#i was so careful all day today i checked all my labels 3 or 4 times
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wetslug ¡ 8 months ago
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made a potentially big fuckin mistake at work but i caught it just in time. it had me sweating and squarking for real
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seulszn ¡ 11 months ago
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Listen I love TLOU and the fandom very much but a lot of people (not calling anybody out) need a reality check and need to grow up. I wanna say my two cents on things that bother me in this fandom.
1. Boycotting for Palestine
I have seen multiple times on multiple occasions where people would sit on their phone and complain about why writers are “flooding the tags with this boycotting bullshit” and honestly all I have to say is your super childish you can’t take a hour or a week out of your day to raise awareness on a important topic that is affecting millions of people? Your so horny so down bad for pixelated characters that you don’t care about the innocent children, women and men that are dying in Palestine? The boycotting isn’t gonna stop just because you want your needs filled, the boycotting isn’t going to stop because you think it needs to, it’s not gonna stop until Palestine is free. And if you wanna read things that bad then read nobody is stoping you but a take into ignition that if a writer is spreading awareness then don’t be ignorant and say stupid shit
2. Less Sex and more angst or other genres.
Listen I love Abby and Ellie just like everyone else and I read a lot of smut about them but does that all y’all see when y’all look at them? As sex objects? Like I’m not saying that you should stop writing smut for those characters but write other things to that don’t involve smut, like angst I see a lot of people under that tag say how they wish writers would as write other things that isn’t just smut and majority of the time when they say that they get hated for it. It lowkey gets boring reading fanfics where the whole plot is smut, smut, smut. And again I’m not saying to stop writing smut but please for the love of whatever you believe in write other genres.
3. Black inclusivity
As a black writer and a black person TLOU tag isn’t inclusive enough. I know you must be thinking “Why are we speaking about this again?” Because I’m honestly so tired of how uninclusive the fandom is like I said before Ellie dates WOC if you don’t know what WOC is it’s Women Of Color all of Ellie’s girlfriends where WOC now I’m not saying you can’t write for Ellie as a white person and I’m not saying that never did all I am saying is once again all of Ellie’s girlfriend where POC
Riley was a Black African American who Dated Ellie
Cat the girl who wasn’t mentioned alot but is in the game is Asian American who also dated Ellie
Dina is a Jewish (Mexican, Middle Eastern ) American who dated Ellie
Also yes we know when the reader is white coded so don’t try a put that you don’t mention when race mentioned cause you do and we can tell when you do “She’s Petite and cute with her long blonde hair” or whatever you bitches be saying we know when you guys aren’t inclusive the whole point of fanfiction writing is to be inclusive is to make sure that readers can see themself in your xreader so if your putting all these “white things and then labeling your story as “the readers race is not mentioned” or that OC stuff that y’all do then just label the story as a white reader or a OC reader
4. Futa, trans and masc
Now here I’m gonna discuss two or three things starting off with Futa and Trans. Now I don’t know when “Futa” or “Trans” Ellie and Abby came from but a lot of you readers need to understand and learn the difference between the two because they are both very different things.
Futanari: is the Japanese word for hermaphroditism, which is also used in a broader sense for androgyny. Beyond Japan, the term has come to be used to describe a commonly pornographic genre of eroge, manga, and anime, which includes characters that show primary sexual characteristics from both females and males. In today's language, it refers almost exclusively to characters who have an overall feminine body, but have both female and male primary genitalia (although a scrotum is not always present, while breasts, a penis, and a vulva are). The term is also often abbreviated as futa(s), which is also used as a generalized term for the works themselves.
Transgender (often shortened to trans) is someone whose gender identity differs from that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Some transgender people who desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another identify as transsexual. Transgender is also an umbrella term; in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women), it may also include people who are non-binary or genderqueer. Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender. The term may also include cross-dressers or drag kings and drag queens in some contexts. The term transgender does not have a universally accepted definition, including among researchers.
Mind you I am not transgender I am nonbinary but I see a lot of transgender people speak up about how offensive it is to write a character as Transgender but it’s not really transgender but a Futanari remember a Futa is a character who is assigned a gender at birth but just has extra sexual parts like a penis.
Now another thing that bothers me is how y’all Masculinize Masc Lesbians as if they still aren’t women themselves like every time I read a fanfic with Ellie or Abby or even Vi and Sevika from Arcane you guys like to ignore they fact that they are also women themselves like it’s not gonna kill you to give those characters feminine compliments there shouldn’t be a reason why your calling these women “handsome” or other Masculine compliments and also a lot of Masculine women where makeup it’s not just a feminine woman thing. Masc Lesbians are women they aren’t men so stop treating them as if they are men and ignoring the fact that they are women
5. the Innocent childish reader gotta stop.
They title says enough I don’t think I need to say too much but a lot of y’all get innocent and corruption mixed up but a corruption kink is When you find the idea of "corrupting" someone, mostly in a sexual way, like taking virginities or introducing people to stuff like bdsm etc. It's the idea of having someone "pure" do "bad" things under your influence. And innocent is not corrupted or tainted with evil or unpleasant emotion; sinless; pure. not guilty of a particular crime; blameless. (From the dictionary)
Y’all need to understand yes not everyone knows what sex is but everyone knows what a vagina is what a penis is, what a orgasm is and what sex is but they may not knows what happens when you have sex so making the reader what y’all call innocent isn’t innocent it’s honestly to me perverted cause the only one who would say something like “my cunny feels weird 🥺” or that “what is sex 🥺” is a child. Children don’t know what sex is children don’t know what pleasure or orgasms is and when y’all say “the reader is a Bimbo” is also funny cause Bimbos know what sex is as well yes they may be stupid but they aren’t slow so before you make a innocent reader please think “am I making my reader act like a child or am I gonna make her really innocent like how regular grown ass adults act?” so don't get not knowing and "innocent" mixed up
6. The stories where they have sex inside a church also gotta stop
Now I’m not a Christian but these stories are honestly really bad and are Blasphemy a lot of people have come out and said that they don’t like the fact that people are writing stories about church in a sexual way like their shouldn’t be any reason why your characters are fucking inside a church, that’s like stomping on someone’s dead grave. You guys do shit like this and then wonder why Christian’s don’t like us. Religion isn’t something to be sexualized it’s not something to be playing with either this idc how much you hate Christianity you can be a Atheist, or Catholic or Jewish but please for the love of whatever you believe in don’t sexualize people’s religion.
That’s all I can think of at the moment if I think of more I’ll of course make a part two to this but don’t take anything I said here to heart it’s just my blunt honest opinion on things in this fandom and if I get hate for this 🤷🏾‍♀️
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dippindaz ¡ 1 month ago
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Hi! Saw you were searching for requests and was wondering if you could do one with either Eddie or Robin who’s gf is very anxious (and has ocd if you feel comfortable doing that) and how they’d handle that.
Hello! Thanks for requesting ❤️
I did both Eddie and Robin. I hope you don’t mind this in the form of headcanons, but I felt that would work best to describe how each character would act with their partner.
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How Eddie Handles His Partner’s Anxiety and OCD
1. He Notices the Small Things
• Eddie has a way of picking up on your tells—whether it’s fidgeting, biting your lip, or zoning out—and he never brushes them off.
• “Hey, you okay? You’re doing that thing with your fingers again. Wanna talk, or should I just sit here and look pretty?”
2. He Grounds You with Humor
• When he sees you spiraling, Eddie’s first instinct is to make you smile or laugh.
