#i can ask whatever clarifying questions i want but he’s allowed to just straight up lie if the real answer would be a spoiler

[starbuck]

watching this show in the way i am (with my friend who has an encyclopedic knowledge of it but REFUSES to give me spoilers) is soooooooo fun bc the way i’m assessing what might happen going forward is so funny… like. did he successfully kill himself? probably. will he be brought back in some other form AGAIN? maybe. could his bitch ass actor cope with not being as involved? probably not. <— reassess point “will he be brought back in some other form AGAIN?” to likely. is my friend blatantly lying to me by saying that he’s permanently dead? very possibly.

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 4

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: With some help Kamala uncovers intriguing information about your past.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 976

Shining Like A Pearl

The next morning Kamala is on her way to your room for your daily visit when she spots a redhead from the corner of her eye. She stops in her tracks and thinks for a moment before slowly approaching her, "Agent Romanoff?"

The redhead looks at her amused, "Hey."

"I’m Kamala Khan," she says nervously, reaching out her hand.

Natasha accepts the handshake, "Yes, I know who you are," she smirks.

The girl opens her mouth in a silent gasp only making Natasha more enthralled. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute," she speaks, after collecting herself.

"Sure," is all Natasha responds.

"So I’m confident you heard about the most recent mishap that occurred," the girl begins.

"With Danvers? Yeah, you're helping her partner get back on her feet, that's very nice of you," she states as a fact, not as a question.

"Thank you," the girl answers with pride, she pulls out her S.A.B.E.R. tablet and shows it to Nat, "She said the last thing she remembers is Paris."

"That was like a million years ago." Natasha reacts with surprise.

"Exactly. I was hoping maybe you remember something particular that happened during or after the mission that could help me out?" Kamala asks, hesitantly.

The redhead looks at the tablet and scrolls through the mission file, "Not really, it was a very routine procedure, in and out. Do you mind?" She gestures at the device.

"No, of course, not." The girl hands it over and Natasha starts to take a closer look.

"That's weird," she says, gaining all of Kamala's attention, "she didn't go on another mission for months after Paris."

"Is that uncommon?"

"For her it was." Nat's eyes never leave the screen.

"She said you didn't know each other very well."

"I didn't know her, I knew of her, look," she points at your file, "her following mission is redacted."

"What does that mean?" Kamala asks, a little lost.

"It means that you should pay Fury a visit." She punctuates her sentence by giving the tablet back.

Kamala goes to see Fury but he’s nowhere to be found. She goes upstairs and walks into your room like it’s her own only to find you shirtless in bed, you quickly pull up the covers, "Do you not know how to knock?"

"Not often, why are you naked?" she asks, unsure she wants to hear your answer.

"I ran out of t-shirts, turns out two is not enough."

"You only have two t-shirts?" She looks around your room, baffled.

"Whatever happened to 'They’ll bring your stuff back soon'?" you call her out and it all seems to make sense to her now.

"I actually don’t know," she responds, genuinely, "let me go find out." She already knows Fury is not in the compound so she tries calling him, she considers also asking about your mission, but decides that getting you a third t-shirt is more important right now.

"What?" Fury picks up the phone, already annoyed by whatever conversation is about to happen.

"We need to get her stuff back," Kamala saves the pleasantries for another time, "she’s out of clothes and she’s just hanging around topless."

"She’s going around the compound naked?" Fury feels the need to clarify.

"More like I barged into her room unannounced, but that’s not the point, it’s been long enough, she needs her stuff."

"Why are you telling me? You know damn well Carol isn't answering me either, and I’m not about to go to her house for some hoodies and a pair of jeans." He’s having none of it.

"Well we have to do something," Kamala insists.

Fury thinks for a moment, "I can give you a small budget for you to take her shopping."

She’s taken aback, "I thought she wasn’t allowed to leave?"

"As long as you're with her and you don't lead her straight to Carol it should be fine." That’s not the solution Kamala wanted to hear, but she’s gonna try to make the best of it.

She goes back to your room, making sure to knock just this time, "Shopping?" You look at her, unamused.

"Getting your stuff back is turning out to be a bit of a challenge so we should at least get you the basics, like another shirt," she responds, sheepishly.

You reluctantly accept to go to the nearest store where you can get the most average, black, cotton t-shirts. You’re on your ride back when you decide to break the silence, "What happened to Monica?" you ask with hesitation.

Kamala isn’t prepared for the question, "She’s, uh, not here right now," she responds clumsily.

"Is she on a trip?"

"You could say that." Her tone is vague.

A million thoughts start going through your head, "Did she die?"

"Oh, no, she’s not dead!" she’s quick to clarify, "She, kinda, got stuck in another universe." Her voice turns small.

"How-? What-? When-?" Your face turns to complete confusion.

"On our last mission together she used her powers to fix a tear in space-time, she had to do it from the outside. She’s a hero," she explains with pride and respect, you try your best to process the information, "what do you remember about her?"

"Everything," it’s a big overstatement, but not in comparison to everyone else, "we worked together often, she was a close friend, she’s the most brilliant human I’ve ever met," you reminisce.

"She really is."

You wake up in the middle of the night, your eyes glued shut no matter how hard you try to open them. You hear the faint sound of a heart monitor beeping and some voices in the distance, you try to move, but you can't feel your body. You're hit with a sharp pain on the side of your neck and everything goes quiet again.

Chapter 5

Tell me all your thoughts!

Tags: @graniairish @thelittleliars @carols-photonblast @rosiotor

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

[crazycurly-77]

Lost in the Jungle - pt. 9

“We found out what happened when you were shot down,” Tony stated. 

Now that was interesting. 

Immediately Gibbs looked at him and asked seriously “What did you find?” 

But Tony was so caught up that McGee seemed not to be shocked by seeing Gibbs and you kissing, that he didn't answer. Instead he turned to Tim and inquired curiously and a bit pissed off

“Wait a moment. Bambino, you weren't surprised of them being together. Did you know about them?”

Tim swallowed hard and exchanged a questioning look with you. Then he answered “Uhm…uhm…yeah. But I only found out about it in the Jungle,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

Slightly indignant Tony looked at him and inquired further “And you didn't tell me straight away?” Tim only huffed, but didn't say a word. 

Then Gibbs made himself noticed and stated harshly “DiNozzo.”

“Yes, boss…,” Tony replied, turning back to Gibbs and getting immediately serious. 

“It was an accidental shooting down of the aircraft due to a malfunction while testing new weapons by the Ecuadorian military. They found the plane too and contacted us with a big apology.”

Gibbs scoffed “with a big apology…they are lucky that Y/N is still alive, otherwise…”

He felt his blood boiling, so you laid your hand calmingly over his and whispered “calm down, Jethro. I'm here and I'm still alive. Everything will be fine again.”

You smiled at him and he smiled back much calmer now. 

This was the moment for Jenny to clarify the solo effort of Gibbs and McGee. 

“Gibbs, McGee,” she began seriously. 

Then she took a pause, before she began anew “since you went on this rescue mission without order and completely on your own, I should actually punish you.”

She paused her speech again to allow her words to sink in.

Everybody held their breath. “Would she really punish them? They only wanted to help a family member and they were successful. So she will not really punish them, will she?” The whole team thought worried. 

As always Gibbs was impatient. He rolled his eyes, stood straight and said “just tell what we have to expect. We’ll take the punishment whatever it is.”

All eyes were on the director, who continued her remarks “as I said, technically I should punish you, but since you went in search of our family member and brought her back…I will refrain from punishing you.”

Everyone laughed in relief and clapped their hands, but Jenny wasn't finished yet. 

She was smiling to be able to bring such good news, but on one thing she had to make a comment. So she looked directly at Gibbs and you, winked and mentioned “by the way, you two are a very nice couple and are good for each other. We wish you both the best of luck.” 

Then one after another hugged you, went home and left Gibbs and you alone. 

“Slide a little,” Jethro said softly to you and then laid down beside you. You cuddled into him and he took you in his arms. Exhausted you both fell asleep after a short while, glad to be able to be together again. 

After waking up the next morning you both showered and then he brought you home. 

Exactly said, he brought you into his home so he could take care of you as best he could. 

Some things like showering and walking were difficult, but you were a good team and Jethro cared wonderfully for you. So it wasn't at all surprising that you fell even more in love with each other than before while he nursed you back to health. 

From time to time Tim visited and kept you company, when Gibbs had to be away and you had to admit his visits were refreshing, because Jethro tended to be a real mother hen.

6 weeks later…

Gibbs and you cuddled at the couch after a very tasty dinner and talked. 

Suddenly you became serious and sighed. 

“What's up?” your boyfriend asked. 

“Tomorrow the plaster cast will be removed. Then I can finally walk normally again. I'm really looking forward to that.”

Jethro thought about that and only hummed “hm.”

You looked up to him questioningly and inquired “what's wrong? Aren't you happy?” 

He sighed “Yes, but the last few weeks have been very nice. You. Here. With me.”

Hearing this you cuddled even closer to him, if that was even possible and replied softly “yes, they were. It's a shame that it's over now.”

You both briefly thought sadly about the last few weeks of living together and being separated from each other again. Then suddenly Gibbs sat up, turned to you and said suggestively “it doesn't have to be that way.”

Irritated and with your heart racing you sat up too and asked “what do you mean?” 

Agitated and nervous he answered “What do you think about moving in with me?”

You watched him absolutely surprised and didn't know what to answer at first. 

He was tense, totally nervous and smiled shyly. He feared your answer, but hoped for the best - a life with you. 

You very much hoped that he meant what he said and that he was ready for commitment. 

Searching you locked eyes with him and you asked cautiously “do you really mean that?” 

Both your hearts were pounding madly out of angst, nervousness and happiness, too. 

He waited a few seconds to annoy you a little bit and then nodded “absolutely.”

You smiled as brightly as the sun and then cried “then I'd love to move in with you! Otherwise I'd miss you too much.”

Gibbs laughed and you threw yourself into his arms, so that he fell back on the couch with you laying on top of him. 

You hugged and kissed each other over and over again, full of anticipation for your future together and the next step in your relationship.

The End

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

Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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

Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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

[floraltypes]

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

[stagemanagerssaygo]

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

[clairenatural]

destiel, 1.9k, post-series human!cas. this isn’t fully angst but it is me addressing castiel’s trauma since the writers never will. hurt/comfort-esque. cw for the stuff he went through at the beginning of s9. also: stargazing.

Castiel’s grace burns up when they pull him out of the Empty, but he doesn’t care—he doesn’t even notice, really, not when Dean is clinging to him, and kissing him like he needs him to breathe, and filling the gap his grace left with a love that feels even more holy.

It hits him halfway back to the bunker, when he’s riding shotgun and Sam is asleep in the backset and a passing streetlight bathes Dean’s freckles in yellow-gold. He’s been in love with Dean Winchester as a human before, and it was overwhelming, all mixed up in guilt and panic and a bone-deep betrayal he’s been trying to forget. But this time—this time is different, right? This time…it’s okay. It has to be. He’s not quite sure what he’s allowed, just yet, but he takes the risk anyway and reaches out for Dean across the bench seat. Dean meets him half way, catching his hand with his own, and it calms Castiel’s newly-human heart.

He wakes up the next morning, in Dean’s bed, and he’s forgotten how nice sleep is. Real, human sleep, on an actual mattress—memory foam, he remembers Dean proclaiming, excited. It’ll remember you now, too. He tries not to remember the concrete floor of the gas station, and his cold, thin sleeping bag, because now—now, he’s warm. He reaches out for Dean, who is still asleep but moves on instinct, lifting an arm so Castiel can curl up against him. He lets his bones sink into the warmth of Dean, the comfort of the mattress. He tries to remind himself he’ll never sleep on a storage room floor again.

