video, and created a secret little box that sat under his bed for whenever he wanted to indulge in that headspace. Choker necklaces that resembled kitty collars, cat ears, certain sensory toys, different snacks.

Now, none of this would be a problem, if it wasn't for the fact that Wilbur and Tubbo coming over to stay at his house for a week while his parents were on vacation. Yes, he had pushed to stay home, preferring that he was babysat by someone he saw as his older brother, instead of being forced to go on a boring trip and go on a forced streaming break.

But he didn't quite think out how he'd pull off not regressing in front of either of the two of his friends, for a whole week. Tommy regressed the most when his parents weren't home, and now he couldn't do that.

All he could do is hope that he wouldn't slip, and that they wouldn't discover either of the two boxes under his bed. He'd quickly find that that was really hard when he had two friends that constantly teased and babied him.

"So, what should we do this week? Besides streaming and gaming, of course," Tubbo questioned from his spot where he laid on Tommy's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tommy shrugged, spinning a bit in his gaming chair.

His parents had left a few hours ago to catch their flight, after Tubbo and Wilbur were dropped off early that morning. Tubbo had gotten settled, and Wilbur took the responsibility of making them lunch. So now, the two teenagers sat in Tommy's bedroom.

"I don't know. We'll obviously film some videos," Tommy spoke casually, biting the inside of his cheek. All the excitement and anticipation had worn off, and now they were bored. Yeah, they could start a stream or boot up a game, but it felt right to just enjoy each others company. They had sat in silence for a while, their previous conversation falling off when they ran out of things to say, until one of them tried to start another.

Tubbo had gone through a lot of trouble with his parents to be there, doing everything he could to convince them that Wilbur was responsible enough to watch over him for a week. Tommy wasn't just gonna shove a mic in his face and tell him to entertain his twitch viewers.

"I have an idea!" Toby gasped, sitting up suddenly.

"What is it?" Tommy laughed a bit at his sudden realization, and how his friend had replied to it.

"We should take online quizzes together," he suggested. "Hogwarts house, personality type, whatever you want, and compare our results. You in?" he questioned, standing up and coming over to sit in the wooden chair to the left of Tommy's.

For now, the blonde had two of his kitchen chairs in his room, so that the three men could huddle up together at his PC for streams throughout the next week. "Sure," Tommy nodded a bit, booting up his computer.

"We should start with the Hogwarts House quiz, don't ya think?" Tubbo asked, watching him open his browser.

"Sounds good to me," Thomas agreed, following his suggestion and searching up the desired quiz.

After a handful of quizzes, most of which Tommy deemed "inaccurate" due to results that didn't make any sense to him, they took a "what animal are you" quiz. Tommy knew what his results would be, he's taken tests like this a million times.

It'd most likely label him as a cat. He figured that Tubbo would be none the wiser, clicking through the test and answering honestly. He was a little taken aback when the result screen specifically told him that he was a "kitten".

"Aww," Toby cooed in a teasing voice. "I thought that you might've gotten 'cat', but kitten? That's so cute." he laughed a bit.

"It's probably because they just put kitten in place for cat," Tommy scoffed, hoping with every ounce of his soul that he was pulling off the "shocked and annoyed" act, which he hoped covered up his nervousness.

"Let's see," Tubbo took control of the mouse, click on the drop down arrow next to the blue text that read 'All Possible Results'. "See! There is an option for cat, and it called you a kitten!" he cheered, causing Tommy to roll his eyes a bit.

"Whatever," he said, "It said you were a Golden Retriever, so..."

"Tom-Tom's a little kitty!" Tubbo ignored his statement, talking loudly in a sing songy voice. Tommy knew that he wasn't doing this to be mean, and that he was just joking around, but it did hurt a bit. Because he was a kitten sometimes, and it felt like his friend was making fun of it.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but the food is ready," Wilbur's voice joined the conversation, the older man suddenly appearing in Tommy's doorway. Tommy jumped to defend himself, but Tubbo got there first.

"We took an online quiz that said Tommy was a kitten! 'Cat' was an option, but it said that he was a little kitty," he laughed again.

"Oh, don't tease him." Wilbur said, "Those tests are crap anyway, I'm sure there was a question you misunderstood or something." he claimed as he came closer to them, standing behind the two chairs as he looked at Tommy's monitor. He could tell that the teasing was making Tommy a bit uncomfortable.

He didn't know why for sure, figuring that it had something to do with being called a 'kitten' feeling to childish for him. "Maybe," Tommy agreed, looking up to Wilbur thankfully. Tubbo must've realized that he accidentally upset Tommy when Wilbur intervened and Tommy immediately seemed relieved, because the next thing he did was apologize.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," he spoke up. "I was just teasing, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all good," Tommy smiled a bit, shrugging, feeling a little better with the reassurance that it was all just a joke. "Most of the tests were crap anyways."

The three of them shifted their conversation to other topics, making their way out to the kitchen to eat the food Wilbur made. Later on, they all gathered up blankets and pillows and snacks to watch movies in the living room.

Tommy was a little worried that the Disney movie Wilbur picked would make him go into littlespace, but that seemed to be the least of his worries as they tried to figure out their cuddling positions for the movie. Of course, they didn't need to cuddle, but it seemed that they all silently agreed that they would be.

"I wanna lay down," Tommy whined, re positioning a pillow near one end of the couch.

"Come here, you crybaby," Wilbur ordered, grabbing his arm. Tubbo was curled up to Wilbur's side, one of the older mans arms around him as he settled into the warmth of the embrace. Wilbur guided him into laying down so that his head was in his lap, a few layers of soft fabric between their skin.

Tommy didn't fight against this, blushing just a bit as he curled up, letting Wilbur lay a blanket over him. "Is this okay?" he asked in a soft voice, looking down as him. Tommy nodded softly, glancing up at him for a moment before he looked away shyly. Why was he so bashful right now?

"Cuddly," he mumbled simply, settling into the position mindlessly. Wilbur seemed pretty amused by this, using his nails to scratch his scalp, the action not unlike how he'd scratch a kitten's head if one curled up in his lap. Again, Tommy didn't protest, leaning into the touch a bit.

