#i feel like he should have some lines........ just bc he has suddenly become deaf doesnt mean hes like. incapable of speech

[roachfurby]

sons of the forest review: kelvin jumpscare all the time forever

[aresrambles]

Hiya! Could I please request a movie night with Hawks that quickly turns into something spicy? I understand if you can't take the request but can't hurt to ask right?

Fast and Furious

hawks x female!reader - explicit nsfw, strictly 18+, married!reader, degradation, creampie, fluff (1306 words)

a/n: hi anon <3 so sorry this took fucking forever. i also went w fem!reader bc it wasn’t specified so i hope that’s ok and took some creative liberties. i hope u enjoy~

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Huddled together in a fleet of cushions and blankets, you and Keigo stare idly at the large flat-screen TV that illuminates your shared living room. Truth be told, the film had long ago become boring to you- the only thing on your mind were the soft circles that your husband had been drawing on the space above your hips.

You look over to your right and watch his focused expression, eyes filled with the colorful reflection of the TV light. Keigo was so beautiful. Although he hadn’t shaved in a while due to working overtime, and his eyebags had looked better, he was still insanely attractive. He could pull off anything, really.

“What’cha looking at, Birdie?” Keigo catches you in the corner of his eye and turns to smile, the circles on your hips creeping up further and further toward your waistband.

“I’m looking at the guy that won’t stop trying to turn me on.” Hawks pauses for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “Alright, alright- you caught me. This movie sucks and I’m horny.” You can’t help but smile upon hearing his remark and lean forward into a kiss. When you pull away, Keigo’s eyes look different. There’s an intensity to them as he looks back at you, mouth still relaxed in an upward curve and fingers still playing around with your waistband. “D’you wanna forget about the movie? And, well… Do you wanna…”

“Go on, Number 2 Hero.” You chuckle, mockingly tossing your head back and batting your lashes at him. Keigo feels his dick jump at the light-hearted term and wastes no time in pulling your sweatpants down, before taking his own off and settling down between your legs.

"Look at your fuckin' panties..." He murmurs, dragging his slender finger along the drenched fabric clinging to your folds. You hadn’t realised how wet he had made you throughout the film until now. Keigo could see everything and you hadn't even taken them off yet. The sight makes his abdomen twitch. "Maybe you should keep these on for a while." He says softly before pushing them to side and pressing his mouth onto your clit. "S'kinda sexy."

The vibrations of his voice made you want to close your legs on instinct but Keigo's grip is firm, already anticipating that delicious reaction of yours. Instead, his fingers pinch at the flesh of your thighs whilst he begins to lap away at your sweet spot, all wet and all warm and all his. Keigo had always been good at eating pussy- it was something that he genuinely enjoys. He gets off to it. The shy gasps when he sucks on your clit after tongue-fucking you, the long, firm licks from top to bottom. Everything about it is too much and somehow you can never get enough.

You look down at him and meet your husbands eyes as he eagerly eats you out. Reaching down to stroke his hair, your arm is suddenly stopped in its place. Keigo moves his lips away from your pussy and instead drags his tongue along your fingers, never once tearing his gaze away from yours. Your body temperature rises with the warm, wet sensation of your fingers enveloped in his mouth. He sucks on them like he's starving, eyes hungry and half-lidded like a puppy drunk on milk.

At the same time, he brings his other hand back to your pussy, toying with it teasingly. He presses your folds together and rubs alongside the middle before letting go again, repeating that action a few more times before you inevitably begin buck your hips up and whine. "Dude, just fuck me already."

Keigo only smirks before pressing that same hand that had been teasing your pussy into your mouth. "Louder, sweetheart. I don't think I got that."

You wait for him to remove his hand from your mouth, but upon realising that wasn't going to happen you attempt to speak up again.

"Fuck. Me.”

“Look at that, you said it all muffled and now you’re drooling all over my hand like some kinda bitch in heat." Keigo leans down until your faces are centimeters apart. "Well, are you? Are you my bitch, Y/N?” He asks softly, tilting your head up to look at him properly.

The dull ache inside of you is what propels you to nod your head. Keigo chuckles as he palms a dick a few times, lining it up with your entrance.

“If you’re gonna be my bitch then I wanna hear you pant like one.”

The end of his sentence is almost lost in a deep groan as he slides inside of you, face twisted with pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He exhales, pumping in and out of you with shaky arms holding his body above yours. The room feels so much heavier and you weakly push away the blankets that surround the two of you. Keigo’s dick felt like it was burning you up from the inside out, so anything other than his body was an unneeded addition of warmth.

Keigo's lazy thrusts became faster and rhythmic, reaching deep inside of you. The soft grip he previously had on your thighs was now trembling and sweaty, almost as though your flesh was about to slip out of his grasp. The sheer strength of his grip made your thighs hurt but the sensation was nothing in comparison to the one deep in your belly. "Keep going." You pant, in a trance. The only thing that matters is that he keeps going; that he keeps pushing himself inside till that ache in your core dissipates. "Keep going, keep going, keep going-"

Your chanting does not fall unto deaf ears, however your husband has other plans. Keigo leans down until you can feel his hot breath fanning over ear as he begins to slow down. "What did you say?" He taunts, inbetween his own gasping breaths. "What do you want from me?"

He was insatiable in his need to make you beg for it. To beg for that release that he knows you so desperately crave despite the fact that you were both reaching your limit. “I said, ah, keep going. Please.” You whine, rolling your hips up to meet his movements. “Whatever you want, beautiful.” Keigo huffs, eyes gleaming. He speeds up again and doesn’t withhold his own moans and shaky mewls that echo throughout the living room. You begin to feel the familiar build up of a climax in your insides as Keigo whines about his own oncoming orgasm. “Cum with me. Cum with me, baby.” He pleads. Keigo’s arm slipped as he crashed down on top of you, never once stopping his frantic thrusting. You take the opportunity to bite into his shoulder as your own orgasm rolls over your body, taking it captive in a frenzied hot flush.

“I’m gonna- I’m-I’m-“ Keigo can only babble incoherently as he fucks you through his climax, thick, ropey cum spilling inside of you. Your pussy clenches around his dick; the overstimulation milking him for everything he has. “That’s it, baby. Give it all to me.” You coo in his ear, embracing your lover as he became limp on top of you.

You both take a while to come back around, Keigo’s head resting upon your chest. As you play with his hair, you feel his wings twitch with satisfaction.

“Now that was a good movie night.” He mumbles, nuzzling further into you. Although he should, he doesn’t pull out for a while. The idea of keeping his cum stuffed inside of you was an exciting thought, and it was too hot to start moving again. You guys could always clean yourselves up again later, until the cool running water of the shower. And perhaps have room for a round 2.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:

They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek

“Don’t jump.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.

Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.

Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.

No, Tim is not having it.

“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.

One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.

Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.

Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.

Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.

From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.

“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.

Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’

“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.

Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.

“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.

Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.

“Never established the relationship.”

“Commitment issues?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.

“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.

“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.

“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.

“Ah fuck, sorry.”

Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.

“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”

It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.

“How did she die?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”

At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.

This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.

He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”

“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.

“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.

“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.

“Yet the Joker still roams.”

“Ain’t my call.”

“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”

Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”

“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”

“What?”

“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”

“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”

Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.

“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.

Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.

“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”

For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”

“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”

Red Hood looks away, not answering.

“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”

Red scoffs, “Would you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah, not your story.”

Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”

Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.

“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.

“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”

“They’re not true?”

“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”

“Good point, never mind.”

They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.

He lights another, and puffs.

“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.

“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”

“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”

“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.

“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.

Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.

Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”

“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.

“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”

“I can say the same, Timmy.”

Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”

“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.

“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I don’t care what you feel.”

“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.

“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.

They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.

“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.

“Would you kill Joker if you could?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”

“You underestimate my anger then.”

Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.

As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.

“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’

“Thanks for the light.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”

When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.

“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.

“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.

Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.

Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.

“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive.  “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.

“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.

It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.

“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”

“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”

“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.

Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.

[dillydedalus]

april reading

oh yeah this is a thing. anyway in april i read about uhhh.... first contact (twice), murderers on skis & victorian church politics

the yield, tara june winch a novel about indigenous australian identity and history (now and throughout the 20th century) in three narrative strands. imo the narrative strand that consists of a grandfather writing a dictionary of his language (wiradjuri) in order to prove a claim to some land is by far the strongest, but overall i liked this quite a lot. 3/5

land of big numbers, te-ping chen a solid short story collection focused on modern china and young(ish) chinese people, both in china and the diaspora. i particularly liked the stories that had some slighty surreal or speculative elements, such as one about fruit that strongly evoke emotions when eaten and a group of people stuck in a train station for months as the train is delayed, which imo use their speculative aspects in effective (if not super subtle) ways to talk about society. 3/5

the pear field, nana ekvtimishvili (tr. from georgian by elizabeth heighway) international booker prize longlist! a short, fairly depressing read about a 18-year-old girl at a post-soviet school for developmentally disabled childred (but also orphans, abandoned children & other random kids) who is trying to get a younger boy adopted by an american couple. there seem to be a lot of novels set at post-soviet orphanages etc & imo this is a well-executed example of the microgenre, with the pear field full of pears that are never picked bc they don’t taste right as a strong central image. 3/5

the warden, anthony trollope (chronicles of barsetshire #1) ah yes, a 6-part victorian series about church politics in an english town, exactly the kind of thing i’m interested in. not sure why i committed to at least the first two entries of the series but here we are. despite this lack of interest (and disagreement with most of the politics on display here) i found this quite charming; trollope has a gift for an amusing turn of phrase & making fun of his characters in benevolent ways. 3/5

the lesson, cadwell turnbull first contact scifi novel set on the virgin islands, where an alien ship arrives one day. the aliens seem benevolent & share helpful technology, but also react with extreme violence to any aggression. they claim to be on earth to study.... something, but it’s never entirely clear what. the book makes some interesting choices (like immediately skipping over the actual first contact to a few years in the future, when the aliens are already established on the islands) but i thought much of it was kinda disjointed and confusing. 2/5

the heart is a lonely hunter, carson mccullers look, i get it, it’s all about the isolation & alienation (& dare i say loneliness) of 4 miserable characters projecting their issues on the central character singer, who is kind and patient and also deaf and mute, thus making him the perfect receptacle for their issues without really having to connect with him as a person and how that isolation hinders them socially, artistically, emotionally, politically, but like... i didn’t really like it. i didn’t hate it but i just felt very meh about it all. 2.5/5

acht tage im mai: die letzte woche des dritten reiches, volker ulrich fascinating history book about the last week(ish) of the third reich, starting with the day of hitler’s suicide and ending with the total surrender (but with plenty of flashbacks and forwards), and looking at military&political leadership (german and allied) as well as prisoners of war, forced laborers, concentration camp prisoners, and everyone else. very interesting look at what kästner described as the “gap between the not-anymore and the not-yet.” 3.5/5

firekeeper’s daughter, angeline boulley) i’ve been mostly off the YA train for the last few years, but this was a really good example of contemporary YA with a focus on ~social issues. ANYWAY. this is YA crime novel about daunis, a mixed-race unenrolled ojibwe girl close to finishing high school who is struggling with family problems, university plans, and feeling caught between her white and her native familiy when her best friend is shot in front of her and she decides to become a CI for an fbi investigation into meth production in the community. i really appreciated how hard this went both with the broader social issues (racism, addiction) and daunis’ personal struggles. there are a few bits that felt a bit didactic & on the nose (and the romance... oh well), but overall the themes of community, family, and the value of living indigenous culture are really well done & i teared up several times. 4/5

the magic toyshop, angela carter i love carter’s short stories but struggle with (while still liking) her novels so far. this one, a tale of melanie, suddenly orphaned after trying on her mother’s wedding dress in the garden, coming of age and awakening to womanhood or whatever. carter’s really into that. it’s well-written, sensual as carter always is, and the family melanie and her siblings are sent to, her tyrannical puppet-maker uncle, his mute wife and the wife’s two brothers, both fascinating and offputting (& dirty) make for an interesting cast of characters, but overall i just wish i was reading the bloody chamber again. 3/5

barchester towers, anthony trollope (chronicles of barsetshire #2) (audio) lol tbh i still don’t know why i am committing to this series about, again, church politics in 19th century rural england, but it’s just so chill & warm & funny (we love gently or not so gently - but always politely - mocking our characters) that i’m enjoying it as a nice little trip where people do some #crazyschemes to gain church positions or fight over whether there should be songs in church or whatever it is people in the 19th century fought about. it’s very relaxing. there also is a lot of love quadrangleyness going on and that’s also fun. trollope has weird ideas about women but like whatever, i for one wish mrs proudie much joy of her position as defacto bishop of barchester, she really girlbossed her way to the top. 3.5/5

semiosis, sue burke (semiosis #1) i love spinning the wheel on the “first contact with X weird alien species” & i guess this time we landed on plants! plant intelligence is interesting and the idea of plant warfare is really cool. i do like the structure, with different generations of human settlers on the planet pax providing a long-term view but this allows the author to skip over a lot of the development of the relationship between the settlers and the plant and locating the plot elsewhere, which i think is ultimately a mistake. i might continue w/ the series tho, depending on library availability. 2.5/5

one by one, ruth ware a bunch of start-up people go on a corporate retreat to a ski chalet in the alps, avalanche warning goes up, one of them disappears, presumably on a black piste, the rest get snowed in & completely cut off when the avalanche hits and then they get picked off *title drop* (altho really not that many of them). nice fluff when i had a miserable cold (not covid) but fails when it tries to go for deeper themes... like an attempt to address classism and entitlement sure... was made. also like what kind of luxury skiing chalet does not have emergency communication devices in case internet/phone lines are down...  i’d have sued just for that. 2/5

fake accounts, lauren oyler the microgenre of ‘alienated intellectual(ish) probably anglophone person has some sort of crisis, goes to berlin about it’ is my ultimate literary weakness - i almost never really like them, they mostly irritate me & yet i can never resist their siren call. this one is p strong on the irritation, altho at least the narrator does not ascribe much meaning to her decision to go to berlin after she a) discovers her boyf is an online conspiracy theorist (probably not sincerely) and b) gets a call that said boyf has died, it’s really just something to do to avoid doing anything else. but other than that it’s so BerlinExpat by the numbers, like she lives in kreuzkölln! put her somewhere else at least! there is one scene that elevates the BerlinExpat-ness of it all (narrator asks expatfriend for advice on visa applications, expatfriend assures her that it’s really easy for americans to get visa, adds “especially now” while literally, as the narrator remarks, gesturing at the falafel she’s eating) other than that, the novel is.... fine. it’s smart, but not really as smart as it thinks it is, which is a problem bc it thinks it’s just sooo incisive. whatever. 2/5

the tenant of wildfell hall, anne bronte this is reductive but: jane eyre: i could fix him // wuthering heights: i could make him worse // wildfell hall: lmao i’m gonna leave his ass anyway i enjoyed the part that is actually narrated by the titular tenant of wildfell hall, helen (which thankfully, i think, is most of it) because the perspective of a woman who runs away from her abusive alcoholic of a husband is genuinely interesting and engaging, while gilbert, the frame story narrator who falls in love with helen, is.... the worst. i mean he’s not the worst bc the abusive husband arthur is there and hard to beat in terms of worseness, but he’s pretty fucking bad. imagine if helen had found out that gilbert attacked her secret brother over a misunderstanding, severely injured him & LEFT HIM TO DIE & then (when dude survived & the misunderstanding got cleared up) apologised like well i guess i didn’t treat you quite right! she’d have to run away from her second husband as well! poor girl. 3/5