He stays in bed even longer than Dean, which Dean calls impressive when he returns to the bedroom with coffee. Castiel plays it off as being exhausted, which is true, but he’s also trying to commit the feeling of the mattress to memory.

When he drains his coffee and finally decides to go brush his teeth, he stares for a long time at the toothpaste tube. Long enough that Dean comes looking. He leans against the bathroom door with a smile, raising an eyebrow at the sight. “It’s not gonna bite you,” he starts, and pushes off the doorframe to walk closer. “You have done this before, right? You know—last time?”

Castiel blinks and then nods. It’s just toothpaste. “You know, the first time I did this, I—” he pauses to smile, attempting levity. “I squeezed the tube directly into my mouth,” he chuckles then, trying to joke at his helplessness, and he thinks Dean will too—and he does smile, eventually, but not before a look halfway between guilt and grief crosses his face. Castiel isn’t meant to catch it, but he does—he sees all of Dean. He knows every expression better than he knows his own.

Dean doesn’t respond to his toothpaste comment, but he does wrap his arms around Castiel’s middle from behind, more securely than the situation demands, and he hooks his chin over Castiel’s shoulder with a hum. Castiel stares at the whole picture in the mirror, himself and Dean and his toothbrush, and he can’t help but smile when Dean brings a hand up to brush his thumb across his cheek. “You’re already gettin’ peach fuzz,” he murmurs. “Remind me to teach you to shave sometime.”

The smile falls as something thick settles in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. He remembers stumbling his way through a razor. “Oh. I, um. I taught myself.” The last time is unsaid.

“Oh.” Dean’s arms loosen around his waist, and the stricken look is back. “That’s—awesome.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Castiel turns his head to try and look at him, but Dean is already stepping away. “I’ll let you get to it,” he mumbles, and claps Castiel on the shoulder as he leaves the bathroom.

He watches Dean leave, then stares at the empty doorway for a few long seconds before turning back to his toothbrush. His hands are shaking as he squeezes out the toothpaste.

When he wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later Dean is waiting for him, armed with more coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and he grabs Castiel by the shoulder and guides him into a seat at the table before sliding in across from him. He’s smiling—he’s eager—and it’s such a tone shift that Castiel briefly wonders if a witch snuck into the bunker while he was brushing his teeth.

But he knows this. He’s seen it before, with Sam—how Dean will set a meal down in front of him in the library and won’t leave until he takes a bite, waiting for approval. It’s love.

“Dean, you didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did,” he cuts him off in a tone that’s not unkind, but is final. “Wanna take care of you,” he shrugs and covers up the intimacy of that statement by reaching over to steal a slice of bacon, and Castiel hears the I love you buried under all the layers, so he smiles and eats. Predictably, it’s delicious.

“This is much better than molecules,” he commends, because he knows Dean’s waiting for it, and Dean grins and it’s beautiful and all the weirdness of the morning is forgotten.

They talk, and they eat, and they laugh, but when Dean clears the dishes he sits back at the table with a much more serious expression. “Alright, come on. What do you want to know?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “About…?”

“Being human.”

Oh.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s already stumbled through all the basic human functions, albeit clumsily, and he’s trying to figure out a way to explain to Dean that being homeless gives you a painful crash course on how to survive without putting that sad expression back on his face when he realizes Dean is still talking.

“Listen, Cas. I know I fucked up last time, alright? Big time. I should’ve been there to teach you to brush your teeth, and shave, and—and tie your freakin’ shoelaces, and I can’t take that back now, okay? But maybe I can—I don’t know. Do it better, this time. I know you already got most of it figured out, but I could—”

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reaches out to place his hand over one of Dean’s, which he’s been fidgeting on the table. “I forgive you.” Dean looks up, then, and they make eye contact, and Castiel does forgive him. Of course he does. There was never another option.

Dean breaks the eye contact but he moves his other hand on top of Castiel’s and squeezes. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean it’s okay,” he grumbles, and Castiel loves him for that.

“You can teach me to cook,” He offers, after a moment, and Dean looks up at him with a genuine smile. “I never got much further than PB&J.”

“Hell yeah,” Dean is already standing. “Come on, let’s go.”

Castiel blinks up at him. “Go?”

“To the store,” Dean rolls his eyes, as if this was obvious. “I ain’t gonna teach you to cook with whatever we have lying around.”

He’s already off before Castiel can clarify he just wants to start with grilled cheese. Dean buys the fanciest cheddar in the store anyway.

Castiel manages to burn it on both sides.

“I’m sorry,” he stares down at the mess, mournfully, and manages to look pitiful enough that Dean picks up the blackened sandwich to take a bite anyway. He grimaces when Dean chokes on it, but he’s trying so hard to not visibly react that it makes Castiel’s heart warm, and by the time Dean finally gets the lump washed down with beer, he’s staring at him with a wry smile.

“I've fed Sam worse,” is his only comment, and Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh, and then Dean is grinning back, setting the plate down, and reaching out to pull him close. “Tomorrow we’ll tackle spaghetti.”

Castiel scoffs. “Do you enjoy burnt tomato sauce?”

“Sure do.” Dean tilts his head down, and Castiel meets him in the middle. He tastes like burnt toast, but Castiel smiles against his lips and grins into the space between them when they separate to lean their foreheads together. “What’s next, Cas?”

“Teach me how to drive.”

Dean pulls back farther, surprised. “You can drive.”

“Not well.”

Dean snorts, then sighs. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow though, alright? It’s getting dark.”

Castiel considers him for a moment, then nods. “Then drive me somewhere. I want to see the stars like this. Human.”

Dean hums and presses a kiss to his forehead. “That we can do.”

He misses the contact as soon as Dean steps back, but then Dean takes his hand and leads him into the garage, only letting go long enough to climb into the car. They drive through the sunset until the stars are peeking out, and Dean pulls onto the shoulder by a field far enough outside town to avoid all light pollution. He climbs onto the hood and Castiel follows, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush.

Castiel can feel Dean staring at him but doesn’t look back, not yet—he’s staring straight up, at the stars. He misses them, aches for them like he aches for his wings, but he also feels warm in their presence. The stars are solid. They are unyielding. They are trustworthy.

“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asks after a moment, quietly, not loud enough to disturb the silence. Castiel hums before responding.

“Small.” He feels Dean shift, leaning into his shoulder.

“Small?” He questions, and he can hear that Dean’s worried. He shouldn’t be.

“Small,” Castiel confirms, tearing his gaze from the night sky to smile warmly back at Dean. “Back then—” last time  “—it was terrifying, being this small. I thought I was going to drown. The stars were out of reach. I longed for them.”

“And now?” Dean has shifted, angling himself so he’s facing Castiel.

“The stars are out of reach, but they’re still there. And you are also still here,” this time, “and you are not out of reach.” Anymore. Ever again. He reaches out for Dean’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m small. But we’re small together. And that makes it alright.”

Dean stares at him like he does sometimes, like if he blinks Castiel might disappear, and then he leans forward and kisses him like that first time, like if he stops he’ll forget how to breathe. He pushes Castiel down onto the hood of the car and doesn’t break for air until the metal groans under the pressure. When he backs off, then, it’s still not far—not out of reach.

“What’s next, Cas?” he asks, and Castiel knows what he’s asking. And that’s the thing—the biggest thing—he wants to forget about last time. 

He looks up at Dean, who looks like he’s holding his breath. He thinks maybe he can still let Dean teach him that, too, if he wants him to. He thinks he does want him to. 

“Let’s go home,” he replies, finally, and Dean breaks into a grin before the words are fully out of his mouth, “and you can show me.”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost in Japan

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post. Thanks for sending it in! 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Premise: Taehyung gets lost while shooting Bon Voyage in Japan with the members. Thankfully, he runs into you.

You were fairly certain that your eyes were deceiving you. Standing awkwardly outside of a convenient store, staring down at a map that one of the employees was holding up, stood Kim Taehyung. 

His Japanese was only getting him so far. From what you could hear, it sounded like the real problem was the fact that he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to be in the first place. 

You weren’t the only one that was starting to notice who was loitering about downtown Aomori. 

Taehyung kept glancing up, assessing the growing crowds that were beginning to form, all of them waiting anxiously for the light to change to cross the street. The employee seemed to notice his worry, beginning to lose his patience. 

“Take the map,” the employee sputters out. “Just buy it really quickly. It looks like you need to get going soon.”

Taehyung blanches. “Er...I don’t have my wallet on me...” he pats his jeans as though his wallet might magically appear. “Could I come back later...?”

The employee looks a bit uncomfortable, mirroring Taehyung’s expression. “I don’t know...if you’re lost already, who’s to say you’d be able to find your way back?”

You hardly realize how close you’ve gotten, but as you watch Taehyung’s eyes drop to his shoes and red color his cheeks, you take the last few strides up to him. Both men look up at you, apprehension in their eyes.

“How much is the map?” You ask without thinking, already fishing your wallet out of your bag. 

Taehyung stares at you with unabashed embarrassment. “Oh, really don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

You shrug, already handing over some cash to the shocked employee. “It’s fine. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blinking at you like you might have suddenly grown another head, Taehyung slowly shakes his head. “...no. I’m not. Do you know...who I am?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you barely manage to contain your grin. “Do you mean have we met?” You shake your head, taking the map the employee extends out to you and folding it meticulously. “No, I don’t think we have. Are you lost?”

Again, Taehyung looks a bit dazed but nods his head nonetheless. “I am, actually.”

Now you allow yourself to smile at him fully, fidgeting a little at how intensely he’s looking at you. “Well, I can call you a cab if you want. Just explain to me where you’re trying to get to.”

“Can I trust you?”

You blink, heart aching a little at the question. “I would say yes, but I’m a little biased. But either way, it looks like you’ve got about...ten seconds to make a decision.”

The traffic lights change, and suddenly a horde of people are making their way across the street and heading straight toward the convenience store. The employee has already retreated indoors, appearing to be boarding up for a storm. Taehyung looks back and forth between you and the other group almost comically before stepping toward you.

