#do you really expect a 20 year old or whatever in pain to be like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mangowillow · 8 months ago

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last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven��t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude.

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal.

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again.

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted.

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long.

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like.

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.”

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes.

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him.

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style.

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him.

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one.

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing.

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling.

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time.

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct.

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends.

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear.

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them.

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground.

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him.

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding.

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks.

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself.

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak.

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair.

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster.

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him.

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it.

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you.

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts au #bts au fanfic #woosung x reader #jungkook divorce au #divorce au

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

Note

I looked at the prompt list, but i literally COULD NOT decide, but i was thinking, what if Megumi or Tsumiki had a really bad nightmare? How would Gojo and Reader help them? I was thinking baby Megumi, in his sleepy, not being as menacing and just being scared and asking reader for help (cause gojo would bully him)

Also Ily, thank you for your service to society.

A/N: cryin screamin throwin up i can’t this was so sweet to write I think I got a cavity. Having soft sleepy baby Megumi made me so happy to write bc I feel he definitely had his vulnerable tiny little boy moments with these two after he settled in - still a prickly little cactus man most days but occasionally he just needed a cuddle - bc who wouldn’t? Especially if it’s Gojo giving them. Also ily and thank you so much these kind of messages MAKE MY FUCKIN DAY. Keep em coming!!!!!

listen to: luv note - chloe moriondo

la lune - billie marten

A Little Extra Love

Waking up to the sound of obvious nightmares wasn’t unusual for you. You’d been sleeping beside Satoru for a couple of years now, and you’ve shared rooms with Geto and Shoko - the four of you have seen too much shit to sleep unscathed. At least once a month, you’d be sitting with Satoru, still shaking and crying from the lingering feelings of fear and pain stemming from the nightmare - of Riko, of Suguru, of Toji - of losing you. You were no stranger yourself, dreams of bloodied white hair in your lap and vacant blue eyes with a stab wound through his throat plagued you - the image of Suguru holding a young girl's corpse, of the last time you saw Haibara all poisoned your sleep now and again.

So waking at 2am to the sounds of soft whimpers made you immediately turn around to wake your boyfriend from what you expected to be his nightmare - only to find him fast asleep, hair wild across the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as he lay starfished across the bed. There was no relief however in seeing a peaceful Satoru - because that meant it was one of the kids.

They’d been with you for about 9 months now, and it was almost Megumi’s 7th birthday.

You bolted up, trying to stay silent as you creeped out your door and ran down the hallway to the kids rooms - the sound was coming from Megumi’s room so you softly opened the door and came face to face with a sight that broke your heart. Megumi was clutching his frog plush so tight that his small knuckles were white and his face was contorted in fear - whimpers and soft cries coming from his trembling mouth.

Dashing across to his bed, you gently sat on the bed beside him. You knew that waking anyone - let alone a 6 year old - abruptly from a nightmare would only cause more fear, so you began to softly coo his name and stroke his soft black hair away from his face. After about 20 seconds, you placed a hand on his little chest and rubbed soothing circles - causing his eyes to flash open and the frog to be clutched even tighter to his chest as he let out a yelp at whatever woke him, eyes wide and petrified frantically scanning the room before he surprised you by flinging his tiny arms around your neck and clutching you right and crawling his way into your lap.

“You’re okay sweet boy, you’re safe. It was a nasty dream, that’s all.” You coo into his hair, with the softest voice you can muster. You hate seeing him like this, you wish he didn’t have the trauma he did so he could worry about things normal little boys did instead.

He sniffled into your chest, head pressed into your fluffy pyjama top face first. You continue the slow cycles on his back and wrap your arm around his legs to keep his close to you.

“Do you wanna talk about it, baby?” You ask.

He shudders, but nods.

“He c-came to get us, my dad, he came in here and took me and ‘Miki and said w-we had to leave with him to the big Zen’in family and never come home again and h-he said you didn’t w-want us and-” and the sobs took over as you got the gist of the dream and if the ghost of Toji Fushiguro was in front of you right now you’d kill him and send him back to hell again.

“Oh, my sweet boy - that’s never gonna happen. We’re never leaving you or Tsumiki, we always will want you guys - we love you both so much. I promise, no matter how much me and Satoru annoy you guys you can’t get rid of us, ‘Kay? We’re a family now. Your dad isn’t taking you from us, pinky promise.”

‘Because your unofficially adopted father killed him and him and I threatened the Zen’in family so much that they’re too scared to come within a mile of you two!’ Is the bit you leave out.

You also leave out that you and Satoru are looking at legally adopting them - that’s for another, happier time.

He sticks his little pinkie finger out and locks it with yours, sniffling a tiny bit more and rubbing his face (snot and all) onto your koala print top, but you couldn’t care less when you can feel the shaking start to settle.

“We can stay with you guys forever, ‘Miki too? Even though she has no magic stuff like me and you guys because the Zen’in said that she wasn’t worth keeping and -” He asks.

“Megumi - we don’t want you two because of what you can or can’t do - we love you guys as Megumi and Tsumiki, nothing else. Even if neither of you could do any of that stuff, you’re stuck with us, okay? Satoru and I have enough magic to keep us all safe - the whole family, okay?” You hate the Zen’in family for even planting that fear in his little brain.

“I love you too.” He says as his tears dry and you wipe his little face. This is only the second time he’s said it to you both, once was a few weeks ago when you and Satoru put him to sleep and both whispered “love you!” into his softly lit room and he whispered “love you guys too.”

You both sobbed that night - you’re both only 21 - can’t be doing that bad of a job with them if he says it back, can you?

“You’re such a brave boy. If you get more yucky dreams again, you come get me or Satoru, okay?” You plonk a kiss on his spiky hair.

“Just you. Not Satoru.” He looks down, fiddling with your necklace.

“Why not, sweetie?”

“I - don’t want him to know.”

“About the nightmares?”

He nods.

“He - he’s the strongest. I don’t want him to think I’m not brave or strong.” He says, words that shouldn’t even compute that way in his head.

“Absolutely not - baby, who told you that being scared makes you not brave or strong?” You tilt his little head up.

“My dad.”

“Well your dad’s dumb then. You can only be really brave if you’re scared. Being scared and fighting anyway is the bravest thing a person can do, I promise. Think about it this way - who’s the bravest and strongest person you know?” You ask as he giggles at you saying Toji’s dumb (you’ve plenty of other names too for that man.)

“You and Satoru.” He says with such resolve your heart melts, you expected him to say Satoru, so being included felt good.

“Satoru and I both get nightmares too, I had one last week, Satoru a few nights ago. It doesn’t mean you’re not brave or strong - it just means you need a little extra love, that’s all.” You nod at him, and you seem the surprise in his eyes at the revelation that the strongest and bravest people he knows get nightmares too, shattering the words Toji had planted into smithereens. How could nightmares mean you’re not those things if you guys had them? You had to know, because you and Aunty Koko were the smartest people in the world. Maybe Ijichi too.

He’s quiet for a minute.

“So if I have a bad dream - I can come get you or Satoru?” He asks.

“You can get more or him for anything at all, honey, not just bad dreams. We’re always here for you, and nothing will change our minds about how much we love you, or how brave and strong and smart and kind you are - ‘Kay?” He nods into your chest at this.