Wilbur continued doing things like this as the movie played, sitting back and lightly petting the boy. He'd play with his hair, or run his fingers over his skin in simple patterns. It was just a cute way of showing affection, and the blonde teenager seemed to enjoy.

Meanwhile, Tommy was holding back kittenspace and trying to focus on the childish movie. His petspace was voluntary, to his knowledge. But Wilbur treating him like a cat, giving him the simple affection he's secretly wanted for so long, made him want to regress to the state of a kitty so bad. He was halfway there already.

He just wished that he could put on his little cat ears. He always looked to cute when he did.

His friends did notice that he stayed very quiet throughout the movie, not really replying to their joked or adding onto their commentary of the movie. They didn't say anything, though, assuming that he was just sleepy earlier than usual, joking amongst themselves as the plot of the movie played out on the screen.

At one point near the end of the movie, Wilbur reached over and scratched the patch of hair closest to Tommy's ear, earning a hum from him. It sounded much closer to a kitten's pur, which shocked Wilbur. He looked over to Tubbo, leaning close to him and whispering, "He really is a little kitten, huh?" as he continued to scratch his scalp.

Toby giggled a bit, nodding in agreement. Tommy seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing when Wilbur pulled his hand away for the time being, cutting out his low hum and burying his now-red face in the blankets across Wilbur's lap.

Wilbur could help but think about how cute he looked doing that, immediately feeling the need to cuddle the boy close and protect him.

Eventually the credits started rolling, and Wilbur told the boys to get off of him. Tubbo did it with little complaining, stretching a bit and standing up with a yawn. Tommy, however, completely lost in his kitten space as this point, whined, pouting.

"I know you're comfy, and probably sleepy, but it's time to get up, Toms." Wilbur told him, fighting against the urge to just push him off the couch. Yes, it'd be funny, but it'd also be mean. Wilbur didn't wanna upset him.

When Tommy didn't reply, remaining curled up with his head in Wilbur's lap, the pet his head softly once again, pushing back the blanket that laid over him a bit. Immediately, Tommy switched his position so that he was laying on his back, swiping his hand at Wilbur's, scratching him a bit.

Like a playful kitten.

Wilbur gasped, seemingly confused as he tilted his head. He dropped the blanket, pulling the attacked hand to his chest defensively. Tommy didn't hurt him all the much but he did just try to scratch him in response to his blanket be taken away. It was funny, and cute, but also confusing. "Ouch! Why'd you do that?" Wilbur asked, pulling his hand away immediately.

Tommy pouted up at him, not knowing exactly how to verbally apologize. He decided on his next actions, rolling over so that he was on his stomach and stretching out. He then adjusted himself so that he was on his knees and hands, looking at Wilbur with a slight head tilt.

There was still a clear pout on his face, his eyes innocent and cute. "What are you doing?" Wilbur chuckled, not understanding his behavior. He couldn't blame all these absolutely adorable actions on being sleepy, surely. He was acting like a kitten, undeniably.

"He's a kitten!" Tubbo said, coming closer to him and scratching Tommy's head. Tommy nuzzled into his hand as he leaned into the touch. "Pet regression," he remembered the name for it, saying it suddenly a few moments later. "I thought Tommy might've been a little but I didn't know about this."

"What?" Wilbur questioned, only more confused than before.

"I think Tommy's an age regressor, and a pet regressor, too, apparently," Tubbo looked to Tommy for some sort of confirmation. Tommy nodded a bit, shyly, confirming both of his guesses. "He can revert back to the state of a child, and also a kitten! He's in a cat-like headspace, so he's going to act like a baby kitty." Tubbo giggled, wiggling his fingers over Tommy's head and watching as he swatted at it. Toby pulled his hand away at the last second.

"I researched age regression because Tommy was acting a bit childish during a late night call a while back, and came across petre too," Tubbo added. "I was planning on asking him about the little thing while I was here, actually."

Tommy didn't know that Tubbo already knew. If anyone could've guessed, it would've been him. They were best friends. He'd call him a lot when upset, or stressed, to talk about what was bothering him. It wasn't a shock that the main person who saw him when he needed something to help him feel better had started to pick up on the traits that hinted toward the coping skill he used to feel better.

Wilbur seemed to understand. For whatever reason, Tommy liked acting like a cat. It was a sort of headspace that he could get into, that Wilbur must've accidentally triggered. Tubbo continued to play with and pet Tommy, explaining the basics of both age regression and pet regression to Wilbur.

"They can both be done for coping, voluntarily or involuntarily. It seems that all the cuddling and petting made him slip. I think he's nonverbal, too, at least as a kitten," Tubbo said, running his fingers through Tommy's hair. At some point, Tommy had sat down, still playing along and swiping at his hands here and there. Tubbo seemed so excited to play with him, and that made him happy!

"Agere and petre can intersect, too. So he might just act childlike with kitten-qualities mixed in," Tubbo continued to explained. "There's also pet gear and little gear, stuff you use when you get into those headspaces. Do you have any of that, kitty?"

Tommy nodded a bit, reaching over and pressing on Wilbur's shoulder, as if telling him to follow as he stood up. He didn't like traveling on all fours all the time in kittenspace, and would only crawl short distances. Otherwise, he would just walk like he would usually. Maybe skip, if he was in a good mood.

Wilbur followed his nonverbal request, following the two teenagers to Thomas's bedroom. Tommy dropped to the floor next to his bed, Tubbo following suit. Tommy pulled out one of the boxes, Toby grabbing the other. "So what is pet and little gear for?" Wilbur asked, curiously.

"I'm sure Tommy will be willing to tell you more when he's up to talking," Tubbo's words earned a slight nod as the regressor opened the box. "But it's basically stuff to help you according to the headspace your in. Comfort items, childish things for littlespace, stuff to make you feel more like a pet for petre."

"Like cat ears or collars for kittyspace!" he added with a chuckle as Tommy pulled those items out of the box, waving them around as an example. His cat ears were all on headbands. He had white and orange ones, black ones with little ribbons, another set with little bells, he didn't know which ones he wanted.

Tubbo realized that his box was little gear, sliding it back under the bed and focusing on Tommy, who seemed happy.