“Alright, let’s go.”

~~~~

After some careful maneuvering through the convenience store and out into the back alley, Taehyung chuckles. You give him a quizzical look, marveling as he runs a hand through his curly hair. 

“What’s so funny?”

Taehyung shrugs, giving you a genuine smile. “I feel like James Bond or something!”

“I’m pretty sure James Bond doesn’t get lost so easily,” you tease, heading down the alleyway with the idol in tow. “So where exactly are you trying to get to? Describe it to me.”

Taehyung does just that, and you recognize the location almost immediately. “Really? I know exactly where that is.” Heading toward the street, you wave down a cab. “I’ll just give them the address and they’ll take you straight there-”

“Um, about that...” Taehyung watches with a wary eye as the cab pulls over. “I don’t have any money, remember?”

“Ah...I’ll just pay him right now. Don’t worry about it.”

You lean down to speak to the cab driver but stop as Taehyung’s hand lands on your elbow. Ignoring the blush undoubtedly creeping up your neck, you look back at him.

“I’ll Venmo you,” he says.

“...ok.”

“But...”

“But?” You straighten, frowning. “What?”

Taehyung looks at the cab, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, don’t you want to get your money’s worth?”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting in the backseat of a cab giving Kim Taehyung a tour of Aomori. 

You whiz past several monuments, wracking your brain for some sort of historical fact you can give the idol. Whatever you do say isn’t all that impressive, but Taehyung goes along with it. 

“You’re an amazing tour guide,” he croons, a teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, pointing out the window to the setting sun.

“And here we have the sunset. This phenomenon happens every evening, and is often subject to many poor-quality photos.”

Taehyung laughs, going along with your joke. “So why do people take pictures if they don’t turn out right?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe because they want to remember it? But it never turns out as good as the real thing.” This time you laugh along with Taehyung before something catches your eye.

“Oh!” You all but shout, pointing frantically at an upcoming building. “This is the hidden gem of Aomori. Best restaurant ever.”

Taehyung follows your line of sight, eyes landing on a dingy restaurant. it’s small, one of those that you’ll miss if you blink. He smiles softly, glancing back over at you with a curious expression. Leaning forward in his seat, he taps the cabbie on the shoulder. 

“Pull over please. We’ll be stopping here.”

You try to protest, frowning at him. “But we’re not there yet, and it’s too far to walk-”

“We’ll take another cab,” Taehyung reassures you. “C’mon. Dinner’s waiting.”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, seated across from Kim Taehyung in a restaurant that you’d never realized was so run-down until you were bringing a global star through its doors. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. No, Taehyung is grinning as he orders his food, looking over at you every so often. You do your best to not notice, with no success. 

“I’ll have the yakitori as well, please,” you manage to choke out. Hopefully the warmth inside the restaurant is a good enough excuse to cover up the redness in your cheeks. 

Taehyung sips on his drink, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Here, let me Venmo you.”

“Oh,” you start, shrinking back in your seat. “It’s fine, really. This was kind of my idea-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Taehyung clarifies. “And now I’m treating you to dinner. So, Venmo. Now, please.”

Looking at the way his hair falls into his eyes and those eyes appear so solemn yet boyish at the same time, you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to him. 

You certainly can’t.

Taehyung begins asking you simple questions, and you fire them right back at him while you wait for your food. 

“Why are you in Japan?” You ask, taking a long sip of your drink. Taehyung sits back in his seat, looking around the restaurant. 

“I’m visiting with friends. On a vacation of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” You arch an eyebrow. Taehyung smiles softly, eyes alight with some sort of inner glow. 

“How do you know your way around so well?” He asks, completely ignoring your latest question. You decide not to push it. 

“I’ve lived here for a while,” you shrug, watching as a waiter appears with your chicken skewers. Your mouth waters at the mere sight of them, and Taehyung chuckles while watching how your expression changes. “Cheers,” you croon, immediately diving in. 

Taehyung follows suit, groaning as the chicken makes his tastebuds dance. “This is amazing.”

You grin, waving the skewer in the air before chomping down. “Told you so.”

You’ve made it through nearly two skewers before you realize that the two of you have been eating in complete silence. Glancing up, you see that Taehyung must be thinking the same thing as he looks over at you with a sheepish smile. 

Covering your mouth, you cackle and relish in the way Taehyung laughs right along with you. He’s read your mind, setting down his skewer and quickly answering a text before returning his attention to you. 

“Are those your friends wondering where you are?” You ask, heart dropping a bit. Taehyung nods. 

“Yeah. I told them that I’ll be back a little later.” He grabs another skewer. “Should we head out?”

You finish off your chicken, trying your best not to look a little crestfallen as you agree. Taehyung smiles warmly, thanking the waiter profusely as the two of you head out. 

This time Taehyung waves down the taxi, repeating the address you told him earlier. “That’s the right place, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve got it.” You take a step back. “Thanks for the food.”

He looks back at you, the cab drawing nearer. “Thanks...for everything today.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I actually had a lot of fun.”

You grin. “Me too.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before extending it out to you. “Could I maybe have your number?”

Now you’re unable to stop grinning, and you quickly type your number in, triple checking that it’s correct before handing his phone back to him. “There you go. Now, you should probably get going. Cab’s waiting.” You begin to walk away, not wanting to look like some lost puppy as he leaves. 

Taehyung nods, that dazed look back in his eyes as he hesitates. “Actually...” You whirl around a bit too quickly to be casual, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Could we maybe take a photo together?”

You smile, recalling a bit of your conversation from earlier. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that takes low-quality photos of the sunset.”

Taehyung’s face lights up, a laugh rumbling through his chest. He meanders over to you, smiling down at you. “What? I want to remember this.” His eyes convey the message that his lips fail to speak. I want to remember you.

So you smile for the picture, and ask him to send it to you. As you wave goodbye as the car takes off down the street, you jump a little when your phone pings twice in a row. 

The first is a message, the photo Taehyung just took. 

The second is a Venmo notification sporting a ridiculous amount of money with the caption, Cab $ - let me know when you make it home.

~~~~

It’s only three days later that you find yourself sitting near the back of a large room, fans everywhere chatting or singing along to whatever song is currently playing. You smile down at your phone, Taehyung’s contact coming up as he sends off a text. 

Tae: I’ll call you in a couple of hours, heading into a meeting. 😊

You snort. He has no idea that you’re here, does he?

The past few days have been a dream, living in nearly constant contact with Taehyung while he enjoys his time here in Japan. However, you never quite found the right time to tell him that you actually know who he is. Let alone the fact that you were going to be in attendance at the fan meeting today.

A couple of moments later the boys appear at the front of the room, and the event begins. 

Your heart pounds as you line up to meet the boys, clutching the item in your hands that you brought for Tae. Most of the boys don’t recognize you, which you expected. Only Jimin gives you a double take, but he shrugs it off a moment later. 

He must have seen the photo Taehyung took with you.

Tae hardly looks up from where he’s focused on each fan, making you smile. The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears as you step forward until you’re in front of him. He’s looking at the fan that just left, who’s still speaking to him. 

You slide your photobook across the table to him, and he immediately begins to sign it. 

“Have you been having fun so far?” He asks, still not quite looking up at you. You grin.

“I have,” you say. Then, sliding the same map you bought from the convenience store toward him, you say, “I got you this. You know, just in case you decide to get lost again.”

Taehyung frowns but looks at the map. His mouth falls open before looking up at you, that beautiful smile taking over his features. He has to physically restrain himself from leaping up, but settles for grabbing your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he breathes out.

You smile, and wonder for a moment if you’ve stopped smiling in the past three days since you met Taehyung. “Hey. So, do you like your gift?”

His eyes never leave your face as he grips your hand a bit tighter. “It’s great, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Oh?”

“Not when I have you as my personal guide.”

masterlist

[hotshotsxyz]

fundamental pieces

buddie (1.6k) (read it on AO3)

Eddie’s knees hit the ground with a dull thud that he doesn’t feel.

He doesn’t feel anything, actually. He can’t. Because if he feels something, he’s going to feel everything, and if he feels everything, he’s going to come apart at the seams.

He can’t look away from the smoldering pile of rubble in front of him. Dimly, he’s aware that there are other people around, people who could be hurt, people who might need his help. He’s frozen, though. Stuck on his knees, might as well be fossilized in amber.

Buck.

Buck is—

Fuck, Eddie can’t even bring himself to think it. The house was standing and now it’s not. The ground was stable and then it wasn’t. Buck was—

And now he’s not.

The flashing lights from the fire engine cast strange moving shadows across the debris. Eddie tracks each one of them, unable to stop himself. It can’t have been more than a minute — the dust from the collapse still lingers heavily in the air, and no one’s started shouting orders yet — but time is stretching and folding in on itself and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to be stuck in this moment for the rest of his life.

And then, his radio crackles to life.

“Buckley to 118, I could use a little help down here.”

Eddie can’t help the wounded noise that falls from his lips. His entire body sags, a marionette with strings cut.

He allows himself a count of three, then stumbles to his feet. Buck needs him. He shoves the past few minutes in a box he knows he’ll never want to open again. Buck needs him.

The next half hour is a blur filled with structural engineers and thermal cameras and half hearted jokes over the radio. Buck’s okay, just trapped in a pocket beneath one of the house’s sturdier beams.

It’s maddening, knowing that Buck is less than a hundred yards away and not being able to get to him. Eddie feels trapped in his own skin. He wants to say to hell with it and just start digging, but the engineers say that any wrong move could collapse the bubble that Buck’s in. So he clenches his jaw and waits.

His radio crackles again. “Hey Eddie?”

Eddie fumbles to press the button down so he can respond. “Buck? What’s wrong?” Eddie can hear the tension in his own voice, barely covering the panic that lies beneath.

“I’m fine,” Buck answers immediately. “I just… never mind. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me what it is,” Eddie says, as soft as he can manage right now.

There’s a long pause. “Can you talk to me?” Even over the radio, Buck’s voice sounds small.

Eddie lets out a breath. “Yeah, Buck, I can do that. What do you want to talk about?”

“What, uh, what’s Christopher doing at school this week?”

Eddie knows damn well Buck already knows the answer to that question, but he indulges it anyway, telling Buck about the history fair coming up and the diorama Chris wants to build.

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to conscript you for that one,” Eddie chuckles. It’s a little forced, but it’s the best he can do under the circumstances.

“Well someone’s got to help him with the papier-mâché, and we both know it’s not going to be you,” Buck says.

“Hey!” Eddie says, mock-affronted. “I helped on the last one! With the solar system?”

“Eds, you popped the balloon before the sun was dry. It looked like a weird yellow raisin.” The amusement in Buck’s voice is good to hear.

He’s about to defend himself when Bobby claps him on the shoulder. “We’re moving in,” he says. “Let Buck know.”

Eddie swallows. “Buck? Still there?” It’s a stupid question. Nothing’s changed in the last 30 seconds, but waiting for Buck’s response still feels like standing on a precipice.

“Nowhere else to go,” Buck confirms.

“We’re on our way to you,” Eddie says roughly.

“Roger,” Buck replies. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just hang tight and keep your helmet on straight,” Bobby says.

“You got it, Cap.”

—

Digging through the rubble is delicate, and frankly terrifying, work. They’ve got airbags holding up the points that the engineers identified as load bearing, but every time something in the structure shifts, Eddie’s breath catches. Eventually, though, they’ve got a path cleared right up to where Buck should be.

“Nash to Buckley,” Bobby says into his radio.

“I read you, Cap.”

“We’re right on top of you. Keep your face covered and don’t try to help.”

Eddie swears he can hear the cheeky smile Buck must be wearing when he says, “No help from me, got it.”

It’s another agonizing ten minutes, then finally, finally, Eddie’s got one of Buck’s hands clasped in his, and he’s pulling him from the house’s crumbled remains.

“Shit,” Buck says, surveying the damage. “You must’ve thought—“

Eddie unintentionally tightens his grip on Buck’s hand. It’s the opposite of what he should be doing, but he can’t let go. Buck squeezes back.

“I’m fine, Eds,” he says softly.

And Eddie knows, he does, but he’s not going to believe it until he’s checked every inch of him over himself.

—

“Thank you,” Buck says, out of the blue.

It’s a few hours later, and they’re back at the station. As intense as the call had been, Buck had gotten out of it without a scrape, so they’re all still on duty.

“For what?” Eddie asks.

Everyone else is asleep, so it’s just the two of them sprawled out on the loft’s couch. There’s some nature documentary playing on the TV, but Eddie’s fairly certain neither of them is watching it.

“For distracting me. Earlier, I mean. I, uh. It helped.”

Eddie gives up his pretense of paying attention to the hyenas on the screen and turns to look at Buck.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he whispers. It gives away far too much, but he’s so far past the point of worrying about that.

Buck swallows heavily, like he’s heard everything that Eddie didn’t mean to reveal with those five words. He shifts until he’s pressed against Eddie, ankle to shoulder.

“I was scared,” Buck admits, toying with the sleeve of the LAFD hoodie he’s wearing. Eddie wants to take his hand all over again.

“I thought—“ Eddie can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “I was scared, too,” he says instead.

Buck looks at him. He bites his lower lip and frowns. “I just kept thinking that I didn’t want to tell you over the radio,” he sighs finally.

“Tell me what?” Eddie asks.

Buck looks away again. He’s starting to hunch in on himself the way he does when he’s feeling vulnerable. Eddie gives into his earlier urge and takes Buck’s hand in his own.

“Whatever it is,” Eddie says softly, “you can tell me. I promise.”

Buck’s eyes shoot back up to Eddie’s, searching. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find.

“I love you,” he says simply.