He settles down, small fingers still fiddling with your pendant.

“C’mon, do you wanna come stay with us in our room tonight?” You say.

He thinks for a second.

Then nods, and yawns.

So you lift him onto your hip, ensuring he has his frog and his water bottle and carry him down the hall into your room. Satoru’s still splayed across the bed like he’s determined to use every single centimetre of his long ass body to claim territory.

You point at the drool on his face and Megumi giggles, hearing Satoru order dessert in his sleep.

You lay him down between you both, and crawl in under the covers as he settles in - the movement stirring Satoru, who’s eyes open and he looks in confusion.

“Princess whatcha doin’ up? S’late. Wait - what you doin’ here kid?” He slurs, lifting himself onto his side to face you both.

Megumi looks at you and you smile, tucking him into the bed with you both.

“‘Gumi had a bad dream, ‘toru - so he’s going to stay with us tonight, a little extra love - yeah?” You say, petting both your boys hair. ‘A little extra love’ was what you had said to Satoru when you found him awake after a nightmare back in first year of high school. He smiled at that, eyes dropping back closed as he ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Bad dream are the worst, aren’t they kiddo? I hate ‘em. If any bad guys come near you I’ll blast them into space, ‘kay? You just shout for me in your dream and let me deal with ‘em.” Satoru mumbles, sleep quickly taking him again, as he shuffles in closer to the middle and you both wrap an arm around the little boy who is snuggling in to return to sleep.

“Promise?” Megumi asks, poking Satoru’s nose.

“Pinky promise.” Satoru replies, lips quirked but eyes shut.

Megumi smiles softly to himself, and hugs his frog and shuts his eyes.

You let out a yawn, eyes closing heavy.

“Goodnight boys, I love you both.”

“Night Y/N. Luh’ you too.” Megumi mumbles, hair splayed almost identically to Satoru’s.

“Night night, Princess. Love ya’ always, you too kiddo.”

No more nightmares that night, just four sleeping soundly in a quiet cottage.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #family formations au #family formations drabbles

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insipid-drivel · 5 months ago

Text

Endometriosis, Fat Doctors, And Bellybuttons: What They Don't Teach You In Health Class

Woo another rambling TED talk, but I just got home from a meeting with a doctor specializing in wound care that I really feel a lot of you should hear:

Firstly, I've been having mysterious pains in my bellybutton area since... probably last Autumn? But I've had menorrhagia (extremely heavy, painful, and even dangerous periods that can cause spontaneous hemorrhaging) since I was 13 years old. Since my menorrhagia became active, I've been begging for a hysterectomy. I'm moving into my 20 year anniversary of Living With A Uterus That Hates Me As Much As I Hate It.

Being trans (agender) also really incentivizes the whole "yeet the uterus" thing, too, but that doesn't really have anything to do with why I wanna talk to y'all about endometriosis and bellybuttons.

Anyway, as of this year, I've had a lot of issues with my bellybutton region. Random infections, inflammation, pain, trips in and out of the ER; the works. My doctor has been so confused by my bizarre constellation of symptoms that he hasn't been sure of what's going on or what the best course of action is, aside from referring me for more tests and prescribing comfort measures in the meantime.

Until today. My desperate track for a diagnosis began over a week ago when my symptoms became alarmingly sepsis-like, but my test results came back with nothing but signs of an elevated white blood cell count. My doctor has been rushing me from specialist to specialist, and today was a wound care doctor that specializes in treating bariatric, hospice, and disabled patients that can't necessarily follow conventional wound-care advice meant for young, abled, and thin people.

I didn't expect much. Maybe some magnifiers, swabs, and a biopsy at worst, followed by antibiotics and whatever else, but definitely nothing that would help me solve this latest scary health mystery. While the worst of the pain I had that landed me in the ER went away on its own enough that I can get by with mobility aids, I still haven't had a diagnosis.

Until Awesome Fat Doctor.

Awesome Fat Doctor I celebrate. I live for this man. He literally gave me a reason to keep on trying and not give up. I was so scared of the appointment I'd gone nonverbal (not weird for me these days), but I got my voice back after I spent a while with him and his nurse (who was also fantastic). Even though I only met him for a few minutes and he forgot to introduce himself so I can't remember his name right now, Awesome Fat Doctor was a rock star. He was in his later middle age, scruffy, unshaven, and fat - enough that I could imagine the reason he specializes as a wound care doctor is because he may have gotten fed up of other doctors blaming his own health problems on his weight and life choices.

AFD gave no fucks. Along with being a big guy, he carried himself with the gruff no-nonsense of a man that's probably beaten up his ableist colleagues overdiagnosing fibromyalgia in the back of a Wendy's parking lot. He had been informed of my autism and my own needs for a wheelchair due to my own long-term chronic pain and other health issues, as well as my troubles speaking, and treated me like a little cousin that was having a rough go of things like he'd had.

He was compassionate and a straight-shooter with me. He was respectful of my boundaries, talked to me as casually as if I could respond like anybody else with working vocal cords (which I was eventually able to), and generally had all the bedside manner of someone that has worked with patients with special needs of all kinds. He looked at the trouble area and my records and history, told me that he was gonna do his best to get things straightened out, and then went quiet as he studied the timeline of my issues.

"Do you have endometriosis?" he asked, while studying a photo my mom had taken of a... skin infection over my lower abdomen, which had spread from my bellybutton.

I was confused.

"Not that I know of," I answered. I'd found my voice already when he and his nurse both helped put me at ease and showed me I was respected, safe, and seen. I've been tested a few times in my life for endometriosis and had my fair share of ultrasounds (the most common way to diagnose endo), and nobody had found anything unusual. But I have menorrhagia, am always in pain from my reproductive organs, and am desperate to get them removed. I'm on a 24/7 regimen of 2x normal birth control pills just to keep me from menstruating for my own safety. It sucks.

"My wife once had to get emergency surgery for what we thought was appendicitis. Do you know what it turned out she had?" he asked me, very suddenly, and like he had an idea.

"Ectopic pregnancy?" was my first guess, because women have died in the past to ectopic pregnancies that were mistaken for appendicitis.

AFD shook his head. "It was her menstrual cycle, and she had endometrial tissue bleeding into the space beside her appendix. I think you may have endometrial tissue in your bellybutton, and every time your hormones try to cycle in spite of your birth control pills, it bleeds and infects."

I was gobsmacked. Endometriosis and PCOS run in my family as reliably as eye and hair color, but I'd never really thought of how pernicious endometrial tissue could actually be. When I picture endometrial tissue, I picture overgrowths inside of reproductive tissue, or clinging to the outside; not growing randomly within the abdominal cavity or emerging out of my fucking skin like a turkey pop-up timer of doom.

AFD slowly nodded. "And the only way we'd be able to see the endometrial tissue is if you had it tested while you were menstruating and the tissue itself was inflamed and bleeding. Otherwise, it won't show up as anything different to the normal, healthy tissues surrounding it. A biopsy isn't reliable, either, because we have to know exactly where the tissue is before we test it. You have to have your hormones triggering the tissue to inflame and behave differently so it can be diagnosed if there are no big deposits of tissue to see."