[cupidmarwani-archive]

I Know your deaf!Buck tag is supposed to be about Buck being deaf which makes sense obviously but I would really like to see more of the autistic side of this AU If you wouldn't mind?🙈😬

yuh yuh I got you. I feel like I should also address that I am not autistic, this AU is informed by my research and interactions with autistic people, as well as my personal experiences with sensory and social issues. Those who are actually autistic please feel free to step in if I say something that’s out of line ily anyway under the cut bc this got long //

- Buck’s deafness and his autism are very much connected for him, if that makes sense. They both very much inform his approach to the world and to other people, and his being deaf affects how he copes with his autism, and his autism affects how he copes with being deaf.

- One of his most common stims is ASL, because it’s a very natural thing for his hands to fall into and moving hands? Feels good. At first as the team learns ASL it’s kind of frustrating, because it can be hard to tell if Buck’s signing to communicate or to stim. The usual tell for the difference is when he’s stimming it tends to be a singular word or phrase, and rarely anything that makes any sense.

- The main reason that Buck prefers to have his aid turned off, besides the fact that he’s used to silence, is that it’s a lot of sensory input that would be overwhelming in the best circumstances, but especially because it’s not something he’s ever had to learn to cope with. It takes a lot of getting used to for him. 

- While everyone kind of knows right away that Buck is deaf- it’s not like he can hide it if he wanted to- they don’t really know he’s autistic until much later. Buck’s approach is somewhere along the lines of “it’s none of your business and the people who know have usually been dicks so this for my knowledge only.” He eventually brings it up not because he feels obligated to, but because he trusts the team enough to be respectful, if that makes sense. They’ve been supportive about his preferred method of communication, and about his aids, and his PTSD, so he eventually trusts them to be respectful about this too. It helps explain some things, and gives them a jumping off point on how to help him with things when he wants/needs it. Knowing that Buck isn’t being an asshole for fun and is actually just on the brink of sensory overload means that instead of arguing with him, the team can help find a way to tone down the amount of sensory input and give him the space or comfort he needs at that time. 

- Buck prefers his long sleeved uniform because things touching his bare skin? Hmm. Bad.

- His main special interest has been fire for a long time, which is part of why he wound up being a firefighter in the first place. He has a lot of books, but the majority of them are about combustion and the different ways fire and “fire” exist on and beyond Earth. He’s always just really liked it and learning about it. For a while, Hunger Games was nearly more intense than fire, but that SpIn didn’t last as long as fire has for him.

- After the tsunami, like in Canon, Buck fixates on natural disasters, and that becomes another special interest for him. It’s due in large part to the trauma of the tsunami, which ties into his trauma/PTSD, but also because once he started down the rabbit hole of learning about what causes tsunamis, it tearned into learning about earthquakes, and then volcanos, and then tornados, and suddenly Buck knew an alarming amount about any given natural disaster. Everyone’s a little concerned, but at this point as Buck is going to therapy about his Trauma(tm) they know he’ll tell them if something is wrong.

- Side note there was a major incident where when Buck was in a really bad place, Bobby made him go to a support group for survivors of the tsunami. Buck info-dumped about tsunamis. It did not go well.

- Buck’s stims have pretty much always been whole-body as opposed to verbal or localized. Besides ASL, his main stims are jumping and rocking.

- Sex is kind of an issue for Buck because of sensory issues. There are some specific parts or it/certain sex acts that are just Bad to him and it takes some trial and error both on his own and with other people to find a way that he enjoys it and isn’t spending the whole time uncomfortable or outright distressed. It’s not to say that he dislikes sex but it’s just not as simple for him.

- Buck falls more on the “hyper-attached” side of the emotional spectrum. He has a lot of love to give and it doesn’t take much for him to get close to a person, even if he can’t fully open up right away. He forgives extremely easily for the same reason, as well as going through a lot of his life with very few or no friends depending on the point in time, and he doesn’t want to lose the friends he has made. Like when the Chimney Incident happened, Buck was only really upset at him for a few days before he forgave him, while everyone else took a little longer. It took Maddie over a month. Buck just gets really attached to people really easily.

- Buck has a fixation with the firetruck

- He also does have some “self-destructive stims” in that if he’s overwhelmed enough, there are some times that he doesn’t necessarily notice or recognize that what he’s doing isn’t healthy, such as picking at his cuticles, digging his nails into his palms, and pinching his palm. It’s pretty much always regarding his hands, because they’re the most “used” part of his body and very much his most common point of physical contact with the rest of the world.

[starlitwhispers]

come in closer, like the tide hoennchampion - 3000 words A/n: hi everyone, I’ll be moving to ao3, I’ll still post to Tumblr when I write, but it’ll be more frequent over there!!! Also mermaid au bc its freaking summer and I’m not in uni anymore!!!!!!!

So, the salty waves crash against the sides of his small, humble boat, while little pieces of duct tape attempt to hold broken bits together as the adhesive loosens from the moisture. He really should buy a new boat, after all, money is no object for him. But he prefers this one which he proudly names June, his favorite month. She’s good luck, he thinks, he’s had her since the first valuable fish he found. A master fisherman, he also thinks, fascinated by all the different fins and tails a fish can have. His mind becomes determined to find every rare one possible, collectibles he keeps for himself no matter the value. To him, its rarity becomes its value, not the monetary weight that may come along with it. Yet, with his collectibles, he becomes a slave to the sea, constantly searching and never-ending his hunt.

As the sun kisses the horizon and begins to paint the waters tangerine, he wipes his hands clean of dirt from the can of worms, admiring the view. And his ears catch a slap against the surface of the ocean. His head whips to the south end of his boat, his own feet tumbling across the small distance to find where the noise came from. Such a noise would definitely be a fish of some kind. Lo and behold, his eyes become full with the image of the most beautiful tail he would ever see. And such a tail of that size would mean an even bigger fish. He could not wait to display such colors on his wall.

But the tail returns to the waters and he frantically breaks out of his stupor in attempt to follow this newfound treasure.

He revs up his engine, pulling the handle with minimal strength. He trails this fish for another mile or so until finally, it disappears. The boat abruptly stops in order to keep to the place, in case the animal returns again, which he hopes it will, or else he will have just lost something he would vow to search for forever. In the meantime, he sits and waits while the moon takes its place in the sea above. He’ snacks on crackers when his stomach lurches and sips warm Earl Grey in order to calm his excitement. A small smile cracks the corner of his mouth, he just knows this new fish will be a fantastic find, he can feel it.

While he plans and wonders about his new chase, beneath him swims the wonder mankind has no knowledge of. The tail he so fondly thinks of belonged to not the month of June, but the month of May, so to speak. And this month, well, she was known to have the most beautiful tail of the merpeople. It only made her the most sought after among the mermen, but she would never reciprocate for some reason or other. Perhaps he was too muscular or he tried making his tail too flashy, or maybe he had bad fin maintenance. But she could not commit and her mind always seemed to be elsewhere, seemed to be above the surface, with the sky and the birds and the air.

She also does not fear the air, as the others do. Their tails cannot withstand the air for too long, but she adores the occasional breezes to be felt with the tides and spends more time than she ought to near the land. She combs her floating hair in the water with her hand, waiting for the sun to come back up, that way she may go back to the surface. Her people have only one condition about going to the top: never go at night. For this reason, if they are atop the ocean at this time, their bodies experience tremendous harm, especially if the moon is full. They do not know why this happens to be the case, but for the most part, they avoid the nighttime to avoid any kind of impairment.

In this way, the elegant and curious mermaid she is awaits the sunshine, and after hours peeking from her coral home, finally caught glimpses of the golden rays. And with all her might, she wags her tail so that she may reach the surface as fast as possible. Her eyebrows furrow though as the sunlight begins to go away quickly, the shadow of some larger object covering her sweet golden time. As she nears the top, she cannot slow her tail down in time and she realizes she will hit whatever great device that has floated in her way. She braces herself, closing her eyes and attempting to swim towards the end of it—

Bam!

Just as she began to break into the air, her head hit the far end of the hard, wooden object that she now identifies as a boat, a man-made item, and a loud “Ow!” releases from her whimper in pain. Her impact rocks the boat that also rocks the silver-haired fisherman awake. The young man groggily jots up and wipes his five o’clock shadow with his hand. He turns toward the direction his boat began to tip and sees the one thing he has sought since yesterday. His eyes become full of the image of golden scales and translucent fins at the end of the tail, almost as if the sun has personified itself in the body of a fish.

He wants this tail. More than anything. So, he goes after it. Immediately his body moves as fast as possible towards the large net, which he quickly casts overboard atop the floundering “animal.” Beneath the water, the mermaid feels her bottom half tangled in something as she tends to do her throbbing head and suddenly, her entire person has been pulled out of the ocean. Her body drops onto a hard surface and she’s no longer water-bound but flapping around on a small, wooden floor. In his hands, he has ready a spear to kill the animal. The fisherman stops extremely bewildered and fascinated.  He cannot comprehend what sits in front of him, a half fish, half woman underneath the net which he had just pulled with all his strength from the water.

Sweat still covers his forehead from the effort he put in to acquire this “animal,” and he marvels in curiosity and enamor. Once the mermaid has stopped squirming underneath the net, she keeps still and peers through the holes at the man before her, also marveled by his presence. They stare at the other, never having experienced this kind of interaction before. He comes down to his knees and reaches for the net, taking it off of her. She does not lose eye contact.

He attempts to speak to her, but they soon come to realize, their languages are different. She cannot understand him and he cannot understand her. And while half of their bodies are not the same, he knew the other parts are, so he approaches her slowly and gently extends his hand to her to show that he no longer means no harm. How could he harm her? She is utterly beautiful and mysterious. She stares at his hand, realizing it to be the same as hers, and places her fingers atop his. His hand is drier, it feels as though his skin has more lines to it, while hers gives the impression of a more mucous-like texture. No matter, he does not seem to care, he only wishes to know more about her, to know everything. He tries to speak again, but she just turns her head to the side in confusion. So he softly releases her hand and walks away for a moment to his quarters below deck. He returns with a notepad, perhaps she can read but not speak? He writes ‘hello’ in several different languages, but she knots her eyebrows at the sight of all of them. It seems they shall never find a way to properly communicate with the other.

Then a thought occurs to him, perhaps it’s not that she cannot speak, but that she cannot hear? Maybe his words fall upon the deaf, and his assumption becomes true. Above the water, the merpeople cannot hear anything except the ocean and the animals that it inhabits. Not to mention that she cannot read because they do not write beneath the water. The two creatures become stuck in this position, and he tries in every way possible to tell her to come visit him whenever, as he would not leave until he learned more about her. He wants to convey to her that he will stay in this one place so that she may know where he is when she wants to visit if she desires in the first place (which he really hopes she does).

He somehow explains all of this through gestures, which she somehow understands, slightly. Well, very little of the message she understands, but she clearly grasps that he would like her to return, as he places her palm to his chest, above his beating heart, and with his free hand motions a ‘come here.’ Her cheeks inflame as she observes he has a very pleasant face and upper half body, the bottom half she still cannot wrap her head around. In the meantime, in the notepad he currently has, he writes his thoughts and impressions of the mermaid, along with a few sketches. She just continues to stare but also plays around with all the foreign objects around her. They do enjoy the other’s company but it remains painfully obvious to each other they would like a means of communication.

Suddenly, the daylight seems to have passed rather quickly, and the sun begins to set. She becomes frantic and he does not understand why. She flops in strain, trying to bring herself overboard to the water and he displays a great deal of concern that she might be in pain of some kind. He picks her up by her waist and his touch strangely calms her. He helps her overboard and the big splash of her body returning to the water bathes him. His person peers over the ledge as she fixes herself in the water and faces him.

She smiles.

And he knows.