He can’t mean it the way Eddie wants him to. The way Eddie’s wanted him to for months, years probably. He squeezes Buck’s hand tighter for want of words.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck clarifies. “I just… couldn’t not tell you.” His expression is almost resigned.

Eddie’s frozen all over again, but this time he let’s himself feel it all. Because Buck’s okay. Buck’s sitting right in front of him. Buck loves him.

“Evan,” Eddie breathes, unable to keep the name from slipping between his lips.

The resignation on Buck’s face shifts to hope, and he holds Eddie’s gaze. Lit by the blue glow of the television, he’s never looked more beautiful.

Eddie can’t wait another second. He ducks forward and brushes a feather light kiss across Buck’s lips. His intention is to lean back, to assess Buck’s reaction, but then Buck makes a strangled noise and surges forward, capturing Eddie’s mouth with his own.

The hand that isn’t otherwise occupied lifts of its own accord to cup Buck’s jaw. Buck’s free hand fists in the material of Eddie’s uniform. It’s like no kiss Eddie’s experienced before, fire and passion underlined by aching tenderness, and over all too soon.

Eddie leans his forehead against Buck’s breathing harshly.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Buck pants.

“I think I might,” Eddie says.

Buck pulls back, just far enough to look Eddie in the eye. “You…”

Eddie wants to laugh. Even after that, of course Buck’s still not sure. Eddie’s not one for speeches, but Buck… Buck deserves to know exactly what he means to him. “Earlier, when I thought… it was like the whole world stopped. And I didn’t want it to start again, because I was terrified it’d be starting without you. I can’t do any of this without you. I don’t want to. I’ve been in love with you for so long it’s a fundamental part of who I am.”

It’s Buck’s turn to freeze.

“I love you,” Eddie says. He squeezes Buck’s hand.

The soft pressure must break him out of his stupor, because he lunges at Eddie again, this time throwing his arms around Eddie’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s waist and buries his nose in Buck’s hair.

“I love you,” he whispers again, just because he can.

—

Bobby finds them the next morning, tangled together on the couch and snoring softly. He smiles, and resolves to make breakfast quietly.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental​ @meshlababy​ @ataraxydreams​ @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread​​ @savsselfinserts​ @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @donakamark

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[blu-joons]

Telling Him You’re Pregnant ~ Kim Taehyung

“Y/N! You need to hurry up or the bus will go without us!” Taehyung yelled across at you.

Your head nodded slowly as you tried yet again to pull yourself up from the sofa, but once more the throbbing pain in your stomach stopped you from moving. You sighed in frustration as your body collapsed against the back of the sofa, trying desperately to get up as Taehyung became more and more frustrated beside you.

“I think you should just go without me,” you whispered, feeling how exhausted your body was. “I think I might just stay here and get some sleep instead; I’ve got this horrible feeling in my tummy.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you? I’m sure the production crew won’t mind,” he offered, but your head shook, glancing out of the window at all the crew waiting for the boys to get ready.

“I’m sure I’ll be alright; you’re needed to film.”

His expression softened, “I want to be sure that you’re safe too, I can’t do that if I’m off adventuring.”

Your head shook, resting your hand against the pain in your stomach, “I’m sure once I’ve had a bit of a sleep, I’ll be alright, you go off and have fun, don’t worry about me.”

Once he’d picked up everything, he needed from around your room in the rented house he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head before running outside to join the rest of the group in the minibus to see where they’d be travelling to today.

At last, you allowed yourself to lay out across the sofa, still feeling the awful cramp in the pit of your stomach. Even though Taehyung had told you to call him if you needed him, there was no way you could disturb his day.

Outside of the door you could hear a few of the staff members clearing up after their breakfast was recorded, going in and out of each room to check if the equipment was alright. As the door of your room opened, you smiled gently as one of the directors jumped.

“I thought you went with the boys,” he asked, checking over the cameras in the corners of the room. It was only once he’d done that and looked at you properly, did he realise something was wrong. “Do you need me to call Taehyung?”

“No, don’t,” you quickly requested, doubling over at yet another sharp pain. “Can you just ring for an ambulance instead, please. Taehyung can’t know about this whilst he films.”

As the pain became progressively worse you couldn’t stay in the room for much longer. Your fears were growing more and more over what could have been causing such a horrific pain in your stomach, unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Unaware of what was going on back at the house, Taehyung tried desperately to enjoy the activity the production had set up for the boys. But each time a smile graced his face, his mind would instantly go back to you.

“She’ll be alright,” Namjoon reassured him as he watched his expression drop, “why don’t you ring her if you’re worried?”

As soon as Namjoon gave him the permission to step away from the shoot and call you, he jumped at the chance. He was hopeful that you’d pick up, but instead his call went straight to voicemail. It only added to his worries as he tried to figure out what was going on, asking around the camera crew once again if they’d heard anything.

As he did, he spotted several of them sharing knowing glances, silently debating what to do. His frustrations grew, desperately demanding that he be told what was going on. Only as he was, he instantly regretted it, immediately taking the mic pack off from around him, marching straight over to the cars refusing to listen to everyone’s protests.

The whole drive to the hospital was one of terror for him, racing in as soon as the car pulled up, yelling out your name to anyone that would listen.

“I’ll take you to her,” a voice called out, waving him across into her direction down one of the corridors.

He raced over to the nurse that waved, pushing through the crowds of people until he got to the room you were in. “Thank you,” he smiled as the nurse stepped aside.

His hand shook as he reached out and opened the door, smiling softly as he saw you laying awake in bed. The machines and cables around him were worrying but seeing how much more settled you were then when he left you that morning filled him with relief.

Your hand reached out from under the duvet for him to hold, feeling him grip onto you tightly. His eyes scanned the room for something that would let him know what was going on, but he was left clueless.

“I’m alright,” you quickly told him, trying to ease his mind. “They’ve told me what’s wrong, but I’m not sure whether it gives us more or less to worry about.”

“How do you mean?” He asked, moving a little closer to your bedside. “Is it something serious, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Your head shook before he could panic himself too much again. “How would you feel if I told you I was pregnant?” You questioned. “The reason my tummy hurt so much was because I’m pregnant Taehyung.”

It took a moment for your words to register before the corners of his mouth turned up into a disbelieving smile. He begged you to repeat your words a few times before he allowed it to sink it, relaxing into his chair.

“I’m happy,” he assured you, pressing a kiss against the back of your hand, “it never even crossed my mind that that could have been the cause of it. Are you definitely sure that’s what it is? Have you done a test?”

“There’s no doubt in the doctor’s minds, I’m definitely pregnant,” you clarified, “apparently situations like this are a lot more frequent than we think, they get it quite often here.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” he laughed, resting his head against the side of your bed, “there’s so many thoughts going through my head right now.”

It wasn’t quite the way you planned on telling him, nor how you ever imagined finding out you were pregnant. But seeing the excitement on his face made everything feel fine, all your worries and concerns as you laid and waited for him to inevitably appear were quickly brushed aside and forgotten.

After a few minutes, Taehyung shifted and sat himself on the end of the bed, draping his arm over your shoulders. “Are you still in any pain? That’s probably a stupid question, with a baby in there you’re going to be in a lot of pain over the next few months.”

“Thank you for that,” you joked, slapping lightly against his chest. “I’m a lot more comfortable than I was, but I’ve been warned that I’ve got to prepare for many moments like today for a while, especially now that I’m pregnant.”

“This is definitely not how I imagined my day going,” he chuckled, kissing against the top of your head. “A couple of hours ago I was preparing to fly down a giant zipline.”

“Maybe it’s a good idea I didn’t join you guys today then,” you laughed, brightening up the situation. “I won’t be going on any ziplines for a while now.”

“You’re not going to be allowed to do anything, I won’t be taking my eyes off you now,” he assured you. “I’ll do whatever to keep you and the baby safe.”

“We’ll all be alright Tae; you don’t need to worry too much.”

“I’ll always worry, about the both of you.”

---

Masterlist

[peanutpinet]

Lucas x Reader (mafia)

A/N: I dunno if this is a bad thing or not but I immediately got an idea from this writing prompt I found on Pinterest where character A found out character B got into a "fight" and got hurt then character A swipe their thumb across character B's bloodied lip and asked "Who did this to you", kay I'm weak

Alright, I'm a bit emotional because I had just submitted my final assignment and sorta used Lucas' name in my assignment but immediately jumping straight here XD

Theme: abuse (just a bit but I still put it out here), scary Lucas and some fluff!!

Kay, for this scenario, I, once again, imagine that Lucas is the head of the WayV unit of the NCT mafia. Also, to clarify, the NCT mafia that I imagine doesn't really do anything bad. Instead, they are more so a group that the government decided to build to serve the world but doesn't necessarily follow the rules; something like a secret agency but wilder.

Anyways, everyone in the business world practically knows who NCT is, who the members are and that NCT are always watching. No matter what business they are, wherever they are, NCT has eyes everywhere. Which is why no one dared to question them and would never try to challenge them in any shape or form.

With that being said it didn't mean that NCT was never harmed or was never targeted by other mafias that were trying to run illegal businesses all over the world. It's just that they were always unsuccessful when it came to challenging NCT because NCT would always be one step ahead of them.

Which was why when someone harmed you, Lucas' girlfriend, it nearly shook the entire NCT. Okay, let's rewind how it all happened and actually put some context to how you guys met and how your relationship became what it is.

So, just as the previous Lucas fic I did, you were just a college student while Lucas, is the head of the WayV unit, a sub-unit of NCT that mainly takes care of business in China/Hongkong/Taiwan/Southeast Asian countries. You were in your 2nd year of college when you met Lucas. It was an accident, really.

You were walking back to your dorm after hanging out with your friends who weren't living at the dorm. You told them that the dorm was nearby and you would be fine on your own; adding that you have been taking some self-defence class. But unfortunately, tonight was just not your night, or was it?

You were almost by your dorm's gate when a gang of motorcycles rushed past you, one of them grabbing your bag while you tried to hold onto it. Unfortunately, you were overpowered and ended up falling on your butt while the gang of motorcycles were cheering until another gang of motorcycles and cars blocked their path.

And of course, one of them was Lucas. Lucas came out of the car and confronted the low gang motorcycles, telling them off unless they wanted to take it further which by the look of the gang, they were not expecting the NCT to come and deal with them since normally, it would be the police.

"I'm only going to tell you off just once. Stand down and stay where you are unless you want this problem to escalate further" Lucas growled at the motorcycle gang who just stood their stance

"Round them up. Now, which one of you, ahh, there you are" Lucas mentioned, grabbing your bag which the gang stole

Honestly, you were just stunned. You weren't expecting two different gangs to be doing this late at night and on a school night at that. You just sat on the ground watching the whole scene unveil until Lucas went up to you, extending his hand out which you nervously grabbed.

"You alright? This must be yours" Lucas stated, handing you your bag while your hand was still in his

"Huh? Oh, yea, thank you. Ar-are you like with the police or like is this a gang fight because if it is then I better go back to my dorm..." you stuttered, earning a chuckle from Lucas

"No. We're not really with the police but we're also not really fighting that gang. You can definitely say we're a gang but our gang doesn't really do those bad things. We're more so, cleaning up the trash" Lucas chuckled

"Oh, okay then. Um, thanks again for this" you uttered, shyly looking away

"Anytime. Take care. May our paths cross again someday" Lucas commented, letting go of your hand and heading back to his group

And cross paths you both did. Truth was that Lucas secretly spied on you because you left that much of an impression on him. It didn't take long for Lucas to finally came and told you how he felt because that night he saw you walking back to your dorm, alone, again. Worried that something similar would happen again, he didn't hesitate to come up to you and walked you back.