• He might point to his Hellfire Club shirt and say, “This shirt? Magic. Guaranteed to ward off evil thoughts. It’s scientifically proven—or, you know, maybe not, but who cares?”
• Or he’ll do something ridiculous, like pull his hair over his face and pretend to be Cousin It.
3. He’s Patient During Episodes
• Eddie doesn’t rush you out of your rituals or try to “fix” anything. Instead, he sits nearby and lets you go through your process, knowing that forcing you to stop would only make it worse.
• “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I’ll be right here, your personal rock star-slash-guard dog.”
4. He Turns Your Compulsions into Inside Jokes
• If you need to check the locks multiple times, Eddie will stand beside you and make it fun: “Alright, let’s make it official—lock patrol! I’m Captain Munson, and you’re my trusty co-pilot.”
• He respects your routines but uses humor to ease your stress about them.
5. He Creates a Safe Space
• Eddie’s van becomes your sanctuary. He keeps it clean(er) than usual for you and stocks it with things that help you feel calm: your favorite snacks, a blanket, maybe even a stress ball.
• “The Munson Mobile is always open for you, babe. It’s got snacks, tunes, and me—what more could you need?”
6. He Helps You Refocus
• If you’re caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, Eddie tries to shift your focus to something creative or engaging.
• He’ll hand you his guitar: “Here, strum this a few times. Doesn’t matter if it’s terrible—it’s metal.”
• Or he’ll launch into a wild D&D story to pull you into another world.
7. He’s Not Afraid of Vulnerability
• Eddie is open about his own struggles, so he’s not intimidated by your bad days. He reassures you that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed.
• “You think you’re broken? Babe, I’m held together with duct tape and sheer willpower. We’ll figure it out together, alright?”
8. He Encourages Self-Compassion
• Whenever you’re hard on yourself for your anxiety or OCD, Eddie shuts that down fast.
• “Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that. You’re doing your best, and that’s badass enough for me.”
9. He Uses Music as a Coping Tool
• Eddie will create mixtapes with songs that calm you down or make you feel strong. He’ll label them with goofy titles like “Operation Chill Out” or “Songs to Slay Anxiety Demons.”
• If you’re really struggling, he’ll sit with his guitar and softly play your favorite songs until you feel calmer.
10. He Celebrates Progress
• Eddie is the type to throw a mini party for even the smallest victories, whether it’s getting through a tough day or trying a new coping technique.
• “You faced the big, scary world today, and you didn’t let it win. That calls for pizza—and maybe some celebratory headbanging.”
11. He’s Fiercely Protective of You
• If anyone makes you feel judged or embarrassed about your anxiety or compulsions, Eddie is quick to defend you.
• “They don’t get to decide what’s normal. You’re a freaking legend, and if they don’t see that, screw ‘em.”
12. He Never Lets You Feel Alone
• Eddie knows how isolating anxiety and OCD can be, so he constantly reminds you that you’re a team.
• “Whatever’s in your head, you don’t have to face it by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
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How Robin Handles Her Partner’s Anxiety and OCD
1. She Always Notices When You’re Off
• Robin has an almost uncanny ability to sense when you’re feeling anxious, even if you’re trying to hide it.
• “Hey, your ‘I’m fine’ voice is really convincing… but I’m not buying it. What’s up, babe?”
2. She Asks, Doesn’t Assume
• Robin knows everyone’s anxiety and OCD is different, so she always asks what you need instead of guessing.
• “Do you want a distraction, a solution, or just me sitting here looking cute? I can do all three, by the way.”
3. She Makes You Laugh Through the Tough Moments
• Robin uses her sharp wit and sense of humor to lighten your mood when things feel overwhelming.
• If you’re obsessing over something, she’ll say, “Okay, if you’re gonna spiral, let’s at least make it an Olympic sport. Gold medal in overthinking goes to… you!”
• She’s goofy enough to do a silly dance or pull a ridiculous face just to get a laugh out of you.
4. She Helps You Break the Cycle
• Robin knows how easy it is to get stuck in repetitive thoughts or rituals, so she’s great at gently interrupting the loop.
• She might suggest a random, quirky activity: “Okay, this is clearly a job for us and a crossword puzzle. Let’s find the longest, weirdest word and make it our team motto.”
5. She’s the Distraction Queen
• Robin has a seemingly endless supply of ideas to take your mind off your worries. She’ll suggest watching a cheesy movie, going for a walk, or inventing new ice cream flavors at Scoops Ahoy.
• “What do you think about ‘Cherry Explosion’? Too dramatic? Okay, how about ‘Chocolate Anxiety Relief’? …Too honest?”
6. She Never Judges Your Compulsions
• Whether it’s checking locks or arranging things in a certain way, Robin never makes you feel weird or wrong. She just rolls with it.
• “Honestly? Your way is way more organized than my ‘throw everything in a pile and hope for the best’ method. Teach me your ways, please.”
7. She’s Open About Her Own Struggles
• Robin shares her own experiences with feeling different or out of place, reminding you that you’re not alone in your struggles.
• “You know, it’s not like I have it all figured out either. Sometimes I feel like I’m one awkward comment away from exploding into a ball of pure cringe. We’ll survive together, okay?”
8. She’s Incredibly Patient
• Robin understands that progress isn’t linear. If you’re having a rough day or feel like you’re backsliding, she’s there to remind you that it’s okay.
• “It’s not a setback; it’s just part of the process. And hey, one bad day doesn’t erase all the good ones. You’ve got this—and I’ve got you.”
9. She Uses Her Words to Reassure You
• Robin’s greatest strength is her way with words. She knows exactly what to say to make you feel safe and loved.
• “You don’t have to be perfect to be worth loving. I mean, look at me—I’m a walking disaster half the time, and you still stick around. So, fair’s fair.”
10. She Respects Your Boundaries
• Robin is never pushy. If you need space to deal with your anxiety or OCD, she gives it to you but always lets you know she’s there when you’re ready.
• “I’ll be in the other room, but if you need anything—literally anything—I’m a Robin-call away.”
11. She Helps You Plan for Stressful Situations
• Robin knows that preparation can sometimes ease your anxiety, so she’ll help you come up with strategies for tricky situations.
• “Alright, so if the party gets too loud, we can bail and hit the diner instead. I’ll even let you pick the playlist for the drive.”
12. She Celebrates Your Wins
• No matter how small the victory, Robin will hype you up like you just saved the world.
• “You didn’t double-check the locks today? That’s huge! I am so proud of you. Ice cream’s on me—like, literally, if I trip again.”
13. She Gives the Best Pep Talks
• Robin is a master at reframing your worries and boosting your confidence.
• “Okay, so your brain is being a jerk right now. But here’s the thing—it doesn’t get the final say. You’re stronger than it, and you’ve proven that a million times already.”
14. She Creates Little Rituals to Help You Feel Safe
• Robin loves making routines feel less overwhelming by turning them into something fun.
• “Alright, every time you check the locks, I’m gonna do a dramatic drumroll. Ready? Go!”
15. She’s Fiercely Loyal
• Robin would never let anyone make you feel bad about your anxiety or OCD. If someone said something hurtful, she’d immediately jump to your defense.
• “Excuse me, but you don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re amazing, and if you can’t see that, it’s your loss.”
16. She Loves You for You
• Robin never sees your anxiety or OCD as something that makes you difficult. She sees it as part of what makes you you, and she wouldn’t change a thing.