After a long time of my ears ringing, I asked him, "Do you think it's possible that the ultrasounds were showing false negatives? Like, I have endometriosis and had it all along, but the tissue is too small to see or were being looked at at the wrong time?"

As it turns out, that's exactly what may be going on.

I see my doctor tomorrow, and meet with my surgeon at the beginning of next month.

Listen to your bodies, y'all. I am so thankful to that doctor, who wound up diverting into a very colorfully-worded rant about how much he hates the American medical system immediately after that. He gave me hope that I was just having new issues with old problems and was right all along about what my body really needed, and that my symptoms now are just showing what happens when doctors neglect their patients' needs.

I did wind up asking if he specialized with wound care because of how other doctors responded to his weight, and he said that it was a mix of reasons beginning with Yes: Both so he could have a safe space from fatphobia and ableism for himself and his patients, but also so his wife - who, while I hadn't seen her, he explained was about as big as he was - would have her own pain taken more seriously, being both fat and female. As he'd already explained, she hadn't been successfully diagnosed with endometriosis until she was symptomatic of full-blown appendicitis-levels of pain as an adult and her doctors were forced to stop blaming her pain on her weight.

Now, as I sit here reflecting... It's hard to believe that, thanks to this doctor's theory, I may finally be free from pain and dysphoria sooner than I imagined. It just took a doctor who could empathize with me to see me, and choose to take the scarier hill to fight on with me.

#fat acceptance #fat positivity #endometriosis #tw: fatphobia #body positivity #ableism #trans positivity #when gender positivity and fat positivity collide we have... RESULTS!#like honestly if you're young and disabled #go to places that work a lot with palliative/bariatric/hospice patients #you'll probably be treated with SO MUCH more compassion and understanding #long post

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kedreeva · 9 months ago

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So I live somewhere where certain foods aren't readily available. I'm looking to buy a house - smallish house, biggish land is an option(cheaper). I've never kept anything more ~interesting~ than snakes. I went to a restaurant in a city a few years back where I tried duck for the first time and it instantly became my favorite food. Would it be weird to uh, keep ducks for eating? I've no problem with butchering but I'm worried I'd get attached to MY ducks.

I can't really answer if you'll get attached, because I don't know you or your penchant for getting attached. I can answer that it's not weird at all to raise ducks for meat. There are entire breeds of ducks that are great to raise for meat (like muscovies or pekins). Personally, I prefer the muscovy breed because I find them to be adorable (lots of cool color morphs! they do a little butt waggling dance in a circle!), GREAT moms who take on HUGE clutches no problem, they don't require or play in large amounts of water the way pekins do, and they're not as noisy (they hiss, they don't quack). The boys also get quite large, without getting super fat the way proper meat pekins do.

Like that's just. Terrible. I assume they get belly rub sores. The meat is probably good, the fat is probably good cooking. But at what cost?

I can also say that most people do get somewhat attached to animals they raise for food, but I think that's an important part of it. Part of raising animals for food is understanding that you're giving them the best life you can up to the point of butcher, which is often better than whatever life they would have in a factory farm. Part of raising food animals is caring enough about them to do well by them, as the only gratitude you can show to them in exchange for their life. Part of raising animals for food is understanding that you are going to take the life of another creature, and I think that attachment is how we understand the weight of that decision.

Personally, I think that it's right and good for people to get attached to their livestock. I think it helps them remember that they're caring for a living creature that has needs and feels pain. A creature that is deserving of excellent care while alive. I see a LOT of people allowing animal suffering in the fowl world because "it's just a chicken" and the babies "only cost a couple bucks," and "they can be replaced." IMO, it's a particularly callous attitude to have, toward an animal whose life will be taken to provide for you. Even one whose life is dedicated to providing for you while living (eggs, milk, wool, honey, etc) deserves better than to be considered a Thing that can be allowed to suffer merely because it is replaceable.

Lastly, I can say that (for me at least) there's often a major difference between the attachment you feel toward a pet and a livestock animal. Part of it is expectations going in, part of it is time. For pets, the expectation is that you will have that animal for the duration of that animal's average life expectancy, and you can plan accordingly for allowing yourself emotional investment. For livestock, the expectation is that you will only have the animal until its butcher date, which is often quite early in their life. A healthy, well-kept dog you can probably expect a good 10 years from, a cat nearly twice that. The average butcher age for a pekin duck is 3 months old (for comparison, they have an average lifespan of 5 years before their bodies give out from growth and weight issues), for muscovies 3-6 months (with an average lifespan of 20 years). There's just not as much time to get attached in the first place, unless you're getting attached to your breeders.

So, is it weird to raise ducks for food? Absolutely not. Are you going to get attached? I hope so, at least a little bit. And I hope that you feeling that connection to your food source helps you to take excellent care of them until their time comes, and that it compels you to make their end as quick and painless as possible.

#asks #animal death for ts #animal death #food #I haven't personally eaten any peafowl #but I have sold several of them to go as food before #I have raised meat chickens and meat turkeys #and I raise quail now #and there's attachment to some degree #it is harder than going to the grocery store that's for sure #but it's worth it imo to know exactly what care your food animals got

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socra-time · 26 days ago

Text

Naruto Episode Comments, Ep. 1-20

(Context: I know a lot of the character’s names and some of the big plot points, but I’m going in blind otherwise)

Ep 1:

-Naruto is kinda annoying but also he’s just a lil gremlin and I can respect that

-I kinda love Iruka. Also he’s hot.

-”Clone jutsu? That’s my worst jutsu!” says Naruto, known for his Shadow Clone jutsu

-there’s just something so charming about the old anime style (but also some of the expressions are so goofy)

-HOLY SHIT IRUKA IS A REAL ONE

-I don’t trust the Hokage. I don’t really have a concrete reason for this yet, but his vibes are off

-oooh Irukaaaaa you’re so sexy for not being an asshole to the traumatized child

-oh I guess Shadow Clone jutsu is different from regular clones so disregard my earlier comment

-honestly this was a better first episode than I was expecting. I’m sold!

Ep 2:

-Naruto continues to be a lil gremlin

-Naruto pls for the love of god stop using your stupid ass “sexy jutsu”

-the Hokage really has had enough of these little kids and honestly I can’t even blame him

-I love the voice of Konohamaru’s trainer (I’m watching dub btw), it’s so pompous

-I love the ninja sandals. I want a pair.