From walking you back to your dorm, to exchanging contacts and 'i love you' to now, almost a full year of dating. Throughout the whole year, Lucas slowly introduced you to all of NCT. Starting from WayV to the Dreamies who were closer to your age along with some new members (Sungchan and Shotaro) before NCT 127. At this point, everyone in NCT knows that you and Lucas were a thing and was even happy for y'alls relationship, supporting you every step of the way(V); especially the WayV members.

From the beginning of your relationship, Lucas would already tell you what he does and that he promise you that he would never let anyone harm you; and even if they did, they would pay for it. Lucas also told you that he would never exclude you from your life just because you were dating him and you would have every right to do whatever you wanted to do (just with some additional protections).

Lucas and the other NCT members also allowed for you to come to visit them at their headquarters or even at their own apartments whenever you wanted to (remember the visit to Lucas' apartment, yea). And today was one of those days.

After the incident on campus, Lucas made sure that he would be the one to pick you up and drop you off to campus since you practically moved in with him after the incident. If he couldn't make it, he would have someone from NCT do so. They would even accompany you wherever you wanted to go because to them, it was an excuse to get out from the boring meetings that occurred too regularly.

Today, Xiaojun and Hendery were the ones to pick you up because they were passing by your campus. You texted the two boys that you were just going to have a consultation with your lecturer for your final paper and told them to wait for 15 minutes.

But while Lucas did his best to make sure you were unharmed by anyone involved in NCT, there were just some things out of his control. Because as it turns out, your "consultation" turned to be a trap. There was a rumour going around your college about the literature lecturer abusing female students but there was never any proof so no one really believed the rumour, yourself included.

WARNING!! IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE READING ABOUT ABUSIVE BEHAVIOUR, PLEASE SKIP THIS PART!!

When you went into the lecturer's room, you were quick to notice something was off. How your lecturer purposely brushed his hand over yours, leaning his head a bit too forward to your liking and finding excuses to get closer to you. Just when you were saved by a phone call from Xiaojun, your lecturer was also quick to notice your behaviour. He grabbed your phone and throwing it off your hand before pinning you to the door, locking it.

You tried your best to fight off with the self-defence lessons you took and learnt from some members of NCT but once again, when you're faced with the actual situation, sometimes, it doesn't turn out how you expected. While you managed to kick your lecturer and got free of his grip, you failed your escape as your lecturer yanked your hair back, making you hit your head on his desk before being welcomed with a hard slap that cut your lip.

Over at Xiaojun and Hendery's side, the second you didn't answer their 5th call, they knew something was wrong. Pulling out the GPS for the tracker they put in your phone, they followed it and arrived in front of the literature's office. Hearing grunts and screams, both Xiaojun and Hendery didn't waste any time on breaking the door.

Entering the room, Xiaojun was quick to pull the lecturer off and gave him a hard punch whilst Hendery went to see your weak figure by the desk, ripped shirt, cut lip and bruises covering most of your body. Hendery immediately took his jacket off and putting it around you, calling out to Xiaojun to get out of there.

Kay, you can continue reading from here!!

"Oi!! Xiaojun!! We should go now!!" Hendery called out

"Shouldn't we grab the douche as well? Lucas would want to have a word with him" Xiaojun complained, grabbing the passed out lecturer by the collar

"We can always track him again. The problem is getting (Y/N) to safety. C'mon!!" Hendery protested, holding your figure firmly

"Fine. He's dead sooner than later" Xiaojun sighed, throwing the lecturer on the ground, helping Hendery bring you back to headquarters

Upon arriving, the three of you were greeted by some of the dreamies and WayV members, mainly Renjun, Jeno, Ten and Winwin. The four of them were informed by Hendery that you were going to need some treatment as soon as possible before Lucas finds out about the situation. Renjun and Jeno were quick to take you from Hendery and Xiaojun, helping you to the treatment room where Ten and Winwin were.

"No one informed the others or Taeyong or even Lucas about this, right?" Xiaojun asked

"Lucas and Taeyong are out with the 'Make A Wish' unit to finish with the business contract. Depending on how that go, Lucas can either be very pissed when he finds out or..." Renjun mentioned

"Or he could be ready to kill you both" Ten blurted, helping to treat the bruises on your arm and legs while Winwin have a look on your face

"Guys!! They're back!!" Jeno stated, making everyone in the room tense while you were somewhat asleep

"Quick!! We have to move her to a different room, they're for sure going to come here first" Hendery mentioned

"Who do you have to move and why?" everyone heard Jaehyun mentioned

"Jae...hyun-hyung...and Lucas-hyung, hey!!!" Renjun stuttered as the others were trying to cover you from their sight

"Why are there 6 of you here? Xiaojun and Hendery too? Is (Y/N) resting somewhere? In the kitchen?" Lucas questioned as everyone nervously sweats

"Ummm, yea, she's resting. She said she was extremely tired. Her classes finished a bit late. We had to wait for a good hour when we arrived" Hendery nervously answered

"Weird. I would normally get a text from her. Maybe she's napping" Lucas sighed, looking at his phone

"Lu...cas..." you mumbled as the boys tried to cover it up

"Huahhh, Lucas-hyung. Jaehyun-hyung. You must be tired. How did the meeting go?" Jeno tried to divert the conversation

"Wait, that, sounded like (Y/N). Is she napping here?" Lucas asked, trying to look around as the others blocked his view

"What? No!!! She's in your resting room" Renjun argued

"Lucas? Jaehyun? Taeyong wants us to have a quick meeting right now" everyone heard Doyoung mentioned

"Doyoung-hyung!! How did the mission go?" Xiaojun asked as Doyoung went into the room

"Not that good. Which is why Taeyong wants a meeting on our plans for the next step. C'mon, we have to go" Doyoung ranted, pulling both Lucas and Jaehyun out of the room

"Tell (Y/N) to see me in my office later!!" Lucas stated before being dragged out of the room with Jaehyun

"You got it!!" everyone muttered

"Ten-hyung, Winwin-hyung, please be quick!! Hang in there (Y/N)" Jeno mumbled as the two older men treated you

Time skip for an hour or so

"We did everything we could. She has to see him either way" Ten argued

"He's going to kill us" Hendery reasoned

"Well, you might as well tell him now before he finds out on his own. And maybe have the douche's location ready so he wouldn't lash out at you. Plus, if the both of you were there with her, he wouldn't kill you. He would never do it in front of her" Winwin stated

"They're right Hendery. We gotta tell him. At least we won't die that quickly if we tell him when (Y/N)'s with him" Xiaojun mentioned

"Alright, (Y/N), wakey wakey, let's see your boyfriend" Hendery groaned as he was about to wake you up but saw an empty bed

"UHHH!! Xiaojun?! Ten-hyung?! Winwin-hyung?! WHERE IS (Y/N)?!" Hendery panicked

"Where's Jeno and Renjun?!" Xiaojun questioned, looking back at the two older ones who shook their head

"Crap!! Hendery we gotta go, now!! Thank you for treating her!!" Xiaojun exclaimed, dragging Hendery out of the room to Lucas' office

At Lucas' office

"Hyung? Can we come in? (Y/N) is here" Renjun stated as Lucas perked from his chair

"Come on in!!!" Lucas exclaimed, ready to welcome you with a big hug especially since he already freshened up

However, Lucas was not expecting to see you still wearing the same clothing you did in the morning when he dropped you off to campus with Hendery's jacket around you. Not only that, the more he walked closer to you, the more evident the bruises on your body were. At this point, Lucas was more than ready to kill both Hendery and Xiaojun but he had to calm his nerves and take care of you first.

"(Y/N)...sweetheart, what happened? Who did this to you?" Lucas questioned, running his right thumb across your dry bloodied lip while his left hand was placed softly behind your head

"Please...please don't kill them" you managed to state, looking down from Lucas' gaze at the same time he heard loud footsteps coming to his office

"We can explain!!!" Hendery exclaimed as he and Xiaojun were panting when arriving by Lucas' doorframe

"In, both of you. Jeno, Renjun, you both can leave" Lucas stated as he brought your figure behind his desk, straddling you on his lap as Renjun and Jeno left

"Before you get mad at us. We have a good explanation" Hendery muttered

"It better be" Lucas growled but calmed down when you nuzzled your head on his neck, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders

After some explanation, Lucas was more than furious at what happened. Was the warning towards the bastard couple not enough to inform the campus that you were off-limits? What's more was that your so-called lecturer was a regular at one of NCT's bar and even part of the businessmen that didn't fully agree to the agreement they were dealing with.

"Wow. Talk about killing two birds with one stone" Lucas chuckled, wrapping his arm firmly around your waist, making sure you wouldn't fall since you were asleep

"You're not going to kill us, right?" Hendery asked

"If you both manage to get that bastard in the bar within half an hour, I'll reconsider it. And the both of you better come as well. Now get on it and explain everything to Taeyong-hyung as well. Go." Lucas instructed and the two immediately left the office

"Love. Do you want to sleep here or back home?" Lucas softly asked, bringing your face to meet his

"Hmm? Anywhere, as long as you're there" you yawned

"Do you mind staying at the base just for tonight? I have to deal with something" Lucas mumbled, brushing your hair off your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead

"Don't hurt Xiaojun and Hendery, okay? They helped me. It wasn't their fault for what happened. It was also not your fault, so don't blame yourself too" you muttered, nuzzling back into Lucas' neck, inhaling his signature scent

"If that's what you want. I won't hurt them. But I can't promise for your lecturer" Lucas sighed, patting your head

"He, he hurt others as well. He deserved to be hurt too" you sighed

"Is that so? Anything for you sweetheart. Now, I'll leave you with the dreamies and under 127's supervision, is that alright?" Lucas questioned tho it was more so a statement

"Hmm. Be careful, alright? Everyone has to come back safely" you mentioned, feeling a smirk forming on Lucas' face

"Will do sweetheart. Get some rest" Lucas mumbled, kissing the side temple of your face before carrying you to the dreamies' dorm, entrusting you with Jeno and Renjun

At the bar

"She alright?" Taeyong questioned, walking into the bar with Lucas and the 'Make a Wish' unit

"Yea. Left her with the rest of the dreamies. Sorry that we had to work this late" Lucas sighed

"It's alright hyung. We won't let anyone harm our sister and gets away with it" Jaemin mentioned

"You guys actually called her sister?" Lucas chuckled

"Of course!! She's the same age as most of us, dreamies. Plus, she's so much fun to be around with" Shotaro added

"They'll pay for what they did. Just look at them" Jaehyun chuckled, opening the door to their office in the bar, revealing Xiaojun and Hendery holding the lecturer and the other businessman down

"Wow, it really is killing two birds with one stone" Lucas smirked

"You, you can't kill us. The government wouldn't allow it!!" the leader spoke

"Oh? Who said anything about killing when you're already dead" Taeyong scoffed, sitting on the chair behind the desk

"Wh, what do you mean, dead?" the lecturer stuttered

"Heh, he's all yours Lucas" Taeyong stated

"You see. The second you lay on that student today, you're already in our death note. No one. And I mean no one. Touches my queen without my permission. Especially a bastard that harms other people's queens. Oh, the things I'm going to do to you. It'll make you wish that you were actually dead" Lucas snickered, stepping on the lecturer's throat, just enough to make him suffocate to Lucas' liking

A/N: Well, that ended a bit dark

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[werevulvi]

You know how often I ask myself, why can't I just be normal? It's quite a lot. I wanna talk about something I've never told anyone before, aside from a few strangers online. I've suppressed this my whole life, since childhood. I've acted with anger towards others with the same thing as me, told them how it's offensive and awful. Refused to allow myself to even think about my own urges and desires. It worked for a long time, until I wrote my book this summer, a fiction story about a couple who end up disabled from their dangerous work as assassins. My intentions were just... to try to give good representation and explore something I knew very little about.