• “You know what I love about you? Everything. Even the stuff you think is too much.”
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laxmiree ¡ 1 year ago
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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Warm Fragrance Date translation
⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️
This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~
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Arriving As Promised Free SR Event | Prologue+Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6-9 | Warm Fragrance Date (You're here!)
"I think, rather than a good little assistant, it's more accurate to say that MC is a very talented gardener lady."
"Huh? Why do you say that?"
Lucien doesn't directly answer my question, instead, he pulls my hand and places it on the location of his heart.
I immediately understood the words he didn't say.
"This beautiful flower continues to grow, connecting all the veins that are linked to you."
[T/N: VERY RECOMMENDED to read the event story first because some convo on this date will make more sense if you read the event stories first]
[Date – Video ver]
youtube
(T/N: As always, I always recommend watching the video for a more comprehensive experience.
If the direct video doesn’t work - [Use this link]
(Besides, tumblr doesn’t allow us to use an old text editor anymore so I can’t add up more than 30 pics in this post. Tumblr post alone won’t capture the change in background and sprite as usual(for reference I always have like 60+ pic in one post LOL)
[Date – Transcript ver]
[Part 1]
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The gentle morning sunlight pours down, passing through the vines on the wall, casting specks of light and shadow.
I look around, and as far as my eyes can see, various types of plants occupy my surroundings. However, I don't catch sight of Lucien's figure amidst the lushness.
MC: …Is Lucien not here?
I double-check his text message, then I put down the jasmine flower pot I've planted and the "OPEN" wooden sign. Afterward, I turn around and walk deeper into the greenhouse.
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Today is the official opening day of the "Flower Shop." Perhaps 'Shop Manager' Lucien is currently preparing in some corner.
Following the path through the greenhouse, I continue forward. The comfortable temperature in the air makes me feel as if I'm in an oasis.
Under the towering green plants in front of me, dozens of calla lilies are cozily undergoing photosynthesis.
Next to the one blooming the most vibrantly, there's a label that reads "Reserved." My fingertips brush against that familiar handwriting, and I mutter softly.
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MC: Miss X?
MC: ...I can't believe there's a reservation already.
[A throwback to Dance SP MQ and main story Dr. X :"]
I can't help but sigh, and I bend down to carefully observe these well-taken-care-of plants and flowers.
The snow-white petals of the calla lilies bloom brilliantly, and the leaves stretch energetically. The red and yellow tulips nestle against each other as if even the falling patches of light have become gentle.
??: Have you been here for a while? Why didn't you call out to me?
A familiar voice sounds behind me, and I quickly turn around.
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The sunlight filters through the glass roof and falls upon Lucien, outlining a faint halo of light around his figure.
His white shirt appears exceptionally bright amidst the lush surroundings. His collar is unbuttoned, and he casually rolls up his sleeves, revealing his slender forearms.
The blue work apron he's wearing is loosely tied, and he doesn't seem to have noticed. A warm smile graces the corner of his lips.
With the jasmine pot I had just set down in his arms, he slightly bends forward and reaches out to hang the wooden sign on a nail above the railing.
This version of Lucien catches me off guard, and I find myself laughing with a belated realization.
MC: Pfft.
Lucien: (laughs, then playfully says) It seems my outfit is indeed a bit funny, isn't it?
MC: Of course not, "Shop Manager Lucien" is much more handsome than I imagined!
Lucien: Oh? Is that so?
Lucien slowly approaches me, and as his familiar scent envelops me, my heart rate instinctively quickens a little faster.
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Lucien: (chuckles) So, can you tell me, what did you imagine 'Manager Lucien' to be like before?
MC: Manager Lucien's appearance right now has completely erased any other imagined images I had in my mind.
I hook my arm around Lucien's neck, a smile playing on my lips.
MC: Right now, my heart and eyes are filled with just the one before me.
I retie the loosely knotted apron behind him smoothly. But as I start to pull my hand back, he captures it in his grasp.
The next second, a gentle kiss carrying the scent of grass lands softly on my lips. Before my eyes could fully close, all that was left in my vision were those eyes brimming with joy.
Lucien removed his glasses at some point, and the gentleness in his eyes reflected my gradually reddening cheeks clearly.
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Lucien: (whispers) Everyone else is busy in other greenhouses. Today, there are only the two of us here.
He slightly increases the distance between us, his brows and eyes curved.
Lucien: I remember that a lady once said that on the day she visits my "garden," she would buy the most beautiful flower from me.
MC: I remember that. I won't easily back down from my promise.
Lucien: Then, how about becoming my assistant? Consider it as payment for the flowers you intend to buy.
I tiptoe and peck his cheek on the side.
MC: Of course I'm willing to.
[Part 2]
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As we walk through the corridor built with flowering vines from the entrance hall, the floral fragrance becomes even more rich and fragrant.
Lucien leads me through the corridor, and a lounge surrounded by flower walls comes into view. A row of bookshelves and an innovative instrument sit quietly in the corner.
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Lucien: This is a newly introduced instrument from the Bioscience research center. It can measure various values of the brain's nervous system to detect the brain health of residents.
Curiously, I approach the instrument, looking around with keen interest.
MC: Can brain health really be determined using these two lines on top?
Lucien: If you're curious, you can put it on and give it a try.
Lucien noticed my eagerness and took the instrument's wires, guiding me to position my head correctly.
Lucien: Bring this wire over here, and place this device on here…
Following Lucien's guidance, I carefully placed the device from the instrument's wire onto my head.
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Lucien: Now, let's take a look at Visitor MC's brain health, shall we?
MC: …Um!
I stare at the screen intently, and after a while, a green curve with a centered slope appears on the display.
MC: How is it?
Lucien: Hmm…
MC: I-Is it very bad?
Lucien: (chuckle) Very healthy.
MC: Phew…
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MC: Back then, you were worried I might not adapt well, but the truth is, my "vitality" is quite resilient as well.
Lucien: How come I remember that it was a certain lady who was more concerned about me at the time?
Lucien: You prepared all sorts of emergency medicines for me, yet you only brought a small amount for yourself.
MC: Well, that might be because I've been eating well, sleeping well, and thinking about you a lot…
Lucien: From a medical perspective, perhaps "thinking about me a lot" played the most significant role.
MC: Although you're right, 'Professor Lucien' shouldn't go against medical principles just to prove the importance of "thinking about you".
Lucien places his hand on the top of my head and proceeds to explain seriously.
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Lucien: Medical studies have confirmed that positive emotions, or good moods, are beneficial for brain neurons.
Lucien: I believe this 'Professor Lucien' hasn't gone against medical principles.
Lucien: People, scenery, animals, objects... all can serve as triggers for positive emotions.
Lucien: Including the plants we are cultivating now, it's all for studying the effects of different species on brain neurons.
MC: Does that mean that even for the same species, the experience could be different for different people?
Lucien: Exactly. The factors underlying the generation of positive emotions vary from person to person, and the feelings evoked by the same external factors can be completely different.
MC: Hmm... just like how I feel happy when I drink sweet milk tea, and Professor Lucien feels happy when savoring a cup of tea?
Seemingly amused by the interesting analogy, Lucien chuckles softly.
Lucien: (chuckles softly) Yes and no.
Lucien: If we slightly modify the reference in the comparison to "savoring tea alone and drinking milk tea with MC," for me, the latter naturally brings more happiness.
MC: Oh~ So the Great Professor's sweet words must also vary from person to person, right?