-I like that Naruto’s voice actually sounds childish. It’s a tad bit grating sometimes but I think I’ll get used to it quickly

-STOP IT WITH THE SEXY JUTSU

-STOPPPPPP

-anyways #KonohamaruForHokage

Ep 3:

-again, the ninja sandals are so fucking drippy

-Ino wtf is up with your outfit. Why is half of it bandages

-the amount of sheer passive-aggressiveness in these 12 year old girls-

-Naruto has a crush on Sakura at first???? I didn’t know that lol

-Sasuke does not give a singular shit about anything other than his brooding and tbh I didn’t expect anything less

-Sakura’s little inner monologue is so feral lmao

-I don’t like Sasuke’s voice so far. It’s monotone, but not in an edgy way, just in a kinda dull way? Also he doesn’t really sound like a kid

-no hate to Shikamaru but his ponytail looks painful. My scalp hurts just looking at it

-oh my god not Sakura ragging on Naruto for being an orphan-

-lmao the amount of fucking drama with this team of kids is crazy

-why are the Hokage and Kakashi just casually breaking into Naruto’s home to look around

-rip Naruto’s bowels

Ep 4:

-I was not expecting Kakashi to sound like that but I’m kinda here for it actually

-oh I can already tell I’m gonna hate how the female characters are written in this show. Sakura honey I’m so sorry

-I know Sasuke’s got trauma or whatever but god he’s so fucking edgy. “I hate most things and I don’t like anything” bitch just say your favorite food or something

-oh my god Naruto is so tiny compared to Kakashi

-ok I already see why people love Kakashi so much

Ep 5:

-Kakashi is raining hell down on these children and I’m so here for it

-Kakashi is so COOL

-fucking “HEADHUNTER JUTSU” is the most metal name for a jutsu

-“you think like little kids” says Kakashi to the 12 year olds

-Kakashi really didn’t need to give his “you failed” monologue while pinning Sasuke to the ground. Bro was just doing it to assert dominance lmao

-I know that Sasuke’s reasoning for sharing is logical and not because he cares about Naruto, but I like that he offers his food to Naruto first

-aw the squad is starting to squad just a teeny tiny bit

Ep 6:

-booooo Naruto is a cat hater :(

-I love that Naruto is shorter than Sakura

-I like that we get some worldbuilding early on (also I’m a sucker for a good map so the scene explaining the different regions was cool)

-okay Sasuke is a badass

-Kakashi is also a badass but I already knew that

-I love how chill Kakashi is about literally everything

Ep 7:

-Kakashi is so over the bridge builder guy’s bullshit

-I do wish there was more of a sense of scale regarding how far apart the different locations are, since I have no idea how far away from Konoha the Land of Waves actually is

-okay I was NOT expecting Zabuza to fucking THROW HIS GIANT CLOUD STRIFE SWORD LIKE A BOOMERANG???

-Zabuza 🤝 Kakashi

not wearing their headbands correctly

-I like Zabuza’s voice

-the sharingan doesn’t make that much sense to me in terms of how it works but I’ll just chalk it up to anime logic

EP 8:

-oh the Water Prison jutsu is kinda terrifying to think about

-I can’t get over Zabuza’s fuckin armwarmer thingies

-ah yes gotta love the choppy old anime fight animation

-between Kakashi and Zabuza, Sasuke really cannot get a break from being pinned to the ground

-the demon wind shuriken is so sick-looking

-okay good on Naruto and Sasuke for working together but couldn’t they have given Sakura something to do

Ep 9:

-binging this makes the flashbacks at the beginning of episodes very annoying

-oh Kakashi is fucking PISSED

-shoutout to whoever animated all the hand signs for the jutsus holy shit

-yeah Kakashi would be so annoying to fight ngl

-Sakura is constantly calling Naruto out on his bullshit and that’s the kind of hater behavior I’m here for

-the soundtrack is hitting different this episode

-wow Naruto really saw another kid kill a man and got immediate imposter syndrome lmao

Ep 10:

-I like Haku’s painted nails

-aw Kakashi is actually a really encouraging teacher

-how is Naruto so bad with chakra control and yet was able to master Shadow Clone jutsu????

-Kakashi casually defying gravity to walk up a tree with his crutches was actually kinda hilarious to me for some reason

-I’m still not sold on Sasuke’s voice. There are moments when it’s fine but otherwise it’s just so stiff

-YAY FOR SAKURA GETTING A WIN OVER THE BOYS

-aw Naruto encouraging Sakura was cute (even though he was salty about her beating him)

-I like the difference that’s set up between having a lot of chakra (like Naruto) versus good chakra control (like Sakura)- hopefully this means people are going to go about how they train and fight differently

-Naruto asking Sakura for advice and asking her not to tell Sasuke anything was actually kinda endearing lol

Ep 11:

-dumb question maybe but if Gato is so against the bridge being built and he has the resources to hire a bunch of goons, why doesn’t he just bomb the bridge or something

-ah yes Sakura discovers poverty

-Sasuke is slowly growing on me. He’s very awkward

-Sakura I’m so sorry you have to deal with those two idiots as teammates

-holy fuck Inari’s backstory with Kaiza was darker than I thought it would be

-also rip Kaiza you were a real one

Ep 12:

-lmao not Naruto thinking Haku is prettier than Sakura fjfhshhajasisa-

-aw Sasuke helping Naruto walk home after training was nice, there’s definitely very slight development happening in their relationship as rivals

-Kakashi’s talk with Inari was a really nice moment

Ep 13:

-I like the way Haku talks. It’s very impassive and mysterious

-I’m always a fan of when the MC inspires literally everyone around them and Naruto is no exception

-Haku’s painted nails continue to slay (also I realized his toenails are painted too)

-the needles Haku fights with are really cool-looking but also seem really impractical

-YEAHHHHH NARUTO TIME

-aw Kakashi is proud of his kids

-goddamn Haku is so cool

Ep 14:

-I’m only thinking about this now but did Naruto never wonder why he had a big seal on his stomach

-literally half this episode was recap which was kinda annoying

-Naruto I love you but you’re so stupid

Ep 15:

-I really wish they gave Sakura more to do in this fight. I get that Kakashi’s the only one who can take Zabuza and that we need to see Naruto and Sasuke fighting together, but Sakura is kinda just standing there the whole time

-Haku needs to go to therapy ASAP

-I’m still confused about how Kakashi’s sharingan works tbh

Ep 16:

-aw yeah baby Sasuke sharingan time

-aw yeahhhh Sasuke saving Naruto

-god fucking dammit I think Sasuke is my favorite Team 7 member and I hate that for me

-oh boy Naruto is about to go apeshit

-also there is no way in hell anyone watching this actually believed Sasuke died

Ep 17:

-geez the animation quality really went up this episode

-yeah Haku’s backstory is just as tragic as I thought it would be but also Jesus Christ his relationship with Zabuza is so fucked up

-I’m very curious as to why Kakashi has the sharingan if it’s a bloodline trait of the Uchiha clan (and also why he only has it in one eye)

-Kakashi summoning fucking dogs was so random but also hell yeah doggies

-andddd Kakashi’s a lightningbender? I thought the sharingan was his main thing but apparently not

-Haku PLEASE go to therapy

Ep 18:

-this show’s soundtrack has actually been so good so far

-so like was Naruto actually gonna kill Haku before Haku stopped him

-oh FUCK rip Haku (also first real-time death of the series!)