He knows from her gentle gaze that she will be back again. The sun begins to rapidly set pulling under the horizon. She turns around to go back into the ocean and the moon barely starts to glow. And though he knows she will not be able to hear him, he says “goodbye” kindly from the ledge. She stops abruptly from going beneath. She heard him? She turns to him in confusion and he registers that his word may have reached her ears. But why now? Why not hours ago or five minutes ago? The sun is finally gone and the stars have illuminated the night sky. Her eyes pop widely at the observation the moon is out and night has come and she panics.

A gasp releases from her mouth as she plunges herself back underneath the water without warning to the fisherman, but when she is back in the ocean, she quickly realizes that the moon did not cause her any pain at all and she slowly resurfaces to the bewildered man. He speaks to her once more, to see if what happened previously may happen again.

“Where did you go? If I may ask.”

She stares once again, surprised she can hear his words so clearly, as well as confused that the night is not hurting her. She opens her mouth to reply.

“Beneath the water, I can’t be at the top when it’s nighttime, or else I’ll be hurt.”

He now stares at her in return, bewitched by her lovely voice as he could not imagine what it would sound like until now. He’d like to know more, so he continues to ask.

“But you’re not hurting now, are you?”

“Strangely, no. I’m not sure why.”

“Would you mind telling me what you are called?”

“May.”

May. Like the month. His boat becomes short by one month, and he thinks for a second whether or not he should rename his boat. Or buy a new one and name it after her. He cannot help but gaze upon her, her beautiful eyes and hair and skin, he’s no longer infatuated with her tail but her whole being.

“May… My name is Steven, I’m truly lucky to have met you.”

His words flatter her and while she does not understand how she’s not under any type of pain, she likes hearing him speak.

“Steven, tell me what you do.”

So, he tells her. He tells her his position makes him a collector of the sorts… but he explains he’ll most likely stop collecting now that he’s met her. She does not understand what he means by this but remains focused on him, hanging onto every word that leaves his handsome mouth. They converse for a good while but later say goodbye for the night as he does need his rest. She promises to come back the next day and neither can wait to meet again.

She meets him in the late morning and they find she cannot understand him any longer. They spend the day learning to communicate in other motions, learning the other more. However, when the night falls again, she does not experience pain this time, either. And a connection is made in both their minds when the moon comes out she can hear him once more and speak to him. They talk through the night and she still remains unchanged by the moon.

They continue this endeavor for a couple more nights and days, growing closer… more intimate. For the first time in a long time, he finds himself talking about his mother to her, although she does not understand what a ‘mother’ is. A few nights in, her skin no longer feels slimy and he’s able to hold her hand or sit closer to her when she comes overboard. In other times, he completely forgets her bottom half exists because she seems so human to him in comparison to all other women he’s been with. And in a lot of ways, he so dearly wishes for her to be a woman. To walk with him on land, to see the rest of the land that is out there and discover what she had no idea could possibly exist out there.

He wants to show it all to her. But finally their time comes to an end on another night and she returns to the deep blue beneath his boat. Deep anguish washes over him like the tide crashing against the sides of his boat, he cannot fall for a mermaid. She has nothing to offer him, she could not be the mother of his children or the wife he never thought he’d yearn for. Yet, she has become all these things in a matter of weeks, but she remains a mermaid.

Half his, half the sea’s.

He spends the rest of the night conflicted, and the rest of the day upset. He comes to the conclusion he must end this little rendezvous and release her back to the ocean. His heart tells him to stay with her but he could never be moved more than by his mind. Intellectual thought outweighs the strong feelings he may believe to be temporary (although he knows inside the memory of her will never fade). He decides, when she comes back to him the following night, he will end things.

That night will be a full moon.

She rises above the water to meet him, noticing the unhappy countenance he displays. She asks him what might be the matter, her voice and face becoming more human and personable by the second. He tells her it is nothing of importance, extending his hand out to her so that she may climb aboard. Her tail flops onto the deck, water trailing along with it. They begin talking. As they begin talking, with the silver-haired fisherman about to reveal his intentions to leave, the mermaid points out that it is a full moon.

“It’s strange nothing has happened to me,” she says. She turns to him in bliss, having grown fond of his company. “But it also makes me happy because then I can spend time with you.”

He swallows. Just as he opens his mouth to break the news, he stops. He observes her skin and that it is… glowing? She sees the confusion on his face and also notices her skin. And by some odd, cosmic force, she feels compelled to stare at the moon. The white light in the night sky seems to be the same iridescence shining off the mermaid’s body and tears stream from her eyes. She does not experience pain but rather experiences a change, she feels herself changing. Her large, gorgeous tail begins to shrink and she becomes frantic, unable to move during her transformation. He watches her fins dwindle into nothingness and finally the scales of her tail fall off, almost as if a snake shed its skin. And underneath the skin, a pair of legs.

Her body stops glowing after her tail has become completely nonexistent and legs take its place. She can move once again but no longer as a mermaid. She sits on the deck of his boat, nude, with a body she does not understand. The tears still stream, she has lost her ability to return to the sea. And just like that, it seems as if all his prayers had been answered. She could now be his, but would she be? He gazes upon her, still finding her the most beautiful marvel he has ever found.

She turns to him. “Steven, what will I be without my tail?”

He closes the distance between them, taking off his shirt and wrapping it around her exposed body. “I think, perhaps, starting today, you will be mine and I will be yours.”

The once-mermaid looks at him endearingly, but also still a little lost as to understanding how legs function. It would be no matter that she could not live beneath the ocean anymore, she always preferred the surface to begin with. And she is sure, that with this no-more fisherman beside her, he will teach her the ways to be, the ways she thinks she should have always been living.

He places a hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Resting his forehead against hers, he cups her jaw in his other hand, explaining to her that the world is a beautiful place to explore but that she is by far and always will be the most beautiful spectacle he’s known to exist in mankind. He takes her gentle face in the soft glow of the full moon and brings their lips together.

She no longer belongs to the sea and neither does he.

[jordan102791]

The Danger with Faeries and Mortals part20

The servants ran into, were more docile than usual. There was no tittering about gossiping as she passed by them. She noted most stopped all conversation to watch her as she passed by. She got to her chamber where the lady servant from before still waited. Rebecca had been forced up from bed and dressed to come before the King, but Joseph sent her back to her room for more rest.

"Since I am not to call you ma'am, what should I call you?"

"Well, my name is Sarah, but I suppose you're welcome to call me whatever you deem fitting."

"Sarah," Rebecca said testing it out with a smile. "Sarah, why are the rest of rhe servants acting so oddly with me suddenly?" Sarah shifted her weight from side to side in an obviously nervous gesture. "Sarah, please."

"Well Miss, news has already spread that you are to marry Lord Joseph. And it's making many nervous. Joseph, he is a good and reasonable man and he is kind to us, but many worry about someone our King would have married being given to him instead. Some worry you to have a cruelty in you as well and that it may corrupt our Lord. The others who have seen your kindnesses, worry about all you should face being married to the King's head of council."

"What do you mean?"

"As I'm sure you have noticed, our master is of... Diminutive... Stature. It is great insult from the King to force someone as yourself to force your marriage to someone... Deformed as he is. And they worry what may happen to you and the resentments that may one day fill you both and then bleed over onto us."

"You have said he is a good and kind man, have you not?"

"Yes, of course."

"He is my friend, and I will do what duty I must. Worry not, I shall be all right. I shall neither worry about the judgements that will pass to me, it is but second nature for my life anyways."

"Yes ma'am. Tale has reached us of your mother's words as well. It was wrong for us to assume the life you have lived before joining us here. My sincerest apologies." Sarah gave a deep curtsy at the offense.

"Please stand, there is nothing for you to apologize for. I am just another person, as you are. Please do not curtsy to me."

"Ma'am, it is required of us to show you your station. If the King were to find you telling us such things..." A chill shivered from her head to her toes.

"Then how about this, when it is just us here, you will not do such things. I will be treated as any other girl."

"Very well, Miss." She gave a sweet smile to Rebecca, tthat hinted to the girl a beauty she had possessed in happier times.

*****

The staff scurried around making preparations. There would be no reception, the King would not waste money on such a thing. But the court would be filled with as many people as the King would be able to cram in. He wanted as many as he could to witness the embarrassment that was this wedding. He would even order the dance normally reserved for the reception to take place in the center of the room, following the vows.

Sarah and the other lady's maids worked to get Rebecca's gown fitted properly in time. The golden fabric glistened and glittered even in the low lights of her chamber. The gilded dress bringing out the ruby glow lit through her hair. Sarah scrounged up a small coppery circlet from scraps at the palace Smith's. Sarah insisted that a lady needed such things. She may not be a queen, but she still deserved to be fussed over for her wedding. The Smith agreed, not knowing Rebecca, as Sarah came asking without the Lady's knowledge. That I servant would ask such a thing for a master spoke volumes to her character. It would not be a pure metal but more metallic swirls that turned and twisted in the glow of the room. Since it was to be a gift of kindness more than a commission, he took the opportunity to practice his skills shaping beauty that were often neglected for constructing for embattlement. Sarah returned with it the night before the ceremony, but refused to let Rebecca see it beforehand. Only once she was dressed and it was placed upon her head would she be granted the opportunity to gaze upon it.

In the morning, servants bustled in and began to pamper and prep. They plucked each stray hair and scrubbed the dirt from under each of her nails. Her hair had been set the night before so it would wave about her shoulders and billow as she walked as if a calm breeze filled the halls. Her cheeks were blushed giving them color. Coal around her eyes, brightening them so they seemed to glow in her face. The corsets were tightened giving her young body an older shape. Her gown slipped over her head, kissing and caressing her creamy skin all the way down. The neck line open, showing the tops of shoulder and her collarbones peeking out.

Finally, Sarah unwrapped the circlet from the cloth that stored it. She gently nestled it onto the girl's head, adjusting her hair before turning her to peer into the looking glass. Rebecca barely recognized the person she saw before her. She looked more grown in that moment than she thought she may ever have. Her eyes searched out the mystery upon her head. Vines and leaves wove together and tangled into her hair, holding it in place. It made her think of the vines entwined in the tralices of rhe garden, making her smile.

"Is the Lady pleased with it?" Sarah asked the question tenatively from behind her.

"Yes, it's quite lovely. I did not think to have something so fine in my life."

"Milady, you honor me with your words, but they are just the scraps the Smith could spare."

"Bc they are scraps makes them no less beautiful." She said with a warm smile for the servant. "Truly, it is perfect. Thank you."

*****

Sarah escorted her down the steps and corridor to the main court. Sarah held her hands as a fierce tremble enveloped her. "It's all right dear girl. He is a kind man, he will take care of you."

"Yes, I'm sure." She gave a wan smile. "It is all the people I wish not to face."

"My word, milady, what would you have done marrying the King."

"I did not want to marry the King."

"Then why were you here?"

"My mother insisted."

"I see. Well, I am thankful you will not be attached to his majesty. He would have eaten you alive, he may still, but at least you will no longer face him alone. And you be good to our Lord."

"I will try."

"It is time." She patted the girl's hands before releasing them to get the door.

Rebecca stepped inside as all faces swung to hers. A collective intake of breath raced through the crowd as their eyes landing on hers. She stilled for a moment, taking in the room before continuing forward as each new person stepped aside opening up the path for her. When the last one moved out of the way she finally got a look of the man she would be wedded to. Off to the left sat a dais where the disgusted, yet amused King perched with a Lady Yvonne balanced on the arm of his throne. They had become attached at the hip since announcing she would be his new bride.

Joseph stood frozen, mouth agape as he watched her come closer. Regaining himself, he stepped forward to take her hand and led her to the staging area. She knew he could feel the shudders from her cool hand into his warm one, but he made no motion indicating it. At the top, he released her hand, and bowed towards her, she gave a curtsy in return and they turned to face the priest.

The priest began a prayer, but was quickly interrupted by Edgar. "This just will not do. He is much too short standing by her side." They both turned to look a question his direction. "This must be rectified before we may continue. Someone bring a chair the troll may stand on." Joseph blanched at his words. "No wait, I have a better solution. Kneel."

"You wish me to kneel?" Joseph was confused by his request.

"Not you, toad. Her." Joseph flicked a quick look in his bride's direction. "She shall kneel."

"Your highness, if it's all the same I will stand on the stool as you asked instead."

"No you will not. She will kneel on the floor. She isn't worthy of our presence anyway and merely lucked into her marriage, didn't you dog?"

"Yes, my King. I am lucky to be here and grace your floors." Rebecca gave her reply automatically as she began to drop to the floor. Joseph caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. He looked quickly from his King to her solemn face. She gave him a sad smile and a nod. "It's all right. I will be fine down here." Pain filled every one of his features as he helped her lower herself to the ground. This was a moment he knew he could never forgive his brother for. Soft laughter surrounded them, made all the more obvious by Edgar's boisterous chuckle at the couple's shared embarrassment. The priest began again.

"A kiss to seal your bond," the priest announced. Rebecca shuffled on her knees to face her husband, he took each of her hands into his. He gave her a soft smile that sent a flush to her cheeks.

He leaned in tilting his head so he could access her cheek, where he gave a chaste peck. Then his deep, soothing voice rumbled in her ear, quiet enough only she could hear. "You really do look breathtaking, I am blessed to have you as my wife. Never forget that," he words made her eyes close, tipping her lips up in the corners. His lips like velvet brushed lightly to hers, seeking permission. When she didn't jerk away from him, he pressed more firmly. The gentleness warmed her inside. She held still until he pulled away from her.

Joseph looked up, to the anger filled face of their King as he helped his new wife get to her feet and lead the way to where they would share their first dance. There was an awkwardness of hands and arms and where to hold each other, chuckles danced on the air at the couple's misfortune. Rebecca's cheeks reddened, her eyes dropping to her feet. His one hand pressing under her chin, lifting her face. "My dear, do not look down. Hold your head high and none of them will ever be able to touch you. Let their words and laughter fall on deaf ears, it is all you can do now," he said with a sad smile for her. She nodded returning the gesture.