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Lucien: Hmm... Not exactly.
Lucien: To be precise, I'm only like this with you.
I can't help but raise my lips; a kind of subtle tenderness seems to be quietly emerging from the depths of my heart, making me feel light and I can't help but indulge in it.
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MC: I'm only like this with you too.
The conversation is interrupted by the hum of the instrument, and the fluctuation in the green curve produces new monitoring data for the device.
MC: Huh? Is there a new change?
Lucien: Mm, it seems that at this very moment, this little lady is happier than before.
The rising curve on the screen dances exuberantly as if it wants to reveal my thoughts in full detail.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I remove the device, afraid that the next moment it might detect those beautiful feelings in my heart once again.
MC: Alright, alright, I admit that indeed "thinking about you" played a significant role.
MC: So... Professor Lucien, do you think about me a lot too?
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Lucien: Yes. Because I miss you so much, it feels as if the flowering period is endless.
Lucien's gaze softens, and the corners of his eyes curve like a gentle spring, causing the humidity in the greenhouse to quietly evaporate, filling the room with a sweet fragrance.
[Part 3]
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After becoming familiar with the structure of the greenhouse, Lucien guided me through the final preparations before the official opening.
Since he has already completed most of it, my next task is to transplant the calla lilies into the flower bed.
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Lucien: Here are these new gloves for you, and take this too.
Lucien hands over a brand new pair of gloves and then takes out a beige headscarf, naturally tucking my hair behind as he ties it on me.
His slightly warm fingertips inadvertently graze the back of my neck, creating a subtle and ticklish sensation.
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Lucien: Hmm, you indeed look very cute with it on.
Lucien places a small red trowel in front of me and begins to demonstrate personally.
Lucien: Calla lilies thrive in a humid environment but are sensitive to waterlogging. They have high water requirements, so the root seedlings are crucial.
MC: I remember you mentioned in the email that Calla lilies, being plants adapted to humid regions, are much more challenging to grow in the desert compared to other plants.
Lucien: That's correct. Therefore, during the transplanting process, be careful not to damage the root seedlings with the trowel.
I nod and carefully take the calla lilies that Lucien has prepared, ready to transplant them into the flower bed.
The delicate and fragile root tendrils seem as if they could snap at the slightest inadvertent touch, and I take a deep breath subconsciously.
Lucien: (gently) Take it easy.
Lucien gently squeezes my hand, and the familiar reassurance gradually soothes my emotions.
I nod and readjust my breathing.
First, plant the flower seedlings into the small holes that have been prepared in the flower bed. Then, rearrange the positions of their roots, and finally, cover the soil from the side onto the flower seedlings…
I'm mentally rehearsing the steps Lucien taught me, carefully following the instructions as needed.
MC: Wow! It's a success…
Before I could even finish cheering, the next moment, the flower seedling drooped in front of me.
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MC: ...Oops, did I just waste a flower seedling?
Thinking that each of these flower seedlings was personally nurtured by Lucien in such an environment, I can't help but feel a sense of guilt and regret.
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Lucien: You didn't, it's just not fully acclimated yet.
Lucien: Don't worry, let's try it again.
Lucien said as he leaned closer to me, his palm gently cradling my hand. He carefully adjusts the position of the flower seedling and then presses the soil down slightly.
As if by some kind of magical spell, the delicate flower seedling trembles and sways, but it never topples over.
MC: Is it... a success?
Lucien: Yes, you did great.
With the experience of this successful attempt and Lucien's hands-on teaching, I learned some small techniques, and the subsequent transplanting process is going much smoother than I had imagined.
MC: Phew, just one more pot to go until we're done!
As I said this, I raised my hand to wipe the sweat from my face. I was about to dig out the seedling from the pot when Lucien suddenly chuckled.
MC: ...What's wrong?
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He raises his hand with a smile and the clean back of his finger brushes against the tip of my nose.
Lucien: You've turned into a spotty bunny.
MC: …!
Thinking about the "fertilizer elements" in the soil, I hastily raise my hand and start randomly wiping my face.
Lucien can't help but laugh, then he grabs my hand.
Lucien: (laughs softly) If you keep rubbing like that, our spotty bunny might turn into a black bunny.
Lucien: Let me help you instead.
He uses the clean part of his palm to gently wipe across my face, bit by bit.
The delicate touch of his fingertips and the warmth from his palm gradually amplifies.
His breath, accompanied by a warm breeze, audibly falls on my ear, and my earlobe subtly starts to feel ticklish.
At some point, his gaze has shifted from my face to my eyes, and his finger lightly taps on my cheek.
Lucien: Now it's clean.
I can't seem to take my eyes off his face for a moment.
Lucien: (smiles) Do I also have something that needs wiping on my face?
MC: Ah? Well, right here on the chin…
I lift up my sleeve and gently wipe away the almost invisible speck of dirt on his chin.
The scent of flowers blending with the earthy aroma lingers in the air, and a gentle kiss softly grazes my cheek near my lips.
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Lucien: Thank you, Miss Gardener.
[Part 4]
After a day of busyness, the flower shop's business is doing quite well.
People keep coming to buy flowers and admire them, and Lucien can smoothly carry out his experiment. He has printed a thick stack of monitoring data alone.
Until the sun sets in the west, everything except for that reserved calla lilies has been sold out.
MC: Looks like it's time to flip the signboard and announce the closing time~
Lucien's gaze falls on the back of the wooden signboard, his fingers tracing the patterns on it.
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Lucien: Unexpectedly, there is a "gardener fox" on the other side?
MC: You noticed it!
I said as I leaned closer, my fingertips lightly tracing the slightly crooked wood-carved design.
[So it's her 'artwork' that she mentioned in the event :"]
MC: I carved it based on the desert fox's appearance and added a little touch of my own creativity.
Lucien: It's a nice touch. A little fox wearing glasses, an apron, and holding a pot of flowers.
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Lucien: Hmm... Is it like this?
Lucien speaks as he raises the sign next to his face, mimicking the posture of the little fox on the wooden sign.
MC: Hahaha, it seems I carved it quite lifelike!
MC: By the way, after closing the store, let's go see the desert fox together~ I saw it last time near the sand dunes near the guest house.
MC: This time, I have Mr. Fox with me. So who knows, we might just have a smooth encounter with it.
Lucien: Of course, that's great, but I'd rather have a chance encounter with a desert rabbit.
Lucien: This little fox seems a bit lonely. I think this wooden sign leaves me some room for creativity.
[He also wants to carve a dessert bunny to accompany the dessert fox so it won't be lonely🥺]
Lucien carefully puts away the wooden sign and retrieves cleaning tools from the greenhouse.
Lucien: You've been busy all day, take a break. I'll handle the cleaning.
MC: There's no way the little assistant can take a break and let the big professor be busy.
MC: Besides, I've been resting well these past few days, but you've been in the experimental greenhouse all this time. I think you should be the one taking a break.
I say this while playfully pushing his back, half-forcing him to go rest on the sofa next to the flower hall.
Lucien accommodates and sits down but takes the opportunity to hold my hand.
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Lucien: Well, there's no reason for the little assistant not to listen to the professor.
I can't resist this demeanor and tone at all, so I have to compromise and sit down next to him, nuzzling up against his side.
MC: The little assistant is now obediently resting. Professor Lucien, do you have any more requests?
Lucien: I think an obedient little assistant like you should receive her well-deserved reward.