-Kakashi closing Haku’s eyes and saving his body was nice, you can tell that he feels bad about him dying even though he was on Zabuza’s side

-also they didn’t hold back on the blood, goddamn

-I like that the bridge builder seems to have a bit of a soft spot for Sakura since she’s been with him the most

Ep 19:

-Gato is literally so fucking disgusting I need him dead ASAP

-Kakashi wrangling Naruto back from attacking Gato was kinda funny

-ah yes the big Shonen Protagonist Speech™ from Naruto

-Zabuza’s last hurrah was fucking epic, I really like how his and Haku’s story ended (also the line “where he’s going, I cannot follow” about Zabuza joining Haku in the afterlife was metal). I like that Zabuza got a last moment of humanization

-aw Naruto is such a wholesome, determined lil guy

-oh Naruto is gonna be so insufferable when he finds out the bridge is named after him

Ep 20:

-HELL YEAH CHUNIN EXAM TIMEEEE IM SO EXCITED

-wow Naruto is really out here fantasizing about being Sasuke’s knight in shining armor

-Sasuke is a cocky little shit but also he’s technically right about Naruto and Sakura being “worse” than him

-so far Sakura’s biggest fight has been her beating up fuckin Konohamaru

-SAND SIBLINGS SPOTTED!!!

-I don’t like Temari’s voice

#naruto #socra’s Naruto liveblog

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chlorinecake · 1 year ago

Text

Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you.

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate.

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf

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mellkellyismyhero · 2 years ago

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Jonathan Stroud and Kipps

You know, as a kid reading Lockwood and Co., I LOVED Lucy, George, Lockwood, and Holly. They were all my age! Every time a new book came out I’d imagine Lucy was growing up with me.

But that meant that I didn’t have much of a connection with Kipps, who was kind of L&Co.’s punching bag (affectionate). I liked him, but I never loved him the way I loved everyone else.

Now, I’m older than L&Co. Reading the books and watching the show feels like revisiting my younger self. I was expecting to love the L&Co. trio dynamic- and I did! But one thing I really wasn’t expecting was my newfound appreciation for Kipps.

Jonathan Stroud’s decision to focus on Kipps’ transition from brilliant teen agent to terrified, washed-up adult... It didn’t speak to me as a kid because I was too busy identifying with how cool Lucy’s Talent was. But now that I’m in Kipps’ age range, I identify with Kipps a lot more over Lucy. I can’t really put it in words- this is probably going to be the first of many posts of me spewing emotions and love for Jonathan Stroud’s writing skill- but I’m going to try.

Minor Kipps-related spoilers for L&Co. books under the cut.

Kipps, in the show and books, is 20-22 years old. He’s college-aged. And he cannot do the one thing that he has trained his entire life for, and needs to adjust to that. As a kid, I just kind of saw that as the same kind of “kids rule, adults drool” thing that happens in all kids adventure stories. Can’t have the responsible adults ruining the kids’ fun!

But Kipps was unusual in that you get to SEE him go from ‘competent rival agent’ to ‘technically a useless adult’. He’s straddling the line in the way that other series, where kids get to have magic because they’re good and pure or whatever don’t.

The thing is, it would’ve been easy for Kipps to be forgotten. Just let him fade into the background and never be mentioned again after book 2. But he’s there in book 3, and 4, and 5, still doing his best to fight ghosts even if he can’t see them. As a kid, I was just like ‘huh, okay, that’s a choice’ and kind of ignored him. Who cares what Kipps is doing when Lucy and Holly are having an epic argument that’s going to bring a million ghosts down on their heads?

As an adult, I LOVE that Stroud chose to keep Kipps around. I love that Kipps found a new way to keep fighting (the goggles). I love that Kipps kind of became a member of Lockwood and Co. I love that Stroud made the readers and the characters confront the reality that one day our beloved main characters would lose their Talents too, that even Lucy would go deaf one day, instead of just ignoring the generous but very real time limit the characters had hanging over their heads.

(Side note: part of my love for this series might be stemming from my complicated feelings about the Seven Wonders book series, where a kid is told he has less than a year to live and will likely spend months in debilitating pain and then... spends that year fucking around looking for magical artifacts and not actually having any kind of physical consequences for LITERALLY HAVING A DEADLY ILLNESS-)

Anyway.

Kipps is fantastic. The way he represents the inevitable future of Lockwood and Co... the way he represents the thousands of other agents who grew too old to sense ghosts and couldn’t keep fighting even if they wanted to... the way that he tries so hard to keep the kids he’s in charge of alive but can’t because he’s only one person and he’s losing his Talent...

He’s going through such a major transition and doesn’t know what his place in the world is anymore, and honestly, what early-twenties person does? There’s something there about Talents and childhood trauma and taking your first few steps into adulthood without the tools that saved your life as a child because they don’t work anymore...

In conclusion: Kipps was an amazing character, and I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate him sooner.

#quill kipps #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #l&co. netflix #l&co #l&co netflix #l&co.#mine #quill kipps appreciation

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

am I the asshole for going to my bedroom to eat instead of eating dinner with my family?

this is kind of- a couple years old of a story, but it dwells on us a lot. we realized we could send this here and see what others think - because we feel like we were justified and in the right completely, but we still just, get very upset over this and would appreciate other opinions. (from here out, will be using we/us pronouns.)

we are physically and mentally disabled, 20 years old and currently dependant on our mother and grandmother. we have autism and anxiety, are the mental things most relevant for this story(also - these mental disabilities are entirely known by all of our family members). we aren't diagnosed with anything for our physical disabilities, but we suspect we have chronic fatigue syndrome, and we have something causing severe chronic pain.

our aunt had come to visit with her fiance, from another state, and was spending a couple of days with our family.

we enjoy cooking, and we're good at it. we offered to cook dinner for everyone, and because of our aunt disliking mushrooms, she asked us to make a second, separate batch of what we were making for the meal. okay, we're a picky eater as well. we were just happy to be able to make something that we thought everyone would like - and everyone *did* like it! it all turned out really good, the texture of the batch we made for our aunt was a little different than we expected and we were used to, but it all was still really good.

we had been cooking for like...an hour and a half. the entire time, we were out there with our family. there were a lot of people. we had to share the kitchen at one point as well, because our aunt wanted a specific side dish with the meal that we couldn't make, it was her and her fiance who made it.

by the time we'd finished cooking, we were in a lot of pain, tired, overheating, and drained. not to mention just generally hungry. so, we took a bowl of the food we'd made, told everyone that food was ready and they could help themselves. and then tried to go to our bedroom.

every time we cook, we go back to our bedroom with our food, even when it's for a smaller group. we need that chance to recharge.

our aunt started to get on our ass a bit, saying something like "you're not going to stay out and eat with us?" and we essentially responded "no? I'm tired." she essentially stated "but you know, sometimes, family comes first!"

she and her fiance started to get on our ass about it more. note that, her fiance? he is not someone we consider family. we don't dislike him, but he's not someone we know. he is an acquaintance at best. he will be family to us legally when he marries her, and that's it.

it felt like they were ganging up on us, trying to change how we've always done this. we made them food, and an entirely separate batch of it as well, with one alteration, that changed the entire cooking process of the meal. the mushrooms are the very first thing to go in. and we had to handle both different dishes at once - something we had never done before.

we were doing an event together the very next day. "I'll be at the event tomorrow the entire time" is what we pretty much said, before going to our room anyways. (side note - she completely ditched our entire family to spend the entire time with her friends at this event.)

at some later point in her visit, we tried to explain somewhat, "I have mental health issues that make this difficult, and I was in pain, I needed a break." and she essentially said something like "sometimes you need to push through that and just do it anyways." we got frustrated and said "whatever, you don't understand." she tried to say "no, I do understand-" but we stopped her and said "no, you don't." then continued with something else we were doing.

we feel like she was being ableist as fuck, but also just generally rude. but pretty much that's where this ends off. we've thought about this so often since it happened and just want other peoples' opinions I guess.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ravensnpennies · 6 months ago

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The Birthday of My Beloved Furchild and His Origin Story

Today is the day I celebrate Nimbus's birthday. I found him in 2014. He's changed my life for the better over that decade. I want to tell you the story of the day I brought him home.