He bounced in place a bit, very excited and playful now, despite being sleepy before. He was happy! When Tubbo believed that his friend might've been different, instead of judging him, he researched a ton and then jumped in to help him when he needed it. And Wilbur, who didn't completely understand what was happening, was still being supportive, just asking questions.

He thought that they were gonna weird about it, or judge him. But here Tubbo was, playing with him and answering questions for him because he understood his nonverbalism. "When will he be....not a cat, anymore?" Wilbur pondered.

"Depends. Regression can last a few minutes to a few days, who knows. But while he's like this, we should make him comfortable, don't ya think?"

Wilbur hummed a bit. He could ask more questions later, directly to his friend that actually experienced this stuff and would be able to tell him more. For now, he'd do his best to make Tommy comfortable, like Toby had said.

Tommy grabbed the cat ears with the bells, white furred ones with pink inside the ear, little pink bows and gold bells on them. He shook it in his hand, like a rattle, listening to the music it made. He made a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a "meow", before giggling. "Did you cat those ears, Tommy?" Wilbur asked, softly taking the headband from him.

Tommy pouted, nodding as the ears were taken from his very pa- hands. He wasn't actually a kitten, he had human hands. He giggled at his own thoughts, snapping out of it when he felt the headband slip onto his head. Wilbur adjusted it.

"There." he stopped after a second, looking him up and down. "You're adorable," he complimented. Tommy blushed, smiling. He looked back down to the box, pulling out a white choker, which had another pink ribbon in the front, with a larger, silver bell hanging from it. He immediately put it on, fiddling with the bell.

"Did you wanna change? There's some clothes in that box," Tubbo asked. As expected, Tommy didn't verbally reply, digging through his box and pulling out a white adult onesie, designed to resemble a real baby one. It was plain, with pink lining, obviously picked out to go with the choker and cat ears.

"Aww," Wilbur cooed, immediately. "You want the onesie, sweetheart?"

Tommy nodded a bit, also grabbing pastel pink shortalls. He might've been happy, and seemingly comfortable, but he was not walking around in just a onesie. "That'll look cute together," Tubbo approved of his outfit choice. Tommy grabbed a few more things from the box, either setting it in a pile, or holding it in his arms.

He left to go to the bathroom, pushing the box back under the bed and leaving without another word. "What all did he pull out?" Tubbo asked, looking to the pile with curiosity.

"A stuffed kitten," Wilbur stated, looking at the white stuffed toy. "It seems that he dressed up to look like this toy," he chuckled. Tubbo laughed, too. "Uh, there's a ball of yarn, and a little white ball?" he sounded curious, picking it up. Quickly, Wilbur realized that it rattled.

"Oh, he likes things that make sounds," Tubbo reasoned. "Rattles and bells. That's cute," Tubbo smiled. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, a pink scarf." Wilbur replied. "Does he just play with anything?" he laughed.

"Isn't that what actual cats do? They scratch at and play with anything in sight," Tubbo joked.

"Fair enough."

They kept talking until they heard shuffling by the door. There, stood Tommy, clad in his cute little, perfectly planned-out outfit. Just his presence earned coos from his friends, who immediately complimented him. "You look so adorable, kitten!" Wilbur said, motioning him over. Tommy approached them, dropping to his knees and hands when he got close to them, 'pouncing' across the carpet.

He giggled, returning to his previous sitting position next to his pile, grabbing the stuffed kitty. "You look just like your toy, y'know." Tubbo told him. Tommy smiled wide, as if he was proud of this fact, nodding quickly. He wore knee-high socks with his out, white and pink striped to match the rest of the outfit. It seemed he took pride in color-coordinated, cute outfits, unlike when he was in his usual headspace. He usually just threw on a baseball shirt and jeans.

"She kitty, and m' kitty too," he mumbled, speaking for the first time since entering his kitten space earlier that day. He didn't talk much in kittenspace, he always had to pull himself into an "in-between" headspace to do so, but he could if he wanted or had to.

"Aww, the kitty can talk. Yes, you are both very adorable kittens," Wilbur cooed from his spot next to the regressor, wrapping his arms around him. Tommy melted into the embrace, nuzzling the side of his face into the part of Wilbur closest to him, his arm.

Tubbo didn't interrupt their moment, waiting for one of them to speak. After a bit of silent cuddling, Wilbur spoke up. "How about we all move back to the living room and set up a little play area for you, yeah? I'll turn on some cartoon, and make some snacks, and we can have fun until bedtime. Does that sound nice, kitty?"

He swayed in place a bit, moving Tommy with him. Tommy nodded excitedly. "Snuggles," he mumbled when Wilbur pulled away from their hug, pouting. "Snuggle me! M' a cute kitty!" he giggled, pointing to himself. He scrunched his nose a bit.

Tubbo and Wilbur knew that the boy was very different off camera. Sometimes, he was still loud, and cursed a lot, but others, he was chill. And apparently, he could be soft sometimes, too.

"I have no doubt about that," Wilbur chuckled, tapping the button of his nose with his index finger, Tommy swatted at it, a bit confused on what to do next when he successfully got ahold of his finger. He put his other 'paw' around it too, dragging his hand to his mouth and biting on his finger.

Wilbur pulled back his hand quickly, shocked. "Bad kitten! We don't bite," he scolded, tapping his head lightly with his hand. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know that he wasn't supposed to do what he just did. Tommy pouted again, his eyes immediately glossing over.

Again, he felt like he couldn't verbally apologize, to upset to pull himself out of headspace enough to talk. This frustrated him and only upset him more. He took the hand he had bit by the wrist, nuzzling his hand into it.

The main difference between Tommy in kittenspace and a real kitten is that he still had, at the very least, a child's level of emotional intelligence. Which meant that he was able to tell when people were upset with him. And he didn't like it when someone was upset with him.

He didn't have kitty teeth! Which meant that his bites hurt a lot more then a kitten's, he reasoned mentally. Wilbur was upset because he hurt him. Cuddles would make it all better, because cuddles made all boo-boos better, he decided.

"Oh, you're okay, baby," Wilbur assured, scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair again. "You didn't really hurt me," he said, as if he was able to read his mind. "You don't need to cry, little kitty."