Lucien promptly gets up and when he returns, he's holding the only remaining pot containing the calla lily with "reserved" written on it.
Seeing me blink in confusion, Lucien smiles and speaks.
Lucien: From the moment it miraculously survived, I selfishly reserved it in your name.
MC: My name? Does that mean…
At this moment, I finally realized belatedly why this unique pot of calla lily had been reserved early on and kept until now.
That Miss X is actually myself.
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MC: So this calla lily…. is the first one that survived as you mentioned in your email?
Lucien: Mm. You mentioned wanting to see it with your own eyes, and now it's yours.
A gentle voice brushed against my heart, and I quickly took a few steps in his direction.
He cradles that pot of calla lily in his hands so dearly, and I feel as if I can hear something blooming in my heart.
MC: It's really beautiful... From this angle, the outer edges of the flower look like the shape of a heart.
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Lucien: Perhaps that's why the calla lily's flower language is "the veins of our hearts are connected together".
The pure white petals sway gently in the soft breeze of the flower hall, the sunset's light casting a golden shimmer on Lucien's eyelashes. The picturesque beauty momentarily left me a bit entranced.
It's only when he bends down to place the flower in my hand that I realize our distance has somehow become so close.
Lucien: I think, rather than a good little assistant, it's more accurate to say that MC is a very talented gardener lady.
MC: …Huh? Why do you say that?
Lucien doesn't directly answer my question; instead, he pulls my hand and places it on the location of his heart.
I immediately understood the words he didn't say.
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Lucien: This beautiful flower continues to grow, connecting all the veins that are linked to you.
A soft feeling wells up in my heart, his warmth in my hand, and before me is his most familiar expression.
The accumulation of longing and his gentle words make me unable to resist leaning my head against his shoulder and nuzzling it.
MC: I'm the same.
MC: Every move you make, it's all connecting with me.
MC: Sowing, nurturing the soil, watering, fertilizing, and then the flowers bloom…
MC: Every time you share these with me, it's like I can feel your emotions in that moment.
MC: You sharing your happiness with me makes me feel even happier.
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Lucien: Mm, I like sharing with you.
Lucien: (softly) It's like we're taking care of them together, and you're right here by my side.
MC: If that's the case, then I'm just like you.
MC: When I see the photos of the seedlings you post, I imagine how you planted them.
MC: When I'm planting jasmine flowers, I also feel like we're nurturing them together.
MC: I get incredibly happy when I receive emails from you, and I imagine the world you see through the things you share.
MC: I feel like I have something to look forward to every day because of the promise I'm about to fulfill, it’s as if... all the waiting and longing is sweet.
Lucien reaches out and pulls me into his arms, affectionately nuzzling the tip of my nose.
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Lucien: (tenderly) Endless is just a broad concept of time, it doesn't even begin to capture a fraction of my longing to see you again.
Lucien: MC, I miss you so much.
Lucien: Even though you are right in front of me.
The gentle breeze, carrying the fragrance of flowers, rustles the branches and leaves inside the flower hall. In my ears, there is the gentle rustling of leaves and Lucien's slightly sinking voice.
In a moment of reverie, the hues of the sunset have a scent, and the fragrance of flowers has a sound.
I submerged myself in the veins of his longing, where love flourishes abundantly, lush and verdant.
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Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week
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EVENT MASTERLIST
Dr. Tobias Carrick here! Thanks for checking out my event. I'm used to being checked out, but this is a whole new way. It's long overdue if you ask me! But you know what they say, good things come to those who wait, and there are a whole lot of good things planned, and I can't wait to see what you come up with.
I'm gonna let the event's mod @jerzwriter take over from here. If you've got any questions, just talk to her... she'll take care of you! 😉
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Welcome to Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week!
Tobias's character was woefully underutilized in Open Heart, but their loss is our gain. Why? Because it left us with an intriguing character that we can largely make our own. This week - take the time to share YOUR VERSION of Tobias and how he fits in your OH world.
All types of fanwork, old and new, will be accepted for this event. So send us your fics, headcanons, artwork, edits, moodboards, you name it! If it's Tobias related, it can be shared.
Day 1 - Saturday, April 1 - Where did this guy come from? Info & Templates for Day 1 We know little about his background. Tell us where he grew up. What about his family, life before Hopkins, and how it made him who he is today.
Day 2 - Sunday, April 2 - The Hopkins Years and Beyond Info & Templates for Day 2 Here's your chance to flesh out canon. Tell us about the rise & fall of his friendship with Ethan. What was the story of their mutual crush? What kind of student was he? What was his rep? And what happened to him during the years between Hopkins and when we met him again in Book 2? Day 2 can be anything from these years.
Day 3 - Monday, April 3 - OH Book 2 What did you like/dislike about Tobias in Book 2? What did canon miss? What was up with June? What did he think of MC, and vice versa? What are your HCs about this time?
Day 4 - Tuesday, April 4 - OH Book 3 How did that job offer come about? What was his motivation, and did it change? How did you see his relationship with Ethan change? Was he friends (or more) with your MC in your HC? What did canon miss?
Day 5 - Wednesday, April 5 - After Hours: Romance / Personal Life Info & Templates for Day 5 What did Tobias do when he was off the clock? Did he have friends he hung out with regularly? See his family? Did he date? Hobbies? This category is broad - use your imagination! 😏
Day 6 - Thursday, April 6 - Doctor Tobias Carrick What kind of doctor was he? Was he respected? Published? Did he teach? What made him tick? Contrast how he mentored interns/residents with Ethan's style.
Day 7 - Friday, April 7 - All About the Future Where do you see Tobias when the series ends? In the near and distant future. How did his career progress? Did he settle down? How'd that work out for him? Any part of his future.
Day 8 - WAIT! That's over a week! Yep, but Tobias can be a rule-breaker, and so is this event! Saturday, April 8 - Masterlists and ANYTHING GOES If you have a Tobias Carrick Masterlist, share it with us! Also, share anything related to Dr. Carrick or his world.
Sunday, April 9th Event Masterlist will be posted
Rules and Guidelines:
Please tag @tobias-carrick-appreciation-week on your post or reblog for your work to be included.
Make sure your work has a rating, and if it is NSFW or Mature, please make sure it is labeled as so.
Please use a :readmore: / page break to avoid excessively long posts. If a post is deemed to be too long, a new post with a link to the post submitted may be used in replacement of a reblog.
Tobias is an ambiguous character, so interpretations may vary. Works that aren't gushing adorations of Tobias will be included, but since this is an appreciation week, anything overtly negative will not be included.
I'm tagging those who have followed the event so far (and a few who may be interested) below. THANKS FOR CHECKING US OUT! :)
Tags: @alj4890 @songsaboutgirls @liaromancewriter @annoyingmillenialnewbie @hopelessromantic1352 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @trappedinfanfiction @jamespotterthefirst @lucy-268 @coffeeheartaddict2 @icecoffee90 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge
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nathank77 ¡ 8 months ago
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5/24/24
7:13 p.m Edited
I fell asleep fast with half a mg of xanax and 25mg of Hydroxyzine but I woke up 2 hours later needing to pee too bad to ignore it .. I had to take a Benadryl 25mg to fall back to sleep. I prob woke up 3 or 4 times needing to pee and ignored it every time but one more time than at 10 a.m...