So I did a lot of research into my characters' disabilities, and even briefly pretended to have those specific disabilities at home alone, just to get an idea of what it's like to manage daily life with them. It was just a writer's thing, just being a dedicated writer, I told myself, as I researched those disabilities far more in-depth than I did about assassins...

At one point, I would cover my eye with a makeshift eye patch, as one of my main character's loses an eye, and I... it brought forth what I had suppressed my whole life, and I can't suppress it anymore as a result of that. The bottled feelings have escaped and I can't put them back in again.

I think I have Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID.) There, I said it.

It's a very rare mental illness that makes you want to become disabled, usually in some very specific way. Most are males, and most desire amputation, but it can pertain to wanting blindness, deafness, or I guess, any conceivable disability. There's only been a few thousand reported cases, but it's also said to be a very secret disorder, so numbers are probably not accurate. It's very poorly researched, poorly understood, and still not recognized as an actual disorder. So you can't be diagnosed with it currently, and there are no set criteria for it. However, it will be in the upcoming ICD-11 (the International Classification of Diseases.) It will then also be re-named to Body Integrity Dysphoria (BID) as it's being recognized as a form of dysphoria, and as a neurological condition.

And now for the obligatory life story:

I don't remember when it started, but as a child, I'd say roughly age 5 or 7, I was obsessed with fictional characters that had a distinct scar over one eye, and either blind in that eye or entirely missing it. I would on occasion play around with a hand covering one eye, and wished I could have that for real. For a long time, I didn't know why I was so obsessed with that. If I was just admiring that kinda physical feature, or wanted it myself, or both. Throughout my teens and adulthood thus far, I've made a lot of drawings of people with only one eye, and scarred faces. I wrote another book back in 2013 with one of the main characters being a woman with a large scar across half her face. I've always been a little too fascinated with facial deformities, having only one eye, and facial assymmetry. And I've tried to express it with assymmetrical makeup looks (not made to look like I'm injured) throughout my teens and 20's.

So it's been with me for a very long time, even though I've tried super hard to suppress it, and tried to tell myself that I should just be happy to have a mostly abled body. But that wish/urge/whatever it is, has never gone away.

When I first heard of BIID, back in 2016 or so, I was angry, and thought of people with it as despicable. I was in deep denial of how much I could relate to them. Didn't want to think of that. But since learning more about the condition, and listening to others who have it, and learning it is actually a real condition... I guess that has helped me eventually come to this point that, well fuck... it me.

Up until recently, I thought it was just a self-harm desire, as I used to be a cutter, but now I understand that the self-harm was not the intention behind what I want with that, but merely the means to achieve it. Kinda like how I wanted to cut my own tits off before I had my double mastectomy. It wasn't about specifically wanting to injure my chest, but to not have tits anymore, and I much preferred the much safer way of doing it, through proper surgery. However, wanting half my face re-arranged is a little bit harder to achieve through elective surgery, even if surgeons were allowed to treat BIID through surgery. So I do not think my desire to get rid of my left eye and surrounding tissues is about wanting to harm myself. It's about wanting to have and live with the result of such an injury. Although I get that might be very unimaginable.

So then, have I ever made any attempts?

Yeah... I have. Once, I think it was when I was 22, I took a blade to my face, but chickened out, and ended up only making a very superficial cut on my cheek, which I was then extremely ashamed of. I didn't want for people to find out I had made it myself. Since then, I've stopped self-harming and have no desire to make a second attempt. I'm scared I'd fuck it up and cause damage I don't want, or... not enough damage. And I'm worried I'd be beyond myself with shame if I would take out my own eye and then other people would show sympathy for my injury, knowing I'd have caused it myself. I just kinda wish it would happen accidentally somehow.

So, to clarify, my BIID targets my left eye and left side of my face. Why left? Honestly because I'm deaf since birth on my left ear, so it would be extremely inconvenient to be deaf on one side and blind on the other. Much more manageable to have one side be blind-deaf and the other fully seeing and hearing. But at first it didn't matter to me so much which side of my face would be affected. I have no desire to become an amputee or fully blind. I also don't have a fetish for disabled people.

Would I date a disabled person?

Yes, but that's because some attractive people just so happen to be disabled, and I wouldn't think I'm particularly judgemental, not that I find their disabilities in and of themselves attractive.

I try to quell this desire, to lose an eye and half my face, by on occasion wearing an eye patch in secrecy. I know it can worsen my vision, but why on Earth would I mind that? It's kinda what I want. But my mom almost caught me wearing it today as she came by for a quick visit, and I have worn it at the grocery store, and out and about in my village. It feels so damn right, yet so fucking wrong...

Let's tackle this question as well: Do I feel like an ass towards disabled people?

Yes and no. Thing is, I'm already disabled myself. I'm not an abled person to begin with. I live on permanent sickness compensation, classified unable to work, for life, with little to no chance at improvement, due to my autism and adhd. I have the energy levels of an old cellphone that drops to 2% battery ten minutes after being fully charged every time. And I hate it. I hate that there's so much in life that I'll probably never be able to do. So disability, is already part of my life, and always has been. So why then would I want to become more disabled, instead of less? Well, yeah that is what I want...

I've faced a shit ton of ableism since childhood, and I actually think that's why I got BIID. Because my actual disability is invisible and not taken seriously in society. And I think that's what I deep down want: to just have my disability be visible and taken seriously. Physical disabilities are taken more seriously. I've even heard that straight from the mouths of people who have both mental and physical disabilities. How often have I not been called lazy for something I've been literally unable to do, just because I "look" capable? How often do I get to hear I "don't seem autistic?" How often do I get told that autism is not even a disability, but merely a personality trait and being socially awkward? How often do I get told I would be able to work if I just tried harder? All. The. Fucking. Time.

I think that's why, ever since I was a child, I've wanted to have a physical disability, which is fully visible, and cannot be ignored. And what's more visible than the face? We interact with it the most. Because I don't really want to be less capable or lose a lot of movement, I just want for my already disabled existence to be visibly disabled.

So that's a big reason for why I think I have BIID. Which is to say, I don't feel like I'm being an ass towards disabled people, because I'm already disabled to begin with, merely wishing I was more disabled and in a more visible way. Had I been abled to begin with, I think that would have been different, but even abled people with BIID don't choose to have this condition. I read a quote from a person with BIID, who got the amputation he wanted, and he said basically that he didn't know what's worse, having BIID or being disabled. I can relate to that. And I think that is the irony here, that simply having BIID is like being disabled in and of itself already.

That said, however, I do understand why disabled people would be greatly offended, angry, or otherwise insulted, by people with BIID. Honestly I cannot understand why they would not be. I'm greatly offended by people who say they wish they were autistic! And I'm offended at myself for wishing I had a facial deformity and only one eye. Why do I want this!? I keep trying to shake sense into myself. It's what's causing my shame and wishing I could just be normal. No disabilities, and no wish for disabilities I don't have. That'd be great.

There is one more aspect I also feel the need to tackle: Transabled.

BIID has recently been rather often labeled as "transabled" in the same vein as "transracial" (wanting to be another race) and transgender. As a transsexual, this comparison is of course something that I have not missed. I'm painfully aware. This is how I see it, alright: Although I do feel like my body integrity dysphoria is incredibly similar to my sex dysphoria, I feel like it would be extremely rude and tone deaf to identify as for example vision impaired, deaf or an amputee, without actually having those disabilities. And I do not know if anyone actually does this. As far as I've seen, some people with BIID may pretend to have the disability they want (like with me walking around with an eye patch despite having no medical need for it) but they don't lie about it, or they try hard to avoid ending up in a situation where they'd feel pressured to lie. So I dunno how much validity there even is in anyone with BIID genuinely identifying as transabled. But regardless of that, I think it's absolutely abhorrent to identify as disabled in ways you are not. And I'd never tell anyone that I'm missing an eye when I do not.

So, I really do not like the term "transabled" and much prefer the BIID and BID terms. I do not like BIID being conflated with being transgender, although I want to very carefully say that the two conditions are so incredibly similar, that... I think that's another big reason I ended up with both. That I've always felt a strong disconnect from my body, which has merely expressed itself in a wide array of ways, ranging from sex dysphoria to body integrity dysphoria, dissociation and even having previously identified as otherkin. I don't think that's a coincidence at all. But then what caused all of that? I don't think there is a simple answer, but a multitude of reasons, and it may even connect with my autism as well as my trauma.

So, I'd say most likely it's caused by a cocktail of neurological and social issues. I was just clearly meant to be a broken person, making the most of my life with the sucky cards I was dealt, and on good days... I guess I'm kinda okay with that. At least it's not boring. Let's end on that not super tragic note. Feel free to ask me anything, if you’ve got any questions.

[not-gae-cuz-i-like-straight-wae]

Part 1: Responding to Jeansaaa

I intended on writing both my response to jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and another person in one message, but there’s some delay and I only finished the first part some time ago, so I’ll split my message up in two parts with the second part coming later. So NOTE: this message does NOT contain all my answers to this subject and I WILL explain more about the “why’s” in the (I hope) near future.

Introduction:

It’s been a while, but I’ve finally decided to write the respond to both jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’s last message and someone who I spoke with in the private chat. I’ll start off by saying I’ll call jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa just “Jeanaaa” for short and the other person I’ll simply call “ABC”, because this person preferred to remain anonymous. I’ll respond to this last person later on in this message too, because I might answer several questions others might have as well…

I can’t reblog Jeansaaa’s last message and reply to it, because Jeansaaa blocked me afterwards (I send him/her a private message and asked about whether he/she had never blocked me or unblocked me again and then Jeansaaa said he/she forgot to block me, made a joke about his/her memory, told me not to worry and said he/she would block me with a smiley... like, WHERE even is the logic in blocking someone like THAT), so I don’t even know if Jeansaaa will ever read my message. However, this is a reply to basically everyone who’d say the exact same things in a discussion about lgbt+, so that’s why I’m responding to his/her message anyway and the same thing goes for ABC. I will however speak directly to these people, because it is them who wrote me the things they wrote.

The last thing I wanna say before I actually start writing, is that I might use capital letters and exclamation marks. This, however, will be more often shoutouts out of surprise and confusion instead of anger and aggression or it will be just to emphasize parts of my sentences…

MY RESPOND TO: JEANSAAA

Jeansaaa’s last message:

Listen bro don’t take this personal I have no I’ll intentions at all and I don’t hate straight people ( I’m bi myself so i’m part straight ) but if you’re gonna post your opinions online than your gonna be subject to criticism, and the problem with straight pride is that for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality, even to this day in certain countries it’s illegal to be to be part of the lgbtq+, until just RECENTLY gay marriage was illegal, nothing like that has happened to straight people, that’s why gay pride exists because homophobia is still ever present, but I’m not gonna shove this in your face, I’m just trying to let you know why gay pride exists and why straight pride doesn’t, have a good day dude 😊

“Don’t take this personal”

Okay, so first of all, EXCUSE ME?! I shouldn’t take it personal??? ERR. Aside from blocking me yourself, you LITERALLY told others to block me as well, so that is PRETTY personal!

No hate to straight people? WOW. I’m blown away!

Like I said before, it would be quite mankind-hating if you’d hate straight people! I know people don’t hate straight people (because THAT would be completely insane), but I still can’t believe we have come so far that you are criticized when you do say you’re straight! Because that’s what’s happening. Lgbt+ supporters want lgbt+ people to show everyone they’re not straight and straight people should shut up about being straight?!

I’m okay with criticism if it’s because I say THESE things…

Yes, I AM posting the things I say online. Those aren’t “opinions”, but I guess it wouldn’t even do any good anymore to explain that to you, so I’ll just say “opinions” to keep it simple… I know a lot of people have the same opinions as me. People that also have no ill intentions (towards the lgbt+ community itself as well), but (like me) they act the way they act and have opinions because they think about it themselves and NOT because the majority (or at least, the ones who are given a voice and scream the loudest and the ones that can control the governments and the media together with – of course – the large herd of people that blindly follows them) thinks that way. Unfortunately, many people don’t dare to stand up for their opinion anymore these days and those who do speak aloud are often silenced. Either because their account gets blocked if they’d speak on the internet or something even worse would happen if they’d stand up for their opinions in real life.