Tommy kept nuzzling his hand, blinking away his unshed tears. Tubbo leaned close to Wilbur, whispering into his ear.

"Call him a good kitten."

Wilbur nodded, figuring that that made sense. Wilbur had reassured Tommy in every other sense, but he was still guilty. There was a good chance that his emotional response was to the term "bad kitten!".

"You're such a sweet, good kitten."

As predicted, his head perked up at that. He tilted his head, as if to ask 'really?'. "A very adorable, sweet baby kitten," Wilbur ran his fingers through Tommy's hair, his words and affection earning a smile from the pet regressor. "Let's gather up these toys and go set up in the living room, kay? Is there anything else that you need?"

Tommy nodded shyly, crawling over to the edge of his bed and pulling out the little box. He located a light pink plastic item, holding it up. "No more bitin'," he said, slipping the adult pacifier into his mouth. It only added to the childish look.

Wilbur and Tubbo smiled at him. Wilbur was glad that he picked the right cuddling position that somehow led to this, and Toby was glad that he did all that research over the past few weeks. And they were all glad they had planned this one week meet up.

They moved out to the living room, where they played and watched cartoons late into the night. The following morning, Tommy thanked the two of them for everything, and they had an honest conversation about it, telling them everything. How long he had been regressing, both for little and kitten space, how often he did it, when he got all the little and kitten gear.

Wilbur and Tubbo asked a ton of questions, and Tommy answered every single one. Over the next week, between streams and video-filming, Tommy would regress and let his friends learn more about little him, and kitty him. Who Wilbur and Tubbo started calling 'Tom-Tom', by the way.

Eventually, Wilbur would become Tommy's caregiver and handler, after babysitting him over discord calls many, many times. All thanks to that one week visit.

Tommy was so glad he ended up slipping that night, even if it was inconvenient at first. Everything worked out in the end, and he wouldn't change the events of that night if he could.

It all led to him being Wilbur's 'good kitten'.

A/N: let me know if you have requests for any agere/age dreaming/pet regression fics involving some of the DreamSMP members, lmk! I may not write it, due to not knowing to much about a specific youtuber or being uncomfy w/the prompt, but I always love hearing ideas! Please leave feedback/your thoughts on this in the reblogs/replies/my ask box too, I definitely would like to hear them! I hope y'all enjoyed, I spent a while writing this and I hope it makes *someone* happy!

-Apple

#TommyInnit #little!tommyinnit #kitten!tommy #dream smp petre #cg/handler!wilbur+tubbo #cg!wilbur #cg!tubbo #Dream SMP #age regression #kittenspace #pet regression #pet regressor!tommy innit #dream smp agere

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rubix-writings · 4 years

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Punisher Pt. 6

Sixth part of Punisher. Not a super exciting chapter, but it’s important. This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the shows.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, mentions of a fight and harassment

Things have drastically changed in the days following the bar fight. Instead of Jay avoiding me, I avoided Jay. Whenever he came to the bar to order drinks, I immediately went to tables to grab empties and refills. Or when he walked over to close a tab I would find something to clean in the back. I know what you’re thinking and yes, it is childish and the worst way to handle things, but right now I don’t know what else to do. Honestly, I can’t think straight right now. Everytime I try to think through all the possibilities of a potential relationship between Jay and I my irrational thinking kicks in and I end up with an outcome that couldn’t possibly be correct. I can tell that I’m hurting Jay, that he was hurt after he spoke to me and I froze instead of reciprocating any sort of feelings.

“Jo….Jo!.... Earth to Jo!”

“What, sorry?” I turn to Emily.

“Can I get a refill please?” I move to grab the wine bottle and refill her glass.

“You okay Jo? You seem a little out of it today,” Silvie interjects.

“A little?” Emilly scoffs as she sips her wine.

“Just tired, I’ve had a lot of late shifts,” it’s not a complete lie.

“You sure it doesn’t have to do with someone with a name that rhymes with Ray?” Emily jokes.

“Em, please not today,” my body is exhausted, it can’t handle trying to explain the situation further.

“You can talk to us, about anything,” Silvie reassures.

“Yeah, I know I joke about it, but we’re here for you,” Emily agrees. The girls get up from the stools and move to the table with Matt and Cruz. What is wrong with me? I just need to not think about him and eventually things will go back to before I met him. I didn’t always know Jay Halstead, and the world still turned.

“Hey Jo, can I get a beer?” Will asked. Of course, I really should look for a different job. I grab a beer from the fridge and pop to cap for Will.

“Here yah go Will.”

“Thanks, can I ask you something?”

“Um…” I stutter. “I guess it depends.”

“There’s this guy I know who likes this girl.” Will whispers. I glance back to the table he just came from, Natalie laughs as Maggie finishes telling a story. Ah, gotcha.

“Alright.” I stop wiping down the counter and lean on my forearms so we can speak in a whisper.

“The girl is great, everyone likes her. But, she’s just had a major life change and he doesn’t want to be ‘taking advantage’ so to speak. But people can see that she very obviously has feelings for him too. What do you think he should do? Since you are a female.”

“Is that the only criteria you have?”

“You are also a bartender.”

“Whatever. Has this ‘guy’ made his feelings known to her?”

“Yeah, it’s shamefully obvious.”

“Good, he’s going to have to be patient. Since she just went through a major life change, she’s probably scared and doesn’t want to hurt him in the process.”

“Okay, is there anything he can do to help?” I take a deep breath and think hard for a minute.

“I think the best thing he can do is to show her that he’s not going anywhere, that he’s willing to wait as long as she needs. Because there’s no telling how long that’ll be, so being reassured in that would help a lot,” Will nods and takes a sip of his beer.

“You see why I wanted a female bartender to talk about this with?” I roll my eyes. “Thanks Jo, really.” I smile at Will and go back to wiping down the counter.

“Hey! Hey guys! Listen up!” Mouch runs into the bar with Trudy in tow.

“Hey, hey! Listen to the man!” Hermann grabs everyone’s attention and Mouch nods in gratitude towards his best friend.

“Not everyone’s here…” Mouch looks around. It’s true, some of the firemen and Intelligence Unit - including Jay - are missing from the bar tonight.