Part of me worried I didn't sleep cause I had my eyes closed for a while at 10 a.m.. but I did at least until 1 p.m.. then the time in-between 1 p.m and 3:30 seems foggy... I remember kinda being awake and opening my eyes soon after seeing a movie of like jurassic park in my mind... just prob the trauma of microsleep and waking up during rem making me think I'm "dreaming" while I'm awake idk. I dreamt of being in a mall running away from dinosaurs. Raptors were chasing me a lot.
Anyways I felt groggy cause I always do when I wake up and I couldn't make phone calls. I decided to be productive in a different way. I call it a car care day. Or just car day.
Either way I got the letter in the mail that they received my report on Kristen today now I'm waiting on the status letter that's coming. I'm worried they'll throw it away... I mean I'm crazy right? What does the words of a guy with auditory hallucinations mean to people against a professional? That's the fucked part I'm 100% level headed but they see a lunatic.. I'm stronger than most people. 99% of you all would have killed yourself if you lived through microsleep and auditory hallucinations and being delusional...
Anyways I await the status report.... not holding my breath... waiting to fucking off myself if they let her off the hook..
Well so car care day. I checked my oil and it's low and I scheduled my oil change for Tuesday at 5 p.m. I also added freon to my car. The compressor works. I learned a new thing today :)
Against many people's advice in the 3G (Mitsubishi eclipse) group as I don't have money to pay a technician 200$ to use a 20$ can of freon on my car, I did it myself and found what they contributed to be helpful. It took a long time. I used at least half the can. It didn't seem to want to go passed 25-30 PSI it read 10 when i hooked it up... but sometimes it read 50. When I turned on the ac to full blast it went red indicating the compressor works. And eventually I didn't see much movement on the gauge after turning it down and using more. So I just decided to test it via going grocery shopping. It was def 100% cooler. I feel like I did it but it's not super cold. It's def cold. It's 82 where I am and I was comfortable in the car. Idk if my car is one of the vehicles that don't exceed 25-30 psi. I just asked in the group.
I'm really glad I didn't waste my money on a technician- as a guy who isn't mechanically inclined there are things that we shouldn't do and there are easier things that we can do to be self sufficient and learn and I'm glad I learned. I restored it to about what it was a couple years ago. I'm happy with it but I'd like to get it cooler.
I went to Wal-Mart and stop and shop. I grabbed a chicken and Coolant and some other stuff. I got gas so when I go to the mechanic on Tuesday I don't have to get gas since it's in Southington.
I put on a timer for a hour once I got home cause you can't put Coolant in a hot car. So I'm waiting on that. I shaved my face. I got to buzz my head before the shower and then I guess I'll watch Dexter.
Tomorrow and Sunday imma fuck with my hdcp bypasser and try to have two Red bull days in a row and play silent hill even though no one watched a second of them despite the money and time it takes to bypass hdcp.
I'm still hallucinating but it's whatever. I'm hoping they take my claim against Kristen seriously and I get her license taken away. Although I won't doubt it if they throw it away bc no one sees you as a person when you hallucinate. You're labeled a drooling lunatic that should be institutionalized.
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drawingconclusions ¡ 11 months ago
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ISRAEL & THE FUTURE
Everything written about Israel in the Bible will come true. I'm aware of the fact that I've quoted from the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes before, both here and elsewhere, and I realize that the writer of that biblical book at one point hints at our human inability to discover what's to come in the future. Yet his knowledge was severely limited, and you have to look at the entirety of the Bible before making a snap judgement that long-term Biblical predictions are impossible. Non-Christians will likely doubt anyway, and I'm not here to convince them of the truth today. Whether they insist on refusing to believe what's to come or not, at some point, they'll just see it play out in real time in current events. But if you claim to be a believer and you don't believe that God himself knows the future and can predict it, then your concept of God is much too small. (You know, there's a reason God introduced himself as the One who was, the One who is, and the One who is to come in the Bible. All of time and history is known to the Eternal One.)
But I'm getting off track here. One of the prophecies in the Bible summarizes the exponential growth in hatred towards Israel that will eventually culminate to the point where all nations will come to make war against it. I'm not going to quote the verse or expand on it, lest some attempt to (mistakenly) justify their present or future aggression towards Israel. But let's just stop and consider what has occurred since the October 7th massacre by Hamas: 1) Some liberal news agencies and even the UN have had severe reservations about labeling Hamas a terrorist organization, even after Hamas explicitly targeted children, women, and innocent civilians. 2) The woke elements of the progressive left have so much disdain for Israel that they can't even stand to see posters of the remaining hostages hanging in public places, and as a result, they brazenly tear them down. 3) Pro-Palestine supporters in America have been blocking traffic, defacing certain government structures, and calling for the end of our support for our ally Israel. 4) Iran and its militant proxies in the Middle East have vowed retaliation against Israel & the U.S. for the "occupation" of Gaza, and Houthi rebels have been continuously assaulting ships in the region. 5) Jewish students on campuses have been harrassed and intimidated. 6) The United Nations' UNRWA has even been accused of assisting Hamas with their acts of terrorism on that fateful October day.
To be sure, hatred goes both ways. Some Palestinian protesters have been doxxed simply for practicing their constitutionally-protected right to (peacefully) assemble & demonstrate. A landlord attacked his Palestinian tenants, killing a little boy in an unacceptable & inexcusable rage. Palestinian young men were shot in another city in a clear criminal act of racial hatred. And I'm not here to excuse every act of Israel during this war. On account of the number of people and nations who seek the downfall and destruction of Jews, Israel has to be nearly perfect & without the slightest blame as they conduct their wartime incursions. And some would make the case they haven't done so. But there are some who have denied Israel's history and the horrific Holocaust that they endured. Many vowed "never again" to such vile eradication of the Jewish people, but there are others who seem intent on forgetting it.
My point is, the hatred towards Israel will eventually increase even more than we see today. And with some members of the Squad continuing to display overt anti-Semitism here in America, I wonder if we're closer to that time than we care to admit. (Can you imagine what it would mean for Israel, as well as for the Jewish people here in the U.S. if a member of the Squad ever rose to an executive position in government?!? I'm with Republican Congressman Ronny Jackson, such hatred towards the Jews should be held in check and many members of the Squad should have their security clearances revoked.)
Regarding the end of all things, Revelation 19:19 makes this interesting prophecy: "Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered to make war against the rider on the horse and his army." (NIV) One day governments and their militaries will be so deluded that they'll actually try to fight against a visible manifestation of God. Needless to say, it'll be a very short battle and it won't go very well for those who dare fight against the Almighty! But it's apparent we're coming closer and closer to an obvious rebellion against all things pertaining to God, and there will be an exponential increase of hatred towards His people. The Bible has already predicted it centuries ago. I'm only going to be able to finish about half of the posts I had in mind today. But before I close out, let me ask you: What side will you be on? (To be clear, with the exception of the final battle of Armageddon, I'm referring to the spiritural struggles & challenges we all face. I'm not making a call to some kind of physical battle.) You can choose to join God's winning side (a no-brainer!) or you can keep resisting His grace & love for you till the point of exhaustion and desperation. Why keep fighting God's open embrace for you when all He wants to do is heal & rescue you, shower you with love, and grant you life everlasting?
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March 26, 2024 edit: The Biblical verse from Revelation in that last paragraph makes mention of "the beast" and experts state that methaphor refers to the person of the antichrist. Just wanted to clarify that.
The last book of the Bible is filled with symbolic imagery (as well as literal predictions) and it often alludes to reference from previous books in the Old Testament. It can be a difficult read, but it's also quite insightful!