*****

She was expected to share Joseph's chamber, her things already having been brought over from her chamber. She noticed it was larger then her own, a seating area off to the side with a large lounge. A trunk big enough to fit a full grown man inside at the foot of the bed. Earthy tones touching every inch of the room, a window open emitting a warm breeze.

Her hand in her friend's, he walked her over to the bed. Her nerves ratcheting up another level. She knew what was expected of her marriagebed. She stiffened as she approached the side of the bed. "Sit, my dear, please." He asked with a nervous smile. She let out a heavy breath and did as he asked. He took both of her hands in his. His warmth pushed into her. His touch soothing her hands, his worm fingers rubbing circles over her knuckles. "You will sleep here tonight, all right. This is yours too now, I would like you to be comfortable here." His lips grazed the back of one hand and then the other before placing them gently back in her lap and turning to walk away.

"Wait," her voice turning him back to face her. "Where are you going?"

"I will take my rest over there, so you may have the bed." He jerked his chin in the direction of the lounge.

Her forehead crinkled into lines mapping her confusion. "I don't understand. Why would you not sleep here?"

A hard look crept in his face, locking away the emotions he wanted to keep hidden. "Rebecca..." He sighed before continuing. "You are lovely, truly. And the Gods have blessed me to give to me such a fair face and kind soul for a wife. And I know I am well within my rights to take what is promised to me, but I will not. I had never thought myself lucky enough to have someone such as you and I would not expect it from you. If you chose to grace me with such miracles, I would accept with such gratitude befitting you, but I will not take from you or pressure you. You are my wife, but first you are my friend and ally and deserving of all the respect I can give you. I know this is not what you want and as such I will sleep elsewhere, so you may sleep in peace."

He placed his palms on either of her cheeks and huffed a sigh looking into her eyes. "You truly are a gorgeous creature," he said leaning in to give her a kiss to her forehead. A whizzing sound burst in through the open window. Rebecca heard a thunk and Joseph was suddenly heavy in her arms. His tresses falling in his attractive face as she twisted to drape him across the bed beside her. She looked away from his face to a swarm of winged creatures suffocating the air around her.

She snatched the small hunting knife holstered and her prone husband's belt. She stepped in front of him, a hand resting on his belly as her other pointed the knife at the beings in front of her. "Who are you? What do you want?" She demanded in a voice that screamed of her fear.

A brilliant flash, almost blindingly bright revealed the winged beings before her, now much closer to her own height. She gasped at their so himan features. One, a man, stepped closer to her a calming hand raised, willing her not to slash at him. "Princess, we have been sent by your mother to save you."

She scoffed, "Princess? I am no princess, you must be confused with someone else."

The others looked between each other, but the man kept coming to her. "You are Rebecca, daughter of Matthias, are you not?"

"Y...yes," she stuttered, her lip trembling.

"Then you are whom we are here for, your mother has sent us to retrieve you."

"That is a lie, my mother would never send rescue, it is she who left me dumped her when they threatened my death if she did so."

The man gave a disgusted grunt, "not the human trollop you have been living with. Your mother, your real mother."

"Real mother? Eliza is my mother."

"She is not, that woman would quake in fear of your real mother."

"And who would my real mother be?"

"Lucinda, Queen of the light faeries."

"Faeries? Faeries aren't real..." She trailed off noticing again the large wings laying against their backs, shimmering like gossamer in the light. They reminded her of the wings on a dragonfly, but much greater, the fell almost the the floor.

"Oh we are very real, my Princess, you are one of us and you shall soon see how real we all are. Your mother has ordered that we bring you to her kingdom. Now if you'll just kill the human, we may be on our way."

"Kill him," she screeched.

"Yes, kill him," he replied calmly as if the answer was obvious. "We are to protect you from the human and he will hunt you down and murder us all if left alive. If you are squeamish, I may do it for you."

Her resolve tightened, the knife pointing firmly at his chest. "You will not touch him. He is my husband and my friend. He has been kind and good to me. And I will not let you harm him."

"You love this monster? We saw he would try and force himself on you and stopped it."

"He would not force his will on me, he was leaving me to sleep alone without my needing ask. He is no monster, he is a good man, and I repeat I will not let you hurt him. And you must kill me too if you intend his death. He cares for me when no other does. When your queen has ignored my life all these years. He is mine and you will not touch a hair upon his head without my fighting."

"The King does not protect any, but himself. He has done awful deeds to our kind that would demand his death. You must step away."

"King? You mean Edgar?"

"Yes, the Evil Beast."

"This is not the Beast you speak of, this is his brother Joseph. He is as nice as his brother is mean."

The faerie took another step closer to the man, Rebecca's knife swinging to him to stop his progress. He holds his hand up. "Your majesty, you have my word I will not harm him, I only want a closer look at him."

"Very well, but I will be watching. His death will be your own."

"Agreed." The fae knelt beside the bed, taking in his face. He moved the hair and turned his face towards the light. Prodding at his body, tightening her body in anxiety. He lifts a single eyelid to look upon his eyes. Satisfied with his search he stands and takes a step back with the others. "She speaks the truth, he is much too short and his hair far too light. The eyes match, but that is all. Were we fed false information?"

"The messengers were certain of her betrothal to the King," a faerie woman whispered.

"I was betrothed to the King," Rebecca interrupted, all their doll-like faces turning to hers. "He killed my father and chose another bride bc my father was an enemy of the crown. This man," her hand going back to her husband's side as she looked upon him in shy admiration. "Kept me from the King's torture and eventual murder by taking me as his wife." She turns sharply back to the fae, knife punctuating her words "And I will not see him hurt."

The male fae takes a knee, bowing his head to her. The other faeries following his lead. "As you wish my Princess, but we are still to bring you to our Queen."

"Fine, but I will not leave him here like this. He must at least know where I will go."

"Very well, but he will probably be out for a few hours," a pointed glance shot to another faerie in the group.

He shrugged with a bashful grin. "I am sorry, I may have hit him a bit hard, but we were told he was to be killed, so can you really lay blame on me."

"It is all right, but we must wait. I must know he is well before going. Would you please help me move him into the bed?"

The faeries moving her out of rhe way, two pulling down the covers whilst the rest lift him into place. Rebecca removes his boots and belt and her own circlet laying on a bedside table as she crawls in beside him, wrapping herself around his body. She brushes away his hair and lays her head to his shoulder for a spot of sleep until he comes to.

[babyboyoonie]

Hey ILY! But also if your requests are still open do you think you can do one of the boys reacting to Yoongi getting mad at them for real, since usually Yoongi is so soft and cute! 💕💕💕

Jdjd ILY TOO SWEETHEART!!!

So sorry for taking so long :(( but well, here I am! 

So……first, Yoongi breaking everything in a fit of anger is an unlikely eventuality for me….When I go and watch run again and I’m?? It’s just…not him? Like, when we discovered how Hoseok reacted when he was angry in burn the stage, I wasn’t surprised at all. His personality type is to be explosive in all the things he does—he’s a sunshine when happy, but you sure as hell WILL know if he’s angry. Yoongi though…not so much. The worse he could do is curse, but fits of anger would be kept for himself and with no witness, and even there it’ll be v v v unlikely. 

I mean, we’re not inside his head so we can never be sure, but I know that the Yoongi we see in fics that’s an asshole and breaks everything when he’s angry feels SUPER wrong. So I wrote with the INFP type in mind (check it out if you’re curious~~) + what I could understand from all the times he opened up to us in Burn The Stqge, the scenarios are all fictional thou…and I’m 100% positive that the worst of the boy’s issues have been worked through, or will be. So. This is fiction (with a bit of realism bc this bitch is a slut for realism) remember that~ hope it’ll be to your liking my dear!! I hurt a bit writing it and I hope you’ll suffer with me, this is what you asked, after all. :))))

Okay here we go (finally) (you know how much I talk) 

“I am. You know, eating better. I’m…I am.”

“Are you really?”

Yoongi struggles to swallow, leans back agasint the wall and tries to not be hurt, to not be angry. He fails, doesn’t control the hot-red ugly burn licking at his heart, limbs, throat, goading him into becoming mean. He’s not mean. Can’t, even when he tries to.

He’s just…just Yoongi, stumbling over his words but keeping his expression straight in hopes of being taken seriously. It fails him, this time, he can’t control himself.

“I’m not lying. I swear I’m not, hyung.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I believe you, Yoongi-yah.”

But Yoongi wasn’t lying. Yoongi—he—this isn’t a matter he’ll ever joke about, or try to hide from them, from his hyung who worries so dearly. He’s not lying, he’s doing his utmost best. It’s not his fault if he—if progresses are slow, if he falls back sometimes, he’s trying.

So why does Jin…

There’s a storm. A storm in his chest. There’s a storm in his chest, all over his chest, compressing his heart, his lungs, swallowing the tornados trying to hurl out of his mouth. It’s not fair. It’s terribly and utterly unfair, and Yoongi wants to tell his hyung so, wants to explain him that no, he won’t stay quiet this time around. Because Jin—Jin’s not right, Jin is saying ugly and untrue things and Yoongi can’t stand there and accept it quietly. He can’t. But yet, here he is. Lips pressed together, volcano burning his limbs and threatening to erupt at any given moment; none of his thoughts make sense anymore, the arguments he had, ready and scorching and maybe hurting, they dwindle down into a mess Yoongi doesn’t manage to contain. They overflow, mad dance all over his body, his brain, his chest, and settle down in the eye of the storm.They don’t settle down, he realises with horror. They don’t, no no no, it’s much worse, they become nothing, and suddenly Yoongi doesn’t have anything to say anymore. All this anger, this need to explode and not be so fucking soft anymore, it’s so much, so overflowing—at one point Yoongi can’t even utter a word.It’s so much, it becomes nothing.Leaving Yoongi empty.He doesn’t know the expression he makes. Can’t bring himself to fucking care about it, in this instant, when he feels like throwing himself out of the windows and hope to never feel any fucking thing ever again. It—it must be one of suffering. Tight, paler than usual, lips bitten to blood and eyes—eyes empty. It must be one of suffering, surely, because Jin’s expression softens and suddenly, he reaches out to him.Yoongi slaps his hand away. Silent, refuses to utter a word. In reality, unable to. His tongue’s tied, his throat attacked from within and robbed of his voice. His hand stings the second after, and he cradles it with the other, much more pained as he gazes at the wounded look etched on his hyung’s perfect traits.Jin doesn’t try to touch him again. Takes a silent breath, chest heaving with the intensity of it, before saying quietly, “I’m sorry, Yoongi-yah, I’m—I…”But Yoongi—Yoongi’s empty. Yoongi’s anger burned and burned until it fizzled out, leaving behind cold ashes and an unreasonable guilt. “Don’t apologise,” he says quietly, cold and shivering in the middle of the fucking summer. This went too far, for nothing, Jin hurt him and he was supposed to be mad but now—now he wonders if it’s fault, tangles their words and arguments and turns anger into a good, solid rock of guilt sitting on his chest.Really. Jin didn’t have to apologise. “Yoongi-yah…” the older man mutters, so quiet and careful and—and Yoongi hates it, Yoongi hates him, Yoongi hates everything. Wrenches his arm out and stumbles backward when Jin tries to touch him.Keeps his eyes trained on the ground, yearns to be deaf to the man’s pleading, because everything feels wrong and Yoongi should be angry but—he’s just, pathetic. “Don’t. I—please don’t.”Yoongi escapes their room in a hurry, stumbles over his steps and wishes—wishes Jin didn’t look so pained. Wishes he was courageous enough to tell the older man he hurt him. That Yoongi shouldn’t feel guilty for something he didn’t fucking do. Maybe he will, later on, surely.But—but not now. Yoongi hates him, hates their stupid argument, and…and hates himself even more for it.

It seems like an eternity passes before  Namjoon finally looks at him. Only a few minutes went by, in truth, but there’s a tight grip on Yoongi’s heart and a constant assault in the pit of his stomach. Sickenly, anxiety convector, dragging the time painfully like one would crawl in quicksand. Yoongi’s gaze shifts from the rug of Namjoon’s studio, to the numerous quotes on his walls, to the other man then—only for their eyes to meet, and for Yoongi to want to get away from here. “So you—“Namjoon doesn’t finish, stops the gurgle of words that he launched previously to give Yoongi an unreadable look. Or maybe it’s disappointment, maybe it’s his way of conveying anger. Yoongi lets a beat passes, before finding the courage to croak out an answer. “Yeah…”Which is. Painfully useless. Namjoon lets out a frustrated sigh, and oh God, how did they even get here? Why did—why did his justified burst of anger led them to this painful silence? “I didn’t know that I…”And of course, the first and only thing he manages to think about is—“It’s…fine.”“No it’s not.”

It’s not, it really isn’t, but Yoongi’s not a confrontational one. Yoongi keeps his hurt bottled up until he manages to analyzes them, until no storm brews inside him when it’s time to clear things once for all. “…You’re right.”This was stupid. Or—no, not really, not stupid, Yoongi was just…just trying to downplay it again. Hoping it’ll minimize the hurt. It’s not stupid. It’s about Namjoon keeping the burden for himself, when there are seven of them, when they’re here for him. It’s about Namjoon scolding Yoongi on his poor health when he pushes himself too far and refuses to hear their worry. Because he’s the leader. Because he has to be strong for them.There had been understanding, worry, and then, and then anger. Because Namjoon had no rights to do that. His health was as important as any of them, the burden he carried so strong—why did he go and, and took his pain, hid it, and refused any help? He couldn’t—he couldn’t brush Yoongi aside just because he was less outspoken than the others, or, or softer. Yoongi didn’t push, he knew how disagreeable it was to be crowded, but he at least fucking listened when others worried about him.