“Oh my God,” Trudy groans, “We’re renewing our vows!” The bar immediately erupts into joyous screams to congratulate the couple. I haven’t seen Trudy smile this big before, her cheeks must be hurting. The couple are herded into a giant hug from their friends and coworkers despite the objections.

“Jo, get the champagne! We need to toast!” Hermann shouts and I start passing out champagne flutes. Once everyone has some champagne, Hermann stands on the ledge to make a speech. “These two lovebirds have stood the test of time not to mention life threatening events because of the love they share. I won’t get too sappy cause I don’t want Mouch to start crying, but the love you have is special. You can tell by the way you look at each other or the way you talk about each other. Not many people get to experience that, but I can’t think of two people who deserve it more. We’re excited to continue on this journey with you. Cheers!” Everyone yells out before taking a sip. The couple are bombarded with questions about the renewal and how they came to the conclusion.

Hermann’s words swirl around my head, I want to be loved like that. I’ve only experienced harsh, painful love. Love that isn’t really love, more like imprisonment.

****

The days leading up to the renewal were hectic, since Trudy enlisted my help early on. It wasn’t an ask either, she threw down some binders for food options and told me to pick what I think would be best. Of course I did as told, since Trudy scares the shit out of me, and ever since I’ve been her go-to girl. I would be lying if I said the entire planning process wasn’t fun, one day Trudy brought cake slices to the bar to test out.

Currently, I’m fulfilling my last duties - transforming the bar. It feels right that Mouch and Trudy settled on the bar, it only took Hermann offering it up multiple times a day. The bar is empty as everyone has shifts today so they could get tomorrow off. It took me about an hour to move all the tables and stools around to provide a walkway for the ceremony. Once that was done, I took a break to lay on the floor since I never workout, but probably should start. But quickly, I realized my time crunch since I needed to run back home to get ready. The rest didn’t take long. Hermann brought over all the ironed out tablecloths before his shift, so I put those on the tables and booth tables that were left over after moving stuff around. I just started filling up vases with water for the flower arrangements when there was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Trudy coming to take a quick peek I didn’t think to look through the peephole first.

“Hey, I have some stuff Trudy needed to be dropped off,” Jay spews out quickly. Stunned by Jay’s presence, I silently move out of the way so he can enter.

“How are you?” I force out.

“Good, ugh work’s been really hectic,” Jay puts the box of decorations on a covered table. “You?”

“Good. I somehow got roped into doing all this,” I move to look through the box. It’s filled with framed photos of Trudy and Mouch, including a photo from their wedding day.

“Look, Jo. I’m really sorry about stepping in. I just… the guy had it coming,” I laugh.

“He did. But I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. It’s not worth you losing your job.”

“I would love to be able to stand here and tell you it will never happen again because I know that’s what you want to hear. But my only regret from that night was not stepping in sooner. And if I lose my job from punching out a guy who harasses and assaults you then so be it.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, I’ve wanted to tell you this sooner, but you’ve been avoiding me like the plague,” I cringe.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to go about everything afterwards so I just avoided it. I know I hurt you and I really am sorry.” Jay smirks and nods.

“I should let you get back to all of this,” he moves his hands gesturing to the pure chaos behind me. “I’ll see you later.” My hands begin to shake. Say it, now. Go! Everything starts moving in slow motion, I want to tell Jay that I care. That I care for him and what happens to him, and the feelings I have are so confusing it’s infuriating. But it’s as if I’ve gone mute and my throat is too dry to speak.

“Wait!” I call out as Jay’s hand encompasses the door knob. He looks back at me, his blue eyes only make it harder for me to speak.

“Yeah?” He questions as I stand there opening and closing my mouth trying to speak. He takes his hand off the door knob, and like magic my heart rate decreases and my vision finally begins to clear.

“I could use some help here, if you’re free,” I stutter out. He smiles and slips off his coat.

“Tell me where to start.”

Taglist: @whit85-blog @bestillmystuckyheart @nocturnalherb16 @5sos-imagine @miranda0102

#chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago one #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x oc

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Universal (Hidden Corner series)

Hidden Corner: A series of fluffy, full-length one-shots detailing the lives of the employees who work at Hidden Corner featuring the various Haikyuu boys.

*Note: All one-shots take place in the same universe with the same characters.

Izanami is the Reader from Recommendations

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Time-skip!Osamu x female Baker!reader

Summary: One early morning on his way to work, Osamu walks past a café. The lights are on, and there’s no other sign of life anywhere else. Popping in, he discovers some of the best baked goods he’s ever tasted. But can you really fall in love with someone based on how their food tastes?

AN: Happy birthday Osamu! Yours was the second one-shot I finished of this series, but I held off to post this for your birthday 🥳

Masterlist | Menu

Universal

A wide yawn overtook Osamu as he made his way down the street. His hooded grey eyes scanned the horizon. Only a sliver of light had begun to cross the morning sky. He turned down the street, eyebrows furrowed at the sign of an open café. The warm golden light radiated warmth. Glancing at his watch, he nodded to himself. He had time. “Welcome to Hidden Corner!” A voice behind the counter chirped. “I’ll be with you shortly.” Osamu hummed, stepping further into the warmth. His eyes scanned the café. There weren't many people inside. In fact, there was only one other person. A male sat in the corner, his back to Osamu as he hunched over his laptop. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting!” She entered, placing down a tray of baked goods before giving him a smile. “What can I get for you?”

Osamu sniffed the air, his eyes widening. “Whatever that is, I’d love one.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “This? This is one of our specialty items, a German-influenced bee-sting cake. It goes great with a nice dark roast.”

Osamu nodded his head eagerly, mouth salivating. “That sounds amazing. I’d love it.”

“Will you be eating here or to-go?”

He glances at his watch again. “Here,” he decides. He didn’t need to be at the store for another twenty minutes. Osamu takes a seat at the bar, eagerly watching as she slices into the cake, the custard oozing out slightly as the barista lifts it onto a white plate. The barista places it in front of him beside a ceramic mug of dark coffee beside it.

“Enjoy!” She chirps, before she goes over to check on the other customer. She brings over a mug of coffee as well as an apple square, placing it onto the table and giving the male a forehead kiss before returning to the counter.