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CHOPPA 2023 : Day 4 (Show Day 2 and Bump-out)
29th September
Today was the last day of the show and we began by checking if everything was in order and re-labelling the cables and junction boxes. Next, the sound check began with the last group Natalie, Andy and Christoven. Andy and Natalie were late so the sound check timings got delayed. While waiting for them I introduced myself to Christoven and asked if he wanted to make any changes. Andy and Natalie arrived with their baby who was strapped onto Andy through out the sound check. This was dangerous as the baby kept trying to reach out for the mic and we were concerned that the baby might fall or accidentally hit/drop equipment. While I understand that they might have done this before, seeing the ease that they set up with, I wish they could have had someone take care of the baby. This would prevent any possible disruptions or accidents on set.
There were also more changes to the layout during the sound check. The last set with Christoven, Andy and Natalie was the most elaborate and we made a lot of changes as they asked to remove things that they had initially requested. this was what my stage layout was for them:
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And this was after the changes :
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We removed everything for Christoven except his monitor and provided him with a chair at his request. Natalie did not require the table nor the mic and Andy wanted to use stereo mons. Following the day before we had not marked anything until the sound check due to these kinds of changes. I was glad we did not, as even the previous day we had to remove and add some labels. This process was not repeated today. I also added extra notes on the layout for today. This was for the change over during the longer half-time break. I did not want to be unclear as fumbling on the stage in between performances was the last thing any of us wanted.
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There was one major disappointment during the sound check. A lot of the Year 1s and 2s started to disappear between the changeover during the sound check. This left only me, Wai Qi and Gladys in the Cube to set up and help. I'm thankful for Wai Qi and Gladys as they helped even though it wasn't their job. They both also had to be at the console but they also kept coming down to the stage to help which was not efficient at all. Unfortunately, there were a couple of things to troubleshoot audio-wise for the groups today and Gladys had to come down to help while Wai Qi manned the console alone.
I understand that everyone was tired from the day before but my mindset was the faster we finished the more time we had for a break before the actual show. I could have gone and told them off about lounging around, however, I was also tired and wanted to do an efficient job. I wished that Elliott as the project manager would have kept everyone in check time-wise. Wai Qi eventually went and asked them to come back but there were still some people missing even after. We were quite tired after the soundcheck and had a short break before dinner.
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The show itself went smoothly with no problems. There were no hiccups like yesterday and we were able to sit back and enjoy the performances. My parents and sister had also come to watch and they said it was very well put together!
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Bump-Out
Bump-out went by fast as everyone was very tired and wanted to finish up quickly. No one left halfway and everyone was coiling and packing away efficiently. We followed Wai Qi's instructions on equipment count and put everything away the best we could.
Overall, Choppa 2023 was a good experience and a great success! The turnout for both days was good as it went further than what we expected. Everyone in Year 3 did their respective roles and also helped around when required. To be honest I was a bit nervous about my CHOPPA experience after observing and participating in the previous years as the amount of work seemed overwhelming! However, we had good teamwork which was the most important aspect of why the show was a success.
I think I had, and learned more about, good communication and collaboration through this huge project. I also realized that I need to be more prepared for changes and learn to adapt quickly. I could embraced more of the leadership role and told off people when they were slacking, however, I felt that people need to realize that on their own. However, I still had a great time with my friends and peers and I wish the next year good luck!
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hyungieyoongi ¡ 4 years ago
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Spotlight: “Run Away to You” Part 3
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You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.
Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader
Word Count: 2.0K
Genre: Angst + Fluff (there’s a hug and everything there is fluff on the horizon!!)
Series Masterlist: Run Away to You
Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.
Part 2 // Part 4
---
You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness of the morning as the sunlight streamed into your room through the crack in your curtains. Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you let out an audible groan at the time. It was 9:30 a.m., meaning you had slept for four short hours, your brain and restless thoughts refusing to let you sleep until the early hours of the morning.  
After you were finally able to stop the onslaught of tears last night, you sat with Marianne on your carpet and told her everything that happened: colliding with Yoongi at the corner store, the fight in your apartment, and how he comforted you during your panic attack. When she asked about the phone call from your old number, you simply played her the last voicemail Yoongi left you, letting his words sink in on their own.
“Shit,” Marianne breathed out.
“Tell me about it,” you agreed.
Your head was pounding, making you feel like you were suffering a hangover this morning from the lack of sleep combined with the many tears you cried. You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would burn away the memories of everything that had transpired.
You decided to avoid looking at either one of your phones, old or new, when you got out and dressed. Instead, you decided to try and convince your neighbor to let you take her dog on a walk. You desperately needed some company and fresh air to clear your head.
Donning the black hat on the hook by the door this time, you locked the door behind you. At the end of the hallway, you spotted your neighbor holding her little black pug in her arms, peering slightly over the railing at the end that looked out onto the sidewalk and street below.
“Hi there, good morning! What’s going on?” you asked, hoping your attempt at cheerfulness was convincing.
“You have to see this. There are cameras all over the place! The landlord had to come to shoo them from the stairwell and elevator this morning. Apparently, someone famous was sighted here yesterday, and now they’re looking for someone they say lives here? It’s quite the scene down there,” Susan let her pug down as she told you the news. He came bounding over to you, expecting to be showered with cuddles and kisses. Instead, you stood frozen in place, taking in everything Susan had just said.
“Cameras? There are cameras down there? In front of the building?” you asked.
“Yes, dear, isn’t that strange? I wonder if we have a celebrity in our midst!”
You let out a cough, giving Susan a fake excuse that you forgot a jacket so you could leave, ignoring her pug yapping at you for attention.
You were back in your apartment before Susan could question your odd behavior, grabbing your phone that you blatantly ignored when you woke up this morning.
You opened Twitter, going straight to the trending page.
The picture at the top of the list was blurry, but you could clearly make out two figures. It was a picture of you and Yoongi, walking to your apartment from the store. It looked like it had been taken on a phone camera, probably from the park across the street. Someone had to have recognized Yoongi, and now, there were cameras outside your apartment complex.
The picture causing a frenzy didn’t show your face, your hair covering your profile. You scrolled rapidly through some of the comments, people speculating about who the “mystery girl” was that Yoongi was with yesterday.
You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.
Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.
---
Yoongi’s phone was vibrating nonstop on the bed next to him. He tried to ignore it, shoving his face further under the thick comforter, hoping whoever was trying to reach him would just give up eventually.
When it started to vibrate incessantly once again, he finally glanced at the screen, fully prepared to yell at whoever woke him up.
An old picture of you filled his screen, one that Yoongi took when you first started seeing each other. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long day of filming. You looked so at peace, one of his sweaters that you stole from his closet wrapped around your frame. He had snapped a photo, setting it as your contact photo, smiling at it every time you called.
He had never changed it.
Yoongi immediately sat up when he realized you were calling. He assumed he would never hear from you again, that the chapter between you two was officially closed. This time for good.
He answered on the third ring, but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the call was an accident.
“…Yoongi?” his heart lurched at the sound of his name.
“Yes?” he asked tentatively, his voice rough with sleep.
“I need help. There’s a picture…of us. Together. I tried to call Marianne, but she didn’t answer. Yoongi, I…I don’t know what to do. I need help,” Yoongi waited, holding his breath, “I need you.”
He threw the covers off himself, already heading toward the door of his bedroom. You sounded so scared.
“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.”