You’re calling the ENTIRE humanity before us STUPID…

So I have a question for you… You say: “for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality” and you say “nothing like that has happened to straight people”. Now… Don’t you think there is a REASON why all these centuries people thought of lgbt+ as abnormal? Do you really think all these BILLIONS and BILLIONS of people that have lived on the Earth for CENTURIES just thought of lgbt+ as abnormal for absolutely NO REASON?!

Again: I don’t hate gays and don’t feel any need to discriminate them, in case you still thought I did after I already told you a hundred times I didn’t.

Look, I don’t justify the fact that people were killed because of whatever they thought they were or liked and I have said that before. I think they should have human (I repeat: HUMAN) rights and that they should be protected by the government in the country they live in (as long as they act normally, of course, but that applies to everyone). So if they’d get abused or they’d beaten up, the perpetrators should be punished! If people want to make decisions or changes to themselves, it’s their problem. That’s why I also wouldn’t hurt or scold anyone who’s – for example – gay. I fact, some of my very own friends are gay and they know how I think about it, but we have no problems with each other at all. So don’t pretend like I’M the one causing others frustration or whatever!

The problem.

And that’s why I think I should clarify myself one more time: I’m not against gay people. That’s their choice. What I am against is the lgbt+ AGENDA that is being executed (and that too is why I definitely wouldn’t support the lgbt+ community and why I openly said that on my account). I’m against the forcing of changing mankind’s morality. It’s totally fine (to me, at least) if you want to have an opinion, but why all that pushy hassle?! And now it even goes far beyond imposing opinions. Entire cities are changed. I know why and I’ll speak about this more extensively later on, but I’ll first finish my respond to what you’ve said.

I believe you are mistaken about your own goal.

You claim that gay pride is all to make sure gay people will have the same rights as straight people, right? I know many people do. Well, let me tell you something: the way you’re trying to achieve that WON’T change the fact that it’s illegal to be part of the lgbt+ community in some countries! Waving rainbow flags, painting rainbow zebra crossings and creating wall paintings of two men (like I have all seen more than once in my very own hometown and much, MUCH more in the capital city of the country I live in) won’t change a SHIT about what’s happening in faraway countries. And I can tell you another thing: in the places where all these changes for lgbt+ people are made, lgbt+ people already HAVE the same rights! So if you REALLY want to change anything in some country on the other side of the world, GO OVER THERE and try to convince them to treat lgbt+ people differently!

More than just normalizing (whether you acknowledge that or not).

But NO. That’s NOT what you all do. You wave all these flags and stuff here for another reason, because – like I said – lgbt+ people ARE accepted by the community in these countries and waving flags won’t change a thing ANYWHERE even IF it hadn’t already been legalized here. You wave these flags, paint these rainbow zebra crossings and create these wall paintings of two men because lgbt+ is already normalized here, but the lobby who created this agenda wanted people to take it much further than just normalizing the lgbt+ community. That’s also why it’s not called gay “normal”, but gay “pride” and why you all celebrated an entire “pride month”. That’s also why I spoke earlier about you all praising, glorifying or even WORSHIPPING the lgbt+ community now.

So DON’T try to convince me…

… that all these rainbow stuff and same-sex paintings are to reduce discrimination of lgbt+ people (which I, for the record, am also against, but I’ve already explained that before), because it’s NOT. It already IS not allowed to discriminate lgbt+ people in these countries and on social media and you guys are NOT trying to change anything in countries where being gay is illegal, because that would be happening over THERE and not over HERE.

About the next message:

Once again, I know (a couple of reasons) why the lobby wants you all to wave rainbow flags etc. etc., but I’ll speak about that more at some other point in the next (extremely long) message, in which I – like I said earlier – will also respond to someone who texted me in a private chat.

So this is where the first part of my message ends. You’ll hear more of me about this some other time…

[mehbzz]

Home

I had the sudden urge to try and write some hurt/comfort TLC with our A/B/O chocobros.  An impulsive bit of writing that probably needs some editing but it fulfilled my itch! SFW, maybe 2 lines of mild suggestiveness. Just some snuggles and love. 

You had dreamt about home. You had woken with an odd mix of guilt and sadness that had eventually dissipated and left you feeling muted and distant. You were aware you were bringing up the idea of getting home less often, and thinking about it even less so and whether by design or by accident your pack were also rather quiet on the subject. The fact that you had started internally thinking of them as your pack added another burst of guilt to your already fraught emotions. You knew the sadness was there, but you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel much of anything that morning except a hazy cloud of brooding disinterest. Of course the boys had noticed immediately, the lack of privacy for your own feelings souring your mood further and after your fifth snapped response to their pestering they had quietly backed off. The day had passed in a majority of uncomfortable silence, you being dragged along with one alpha or another as they finished up whatever business they had in town.  

You were all now sat in the diner around the corner from the hotel. You were staring blankly out the window at nothing, fiddling absentmindedly with your napkin. Gladio had ordered for you, after you had shaken your head silently at the waitress.  Not really caring what he had asked for but the plate that was put in front of you had been a pleasant surprise. You weren’t aware Gladio paid that much attention to your eating habits but seeing your favourite food in front of you sent a small wave of grateful happiness through your low mood. “Thank you” your words are quiet and you offered him a small smile when he locked eyes with you. “You need to eat it all” his words are gruff and if you didn’t know better you’d think there was a light pink tinge to his cheeks. Before you can muster up the energy to tease him Prompto is pushing into your side. “You gotta try this” Holding up what looks like a fry dipped in his milkshake you eye it warily. “No thanks?” “Come on! Trust me it’s -”, a cough from Ignis has him lowering his offering in disappointment. “Aw man, you don’t know what you’re missing out on” He remains close to your side as you go back to your own food. You don’t feel particularly hungry but you can feel Gladio and Ignis watching you and you don’t have the energy to argue. You must have zoned out again as Ignis soft call of your name startles you. “Noctis is having trouble with his back this evening”, he repeats, “We were discussing delaying our trip for a day” You glance at Noct and you know immediately that’s it’s a lie but you don’t care enough to point it out or to wonder what they are up to this time. You shrug. “Ok” “A day off will do us all good” Ignis continues, watching you intently as he speaks but you just nod and give another quiet ok in response.

“It’ll be fun!” Prompto swivels back to you “I can show you some of the cool shots I got yesterday, there’s a couple of really funny ones of Noct when he – “ Noctis cuts him off with a low warning growl and you can’t help but smile at the playful threat. Prompto raises his hands in mock surrender before turning back to you. “First photos I’ll show you” he whispers before he continues his plan for the day. “Just chillin with some trashy TV and a pile of junk food,” he pauses and glances at Ignis, “uh, right Iggy?” Ignis stares at him before sighing “I will pick something up on the way back to the hotel” “Great!” Prompto’s enthusiasm is infectious and you find yourself nodding along as he continues his ideas for the day. Leaving Ignis to sort out the bill the rest of you start a slow walk back to the hotel. With Prompto and Noctis walking in front of you still arguing over whatever embarrassing pictures he had on his camera, you feel a little happier than you did before your meal but you still feel tense and oddly exposed, even with Gladio walking next to you. He steps closer, wrapping an arm round your waist to bring you tight into his side. He doesn’t say anything, which you are incredibly grateful for, just leans down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Smothered into his side makes all your senses scream ‘safe’ and relaxing into his hold you are back at your hotel room before you know it. With another kiss he pushes you through the door with a sharp smack to your backside. He laughs at your reaction and lets his hand linger on your ass as he guides you in to the middle of the room. “Shoes off” The way he kneels down in front of you sends a mild buzz of arousal through you, which he notices, because of course he does, and he winks at you as you place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “I think you like me down here” With your shoes off his hands glide up your legs to the button of your jeans and you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “I can take my own jeans off” he ignores your comment and instead places a quick kiss to your stomach as he yanks the fabric down your legs.

Your protest turns into a yelp as Gladio hoists you up over his shoulder to deposit you unceremoniously on his bed. “Get comfy” your disappointment as you watch him walk into the bathroom is short lived as Noctis and Prompto instantly try to snuggle you down into the mattress with them. Your hiss of annoyance is half-hearted and they both ignore it. Noct slipping straight into his favourite position at your side, head resting against your chest while Prompto grabs the remote to the TV before laying his head in your lap. Noct’s usual technique at comforting you was an unusual method of ‘bothering you until you pet him’ rather than outright affection but the way he was purring softly as you ran your fingers through his hair was actually calming, you had to admit. And the knowledge of the little huff he would have afterwards when he noticed the state of his hair added a small boost of amusement to your mood. Although the way he noses at your nipple through your shirt has you groaning in slight annoyance. “Not now Noct.” You can practically hear the whine building up in his throat but he doesn’t push you further, just shifts until his head is resting comfortably on your chest.

The sound of the TV and Noct’s gentle purring lulls you in to a drowsy peaceful state. Prompto quiet murmur of your name has your attention drawn back to him. He wants to say something or ask you something, you can tell from the sudden flux of nervousness in his scent and you brace yourself.  Instead he presses a quick kiss to your thigh that surprises a giggle out of you so he does it again. “I’m glad you’re here” his words are quiet, whispered against your skin in-between his kisses but the sincerity in them is obvious and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. “You are too, right?” His question hurts, and your thoughts from the morning come rushing back to you. You were glad, but the guilt at feeling like that was overpowering at times.  You hum noncommittally in response, not trusting yourself to answer. Noct obviously notices your distress and his hand squeezes your hip briefly before reaching down to smack Prompt lightly on the head “noisy” he grumbles “I’m trying to watch this” Gladio’s emergence from the bathroom and rumbled demand of ‘move’ distracts Prompto from making whatever snappy reply he had, and instead he moves with a pout, clambering over you to sit behind Noct. As you move from under Noctis’ weight, Gladio is not even completely down before you are curling up into his side. “Where’s Ignis?” you can’t stop your hand from trailing over his bare chest, tracing over the edge of his tattoo lightly. “Probably talking to the hotel clerk, he'll be here soon.” Gladio’s hand slips up under your t-shirt to rest on your ribs and you shiver, trying to push yourself closer. His fingers tracing small circles into your skin “Relax baby, daddy’s got you” the word is new, and you do your best to ignore the way it makes your stomach flutter. He doesn’t complain as you hook your leg over his, content to let you wriggle and shift until you are comfortable, half lying on top of him. “Better?” You nod against his chest and he raises his hand to start stroking through your hair, mimicking your earlier position with Noct. “You’re allowed be happy“ Gladio’s words whispered into your hair take you by surprise  and you bury your face further into his chest to try and hide your sudden rush of tears. He says nothing further and the quiet as he continues to stroke your hair is surprisingly soothing, the only noise over your quiet sniffles is the slight creak of the bed as Noctis and Prompto try to subtly move closer to you, offering you comfort and warmth against your back without saying a word. You must have dozed off after a while as the next thing you are aware of is the soft press of Ignis lips against your forehead. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Gladio’s quietly snoring form and the concern in his expression makes tears prick at your eyes again. He moves slightly, his hand brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "Talk to me?" he asks softly. You’re silent for a few long seconds, not sure if you can explain your mess of thoughts and emotions well enough for him to understand

"I don’t…” your breath hitches and you try to swallow around the lump in your throat, “I don’t think about it much anymore” Its vague, and you don’t say any more, don’t clarify what you mean but Ignis seems to understand you. “Whether you do or don’t, it’s Ok, we still love you“ He brushes away another tear. He cups your face gently, and you turn into his touch with a shaky sigh. The outright acceptance of your jumbled emotions that you receive from the four of them is unsettling in the best way. You feel loved, and the tears begin anew at the realisation. In your own world, with your own family, you had never felt this level of belonging and acceptance. The guilt that maybe you didn’t actually want to return there was still prevalent, but felt less sharp than it had done.   The look of alarm across Ignis face at your fresh tears makes you smile in faint amusement. “I’m ok” he looks doubtful at your claim and you fight back the mild hysterical urge to laugh  “I am, Ignis, truly I am”. You swallow, wrestling your emotions back under some semblance of control and kiss his palm. “It’s just,” you hesitate “a lot. I’m not used to,” you gesture loosely between you “this” you give him a genuine smile this time, “but it’s getting easier” ‘This’ was a poor descriptor for describing the bond you felt as part of the pack. But Ignis seemed to know what you meant. He stills looks a little concerned but he leans down to kiss you, “You’re our omega” he reminds you. The possessive lilt to his words sends a happy shiver through you and you hum into his kiss in agreement.