Osamu eyed the pastry from the cinnamon almond top to the yellow custard sandwiched between the tan sponge. Carefully slicing it through with a fork, he savours the mouthful. Silver orbs widened, sparkling like a full moon on a cloudless night. “Excuse me?” He looks up at the barista. “But this is amazing.”

The barista grins, wiping down the counter. “Thank you!”

“Did you make this?”

She shakes her head. “No, our baker actually just left for the day.”

He hums, taking a sip of the coffee. His eyes roam the glass in front of the bar where there are trays of pastries. “Can I get a box of whatever you recommend?”

The barista grins, “of course.” She turns her back to him, delicately filling the box. “There you go!” She passes the box over.

“What’s in here?” He pops open the box, eyeing the array of colourful pastries. The sugar-dusted, rose pastry caught his attention the most.

“In there you’ll have a few of our persimmon rose pastries, two guava pastelillos - or guava and cheese strudels, and miniature mango and dragon-fruit fruit tarts.”

Osamu licks his lips. “That sounds incredible.”

“Enjoy!”

****

“Back for more?” The barista teases, greeting Osamu as she wipes down the counter. He catches her name-tag this time. Izanami. Owner.

He nods, breathing in the comforting scent of coffee beans. “Those pastries were so good.” Osamu scans the glass offerings one more, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the various mason jars and shot-glasses. “What are those for?”

Izanami glances over. “Oh!” She grins. “We’ve been trying to become more environmentally-friendly, which is why we started offering discounts whenever someone brings in their own mugs and stuff. But (Name) had a brilliant idea of using mason jars and these cute engraved shot-glasses for our cakes and stuff.” Izanami holds an empty one up, handing it to Osamu to examine. “They’re oven-safe provided that there aren’t any sudden temperature changes, and if they use it in-store, we can take it to the back to wash and use for the next time. Or, if they take it home and bring it back, we can either give them a discount.” She hums, examining another mason jar. “Plus they’re cute advertisements if they keep it anyways.”

Osamu hums, “that’s a really good idea.” He shuffles his feet slightly, keeping his focus on the glass as pink dusts his cheek. “Is (Name) the baker?”

By Izanami’s light-hearted chuckle, he hadn’t been as sly as he’d hoped. “Yes, she is.”

Osamu clears his throat. “So! What options do you have for the shooters?”

The owner leans against the counter, looking down at them. “We have a taster pack where you can get one each for a total of six different ones or do a custom pack of six. Of course, you could buy them individually as well.” She smirks slightly. “If you bring back twelve glasses, then we’ll throw in a free cake and coffee the next time you come in.”

“Deal.” He grins. “I’ll take one of the taster packs for now.” He scans the drink menu. “And another dark roast, to-go please.”

“Make sure to bring your own thermos if you want a discount,” Izanami chuckles once more as she packages his treats. “Come again soon!” She sings, waving as he makes his way out the door.

*****

“Hey ‘Kaashi! Haven’t seen you in a minute,” Osamu greets from behind the counter, looking up as Akaashi enters Onigiri Miya.

“Hey Myaa-sam,” Akaashi grins. “I’ve been busy working and haven’t had a chance. Someone else usually comes to pick it up for me though.”

Osamu nods before turning back to his ingredients. “Your usual then?”

“Surprise me.”

Akaashi takes a seat at the bar, watching as Osamu moves around behind the glass. Gunmetal blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s quite a few glasses you’ve collected.”

“Hmm?” Osamu glances at his friend, following his eyes to the assorted shot-glasses that sat next to the cash register. They were mostly hidden from customers except for where Akaashi was sitting. “Oh yeah. I really enjoy their pastries.”

Akaashi nods, leaning on his hand. “My girlfriend owns the cafe, I am there quite often.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Osamu carefully shapes the onigiri for Akaashi who hums in response. Izanami pops into Osamu’s mind. “I make it a habit to go there in the mornings before I open up shop. Can’t imagine going anywhere else for breakfast if I’m being honest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Their pastries are always perfectly made and are pretty unique. Haven’t seen them in any other cafes. And I love how environmentally-friendly they are, ya know?” Osamu’s eyes sparkled as he thought about the small cafe.

Akaashi hides the small smirk behind his sleeve before clearing his throat. “You know they’re open 24 hours right?”

Osamu nods, wrapping the rice-ball. “Might stop by after I close up. I have to turn in the shot-glasses.”

“Right, for the free cake and coffee?” Akaashi’s eyes glinted as he took his food, paying Osamu. “I’m sure you’ll have a nice time later, Myaa-sam.”

“Thanks?”

“See you later, Myaa-sam!”

****

“So, which of the shooters did you like the best?” Izanami asks as Osamu enters the cafe later that evening. Instead of being behind the counter this time, she’s sitting at the bar, going over some paperwork.

“I think I’m a big fan of the raspberry chocolate one,” Osamu replied, mouth salivating as he reminisced. “The chocolate and raspberry was perfectly balanced and complemented each other.” He thought back to the other ones he tried. “Though the strawberry fool was really good too.” Osamu hummed, eyes shutting. “And the tiramisu,” he added. He tapped his chin for a second. “And the key lime.”

Izanami stifled a snort. “Hear that (Name)? He liked all of the shooters.”

Osamu’s head snapped up as you appeared from behind the counter, flour dusted on your cheek. “Well I’m glad to know that someone here appreciates my baking!”

“Hey, if I didn’t appreciate it, I wouldn’t let you have free-rein of the menu,” Izanami chided before looking back at Osamu. “This is (Name), our resident baker.”

You waved at him from behind the counter before your (e/c) eyes widened, pointing at him. “You own Onigiri Miya!”

Osamu’s ears turned pink, realising exactly who the baker was. He swallows thickly. “That’s right.”

Your eyes sparkle as you nod eagerly, facing your boss. “Iza! He owns the onigiri shop that ‘Kaashi and I go to!”

“Oh really? That’s really nice,” Izanami smiles. “Speaking of, Yuuji should already be clocked in. I’m going to go check on him. Man the front for me, won’t you?” Osamu didn’t miss the wink that Izanami sent to (Name). He could feel the heat that crept through him now.