Namjoon fucking didn’t. Kept hurting himself. Yoongi had the right to be worried. And…and if the cold contortion of Yoongi’s expression, Yoongi’s whole demeanour shocked him into silence, then so be it. At least he heard him, at least he took him seriously. This…had to be said. It’s stupid and, and ridiculous and those are the same fucking thing but—Yoongi had to tell him.

“I—I didn’t know I was hurting you this way. For all it’s worth, hyung, I really…I really am sorry.”

No—“I don’t want you to be fucking sorry,” he whispers shakily, balling his hands into fists before they loosen in defeat. “I want—I want you to take care of yourself. Please.”

It hurts, still. He doesn’t know where it’ll lead them—but then Namjoon’s in front of him, Namjoon’s there. A slight tremble in his limbs, breathing irregular, but he’s here and holding Yoongi tightly against his chest.

There’s a whispered ‘I promise’ in his ear, and oh, Yoongi hopes with all his heart that Namjoon won’t break this one promise.

He hopes…

“Are you—are you fucking serious right now?”

Hoseok’s voice is loud. Yoongi never mind that. He likes it, likes them all, the sides of Hoseok. The happy one, the serious one, the one in which he snaps and shows a part of him that always surprises them. But he doesn’t like it when Hoseok’s loud in their arguments. Hates it, shudders and steels himself as to not curl into a little ball and pray for the yelling to be over.

They can all yell on some degree—but Hoseok’s special. Hoseok’s sunshine, happiness and volatile character that explodes just as hard in his joy and irritation. Hoseok’s sunshine, happiness, and especially gentle with him. With Yoongi. For he knows. They all do. About Yoongi’s strict refusal to yell or, or shout. Arguments happen, it’s human, and they’ve been living together for seven goddamn years. Yoongi’ll be the first in line to say that it’s normal. Again, it happens.

He never shouts in any of them. He can’t. It’s just—he can’t. He gets angry, of course. Bickered with his own mother, the woman that gave birth to him. Yoongi got angry. Whether the others knew it though—it was something else. He talks, numbles, says the things he doesn’t like in this tilty, drawling voice of his that makes it hard to know if he’s upset. More often than not, he isn’t. And that…that makes it harder. They got used to the airy Yoongi that explains, calm and peaceful like the ocean’s languid waves, about the situation, how it is, what he likes and what he doesn’t; what, maybe, should be done.

And then—and then there’s days like that. Days in which Yoongi’s truly (mad, days in which Hoseok doesn’t get it. Days in which Hoseok shouts when he knows Yoongi hates it, when he’s aware it makes Yoongi feels small and hopeless. Hoseok…he’s deaf to his words. That—that happened, and Yoongi understood. There were things to be delicate with, Hoseok’s temper was one of those, he considered it, was careful, so—

Was it too hard for Hoseok to do the same back?

He deflates. Mentally, physically. His shoulders sag, mouth turning downward, at the same time as Hoseok clamps a hand on his mouth. Eyes wide, understanding, Yoongi hopes. His skin itches, restless with the need to get something out—but what? But what? Yoongi had been delicate. Muttered, gentle, in the softest voice he could, about this silly little thing that had created this controversy. Yoongi had tried. Now he’s at loss about what else to say, what to answer, resists drawing back and keeping the mayhem of his feelings tightly restrained.

Hoseok got angry. Exploded, shout, and that was him, Yoongi wouldn’t be the one to throw the first rock at him for his wrath. It’s just…unfair. For—when Yoongi truly got angry, none of those things manifested in him. He was still quiet, still careful about his words if not at loss of them. Sarcasm and sass eluded him, nowhere to be seen the moment a true grain of discord bloom between his friends and he.

Logic tells him that he was right to be angry, but his damned feelings colored everything in different shades of doubt. Of doubt, and guilt. The conflict was stupid but it had to be addressed. It had to be, no matter how much Yoongi hated it. Hated the shouts, the tension, the way they looked at each-other without knowing what was next. Wanted to fucking apologize, just to…just for this storm to stop once and for all.

Arms wrap around him. Yoongi has to fight the desire to lash out, to push the embrace away and curl up like a wounded animal. It feels good. Hoseok’s familiar, sunshine Hoseok with his blinding smile, stormy temperament and quick regret tinted with the need to redeem himself. He whispers them in Yoongi’s ear, apologies for, for acting the way he did. Ignorant and stubborn in his error, for being blind to his growing distress.

There’s sweet and regretful sayings of ‘I’ll make it better hyung,’, of stuttered and messy apologies from Yoongi, because in the end he doesn’t know.

He hates getting angry. Because then, he doesn’t know what happens next, just lays there in Hoseok’s embrace and prays for the black-green, murky feelings to please stop making it hard to breathe.

It was a silly little disagreement, once again. Those happened a lot between Taehyung and himself. Never stayed long, for they were never serious. Small disturbances in an otherwise peaceful cruise. Except, this time, it escalated. Yoongi couldn’t even remember for the life of him, where exactly it had gone wrong

But it had gone wrong. Little frowns and tapped feet became two standing men looking at the other like—like they were enemy. They weren’t. Yoongi would have liked to insist, to go farther and prove his point but it was useless. Stopped talking and looked away, searching for a way to, to drag them both back on harmonious land. Perhaps he had taken too long, perhaps he had looked like this meant nothing to him—But Taehyung seemed more and more infuriated.

Taehyung pushed. Deep voice and soft-spoken, never one to shout either, and perhaps that was scarier. The fixated gaze, the assured tone, the pushing pushing pushing—until he went over the line. Walked in dangerous territory before staying there, before pulling out a blade and poking where it hurt, where it had Yoongi the weakest.

It’s not—not Taehyung’s fault, Yoongi tries to reassure himself. Tries to keep the blood from overflowing and wonder if he deserve that. Wants to be understanding, but ends up distressed, wounded, and disappointed.

Yoongi knows that his habit of locking his feelings up isn’t the best. He thinks and thinks and keeps the things that bother him up inside until he explodes. Tried to change, for the boys, because they have this rule of never leaving an argument on the table—the thing is, there’s never a real argument with Yoongi, because he’ll never let you know how bad you hurt him. It gets ugly, just like in this instant. He pursues his lips and lets his gaze fall on the ground again, keeps his eyes wide open, as to not—not fucking cry.  

Taehyung sees, though, minutes later. In his silence, his refusal to answer,  Taehyung understands. Taehyung’s quick to cup his cheeks and keep him here, presses their forehead together and not let him go until Yoongi’s breathing regulate again. Yoongi drowns against the river of words stuck in his throat. Concentrates on Taehyung’s deep voice reassuring him to not choke on them, to not let them kill his will and leave him empty again. Empty’s not good. Empty’s dissociation, passive-aggressiveness, and a poor, poor dynamic. Taehyung saw his distress, saw the alarm, the ‘you went too far’ Yoongi hadn’t been able to utter.

When the ground doesn’t threaten to open under his feet, Yoongi shakily holds Taehyung’s hands. Hides in his chest when Taehyung squeezes back. They’re different, too different, and disagreements appear much too often to Yoongi’s liking. Taehyung’s sensible to Yoongi’s distress, to that thin and nearly invisible line that signifies he’s mad and hurting.

That’s why they’re still here. Hands tightly clutched in the others’, no matter how far those arguments go. In the end, sunshine then rainbow after the rain—after the tempest.

Yoongi thinks of himself as an understanding being. It’s not about sending flowers his own way, it’s just—he’s patient. Doesn’t mind waiting, for good things take their time, for he strongly believes that each moment he spends with no results are worth it in the end. And so he waits, for people, for things to happen, and sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.

Sometimes, situations like Jimin’s appear, and Yoongi simply doesn’t know anymore.

What Jimin goes through, he understands. While the other man worries his plush lips between his lips, stands on his feet, paces around, only to sit down again and mess his hair; Yoongi observes. Observes him, observes the situation, pulls the blankets tightly around himself and hopes to stop the frightening cold licking at his bones. Yoongi understand what’s Jimin going trough. He’s been there, once, and so—and so he knows.

The thing is, knowing and understanding aren’t the only ingredients needed to transform into a helpful being. Otherwise numerous illness would have been cured, depression kicked to the curb and happiness generalized all around the world. Knowing and understanding help, but the shining and essential element eludes Yoongi—leaves him lost and helpless as he watches Jimin demeans himself more and more. Sink into self-loathing, between quiet mumbles and shaky smiles.

Yoongi tries to help. Does his best, because hey, he fucking understands this pain. Things are like that; ultimately he fails. After all those years, they’re still here, in this semi-dark room Yoongi can’t fucking remember if it’s his or Hoseok’s and Jimin’s; he just knows that it’s dark, that it’s cold. That Jimin has been crying and Yoongi holding him but in the end—they’re still here. Jimin still demeans himself, into territory that’s just illogical now, refuses to sees the facts and acts, all true and pure. Willingly blind to them all, pursuing the shadow of someone he’s not, could never be, because he’s already the best version of himself.

That rends him…upset. Makes him look away from the other man, lose the thread of the conversation in favor of fighting the unreasonable anger brewing inside him. Getting angry never helped. Clenching his fists and proclaiming one hundred reasons as to why Jimin was being a fucking idiot and not seeing his accomplishments—it was a stupid move, because Jimin couldn’t help it, that was just how self-loathing worked.

The worst—the worst is that Jimin blames himself every-time. Takes it on himself, this fault, Yoongi’s dismay and the tears. It’s the worst, it really is. Yoongi won’t go into victim-blaming, this cowardly and disgusting method he’d rather catch himself dead than using. It ends up into a vicious circle, Jimin being upset, Yoongi being upset because Jimin’s upset, and Jimin being upset because Yoongi was upset.

A mess.

“When will this end?” he asks Jimin softly, when he has no more tears to shed and feels only warmth in Jimin’s tight embrace. There had been laughter, at one point. Laughter to put color in disembodied voices, grey voices, sad voices. Jimin knows how to make him laugh, Yoongi thinks he knows how to keep Jimin entertained, too. But there’s a difference between happiness and distraction from sadness, isn’t it? In-between moments like there, that’s what they do. Distractions. The issue’s still here.

Jimin replies with “one day, for sure”, and heavens, Yoongi hopes he’s right. He—he…dies a little bit more inside, every time Jimin puts himself down like that.

It hurts.

Yoongi had told him. When they settled down for a movie night, just the two of them, Yoongi had warned him off watching this one movie. It wasn’t a horror one, perse. More…On the psychological side, and that terrified Yoongi more than blood ever will. He had told Jungkook. Soft, mild, voice even but firm—a clear refusal as to not watch it.

But here was the thing—Jungkook hadn’t taken him seriously. Poked his cheek and grinned, boyish and mischievous, that one grin that turned Yoongi into a melted goo of fondness and deep affection. Not this time, though, Yoongi was too cold to fucking melt. Jungkook hadn’t believed in, and had put the movie on.

Perhaps it was his own fault, perhaps he was the only one to blame. Yoongi was soft on Jungkook, clearly and obviously so. Dotted on him and let the boy do what he wished as long as it wasn’t harmful, defended him when he was teased by the others members and just—yeah, he was soft on Jungkook. So much, that in times like these, Jungkook didn’t see the genuine anguish on Yoongi’s features.

He had thought it would be fine. Swallowed his anger and uneasiness and went along with it. Yet, the more the movie advanced, the more Yoongi panicked. And then, there had been this scene; Yoongi shuddered. A strong, full-bodied reaction that shook his whole body and turned his eyes wide in pure discomfort. It was such, that Jungkook immediately paused the movie and fretted over him, panicked.

They’re here now; they’re here, only illuminated by the light coming off the screen, the only sounds being Yoongi’s quiet cries and Jungkook’s worried inquisitions. The nerves.

Fury scours his body; along with fear, helplessness. “I—I fucking, fucking told you I, I didn’t want to, to watch it,” he hits the younger man’s chest, vision blurred by his tears, tears that didn’t want to fucking stop, tears that attracted hiccups and chest-clench and a general shitty feeling. “but you, you d-didn’t listen, why—”

“Oh. Oh, shit—baby, I, fuck—hyung I’m so sorry,” Yoongi trashes in Jungkook’s arms, screams for the other to not fucking touch him, but Jungkook only holds him tighter; keeps him safe and pressed against his chest until Yoongi broke down against him. “I…I fucked up. I didn’t—no, I…you told me and, and I didn’t listen…”

He sure fucking did. But Yoongi can’t find the energy to yell at him so, barely manages to control his breathing if Jungkook doesn’t help him along. He hates this. Hates being so goddamn soft, he feels himself already forgiving him, when Jungkook softly mutters apologies in his ear. He sounds—sounds sincerely apologetic. Probably is. And it’s—

It’s fine.

(is it?)

It’s not. Jungkook knows it, doesn’t let him go the whole night, nor the day after. Clings to him with apologies ready on his lips any second, pure and sincere and genuine in his remorse. Gentle, careful, coerces Yoongi out of his distress bubble until he spills all it is he holds in his heart. And then, and then, they open the road to be okay again. Yoongi doesn’t quite trust Jungkook to see when he’s genuinely bothered, and although he knows this knowledge hurts the younger man, that’s just—that’s just how it is. Broken trust takes time to be rebuilt again, but Yoongi’s heart is…it’s soft and open and doesn’t hold any grudges. This trust’ll be rebuilt again.

Just…they’ll need a bit of time.