It was hot. I remember that. I had my windows open and "God's AC" was going full-blast. The pain of dealing with the loss of my grandmother and the worry of homelessness was eating away at my sanity. The grief was so much I felt it might eat a hole right through me. I could not content with it.

Black despair the likes of which I hadn't felt in decades consumed my every waking though. Food was ash in my mouth and every drink was bitter and bile-filled. I was breaking and I wasn't sure I'd be able to survive. It was too much. The sheer...weight of what happened was destroying me.

I first heard the cries of a kitten three days prior one afternoon. I ignored it. Not my problem. But the cries persisted and persisted and slowly they got weaker. Whatever is in me that drives me made the call: I either help and investigate or live with that guilt forever. I did the former.

The sound was so faint by now. So soft and pleading. It took me almost 20 minutes to locate them coming from the neighbor's Buick "Sunday ride." He was not home at the time and his wife hated that car so when I asked to investigate she tossed me the keys. The sound was definitely coming from within.

I finally located the cat deep in the engine. Took me almost an hour but I went full on wrecking crew and dissembled it to get to him. It was a tiny, dirty kitten. He cried so much, but didn't fight. I wrapped him up in a towel, handed the keys back, and headed home with my smudged furry prize.

No, I wasn't keeping this animal. I'd saved it. That was enough. I'd take it to a no-kill shelter in the morning. I managed to get them to eat some food from a medicine dropper and then put them in a warm cozy place to sleep.

But he looked at me. Gawd, he looked at me and a cat can look at a king and he said clear as day, "Please, please let me stay? I will love you and care for you and I will be there for you every day. I will take your tears and I will purr at you to soothe your fears. Will you please let me stay?"

And God help me, I did. I didn't know how much I'd need him in the long run. How much of a change he'd bring to my life. How he kept his word and become this tiny little guardian. A lion in the body of a housecat. An angel come to Earth. But I didn't know how special he was - not till later.

You see, only a few years prior I almost died and because of organ damage I became diabetic. I'm brittle. It's rough. You make do. But something about Nimbus...something neither of us expected helped. He could tell when my glucose changed. Better, he found a way to communicate it to me.

But that wasn't all. The first time he woke me from a near diabetic coma I thought it was a fluke. He bit me till I woke up and then I dealt with it. The second time? There was something going on. When my glucose smelled like something he didn't like he would get my attention.

Usually knocking off my diabetes kit to the ground. He saved my life from extreme hypoglycemic attacks four times over the years. I'm talking EMT and ER time. Not just a low. As he grew older I realized how smart he really was. It was baffling. He wasn't any special breed or type. He was just a cat.

But he grew up big and and strong and smart as hell. He quickly grasped fuzzy concepts and relationships. He understood what I told him. I'd say a word and explain it to him and point/associate and then he'd remember. I estimate his intelligence around the 4-5 year old level. He's THAT smart.

I guess I just wanted to celebrate him a little. He deserves it. He's not just my companion, he's my child and I love and cherish him so dearly it makes my heart ache. He makes me crazy some days, but when I say I would die for this cat I mean that in the very literal sense of that phrase.

There are some other things he does. He's my work "rubberduck" - you have no idea how many hours we've spent together talking and solving problems with my writing/design. He also knows when my sleep gets stupid and reminds me. And another big one: I have night terrors. He helps.

He'll wake me up and calm me down until I can think and he just stays there till I'm as soothed as can be. He employs Aurora (our girl kitteh) as an enforcer. If I do anything he doesn't like, he goes to here, something passes between the,, then she yells until I do $whatever.

And some have asked me about how he checks my glucose. I managed to capture it tonight (and uploaded it). It's really this simple for the most part.

I love you so much, son. So damn much. And I'll always take care of you no matter what. You are not a pet. You are family and family don't begin or end with blood, much less species. To the next decade, you lovely beast.

#cats #cats of tumblr #cute animals #diabetes

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princessisfinethx · 1 year ago

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König x FemReader...?

(I wanted to put that image of him sitting on top of that other guy with a knife on the side of his head, but I don't know if I'm allowed??Cause like the whole horse is there👀)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of r*pe and t*rture (but not acted upon)

I put the translated words at the very end. I'm sorry if the German is rough, i was using Bing... arrest me.

⁘Enjoy!⁘

This is how you were going to die. At least it was dignified. You fought the whole time and, well you tried. That's how your teammates will see it hopefully.

Of course, when you're (average? sized female) going against a fucking beast of a man it didn't really seem fair. But this was war and those were the consequences. Death

You were pressed against the ground, trapped between the thighs of an absolute unit of a man. Your arms keeping his hand holding the hunting knife suspended in the air above your throat. You swallowed harshly once or twice, wishing you could have been given a quicker death. Staring at the eyes above you, you wanted to cry at this sight. He looked like the Boogeyman.

A sniper's hood shielded all his facial features except for his eyes. You wished he wore shades because his piercing blue eyes were petrifying.

"Hör auf zu kämpfen! Sie haben verloren!" His other hand grabs your wrist and holds it above your head. You bite your lip as his knife slowly started sinking into the tender spot between your collar bone and your neck. Tears filled your eyes and you let out a pained scream-

⩤Let's rewind to about five minutes ago.⩤

Gun fire alerts your senses, and you look at your watch. They arrived earlier than expected. You groan and wait for someone to radio you the signal to get out of the building. Making sure your gun was off safety, you checked your small surroundings. You were in an empty room on the third floor of an abandoned (but stable) building. You were the backup, watching the roof tops of the other buildings for incase enemy squads tried to take the surprise from above.

They did not.

You had been watching the grounds for the past 20 minutes. Word was that the men you were looking out for would be arriving at this town about 45 minutes before you arrived. Not on schedule but you knew your team would make do.

Your radio hisses against your shoulder and you're quick to press against the button. "Status?"

"-Must have gotten word, there's too many. We're retreating. Meet at-" A few gunshots and then heavy breathing on the coms. "-------osed areas! Chop----there in 10-" more gunshots, more static. You curse and hope to shit that they're okay. Getting up you began running down the stairs. You reach the second floor and pause. There's a smoke bomb hissing the last of its continents into the hallway and you press yourself against the wall. Pulling down your cloth mask to cover your head and face, you begin to walk with caution.

Your grip was tight over the gun in your hands. You stopped before reaching the wall of smoke. You really didn't want to go in.

As childish as it seemed, you knew that whatever was waiting for you in this smoke knew you were here. Or this could have been an accidental smoke bomb set off by your own team.

You doubted it.

You narrow your eyes and slowly make your way through. Light from the windows helped to navigate your way forward. A noise beside you however made you pause. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel like an eight year old creeping through a dark house. Utterly terrified. Raising your gun, you carefully looked around. You made a slow circle around you but saw nothing. The smoke didn’t help. You were sure you were in the clear until a large form grabs your gun and kicks you in the chest. You gasped for air as you stumbled backwards and fell right back out of the smoke.