“Whatever you need, boss-lady!” You chirped, waving Izanami off as she disappeared into the back. You turn back to Osamu, offering him a blinding smile. “What can I do for you, Miya-san?”

Osamu shook his head, a pink dust settling on his cheeks, “you can just call me Osamu if you’d like.”

If it was even possible, your smile got brighter. “Sure thing, Osamu! You can call me (Name).” You glance back down to the tray of pastries you had been spooning strawberry compote into. “Wanna taste-test something for me?”

Osamu’s eyes widened as he nodded fervently. “I’m always down to taste-test. What is it?”

You quickly pipe some yellow cream on top of the strawberry compote, sprinkled some demerara sugar on it and used a blowtorch to brulee the sugar. He watches with amazement at your fluid motions. Turning back to him, you place the completed pastry onto a clean white plate. “This is puits d’amour, or ‘wells of love’ in French. It’s mostly just strawberries, raspberries, and vanilla cream. Will you try it for me? I was thinking about adding it to the menu or maybe even just for a Valentine’s special.”

Osamu picks it up gingerly, taking in the sweet smell of the pastry. As he bites down, his eyes shut. “This is so good,” he mumbled as he crammed the last piece into his mouth. You stifle a giggle, taking a napkin out and handing it to him.

“You got a little something there,” you tap on your chin before pouring a dark roast for him.

He flushes brighter, taking the napkin and wiping away at the mess. He sips the dark roast, letting the dark flavor complement the abundance of sweet that bathed his tongue. “That was seriously good,” he grinned as he placed the empty cup down. “I would definitely buy that if it was offered on the menu.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really?!”

He nods eagerly. “Absolutely. Though that would definitely be cute for a special like Date Night or Valentine’s Day.”

You hum, tapping your chin as you gaze back at the tray. “Maybe I’ll debut it for a holiday, get the couples coming in. And depending on how well they sell, maybe offer it more regularly.” You move to prepare a few more, packaging it up and turning back to him. “Here.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow, looking between the box and you. “What’s this for?”

“You seemed to really enjoy it. Maybe you could bring it to some of your friends or something and let me know what they think? Or finish it all! Whatever works.” You smile sheepishly. “Anything for a return customer, like Iza would say.”

Osamu chuckles, raising the bag he had. “I was supposed to turn in these shot-glasses and redeem my free cake.”

You sit on the stool behind the counter, spinning slightly. “You can always redeem it now if you’d like. I can prepare a custom-order for whatever cake or pastries you’d like.”

He hums, glancing at the display. Most of the pastries had sold out by now. “Surprise me,” he replies finally. “Come by the shop sometime soon. I need another taste-tester if you’re down.”

Grinning, you nod eagerly. “Sounds like a great time.”

****

“Hello, Myaa-sam,” Akaashi greets as the door to Onigiri Miya swings open.

Osamu looks up, eyes narrowed as he jabs a finger at Akaashi, a grain of rice flying into the editor’s direction. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?” Akaashi asks, blinking innocently at the restaurant owner. It would have worked if not for the small quirk of his lips.

Osamu rolled his eyes, turning back to his rice as his ears glowed red. “Is she the one who’s been pickin’ up your orders for ya?”

Akaashi hummed, slipping into his usual stool before sipping on his thermos. “Perhaps.”

Osamu scowled. “Are you tryin’ to set me up or somethin’?”

The other male only laughed. “Not at all.” Akaashi admits, his fingers twisting. “But (Name) is a sweet girl, isn’t she?”

“Did you know her when she came in that one time?”

“Um, excuse me?”

Osamu jumped, whirling around to face you as his head crashed into the counter - hissing in pain. He cleared his throat, cheeks reddening. “Yes, hey, how can I help you?”

You stifle a chuckle. “I heard that this place has some of the best onigiri around. Think I can get some?”

“Of course, what’ll you have?”

“Three of your best!” You hum, scanning the menu. “Though include an unagi one, please. With furikake seasoning on the outside.”

“Sounds good.” Osamu turned around, moving towards the counter only to trip over a bag of rice and stumble into the counter. His forehead smacked into the steel counter as his knees buckled. Osamu bit his lip to swallow back the groan, tears welling up in his eyes.

You snorted, biting your lip to hide your laughter. Unfortunately, the attempt was unsuccessful. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He grinned, turning so that his back was to you as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and clenched his fists. Both his head and foot hurt. A lot. Osamu let out a sigh, moving to make the onigiri for you. “Here you go. Hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. I’ll definitely be back for more,” you grin, taking the box. “Bye!” You wave as you walk out of the door. Osamu sighed, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm.

“That went well, Myaa-sam. Very coordinated.”

Osamu glared at the editor who was perched at the counter. “Shut up ‘Kaashi.”

“Not at all,” Akaashi replied. “That was actually her first day at the cafe. I met her there later when I picked up ‘Nami.”

Heat crept up Osamu’s neck. “Well thanks for the warning!”

“Did you have a nice time though?”

Osamu pouted, turning his back to Akaashi as he molded the onigiri. “..Yes.”

*****

“Iza says you come to the cafe every day?” Osamu jumps, looking up to find you perched at the counter in Akaashi’s usual seat. It had been a few days since you’d both officially met at the cafe. He flushes, before nodding. You beam up at him. “Great! What do you normally get and what have you liked the best so far?” In front of you was a journal, an abundance of sticky notes sticking out.

Osamu tries to focus on the fillings in front of him, fighting off the heat that crept up through him. He had invited you to stop by, after all. “I usually just get whatever she recommends to me,” he says finally.

You pout, pen tapping on the pages. “That’s not helpful!”

He chuckles, nodding. He hated when Atsumu and his other friends gave him empty compliments in terms of his cooking. “Let’s see...I’ve tried the chocolate dipped sesame cookie. That was definitely an interesting one. I liked how that paired with the dark roast.”

Humming, you jot that down. “Maybe we should do a pairing menu,” you muse to yourself. “Like how fancy restaurants do with their wines.”

“That’d be a good idea,” he comments, focusing on molding the onigiri. “I’m sure you get a lot of customers who don’t know what pairs well together in terms of coffee and cakes.”