[jungnoir]

bodyguard!wonwoo;

for this sweetie’s bodyguard!wonwoo request!!

so, how wonwoo got to being a bodyguard was definitely not intentional

like he didn’t just put in an application and hope for the best!!! he was recruited by a friend actually

in wonwoo’s youth, he was always a pretty strong, tall kid

his mom would have him move the furniture whenever she felt like the house needed a change, or he would help the kind granny next door carry her groceries inside whenever she needed it

his parents were under the impression that wonwoo was getting all this muscle from being on the basketball team, which he was on (with good friend and basketball captain seungcheol) of course, but he was also working those muscles punching bullies in the faces

it was no secret that a friend of jeon wonwoo’s was a friend you didn’t fuck with

like his youngest friend lee chan would be walking home with the rest of his friends and wonwoo would see a bruise forming around chan’s eye and he’d just instantly lose it

so he goes to find that asshole who’d been picking on chan despite wonwoo’s warnings for the last month and he’d slam the dude so hard into the nearest locker that something probably broke

and the guy would piss his pants when wonwoo looked down at him, expression hard and emotionless

“didn’t I tell you last week that if you kept messing with my kid you’d be six feet under?”

of course, wonwoo doesn’t actually have the heart to kill on the usual, but when it comes to those he loves, he damn well just might

he’s basically the resident savior of the school and no one in their right mind would bother anyone innocent lest that person run off to wonwoo because that’s like death coming to your door

his parents would never allow such behavior and probably wouldn’t even believe anyone if they told them what wonwoo got up to at school, so wonwoo makes sure to keep his wounds minimal and the amount of friends he invites over small

but like, he didn’t know how famous he really was for his brute strength

and one day he gets cornered by this senior and wonwoo thinks he’s gonna have to show him a thing or two, but the guy just smirks and holds his hands up and is like “i’ve seen you fight before kid. you ever think about doing it for money?”

it’s not like his family has reached rock bottom yet, but it’s also not like he can pretend to watch as his mother eats only half a bowl of food so that wonwoo, his little brother and his dad could eat

and he can’t pretend he doesn’t notice how long it’s been since his brother had a new pair of sneakers

and he can’t pretend his dad wasn’t overworking himself at the office just to bring a few measly extra bucks home every night

the guy promises wonwoo doesn’t have to fight if he doesn’t want to, just tells wonwoo to show up to a place downtown on friday night to see what it was all about

so, reluctantly, wonwoo lies to his mother that he’s studying with jihoon and mingyu and goes downtown, perfectly poised and ready to make a run for it if needed bc the place is definitely not lacking in shadiness

the lines outside are kept to a minimum and the bouncer at the door is none too friendly until wonwoo flashes him a card the senior at school gave him, and suddenly he’s being ushered to a front row seat inside what looks like a huge wrestling dome

wonwoo starts to feel nervous when they bring out contestants, but nonetheless he stays like steel in his seat and watches as the night begins

and suddenly a rain of money is being thrown over his head toward the fighters as they begin to beat each other to what looks like the death, the fight quickly turning gruesome as the two men attempt to tear each other apart with nothing but force and violent fists

wonwoo knows it’s wrong, and he really shouldn’t be here, but he can’t even tear his eyes away, let alone find the will to get up and leave

the opponents include a big, strong dude with more muscle than wonwoo, and the other is a scrawny but quick thing who ends up winning in the end

“in the end, it’s all about strategy” a voice whispers next to his ear, and it’s the senior again, smiling almost wickedly as wonwoo looks back at him “even a guy like you could take down a brute like Big Papa over there if only you have a strategy. it’s not all about muscle down here. you can play as dirty as you like, for more money in one night than your parents make in a year”

and wonwoo knows it’s a terrible idea, practically goes deaf with the voice of his own consciousness telling him it’s wrong... or maybe that’s the sound of the crowd cheering his name...?

it’s a blur, but all he knows is that a week later, he’s in the ring, winning two hundred thousand won against an experienced fighter because wonwoo just so happened to be a pretty springy opponent 

he makes so much money that he’s actually able to get himself a place in the city when he graduates, and he’s able to put more food in the kitchen than his mom could store, and his dad could finally take that vacation he’d been wanting, and his little brother could get into that really good school his parents had been dreaming of for years

the only catch is, of course, that wonwoo has to tell his family where he got the money from

but because of the danger and illegality of the job, he knows that they could be hurt or worse if, say, a sore loser seeks revenge on him and finds his family 

so instead, wonwoo leaves them with more money in their savings than they could have ever dreamed of and promises that he’d take care of them no matter what, and then he’s disappearing from their lives for their own good, because the life he’s mixed up in is not a life his family should be involved in

he does underground fighting for about five years, and he’s not proud of himself or who he’s become

his family has been trying to get into contact with him for all of those years, but the most he ever leaves them with is a duffle bag of a few million won on the front porch and a letter letting them know he’s still alive, still misses them, still loves them

his mother caught him one early morning, when he had startled the resident stray cat by tripping over one of his mother’s flower pots

she had only made eye contact with him through the crack of the front door before he was dropping the bag of money at the step and giving her a small smile, before disappearing into the dark dawn of the day

his mother is just happy he’s really still okay

so, it goes on like this until one day the place wonwoo fights at gets raided and he needs to disappear for a while, but with that comes loss of income bc now he has nowhere to get money from and he’s not willing to go anywhere else to fight, especially since he’s gotten so comfortable and the places people are whispering about are in places he’s never even been to and of course he can’t just leave his family behind, it’d only be that much harder to care for them

and just randomly one day, he gets a call from his friend seungkwan who’s currently working in music

seungkwan mentions that there’s this new idol sweetheart who has just moved from her old company to the one seungkwan works for and they’re in the process of getting everything switched and yada yada wonwoo is almost bored of the conversation

until seungkwan mentions that they’re looking for suitable bodyguards for the idol, because the scandal with her and her last company was that her last bodyguard left her unattended in her dressing room and she got swarmed by obsessive fans after a show

so seungkwan is groaning about it bc he has to go through piles and piles of applications for the bodyguard position, a good chunk of which are just coming from stalker fans who want to get close to their favorite idol, when wonwoo is like “...could i apply?”

and seungkwan is like !!!!! hell yes!! you’d be perfect for this!!

he gives wonwoo the application and everything and seungkwan even puts in a letter of recommendation for him

and wonwoo is really only doing it bc he knows he’s no good at anything other than using his fists and protecting the people he cares about, and if this job means he has to do that for some stuck up idol then so be it

he’s not even expecting the call he gets from the ceo of the company the next day, asking him to come to the company for a “personal evaluation”

a personal evaluation happens to be an extensive background check and multiple layers of paperwork that wonwoo could barely remember the contents of before he’s really given the job

“the subject also has one question for you, to determine if you are really fit for the job: are you... are you fast enough?” the man at the desk reads off, looking a lil lost

until the two men hear a high pitched laugh outside of the door and the sound of pounding footsteps running down the hall

and sure enough, when the two go to investigate, there you are, grinning over your shoulder as you dart down another hallway, most likely on your way outside when you catch an elevator for the first floor

and wonwoo is off like a rocket, even as the doors shut and you’re already flying down several floors, he’s sprinting down the stairwells two steps at a time, determined to catch you before you get outside

he seems to be pretty good at this too, since he’s standing in front of your elevator just as the doors open and you clumsily collide into his chest where his hands grip your shoulders to push you back some steps so he can get a good look at you

your cheeks are rosy and your hair is all over the place, but you’re also laughing like a little kid

“you really are fast” you declare, folding your arms over your chest with an exhausted huff, looking him over as he stands completely composed and stoic

but on the inside he’s trying really hard to show that those stairs didn’t wind him lol

“i’m jeon wonwoo, your new bodyguard, nice to meet you” wonwoo introduces himself in a monotonous voice

you smile and pat his arm, nodding to the left of the elevators where the company’s complimentary cafe is “i’ll buy you a coffee and we can get to know each other, how’s that sound?”

of course, wonwoo respectfully can’t refuse so he follows you anyway, and tries to keep his order simple and plain because honestly, what would he look like ordering every sweet on the menu when you’re paying and it’s his first day?

he silently cries as he drinks his boring black coffee and longingly looks at the vanilla cream puff flavored latte you ordered and are currently enjoying very audibly to his disdain

“my manager told me this you’re the only candidate who wasn’t a bodyguard previously, but you seem pretty qualified. what did you do before this?” you ask, watching him over the straw over your drink

“underground fighting” he deadpans

“illegal?” “extremely” “are you any good?”

wonwoo is kinda shocked you even asked, bc he more than expected you to get nervous around him when he told you about his previous occupation, but instead you’re staring at him with excitement in your eyes like he’s just told you he used to slay dragons in his past life

and, ok, the sparkle you just got in your eyes when you asked is kind of adorable

“hopefully i’ll never have to prove it to you” he says, and your visage deflates a little at the thought but you know he’s telling the truth, and instead you nudge his leg under the table, instead focusing your eyes on the healing scars on and near his knuckles, which he hides from your sight the moment he notices

“you’re probably right, but i still think it’d be pretty cool. i can tell you’re not that kind of guy, anyway”

wonwoo wants to Object because what do you even know? you’ve only been talking to him for half an hour, how could you possibly deduct that about his personality?

and sure, the look in your eyes is something like absolute certainty but you were wrong. you knew nothing about him and you were wrong

right?

but then you’re telling him you’ve got voice lessons so the conversation is postponed and he is already on his way to escorting you to the room you’ve got to go to, and you’re waving him a goodbye for now, knowing he wouldn’t be needed until you had to go somewhere other than the building

so on his way back to the office he’s handed his suit by seungkwan which is “dry clean only and if you destroy this thing I will personally wring your neck”, a pair of nice shoes and an ear piece that would allow him to communicate with other body guards or even you yourself since it is capable of picking up phone calls

of course he’s expected to try it out for the first time and you just so happen to finish your lesson a little while after they get him suited and booted so you sneakily hide behind a wall and watch as he and his friend fiddle with the cufflinks on his sleeves and he wiggles the little earpiece around

and then you pull out your phone and dial the number you’d been given for him, which starts vibrating in his pocket and he presses a little button on the ear piece to answer “hello?”

in the creepiest voice you can muster, you whisper “hey there sexy, looking good in that suit”

almost immediately wonwoo twists around and catches you giggling into the receiver of your phone, and when you two make eye contact you bolt like sonic the hedgehog

and wonwoo just sighs

“she’s a handful, huh? don’t worry, you’ll warm up to her” seungkwan says with a small smile, nudging wonwoo who just huffs and broods

“doubt it”

and thus begins wonwoo’s job as your bodyguard

a job more entertaining than he expected

he spends most of his time trying to keep you from goofing off rather than keeping crazy fans off you

like you’ll literally just be en route to a restaurant up the street from the company to meet with some singer for a collab but you’ll do a complete detour and run into a store because “it’s a 40% off sale jeon! 40%!!!”

he’s always on the verge of doing a shit load of apologizing to anyone you inconvenience but no matter what you do, even if you break some priceless thing in an antique shop, because you’re famous, no one has the heart to say anything to you??

and he can’t help but feel a little jealous at how untouchable you are

at times he doesn’t even think he really needs to be there, if no seems to have the balls to get on your bad side

he just feels really out of his element with you, like he’s entering a world he shouldn’t have even thought about being in

and when you mingle with other stars or whatever he always has this urge to overreact bc he knows a lot of these ppl through his mom and chan,,,,,

like you’ll be in an interview with your upcoming drama co-star and he’ll be biting his fist cause fuck his mom would kill him if she ever found out he didn’t get a picture of kim ji soo while he was there sharing the same air

and when the interview is over and you’re talking with ji soo and a producer you see wonwoo staring daggers at ji soo and you get really confused until you see him fumbling with his phone and you suddenly 💡!!!

“wonwoo!! come over and meet ji soo!” you wave him over, and he nearly drops his phone but also ok,, ,he can do this,, ji soo is just a man and- fuck he just looked his way. how is he that handsome in real life

you start talking wonwoo up to ji soo like “this is my amazing bodyguard, wonwoo. he’s a big fan, would you mind taking a pic with him?”

and ofc ji soo doesn’t mind so he sidles up to wonwoo and wonwoo’s hands are shaking far too much to take a pic so you take the phone from him, fingers brushing against his sweaty palms with a giggle and you turn to ji soo like “he’s just a little nervous. you should put your arm around him”

wonwoo: 🚫HOLD❗️UP❌I DID NOT⛔️ALLOW❗️THIS

but ji soo is already squishing wonwoo into his side and damn... he really smells nice. his mom is gonna freak

you take multiple pictures of them just posing, but then ji soo turns to wonwoo and is like “bro you look really clean in that suit, like the men in black” and wonwoo is so pleased he thinks so so he just :)

and meanwhile you’re giggling and taking a few discreet pics of the both of them, focusing in on wonwoo’s cute fanboy reaction

when they finally part and wonwoo is back to his usual stoic self, you hold up the phone to his face and there’s a picture of him looking at ji soo with literal heart eyes

and before you can comment wonwoo is like “let us never speak of this moment again. also. which picture best captures my good side”

it’s the first time you’ve seen such of side in wonwoo and you can’t help thinking that you want to see more, if he’d let you that was

from then on, it’s like your mission to poke out that cute, innocent side of his that he worked so hard to keep from you and others

little by little, you began to unravel the being that was wonwoo

but as you grew restless with the waiting, you decided to turn to seungkwan for some help

and you know. seungkwan. might have said more than he should have

seungkwan ended up spilling nearly everything about wonwoo to you, from his high school days to the underground fighting

and even though you knew about the underground fighting, hearing just how strong and powerful he really was and just how many shady fights he’d been in, where opponents fight damn near to the death, you start to wonder if that cute side of wonwoo’s is really... him

wonwoo notices the change in you immediately, when you go from being all silly with him to kind of keeping to yourself, and at first he rejoices bc finally!! some peace and quiet

but hours of quiet turn to days of quiet, and then weeks, and wonwoo is really concerned that he did something wrong

so he manages the courage to ask you one day

immediately you try to act like you had been aloof to it the whole time, but of course, wonwoo can see right through you, and it angers you but it doesn’t surprise you

wonwoo has been the only person to see right through you since you came into this industry