Feeling vulnerable but a lot more stable, the adrenaline from the whiplash of emotions over the day has left you feeling restless and fills you with the sudden childish desire to annoy the man sleeping beneath you. You flick your finger sharply across Gladio’s nipple, snickering quietly at his sleepy annoyed grunt and at Ignis’ look of bemusement. He stands with an almost audible roll of his eyes just as you are considering biting down on the nipple closest to you. “I won’t protect you from the consequences of whatever foolish action you are thinking of taking” He watches as you bite your lip in thought before he turns away with a small huff of amusement “Those two are a bad influence on you”

“Hey,” as if summoned by the promise of trouble Prompto stirs behind you, poking you in your side. You twist in Gladio’s tight hold to try and look at him. “Noct is asleep” he gives you a mischievous grin and you respond automatically with a smile of your own even though you don’t know what he’s planning “wanna see those photos now?”

[realllllfangirllllll]

Beyond Lovers || Chp. 31

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

(Context: This scene takes place in the time frame of the last three chapters of MTF)

Masterlist

{Previous / Next }

4 months ago...

“Come meet me in Paris. I’ll send you the address.”

Jaehyun’s mind spun like lab rats on a hamster wheel as he contemplated the idea of meeting face to face with Xiaojun. He had set his mind on getting y/n back and he couldn’t act scared now. He needed her in his life and this was his only chance.

~~~

The bright sun was hanging low in the clear sky as Jaehyun let out a yawn. Although jet-lagged and stressed, the thought of being on the same grounds as y/n made him feel a bit better. After all, it seemed like he hasn’t seen her for years. He chuckled to himself upon the realization of how much y/n’s presence affected him.

He stepped into the luxurious hotel lobby and made his way to the glass elevators before he quickly pressed the button to floor six. When the room door opened, he found himself sitting on the lonely chair placed across from the lush couch with his heart beating nervously. Never had he been more nervous for a meeting, in fact, he usually wasn’t the type of person to get nervous at all. He guessed that y/n and Xiaojun were definitely of blood relation as they were the only two people to ever make him feel even slightly nervous.

His hands were clasped politely in front of his lap as he tried his best to sit as straight as possible. On the other hand, Xiaojun sat comfortably yet arrogantly on the couch with his legs crossed. His stern, sharp gaze examined Jaehyun from his neatly gelled hair, his casual yet sleek navy dress shirt, to his expensive leather shoes. Jaehyun didn’t move an inch and allowed Xiaojun to take in whatever he wanted to see. He dressed casually but neat with the intent of giving off a good, first in-person impression. He didn’t want Xiaojun to think of him as an egotistic rich boy but a hardworking and polite man that is sincere to y/n.

Xiaojun suddenly let out a chilling laugh that did nothing to clear the tension in the room. “You don’t have to act so stiff, treat me comfortably.” 

Jaehyun nervously chuckled as Xiaojun broke out an eerie smile and offered, “You must be exhausted from that flight. Want something to drink?”

Jaehyun looked at him and saw that his eyes held a stonecold stare that shouted ‘refuse if you dare.’ He quickly responded with a yes and Xiaojun’s eerie smile returned. As if he prepared for this scenario, his hands grabbed the bottle of liquor on the marble coffee table and filled the two empty glasses by its side. He set the bottle aside and asked as he quirked his eyebrow, “You do drink whiskey, do you?”

Jaehyun responded with a quick, “yes sir,” and Xiaojun chuckled, “No need to be so formal with me. You are about the same age as me after all.”

Jaehyun almost choked on his drink at his words and stuttered, “Y-yes if that’s what you want.” Hesitantly, he continued, “By the way...How do you know my age?”

Xiaojun chugged his drink and rather loudly before he bluntly told him that he had searched him up online, read articles about him, and even had some intel from someone on the inside. Jaehyun’s eyes widened at his last statement. He wasn’t new to this sort of investigation as he had done so himself around people he found suspicious, especially with Jaemin. But he was surprised, yet amused, that Xiaojun was that kind of person as well. 

He cleared his glass of whiskey and set it down on the table. “You seem to be a very reliable person.”

Xiaojun gave him a questioning stare as he waited for him to elaborate on his words. Jaehyun chuckled, suddenly feeling more comfortable around the man in front of him and slightly loosened his stiff body. “It’s only right to keep an eye out on suspicious people. I would.”

At his elaboration, Xiaojun’s expression seemed to change into one with slightly more approval. His cold stare shifted to a warmer gaze as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes first looked down at his interlocked fingers and then seriously up at Jaehyun. “What is your endgame with my baby sister?”

Jaehyun sat up straighter again and responded with slight confusion in his tone, “Endgame? I don’t have one. My love for your sister isn’t a game.”

Xiaojun smirked and asked, “Then what is it?”

Jaehyun never broke eye contact with the man in front of him and said sincerely, “To me, loving y/n is like living in a warm home. I only want to make her feel happy and comfortable like how she makes me feel. I want her to feel what being loved means.”

He hoped that wasn’t too blunt and stopped himself before he could say anything more, but Xiaojun chuckled. This time, he didn’t have an eerie smile but a genuine one. He poured the both of them more whiskey and said in a gentler yet firm tone, “You’re the first, you know.”

“The first what?” Jaehyun said a little softer, scared that that statement might hold a negative connotation.

Xiaojun peered down at his glass of whiskey, slightly moving the cup in a circular motion before setting it down without taking a sip. “Guess I don’t need this whiskey anymore.”

He looked up and saw Jaehyun’s puzzled look. “You are much more innocent than I thought,” he laughed. He sat straighter, breaking from his previous position and told Jaehyun nonchalantly, “You are actually the first to tell me something worth my time. You see...most guys that previously held y/n’s interest will walk into my door and say some bullshit. I’ve heard countless fuckers say they date my sister because she will make a great couple with them, she will light up their day, or some equivalent shit.” His eyes hardened and stared straight into Jaehyun’s. “I don’t want to hear that. Ever.” Jaehyun unconsciously gulped and Xiaojun chuckled, “But you on the other hand. You are different. While others think about themselves, you think about y/n.”

Jaehyun felt relieved but not a second later, Xiaojun gave him the same cold stare again. “But y/n means the world to me. She’s my only family and the only person I will sell my soul to protect. You got that?” Jaehyun quickly nodded in response and Xiaojun’s tone softened again. “I don’t know how far you are in this relationship, but you must know that y/n didn’t have parents growing up as they abandoned us quite harshly.” He glanced at Jaehyun’s expression and figured he knew what he was referring to. “So you do know. Well then your relationship must have been going on for quite a while…”

“Not really,” Jaehyun replied a bit hesitant. 

Xiaojun quirked his eyebrow, “How long then?”

“Technically...only a few months,” Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of whether he should give him all the details of their complicated relationship, “But we’ve kind of been circling around the first month…”

“Circling around?” Jaehyun gulped, afraid this would give him some negative points on his approval but Xiaojun stared intently at him and suddenly burst out laughing. He knew that his younger sister was never the one to wait for initiation. She wasn’t careful with things she didn’t care for. All her previous relationships started fairly quickly. But when y/n really liked something, she would wait, go through a ton of inner debation, and finally come up with a decision. Xiaojun knew that because she does the same with photography. She never rushes the process and would take her time finding the right angle, the right natural lighting, and the right model. She would often tell Xiaojun, “Precious moments are to be dealt with carefully because they are especially fragile.” 

Now that Jaehyun confessed the upbringing of their relationship, albeit vague, he realized just how much y/n valued this man that sat nervously in front of him. He muttered to himself both out of amusement and astonishment, “Wow y/n...So he’s the one huh?”

He stopped laughing and stared seriously at Jaehyun again, “Listen up lover boy. The reason I told you to come here was to either show you that you are not worthy of my precious sister or to beat you to a pulp if you didn’t listen like some arrogant douches I’ve encountered in her past relationships.” Unknowingly, Jaehyun chuckled at his last statement and Xiaojun’s ears perked, “Did you just laugh?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened upon the realization of what he just did and immediately corrected himself, “No no, I didn’t mean it in that way.” He scratched the back of his neck again and continued, “I actually just,” he paused and let out a light chuckle, “I just relate to that as well.”

Xiaojun was caught off guard as he blinked in disbelief at the man’s reaction, “You what?”

A sense of respect coated Jaehyun’s tone as he clarified, “Some people call it reckless, some people call it crazy. But in the line of business I work in, those hypocritical people only fear those with the power of the fist and intimidation.” He let out a bitter chuckle and told Xiaojun, “With y/n around, especially, I just feel the need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt by ignorant people.”

Xiaojun smirked, “You’re not half as bad as I thought Jaehyun.” He smiled and continued, “Anyways, y/n may be my baby sister but ever since we were little all she has done was make sure I was happy. She took care of me more than I did with her. She supported and helped me with my Youtube career and tagged along without any complaints. And because of that, she never really had a stable place to call her home. I’m glad she was able to open up to you. She usually never tells someone about her parents until at least a year into the relationship. It shows she really is comfortable around you. And judging from the way you react to my words and actions, it seems I don’t need to play the role of a protector for her anymore. You seem to suit the role.”

Before Jaehyun could respond Xiaojun immediately cut him off, “But one more thing. As a Youtuber, I know the public forum can be harsh and the spotlight will never be easy. For that, I know the situation at the Starship Charity Ball was not entirely your fault,” His cold stare came back as he stared seriously at Jaehyun, “But don’t you ever dare forget this. When you walk out this door and go to y/n, you will do everything in your power to help and protect her. It might not be entirely your fault, but it was because of you that y/n is now in the spotlight.”

Jaehyun replied in agreement almost immediately and Xiaojun continued, “Take the consequences and make the best of it.” He narrowed his eyes and made sure Jaehyun understood his commands. “But don’t you ever let y/n get hurt by it.” He continued and emphasized his last point in a much deeper and darker tone, “You hurt my only family and I will show you no mercy. However hurt y/n becomes, I will give that back to you threefold, understood?”

“Of course! I will always be by her to protect her. No matter who or what gets in the way,” Jaehyun replied quickly and genuinely. 

Xiaojun shut his eyes for a moment and nodded, content with his response and overall behavior. 

“Effiel Tower,” he opened his eyes again and looked at Jaehyun with a soft and somewhat hopeful gaze, “She should be somewhere around the Effiel Tower right now.”

Jaehyun immediately popped up from his seat, ready to meet his love again. Before he twisted the doorknob of the hotel room, he turned around and told Xiaojun with the utmost respect, “I will treat her like my own family, I promise.”

Xiaojun chuckled and leaned against the soft pillows on the couch, “You better lover boy, my fists are ready to fight any time of the day.”

———

• Dropping a post early since I’ll be off to celebrate my bday!! •