You look up in time to watch the chamber of your gun being thrown in front of you, then the gun itself being thrown against the wall and falling into two pieces. Then like a scene from a chilling horror story, it emerges from the smoke.

A man you’ve yet to know, König.

As of right now, he is the stuff nightmares seem to be made of. Quite possibly the Boogeyman. He glares down at you through the eyeholes of his hood. You’re still on the ground but you were scrambling away.

“Wirst du rennen oder kämpfen?” He spoke while stepping closer. His right hand unsheathes a large hunter’s knife from his belt and he twirls it carefully.

This man was looking for a knife fight. You were looking to live another day. So you got up to your feet and began running back down the hallway. He disassembled your gun and all you had left on you was a swiss army knife and a small pocketknife. You were usually more prepared for this; your other two guns were left in the truck you arrived on. And you forgot them but didn’t tell your Lieutenant. You thought one gun and five clips of bullets were enough.

You’re a dumbass and you’re going to die.

The big man yelled something else in German behind you but you didn’t even look back. However, the rumbling crash of footsteps running did. He was gaining on you quickly. You curse to yourself and ready your puny pocketknife. It always felt like a good self-defense tool, but not paired against that. He eventually caught up to you as you reached the stairs and grabbed you by the back of your vest. You turn with all your strength and jab the pocketknife into his triceps twice. He yelped in pain and let go, trying to kick you again. You rolled out of his way and jab your knife deep into his thigh before turning and running upstairs.

“Du abscheuliches Geschöpf!” He yelled but of course you didn’t know what the hell he was saying. You made it to the third floor and ran to the first window. You swallowed harshly at the height of the building across from you. You just needed to jump. 1…2…3…You groan in frustration and grip the window ledge. You couldn’t. But you have to. The sound of a nearby explosion caught your attention and you looked up. A helicopter had been shot down, and it was heading for you. You step back and feel a body behind you. Looking up you see the man looking at the chopper coming down as well. You quickly tackle him down and feel both of you hit the stairs. He had enough sense to grab the railing so both of you didn’t tumble down the steps.

The helicopter crashes into the side of the building, a few bricks and metal parts fly past the both of you but there wasn’t any serious damage to the structure of the building. Dust had filled the clearing but you didn’t let the shock of what happened hold you there. A hand was gripping your shoulders, keeping you pressed against his chest. Only partially grateful, you were quick to weasel your way out of his hold. Running towards the new opening in the wall, you had a bigger opening to jump across. So you ran and lept-

Only to be caught by the back of the vest and slammed down back onto the floor of the building you were trying to escape. This was the second time the wind had been knocked out of you. This guy just didn’t quit! He was breathing heavily as well, stalking toward you. You narrowed your eyes at him and tried to crawl away like before. This time he was on you, straddling your chest and readying his knife. “Danke, dass du mich gerettet hast.” His words were breathy as he showed you the knife he held above your eyes. “Aber es ist an der Zeit, dieses Spiel zu beenden.” Then his hand came down, almost slicing your neck but your arm held his hand back.

You stare up at him, biting your lip so you don't make any noise. You were struggling, and were sure that he could have easily overpowered you. You thought adrenaline was on your side. You didn’t want to die.

However…

This is how you were going to die.

⩥And here we are, where we left off.⩥

The knife pulled away from your skin and you gasped. Opening your eyes, you could see the man above you glare down at you. Was he waiting for something? He was hesitant now, it seemed. His knife reaches down and tugs the edge of your mask, pulling it up skillfully without cutting your face. You closed your eyes as the fabric peels away from your face. The fabric bunched on your forehead, and you opened your eyes.

The man was staring at your facial features, his knife trailing down the side of your tear-stained cheek. The blade of the knife stops at your lips and he makes a scoffing sound. He sat straight up while still looking at you. "Du bist nur eine junge frau?" It looked like he was smiling, and you felt your heart sink.

You know what could happen to women in war. Especially if they're taken as prisoners or interrogated. Rape was one of the lighter punishments. That's what you were told at one of the meetings about a month ago. They had listed and shown pictures of the many colorful torture experiments used on women. You and a few other soldiers in the room were told, that if you had to choose between getting captured or dying; choose the latter. Harsh words, but it came from a woman who looked pained to even say it.

You didn't know what sick activities he was imagining but you were going to have none of it.

You shook your head and grabbed his hand that held the knife. You pull it back to your throat and shakily speak. "Don't. Just kill me. Kill me!" The man above you had complete control over the knife as he watched you carefully. "You probably don't understand me, but you can understand this." You yanked the hand closer, but it never got close to your throat.

He tilted his head, then leaned down and pressed the knife to your throat again. You swallowed and closed your eyes, letting a few tears slip down the side of your face. This was it. Maybe he had enough mercy to spare you of whatever torture treatment awaited you.

A dark chuckle told you otherwise.

Your eyes slowly peer open and see the man putting his knife away. "No!" You spoke up but he was already hauling you up to your feet. You tried pulling away but his grip was like an anaconda coiled around its prey. "No no no! Not like this please!" He sighed at your wailing and grabbed your face between his thumb and two fingers. You stare up at him with wide pleading eyes.

He took his knife back out but flipped it upside down. He turns your head the other way and you felt the blunt end of the knife handle hit the back of your skull. You knocked out, falling against the larger man as he picked you up and held you over his shoulder. Without another word, he began retreating back downstairs.

⁘Translations⁘

Hör auf zu kämpfen! Sie haben verloren! - Stop fighting! You've lost!

Wirst du rennen oder kämpfen? - Are you going to run or fight?

Du abscheuliches Geschöpf! - You abominable creature!

Danke, dass du mich gerettet hast. Aber es ist an der Zeit, dieses Spiel zu beenden. - Thank you for saving me. But it's time to end this game.

Du bist nur eine junge frau? - You're just a young woman?

#cod mw2 #cod #cod modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #fanfic #konig modern warfare #konig cod

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bi-bard · 2 years ago

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Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash - Dream of the Endless Imagine [The Sandman]

Title: Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash

Pairing: Dream of the Endless X Reader

Based On: Arsonist's Lullabye

Word Count: 1,889 words

Warning(s): physical pain

Summary: (Y/n) has always been able to see and hear the dreams of other people. At first, they felt tortured by such a gift. However, when they catch the attention of the ruler of the dream realm, a new connection is made and relief is finally offered.

Author's Note: This one feels a bit like a stretch, but oh well.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I remember when I first heard the whispers of a dream that was not my own.

Well, the first time after I was able to create lasting memories.

I was five. I was lying on the couch with my mom while we watched some silly movie that I never did remember the name of.

And then, the whisper. Quiet. It almost tickled my brain. I looked at my mom. She wasn't speaking, but I could hear the mumbling.

It was in another language. At my age, I couldn't even tell one word from another, never mind ever know how to place it. I looked to my mom again. I asked her why one of the women in the movie was talking so funny. She asked what I meant, I explained, and she was confused.

It took three occurrences of me asking why there were "funny voices" on the TV for my parents to sit down and talk.