“did you... did you like underground fighting? even when some people never really came back from those fights... the same?”

and wonwoo lightly curses under his breath bc he knows exactly who you’ve been talking to, and he knows that that person can be pretty bad at relaying information some (most) of the time

“no, i didn’t... like it. i didn’t like knocking people unconscious for sport, but i did it to help. my parents kept pretending like they weren’t on the verge of losing everything and i... was wasting my fists away in school, punching every bully in sight. at least with underground fighting, i got paid. a good chunk of that money i made went to my parents and my brother to make sure they were settled”

“you haven’t seen your family in a while, have you?” you ask, and he looks at you like you’re prodding into the innermost parts of his mind for him to open up, something that makes him squirm under you gaze despite the comfort you try to convey to him

he just shakes his head, unable to say more in fear of bursting when he’s been working so hard to stay together

you can’t fathom why this boy, trapped in a man’s body, works so hard to pretend nothing hurts him

why he does his best to be the unbreakable, unfeeling wall of steel

why he refuses to get close, and how even when you chip away at his facade, he’s always right behind you, ready to fix it back up again

you know that you’re a long ways away from getting him to open up completely, but you try whatever you can to at least encourage him to

he ends up meeting your family at a family bbq you invite him to one day and honestly?? he doesn’t realize until he’s helping your dad flip burgers and playing table tennis with your mom that this is the first time he’s been around a family setting in years

seeing the dynamic between you and your fam as you just kick back and let loose and drop the professional facade you have to keep when working sparks something in him he hasn’t felt in a long time

he nearly has to run to the bathroom to collect himself because he’s suddenly thinking of his parents and his brother and how much he misses them

by the end of the night, all of you are sitting by the fire pit and drinking a little bit but of course wonwoo takes something light because he has to drive you home later and you lean against him a little, to his surprise, and sigh, “i hope today made you feel a little less alone”

wonwoo externally is all poker face but on the inside he’s like

,,,, not to be emo but wtf ;-;

so he’s driving you back to your apartment in the city, and when you arrive you ask him to help you take up the leftovers your mother has packed you because there are far too many for you to carry on your own

so wonwoo obliges and helps carry the damn near ten bowls of leftovers your family had left bc you couldn’t cook for your life and needed it all lol

wonwoo even helps you arrange everything in the fridge, being a gentleman and putting a few things in the freezer because he knows you might eat everything at once if it was readily available to you

and you perch yourself on the kitchen counter with a tired but content sigh, watching him fuss about your kitchen bc you “never clean up after yourself” and “can’t wash a dish right to save your life” and he honestly sounds more like your mom than your mom does at the moment

as you watch him, smile fond and gaze fonder, you grab his arm as he’s walking by and just pull him into a hug

he’s pretty startled so he freezes up in your hold and doesn’t really know what to do

i mean sure, being touchy is your thing and you often give him kisses on the cheek or side hugs when he greets you in the morning to start the day, but this hug feels...

consoling? soothing?

it feels like so much more than just your arms around his neck

“i know you don’t want to tell me everything yet. so i’ll wait for you”

and like that, the dam breaks, and wonwoo lets the tears fall, arms idle at his sides, “why do you care so much? i only work for you. nothing more” “wonwoo... don’t you get it? you’re a friend to me, of course i care about you.”

and carefully, you push him back with arms still wound about him so that you can see his red eyes and quivering lips

you gently brush underneath his eye with your thumb, “i can see when someone is holding too much in. it’s okay to let that go now”

he pulls you back in, for the first time hugging you first

you can tell he’s needed a hug like this and it’s a long time coming, so you hold him

and that night he spills all his burdens to you

about missing his family, and about the life he’s chosen and wondering if it’s a good one

he’s still afraid to acquaint with his family too much even after leaving the underground life bc he’s so scared that maybe some angry opponent from years ago would find them and hurt them

but underneath that fear is also the fear of rejection, and thinking that they wouldn’t want to see him again after leaving for so long

right?

when he’s aired out all of his feelings, he leaves for the night feeling a lot lighter in the chest

and that’s when the wheels in your mind start turning

you recruit the help of seungkwan, who reveals that wonwoo’s 21st birthday is coming up and that he wants to do something special for his friend

so you ask seungkwan to round up all of wonwoo’s friends from high school and put in a little special request so that you can make wonwoo’s birthday the best birthday he’s ever had

on the day of his birthday, wonwoo doesn’t act any more different than usual, coming in and greeting everyone and not dropping any hints of what day it is

he gets a funny text from you that day for him to meet you at the company rather than at home, so he takes his instructions, albeit a little confused

you tell him to meet you in your usual practice room and he’s on his way in, completely clueless

when he opens the door, the lights are off and seemingly no one is there

he flips on the lights, and immediately glitter is raining from above and a chorus of screams ring out in the room, all singing a discordant version of “happy birthday, wonwoo!” 

and wonwoo can’t even pretend to be unfazed, he’s smiling way too hard

he sees amongst his friends soonyoung, jun, seungcheol, joshua, vernon, seokmin, and even little chan who definitely isn’t little anymore (jesus, where does the time go ;-;)

all of his friends surround him and give him pats on the back and warm congratulations, and there you are standing in the midst of it all with a cake and his name on it

the cake is in the shape of a teddy bear that looks just like him, and he can’t help but shake his head at you before taking in a breath to blow out the candles

“wait!! you have to make a wish!” seungkwan scolds, and wonwoo blinks at the boy before shutting his eyes and doing as told, and then he’s blowing them out 

“what’d you wish for?” chan asks excitedly, clinging to wonwoo’s arm

the older boy just glances from chan to you, and then laughs a little “nothing for you to worry about, kiddo”

so the fourteen of you (and a few co-workers who heard the commotion) eat cake and reminisce on wonwoo’s life in high school and you hear so many good blackmail stories that nearly have wonwoo taping all of their mouths shut

chan’s got the most out of all of them lol

“i remember this one time wonwoo and i went-” “no chan, that story is boring” “well, what about that time we saw-” “no chan, that’s not appropriate” “okay!! what about that time we did-” “no chan, that was illegal”

but it’s all in good fun, and you find yourself cracking up more in one day than you have in a while

wonwoo is in the middle of scarfing down the last slice of cake when he sees you make eyes at seungkwan, and his suspicions start to rise

discreetly, or at least to everyone else, you leave the room, and wonwoo has a really strong urge to follow, but you’re back within three minutes

“i think it’s time for the gift for the birthday boy, don’t you think?” you say, and seungkwan walks over to wonwoo, his hand comforting on the back of the boy’s shoulder

wonwoo is really curious now, but before he can ask, the door to the room opens again

and in walks his family, smiling tearfully as they take him in

his dad looks like he’s trying not to cry and his mom has her hands over her mouth as she takes in her son, having grown up without her for the last five years

even his little brother, who he remembers barely coming up to his chest is now almost towering over him, smiling though his cheeks are already wet

wonwoo doesn’t even care that anyone else is in the room. he runs straight for them with unabashed love

they hug for a long while, the four of them just relishing in the fact that they had wonwoo back in their life and vice versa

wonwoo is apologizing over and over again like it’s the only words he knows, and they might as well be because he can’t find himself saying anything else as he looks at his family’s faces

he just feels so sorry and so terrible for how long he’s been gone, and he wants to beat himself up for it all until he’s gotten their forgiveness

but he doesn’t even have to

they already do forgive him

eventually, the other boys clear out to give them their space, and you offer to give them a tour of the company to pass the time

as they’re rough-housing with each other, you walk with seungcheol whose got his hands deep in his pockets and he looks pensive, smiling quietly to himself

“you like him a lot, don’t you?” seungcheol suddenly asks, and you look at him like he’s grown a second head

“l-like?? who?? wonwoo???? that brick wall?? haha. no. ha. no no no no no. he’s not even my type”

seungcheol quietly listens to you blabber on, grinning every time you stutter over a word

and then you turn to him with an utterly hopeless expression and just defeatedly nod at him

“thought so. both of you get a little puppy dog look in your eyes when you look at each other” 

to which. your interest is...... piqued

“both?” you ask, looking hopefully at him

seungcheol pats your head pitifully and is like?? you really thought huh??? that boy played you. he’s got a crush and it’s bad

so fast forward a little while later, wonwoo and his family find you all and the boys admit they have to head back to class or work so you bid them all adieu,,,,, and of course ,,,not before seungcheol smirks and winks at you and nods his head at wonwoo very unhelpfully

wonwoo ends up asking if it’s alright if he can take a few extra hours off to eat dinner with his family at home later, and instantly you’re like ofc!!! take the whole month off!!! talk to your family :)))

and then his mom is like “thank you so much for helping set this up. would you like to come to dinner too?”

wonwoo is about to break the news that you have a few interviews and recording sessions scheduled later that day and that you wouldn’t be able to take off, but recklessly you’re like screw that lol i’m coming with

wonwoo wants to scold you so bad but. i mean. you’re also the reason he’s going back home with his family for the first time in years so. ://. he’ll save it for later

when you guys pull up to his neighborhood, wonwoo, you, and his brother walk around the place, greeting neighbors they grew up with and pointing out all the places they spent their time at as children

some kids even stop by to get your autograph and wonwoo pretends to stop them as “your loyal bodyguard” but the kids just shove him out of the way like move wonwoo this is a once in a lifetime thing

and wonwoo is like rude. i babysat you when i was sixteen. show some respect

wonwoo’s brother also shares some embarrassing stories of wonwoo,,,, of which wonwoo wants to hit him for but decides that he can do that later after they’ve finished being all lovey dovey and catching up

by the end of the night, you’re gonna go home with a completely different view of jeon wonwoo than you started with

eventually, you all huddle in for dinner with his family and they’re all so warm and accepting of you, asking all about the life you live and the music you make

you end up making his parents into fans!!

wonwoo’s brother even admits to having a bit of a fan crush on you and you do a bunch of cute gestures for him just to get him flushed in the cheeks

as the night comes to a close, wonwoo asks you to meet him outside

and because his family lives out in the country, the view of the stars at night is spectacular

he sets out some lawn chairs his family has and the both of you just kick back and look at the stars, sharing a bowl of grapes (of which you and wonwoo continuously throw at each other, trying to see who has the better aim

he keeps catching them with his mouth damn it

“thank you, by the way. i don’t think i’ve said that yet today”

you look over at him just as he shoves a handful of grapes into his mouth with a content sigh

he smiles at the stars and takes in a deep breath “this is probably the first time in five years i’ve felt so... peaceful. so thank you, really. you’ve done so much for me, and i swear i don’t deserve it”

you pop his head and he lets out a grunt of pain but it mixes in with a laugh

“don’t say that, jeon wonwoo. you deserve this peace more than you give yourself credit for. you bring me peace of mind, so the least i could do is return the favor”

wonwoo ends up just kinda looking at you, the stars twinkling above and the sounds of his mother singing from inside the house carrying out into the warm summer night

“what’s... that thing you’re always telling me to do? be open with how i feel?” he asks, and you furrow your brows in confusion

“i’m probably jinxing the night, and that would be very typical of me, but i also can’t keep quiet so just... please listen okay? you’ve been something of a friend to me these past few months i’ve been working with you. especially after that night i spilled everything to you. i feel like i can trust you and i’ve never really had a person like you in my life. someone that just... understands me right off the bat. so i guess i was a little scared getting to know you and making any steps to form a deeper relationship other than professional because it felt too good to be true. but after tonight... i’ve realized something? and i think i should let you know what it is”

your breath is coming out shaky now, and all you can do is manage a stunned nod, the only thing on your mind being the words seungcheol had spoken to you earlier

“i think i have feelings for you. and i’m terrified of it. i’m used to pushing away people that could mean something important to me in fear of fucking up their lives like i’ve been doing to my family for the last five years, but i can’t... can’t live like this anymore. after seeing my family again, i’ve realized i can’t do that anymore. i’ll take all the consequences if i have to, and i totally understand if you want me resigned and out of your life by tomorrow morning. but if you feel the same, you don’t have to say it yet... just stay here with me for an hour longer. that’s all i ask. if you get up and walk away i’ll know-” 

“god........ you’re such an emo, wonwoo. i’m not going anywhere. ya hear me? nowhere. i like you too, you idiot.” you push his arm lightly and he looks at you dumbfounded, so you just shoot him a tiny smile, nudging him with your foot 

but i mean, could wonwoo have expected any other kind of response from you?

“did you... i just confessed to you and you called me an emo and an idiot in nearly the same breath” “yeah, well, if the shoe fits”

wonwoo so badly wants to pull you into a headlock and give you a lil noogie but it’s also probably Not The Time

so he just nudges you back with content, watching the cute little smile on your face as his hand falls to lean over the arm of his chair and to brush against yours, just as you link your fingers together in solidarity, “how cliche. the bodyguard falling for the pop star”

[jordan102791]

The Danger with Faeries and Mortals part20

The servants ran into, were more docile than usual. There was no tittering about gossiping as she passed by them. She noted most stopped all conversation to watch her as she passed by. She got to her chamber where the lady servant from before still waited. Rebecca had been forced up from bed and dressed to come before the King, but Joseph sent her back to her room for more rest.

"Since I am not to call you ma'am, what should I call you?"

"Well, my name is Sarah, but I suppose you're welcome to call me whatever you deem fitting."

"Sarah," Rebecca said testing it out with a smile. "Sarah, why are the rest of rhe servants acting so oddly with me suddenly?" Sarah shifted her weight from side to side in an obviously nervous gesture. "Sarah, please."