Shrugging, you grin as you say, “Iza’s normally really good at convincing people to make the ‘correct’ choices.” You let out a soft giggle. Osamu nods, chuckling as he remembers the stories that Akaashi had told him about how he’d met his own girlfriend. You flit through your journal; Osamu can see photos of the pastries flashing by. “What else have you tried?”

He cleared his throat, thinking back. “I really enjoyed the beehive cake! That was the first thing I tried.” Osamu packages the onigiri he had been working on, calling the order number and handing it to his customer. “What type of onigiri do you want?”

You wave a hand, still looking at your book, “whatever you’ll have me try.”

He grins, “your wish is my command, princess.”

Your head snaps up, heat creeping through your body. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes. “So, pastries?”

Osamu nods, turning away to subtly hide his own blush. “The beehive cake was really good. I enjoyed how the almond and cinnamon complemented the custard, and how the dark roast Izanami gave me tasted along with it.” Humming, you jot down more notes. “You don’t do a lot of Japanese pastries, do you?”

You shrug, chewing on your pen-cap. “It’s not that I don’t do Japanese pastries, I just feel like European pastries can be difficult to find and they’re all so interesting not to try and make it.” You light up, picking up a box. “Speaking of which, I brought you something.”

Osamu glances over, placing down onigiri he had just finished for you. “What is it?”

Opening up the box, you reveal powdered donuts. “These are beignets,” you explain. “You can eat these with fruit toppings,” you pulled out a mason jar of a raspberry-strawberry compote, “or chocolate. Or condensed milk. Or really any combination!” Two more mason jars were pulled out with the condensed milk and melted dark chocolate. He could still see the steam on the pastries.

“You sure know how to spoil a guy,” he teases, putting the plate of the onigiri in front of you so you could taste. He slips into the seat to the left of you, silver eyes scanning the offerings. “What coffee goes best with this?”

“Café au lait!” You perk up, pulling out a thermos. Osamu grabs two cups, letting you pour the coffee into the cups.

Osamu plucks one of the beignets up, eating it plain. “So what type of pastries are these?” He asks, his cheeks bulging. You giggle, offering him a napkin to brush off the excess powdered that clung to his cheeks.

“They’re French-influenced, but originate in New Orleans.”

“New Orleans?”

“It’s in the states.”

“Ah.” He finishes it, sipping the coffee. Osamu takes out some plates, letting you decorate the other beignets for him to try. He watches as you gently spoon the compote over a beignet, drizzling a bit of the chocolate on top. “What inspired you to make these?”

“Princess and the Frog.”

He glanced at you with an incredulous look on his face. “The Disney movie?”

You nod, glancing up at him before going back to your beignets. “I love Disney movies, and I really like her character arc in that one.” This time, you were drizzling the melted chocolate and condensed milk over another beignet. You push them towards him, grinning as you wait for him to try it.

Osamu pushes the onigiri towards you. You both simultaneously take a bite out of your respective foods. Your eyes widen as you look up at Osamu. His heart skipped a beat at your excited expression. “I really like this filling! What is it?”

“It’s a tsukudani filling. I simmered some pork and seaweed into a mixture of mirin and soy sauce to make it.”

Humming appreciatively, you quickly cram the rest of the onigiri into your mouth. “I definitely need to come here before each of my shifts,” you mumble. “This is so filling.”

Osamu finishes the fruity beignet, trying a bit of the chocolate one. “Of the ones with extras, I think I like the fruit one the best,” he comments, sipping the coffee. “But both are super good.”

“What makes it better?”

“I think it’s just the flavours. The dough is nice and fluffy, and takes the flavours well. The condensed milk is a little too sweet for me even with the dark chocolate, but the tartness of the raspberry balances out the sweetness of the strawberry and the coffee.” He smacks his lips thoughtfully. “Only change I could think of is maybe adding the dark chocolate so there’s a bit more of that bitterness to balance it out.”

“That makes sense,” you nod as you jot down his comments.

He turns towards you, leaning on his left hand. The plates of taste-testing were spread out in front of you, and the coffee cups sat in between both of you. His right hand rests on the table, drumming slightly. “What made you want to bake?”

“I just love sharing my food with people,” you admit softly. “I don’t really care to make sales. I just want to see people’s faces change when they try something I’ve created or change their moods, y’know?” You look at the box of beignets that you had brought over. “After all, food is a universal language.”

Osamu hummed, nodding. “I feel the same way.” He sips at the coffee you’d brought over. “I used to be a big volleyball guy. My twin is actually a pro right now.”

“Atsumu right?” You ask, eyes raising to meet silver.

Osamu nods, nose wrinkled slightly, “yeah him. He wanted us to take the volleyball world by storm. Volleyball was fun and all, but that wasn’t where my passion was. I would’ve been eaten alive if I even tried,” Osamu snorted. “But food, that’s where I knew I could thrive. I love seeing people come in and trying my food, how their faces light up at the first bite. That makes me so happy, y’know?”

“Believe me, I know.” Tentatively, your hand reaches out to grasp his wrist. He looked down between your hands, releasing the coffee cup to slot his fingers between yours.

You both sit in silence a moment longer, enjoying each other’s presence. Feeling less alone now that you’ve found someone that felt the same way you did. “I should go. My shift starts soon.” As you make a move to stand, Osamu squeezes your hand causing you to freeze in place.

Osamu glances up at you. “Come over to my place sometime.”

You turn, looking down at him with a bemused expression on your face. “Why’s that?”

“I’ll make you dinner,” he proposes, grinning.

You tap on your chin, contemplatively. “Only if you let me make dessert.”

“Deal.”

*****

AN: Happy birthday Osamu! idk why but I find it so much easier to write for Osamu than for Atsumu 🤷‍♀️ and yes, that was Akaashi in the beginning scene!

Izanami is the Reader from Recommendations

All one-shots in the Hidden Corner series exist in the same universe where characters may interact with the ‘Reader’ from the other one-shots. I will be giving each ‘Reader’ a place-holder name when they are referenced in the other one-shots to ease confusion!

This will be a side-project, so new updates will generally not be scheduled!

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