I spent a few years going from doctor to doctor. Everything was fine. Well, that's what the doctors said. My parents weren't convinced.

I spent a lot of my childhood and teenage years in my room. I didn't like getting questioned. It was always about what I was doing or what I heard.

There was a while when I thought maybe I had a purpose.

Like I was meant to help people somehow. I gave up on that dream when I realized that I couldn't figure out who anyone was, so I couldn't help them.

I waited.

I spent forever coping and trying to hide from whatever was in my head.

There were days when I would barely hear anything. And there were days when the voices were so loud that I thought that I was going to lose my mind.

I was never able to stop it.

I stopped trying at about 20 years old.

I just... dealt with it. No purpose for it or way to stop it. All I could do was survive with it.

That didn't change until many years later.

I didn't fully understand where I was. I didn't know about the dream realm being its own plain of existence. But I found myself walking into some large throne room. It felt like I needed to be there. Like it was the right place for me to be.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed against the stone walls. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a moving image of space. Stars and swirling colors. Beautiful.

"Excuse me?"

I jumped when a voice pulled me out of my thoughts. There was a woman standing off to the side. I took a deep breath.

"Who are you," she asked.

"(Y/n)," I said. "And you?"

"Lucienne," she replied.

"Hi," I waved awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't... I don't really know where I am."

"You don't know?"

"No," I forced a chuckle. "I just... It felt like I was supposed to be here."

"I brought them here," another voice spoke up. We both looked to the stairs at the end of the room. "I apologize for how long it took for me to do so."

"That doesn't change that I don't know where I am or who you are."

A grin teased the edge of his lips as he walked down the stairs to meet me. "My name is Morpheus. I am the ruler of this realm."

"And this realm is..."

"The realm of the dreaming."

I laughed. I couldn't really help it. A man looked me in the eye and told me that I was in the realm of the dreaming, and he was in charge. It was hard to believe.

Both of them furrowed their eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, but... you weren't expecting me to believe that the first time you said it, were you?"

"I have yet to have many people question me."

I slowly nodded. "Well, why did you... bring me here?"

"Your power," he said. "You can hear the dreams of other people."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tensed a bit. My parents had been firm in the belief that I shouldn't tell anyone about my gift.

"Is that so," he asked.

I didn't respond.

He stepped closer to me. I kept my eyes fixed on his. I refused to offer any indication of fear.

His hands moved up. He stopped them just next to my temples.

"May I?"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I believe it may help you."

I gave him a skeptical look before hesitantly nodding. What was it going to hurt?

His middle and index fingers touched my temples. My eyes closed for a moment as the voices in my mind slowly faded to silence.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again.

"What did you do," I asked.

"Offered a temporary solution," Morpheus explained. "They will return when you leave here."

I slowly nodded again. I was starting to believe what he had told me before.

"It must have been so loud," he continued.

"Sometimes," I shrugged. "I... I never thought I'd experience silence like this."

"I am sorry that I did not intervene sooner."

"Why... Why did you?"

"I want to help you control this gift on your own. It will allow you to find peace by yourself."

"You could do that?"

"I hope so."

I grinned at him. "Okay."

I spent the next few weeks in that very room.

It was strange to think about how I was spending my nights in some other world trying to use some power that had haunted me for so long. Not to mention that those nights were spent with the ruler of that other world.

I had lied to my mom about it. She had asked about if anyone had found out and I shook my head and said no. I hated nothing more than the guilt twisting in my chest, but I didn't know how to explain it without her thinking that it was a new symptom.

Regardless of my guilt or how strange the situation was, it was working.

It was getting better. I was able to spend time in beautiful silence without Morpheus's interference. The first day that it happened, I almost cried. I had never known peace like that.

I remember how tightly I hugged Morpheus when it happened. He chuckled as I did. It was a huge milestone.

I was hopeful. I was finally taking steps forward that I didn't think were possible. It was a miracle.

Maybe my hope was why it went wrong.

It was easier to believe that I was to blame. Because if I wasn't to blame, then who was? I would rather know who to target my resentment and anger at than accept that some things are entirely out of my control.

No. I could never accept that some other entity with no connection to me would ever torment me in the same way I was capable of tormenting myself.

I had been walking home from work. I had just gotten through my door. And then, it was like a tidal taking down the wall meant to keep it from flooding the town.

Like drums. Slowly building. Voices crept up on me, louder and louder. I tried to ignore it. I tried to control it. I couldn't. It was a choir of screaming people. Wants and needs and silly dreams all overtook every part of my mind.

I remember the pain in my head growing. A dull ache turned into pounding. It was overwhelming. The tears welled in my eyes as a sob tore through my throat. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to beg for help.

My vision started to blur. Black dots filled the space that tears didn't.

I stumbled to the couch, putting my hand out to find the cushion before my vision went entirely dark and I fell onto it.

I collapsed on the floor of the throne room as soon as my mind escaped the waking world. The hard stone made my knees ache, but my focus couldn't even acknowledge that feeling. I let out a sob as I tried to cover my ears. It didn't work.

"(Y/n)..."

I could barely hear Morpheus's voice over the growing chorus. My nails dug into my skin as I felt my head pounding.

Another sob escaped me. The walls of the throne room shook with my pained cries. Morpheus didn't pause at the disturbance to his realm.

He knelt in front of me.

"Please, make it stop," I begged. I wanted to shout over the voices, but nothing escaped me other than some broken whisper. "Please."

Morpheus's hands touched mine. He gently guided my hands away from my head. I was shaking so much.

"Please..."

"Shh," he spoke quietly. "I am going to help you. I promise."

Two fingers from either hand pressed against my temples.

The volume was going back and forth. Like he was fighting against another force. I just kept my eyes screwed shut and fought the urge to reach up and claw at his hands or my face or anything else.

And finally, it was over.

A heavy sigh of relief came out as my body seemingly went limp.

Morpheus's arms wrapped around me, holding me close to his chest as I cried.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. "I pushed you to test these gifts. I led you here. I am sorry."

I didn't reply. I was too focused on getting my breath to even out. I didn't think it was physically possible to be exhausted in the dream realm. But here I was, feeling like I was on the brink of losing consciousness.

I slowly pushed myself to sit up again. I looked at Morpheus. My heart almost broke clean in half at the look of guilt written on his face. I moved forward and hugged him properly. One of his hands cupped the back of my head as his other arm wrapped around me.

"I am going to keep you safe," he promised. "I will never leave you to cope with this power on your own. Not again."

I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder.

"I am so sorry."

"I forgive you," I replied. "I never blamed you."

He leaned back slowly. I grinned at him. He grinned back at me.

He stood up, taking both of my hands to help me follow his lead. "I am going to find a place for you to be at peace."

"Are you going to stay with me," I asked as he led me out of the throne room.

"If you will let me."

I nodded. "I would be much happier if you stayed with me, Morpheus."

His smile only grew.

The rest of that evening was spent in some comfortable silence. I laid back in a field of grass, taking the first calm breaths I had taken in hours. Morpheus sat next to me on the grass.

He would look at me from time to time. There was a cautious look on his face. I would grin at him. I knew that he was scared that what he had done wasn't enough, so I didn't stop him from trying to watch over me.

And that may have been the most peaceful night I had ever experienced.

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