"Well Miss, news has already spread that you are to marry Lord Joseph. And it's making many nervous. Joseph, he is a good and reasonable man and he is kind to us, but many worry about someone our King would have married being given to him instead. Some worry you to have a cruelty in you as well and that it may corrupt our Lord. The others who have seen your kindnesses, worry about all you should face being married to the King's head of council."

"What do you mean?"

"As I'm sure you have noticed, our master is of... Diminutive... Stature. It is great insult from the King to force someone as yourself to force your marriage to someone... Deformed as he is. And they worry what may happen to you and the resentments that may one day fill you both and then bleed over onto us."

"You have said he is a good and kind man, have you not?"

"Yes, of course."

"He is my friend, and I will do what duty I must. Worry not, I shall be all right. I shall neither worry about the judgements that will pass to me, it is but second nature for my life anyways."

"Yes ma'am. Tale has reached us of your mother's words as well. It was wrong for us to assume the life you have lived before joining us here. My sincerest apologies." Sarah gave a deep curtsy at the offense.

"Please stand, there is nothing for you to apologize for. I am just another person, as you are. Please do not curtsy to me."

"Ma'am, it is required of us to show you your station. If the King were to find you telling us such things..." A chill shivered from her head to her toes.

"Then how about this, when it is just us here, you will not do such things. I will be treated as any other girl."

"Very well, Miss." She gave a sweet smile to Rebecca, tthat hinted to the girl a beauty she had possessed in happier times.

*****

The staff scurried around making preparations. There would be no reception, the King would not waste money on such a thing. But the court would be filled with as many people as the King would be able to cram in. He wanted as many as he could to witness the embarrassment that was this wedding. He would even order the dance normally reserved for the reception to take place in the center of the room, following the vows.

Sarah and the other lady's maids worked to get Rebecca's gown fitted properly in time. The golden fabric glistened and glittered even in the low lights of her chamber. The gilded dress bringing out the ruby glow lit through her hair. Sarah scrounged up a small coppery circlet from scraps at the palace Smith's. Sarah insisted that a lady needed such things. She may not be a queen, but she still deserved to be fussed over for her wedding. The Smith agreed, not knowing Rebecca, as Sarah came asking without the Lady's knowledge. That I servant would ask such a thing for a master spoke volumes to her character. It would not be a pure metal but more metallic swirls that turned and twisted in the glow of the room. Since it was to be a gift of kindness more than a commission, he took the opportunity to practice his skills shaping beauty that were often neglected for constructing for embattlement. Sarah returned with it the night before the ceremony, but refused to let Rebecca see it beforehand. Only once she was dressed and it was placed upon her head would she be granted the opportunity to gaze upon it.

In the morning, servants bustled in and began to pamper and prep. They plucked each stray hair and scrubbed the dirt from under each of her nails. Her hair had been set the night before so it would wave about her shoulders and billow as she walked as if a calm breeze filled the halls. Her cheeks were blushed giving them color. Coal around her eyes, brightening them so they seemed to glow in her face. The corsets were tightened giving her young body an older shape. Her gown slipped over her head, kissing and caressing her creamy skin all the way down. The neck line open, showing the tops of shoulder and her collarbones peeking out.

Finally, Sarah unwrapped the circlet from the cloth that stored it. She gently nestled it onto the girl's head, adjusting her hair before turning her to peer into the looking glass. Rebecca barely recognized the person she saw before her. She looked more grown in that moment than she thought she may ever have. Her eyes searched out the mystery upon her head. Vines and leaves wove together and tangled into her hair, holding it in place. It made her think of the vines entwined in the tralices of rhe garden, making her smile.

"Is the Lady pleased with it?" Sarah asked the question tenatively from behind her.

"Yes, it's quite lovely. I did not think to have something so fine in my life."

"Milady, you honor me with your words, but they are just the scraps the Smith could spare."

"Bc they are scraps makes them no less beautiful." She said with a warm smile for the servant. "Truly, it is perfect. Thank you."

*****

Sarah escorted her down the steps and corridor to the main court. Sarah held her hands as a fierce tremble enveloped her. "It's all right dear girl. He is a kind man, he will take care of you."

"Yes, I'm sure." She gave a wan smile. "It is all the people I wish not to face."

"My word, milady, what would you have done marrying the King."

"I did not want to marry the King."

"Then why were you here?"

"My mother insisted."

"I see. Well, I am thankful you will not be attached to his majesty. He would have eaten you alive, he may still, but at least you will no longer face him alone. And you be good to our Lord."

"I will try."

"It is time." She patted the girl's hands before releasing them to get the door.

Rebecca stepped inside as all faces swung to hers. A collective intake of breath raced through the crowd as their eyes landing on hers. She stilled for a moment, taking in the room before continuing forward as each new person stepped aside opening up the path for her. When the last one moved out of the way she finally got a look of the man she would be wedded to. Off to the left sat a dais where the disgusted, yet amused King perched with a Lady Yvonne balanced on the arm of his throne. They had become attached at the hip since announcing she would be his new bride.

Joseph stood frozen, mouth agape as he watched her come closer. Regaining himself, he stepped forward to take her hand and led her to the staging area. She knew he could feel the shudders from her cool hand into his warm one, but he made no motion indicating it. At the top, he released her hand, and bowed towards her, she gave a curtsy in return and they turned to face the priest.

The priest began a prayer, but was quickly interrupted by Edgar. "This just will not do. He is much too short standing by her side." They both turned to look a question his direction. "This must be rectified before we may continue. Someone bring a chair the troll may stand on." Joseph blanched at his words. "No wait, I have a better solution. Kneel."

"You wish me to kneel?" Joseph was confused by his request.

"Not you, toad. Her." Joseph flicked a quick look in his bride's direction. "She shall kneel."

"Your highness, if it's all the same I will stand on the stool as you asked instead."

"No you will not. She will kneel on the floor. She isn't worthy of our presence anyway and merely lucked into her marriage, didn't you dog?"

"Yes, my King. I am lucky to be here and grace your floors." Rebecca gave her reply automatically as she began to drop to the floor. Joseph caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. He looked quickly from his King to her solemn face. She gave him a sad smile and a nod. "It's all right. I will be fine down here." Pain filled every one of his features as he helped her lower herself to the ground. This was a moment he knew he could never forgive his brother for. Soft laughter surrounded them, made all the more obvious by Edgar's boisterous chuckle at the couple's shared embarrassment. The priest began again.

"A kiss to seal your bond," the priest announced. Rebecca shuffled on her knees to face her husband, he took each of her hands into his. He gave her a soft smile that sent a flush to her cheeks.

He leaned in tilting his head so he could access her cheek, where he gave a chaste peck. Then his deep, soothing voice rumbled in her ear, quiet enough only she could hear. "You really do look breathtaking, I am blessed to have you as my wife. Never forget that," he words made her eyes close, tipping her lips up in the corners. His lips like velvet brushed lightly to hers, seeking permission. When she didn't jerk away from him, he pressed more firmly. The gentleness warmed her inside. She held still until he pulled away from her.

Joseph looked up, to the anger filled face of their King as he helped his new wife get to her feet and lead the way to where they would share their first dance. There was an awkwardness of hands and arms and where to hold each other, chuckles danced on the air at the couple's misfortune. Rebecca's cheeks reddened, her eyes dropping to her feet. His one hand pressing under her chin, lifting her face. "My dear, do not look down. Hold your head high and none of them will ever be able to touch you. Let their words and laughter fall on deaf ears, it is all you can do now," he said with a sad smile for her. She nodded returning the gesture.

*****

She was expected to share Joseph's chamber, her things already having been brought over from her chamber. She noticed it was larger then her own, a seating area off to the side with a large lounge. A trunk big enough to fit a full grown man inside at the foot of the bed. Earthy tones touching every inch of the room, a window open emitting a warm breeze.

Her hand in her friend's, he walked her over to the bed. Her nerves ratcheting up another level. She knew what was expected of her marriagebed. She stiffened as she approached the side of the bed. "Sit, my dear, please." He asked with a nervous smile. She let out a heavy breath and did as he asked. He took both of her hands in his. His warmth pushed into her. His touch soothing her hands, his worm fingers rubbing circles over her knuckles. "You will sleep here tonight, all right. This is yours too now, I would like you to be comfortable here." His lips grazed the back of one hand and then the other before placing them gently back in her lap and turning to walk away.

"Wait," her voice turning him back to face her. "Where are you going?"

"I will take my rest over there, so you may have the bed." He jerked his chin in the direction of the lounge.

Her forehead crinkled into lines mapping her confusion. "I don't understand. Why would you not sleep here?"

A hard look crept in his face, locking away the emotions he wanted to keep hidden. "Rebecca..." He sighed before continuing. "You are lovely, truly. And the Gods have blessed me to give to me such a fair face and kind soul for a wife. And I know I am well within my rights to take what is promised to me, but I will not. I had never thought myself lucky enough to have someone such as you and I would not expect it from you. If you chose to grace me with such miracles, I would accept with such gratitude befitting you, but I will not take from you or pressure you. You are my wife, but first you are my friend and ally and deserving of all the respect I can give you. I know this is not what you want and as such I will sleep elsewhere, so you may sleep in peace."

He placed his palms on either of her cheeks and huffed a sigh looking into her eyes. "You truly are a gorgeous creature," he said leaning in to give her a kiss to her forehead. A whizzing sound burst in through the open window. Rebecca heard a thunk and Joseph was suddenly heavy in her arms. His tresses falling in his attractive face as she twisted to drape him across the bed beside her. She looked away from his face to a swarm of winged creatures suffocating the air around her.

She snatched the small hunting knife holstered and her prone husband's belt. She stepped in front of him, a hand resting on his belly as her other pointed the knife at the beings in front of her. "Who are you? What do you want?" She demanded in a voice that screamed of her fear.

A brilliant flash, almost blindingly bright revealed the winged beings before her, now much closer to her own height. She gasped at their so himan features. One, a man, stepped closer to her a calming hand raised, willing her not to slash at him. "Princess, we have been sent by your mother to save you."

She scoffed, "Princess? I am no princess, you must be confused with someone else."

The others looked between each other, but the man kept coming to her. "You are Rebecca, daughter of Matthias, are you not?"

"Y...yes," she stuttered, her lip trembling.

"Then you are whom we are here for, your mother has sent us to retrieve you."

"That is a lie, my mother would never send rescue, it is she who left me dumped her when they threatened my death if she did so."

The man gave a disgusted grunt, "not the human trollop you have been living with. Your mother, your real mother."

"Real mother? Eliza is my mother."

"She is not, that woman would quake in fear of your real mother."

"And who would my real mother be?"

"Lucinda, Queen of the light faeries."

"Faeries? Faeries aren't real..." She trailed off noticing again the large wings laying against their backs, shimmering like gossamer in the light. They reminded her of the wings on a dragonfly, but much greater, the fell almost the the floor.

"Oh we are very real, my Princess, you are one of us and you shall soon see how real we all are. Your mother has ordered that we bring you to her kingdom. Now if you'll just kill the human, we may be on our way."

"Kill him," she screeched.

"Yes, kill him," he replied calmly as if the answer was obvious. "We are to protect you from the human and he will hunt you down and murder us all if left alive. If you are squeamish, I may do it for you."

Her resolve tightened, the knife pointing firmly at his chest. "You will not touch him. He is my husband and my friend. He has been kind and good to me. And I will not let you harm him."

"You love this monster? We saw he would try and force himself on you and stopped it."

"He would not force his will on me, he was leaving me to sleep alone without my needing ask. He is no monster, he is a good man, and I repeat I will not let you hurt him. And you must kill me too if you intend his death. He cares for me when no other does. When your queen has ignored my life all these years. He is mine and you will not touch a hair upon his head without my fighting."

"The King does not protect any, but himself. He has done awful deeds to our kind that would demand his death. You must step away."

"King? You mean Edgar?"

"Yes, the Evil Beast."

"This is not the Beast you speak of, this is his brother Joseph. He is as nice as his brother is mean."

The faerie took another step closer to the man, Rebecca's knife swinging to him to stop his progress. He holds his hand up. "Your majesty, you have my word I will not harm him, I only want a closer look at him."

"Very well, but I will be watching. His death will be your own."

"Agreed." The fae knelt beside the bed, taking in his face. He moved the hair and turned his face towards the light. Prodding at his body, tightening her body in anxiety. He lifts a single eyelid to look upon his eyes. Satisfied with his search he stands and takes a step back with the others. "She speaks the truth, he is much too short and his hair far too light. The eyes match, but that is all. Were we fed false information?"

"The messengers were certain of her betrothal to the King," a faerie woman whispered.

"I was betrothed to the King," Rebecca interrupted, all their doll-like faces turning to hers. "He killed my father and chose another bride bc my father was an enemy of the crown. This man," her hand going back to her husband's side as she looked upon him in shy admiration. "Kept me from the King's torture and eventual murder by taking me as his wife." She turns sharply back to the fae, knife punctuating her words "And I will not see him hurt."

The male fae takes a knee, bowing his head to her. The other faeries following his lead. "As you wish my Princess, but we are still to bring you to our Queen."

"Fine, but I will not leave him here like this. He must at least know where I will go."

"Very well, but he will probably be out for a few hours," a pointed glance shot to another faerie in the group.

He shrugged with a bashful grin. "I am sorry, I may have hit him a bit hard, but we were told he was to be killed, so can you really lay blame on me."

"It is all right, but we must wait. I must know he is well before going. Would you please help me move him into the bed?"

The faeries moving her out of rhe way, two pulling down the covers whilst the rest lift him into place. Rebecca removes his boots and belt and her own circlet laying on a bedside table as she crawls in beside him, wrapping herself around his body. She brushes away his hair and lays her head to his shoulder for a spot of sleep until he comes to.