---
Yoongi had given you careful instructions over the phone, his voice calm and calculated. You were supposed to wait in your apartment until exactly 10:30 a.m. and head down the back staircase to the alley behind your building. A car would be waiting for you there.
He told you to wear a mask and act casual, like you were just getting into a rideshare car. Be invisible and inconspicuous.
A black SUV was idling in your alleyway. You opened the backseat door on the driver’s side, shutting it quickly behind you.
“Miss Y/L/N?” the driver asked, turning around to face you. He had a kind smile, eyes slightly crinkling in the corners from his upturned lips. You nodded once.
“Good morning, I’ll be driving you to Mr. Min’s location. He requested that we send this particular vehicle because the windows are tinted for maximum security. Please make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” you said, relieved.
Despite the driver’s assurance, you turned your head away from the window as the car passed the hoard of photographers outside of your building. They seemed to be getting restless with the lack of people coming in and out of your complex. You were grateful to be heading as far away from there as possible.
The car eventually reached a gate, the security guard waving the car forward once it checked the license plates. You pulled into an underground garage. You weren’t familiar with the building; you figured that Yoongi and the boys had moved within the last year as their label continued to grow.
The driver cleared his throat to get your attention.
“Mr. Min would like you to take the elevator, the one just there, ma’am,” he said pointing to the nearest set of silver doors, “to floor 16. He will meet you there.”
“Thank you, you honestly saved me today,” you told him with a grateful smile. He gave you another crinkle-eyed grin.
“It’s nothing, really. Give my regards to Mr. Min.”
“I will.”
The elevator lurched upward toward floor 16, and you realized you had no idea what to say to Yoongi. The doors opened, and you were startled when the man in question was pacing in front of the elevator doors, looking frazzled as he evidently waited for your arrival.
His head snapped toward the open doors when he heard the “bing” of the elevator.
“You made it,” he said simply when you walked toward him.
“Thanks to you,” you replied. “Yoongi, I can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last thing you probably expected today, but I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”
If you weren’t mistaken, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks at your words.
“We have a strategy meeting to get to. The label has some, uh, concerns about the photo.”
Your heart sank at his words, but you realized it was time to stop letting your emotions about the situation run the show. You were potentially going to be forced back into the spotlight you had tried so hard to stay away from. It was time to be professional about this.
“Right. Of course, lead the way,” your tone had become formal, sickly sweet and stiff. It felt unbelievably awkward after spilling your heart out to him yesterday. But you knew your place–you were just part of his label’s damage control problems for the day.
He turned on his heel, leading you down the long hallway, shoes clicking against the tile floor. You followed a foot behind him, wanting to give him, and you, space.
In the meeting, you gritted your teeth, your hands balled into fists underneath the table as you listened to a group of label management and the public relations team discuss what messaging, if any, to put out. Would it be better to let it die down on its own? Release a statement saying Yoongi was visiting an “acquaintance”? There were dozens of options they went through. Yoongi’s eyes kept straying to look at you, but your eyes stayed on the clock above the PR analyst’s head across from you.
When they started discussing whether to release your identity, however, you decided enough was enough. You stood, Yoongi watching your every move.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I would feel more comfortable if my publicist was contacted before any decisions are made regarding the release of my private information,” you had worked in this industry, too, and hell, you weren’t going to let these people dictate your life. “As you can imagine, this has the potential to have far-reaching consequences on my own livelihood. It would be best to take no further action until she is in this room with you. Otherwise, I will be forced to contact my attorney.”
The room was silent.  
“Until then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you,” you left with a flourish, the adrenaline leaving you as soon as you made it into the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, you just couldn’t stay still, your feet carrying you away from the room and the murmurs going on inside of it.
“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi called after you. You sped up, hoping there was a bathroom or something nearby that you could go hide in until Marianne showed up. “Stop walking,” Yoongi’s voice was stern.
You paused mid-step, turning to face him with a blank expression.
“Yes, was there an update from your strategy meeting since I left?” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your comment.
“Y/N, stop, I know what you’re doing. You’re shutting yourself off. I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself back there. But please don’t act like I wanted any part of that meeting,” Yoongi said, defending himself. Your confidence deflated slightly.
“Fine,” you flinched at how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry. God, all I’ve said to you in the past 24 hours is ‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. I just…this is all…it’s a lot. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, let alone under these circumstances.”
“My studio is a few floors below us. Come on, let’s get out of here while they figure it out,” Yoongi instructed. He walked past you, but you reached out, hand encircling his wrist to stop him. Your skin burned where it touched his.
“I wasn’t ready for any of this again. It’s all too much, too soon. If people find out who I am, my whole life will change, Yoongi. I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, so you pulled your fingers away from his arm, expecting him to continue on his way to his studio.
Instead, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you close against him. He smelled like mint and coffee, and you closed your eyes at the familiarity of it, warmth blooming in your chest.
“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi mumbled, cheek pressed against the top of your head.
Enclosed in the comfort of his embrace, you decided to believe him.
Part 2 // Part 4
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You will always be the winter soldier - Chapter 5
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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Author’s Note: 
This is a flashback of your past with Bucky. Somethings weren’t witnessed by Bucky or you because I just want to give more details about the thoughts of other people as well. So this is definitely written in a third person perspective. This chapter is really long but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. 
Bucky sits in a plane to Munich. Sam got information that the leader of the Flag smashers are currently working there. 
Bucky remembers the last time he was in Germany. It feels like an eternity ago.
„Tell me why I need to watch this series again.“, Bucky looked absolutely annoyed. 
„Its a classic. Everyone knows this series. It’s like general knowledge.“ You answered while scribbling something on your paper. 
„ And why aren't you watching this series?“ 
„Well my love, I know this series by my heart.“, you smiled at him and then saying the exact same thing the actor said on the screen proving him that you really do know this series.
Minutes later you closed your math book with a loud thump and throwing it on the ground. 
"I'm sorry. I don't want to torture you with this series. Maybe I can make it up to you." You winked at Bucky and kissed him on his right cheek. 
„Probably you will find a way.“, Bucky smiled mischievously and kissed you right on your lips with both of his hands on your cheeks. 
You and Bucky weren’t virgins but you both never had sex with each other yet. It made you nervous. 
And Bucky was nervous as well.The last time he had sex was an eternity ago and women changed through the times. Now women are so much more emancipated and strong-minded.
You kissed him. On his face, throat, neck and down his torso. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. 
In this night you and Bucky didn’t have just sex- you made love that night. It was something absolutely soft, and warm and caring about it. 
There was no much of talking and there was no pressure- it was just pure love without saying the word itself. 
Everything changed from that night on. From that day on you both were a couple, without labeling it.
Two weeks later Bucky accompanied you to university. It was something he did regularly and you enjoyed it. It gave your the feeling he was just a normal guy spending time with his girlfriend. And James from Bucharest was  indeed almost a normal guy. While you were bubbling about a math problem no one except math students could understand, he noticed a man.
Bucky knew when he was being followed and it agitated him. 
Now that he wasn’t just concerned with his life but also concerned with your safety it made him anxious. 
He grabbed your right arm and pulled you in a small alley.
You looked at him confused and scared. „What’s going on?“, you asked not understanding his sudden behavior. 
„I wanted to give this to you.“ Bucky pulled out a small mobile phone from his pocket. You looked confused because you already had a smartphone in your trouser pocket. 
„It’s a safe line. So, if you’re in danger or you just think you’re in danger- call me and I will come and get you.“
„You’re scarring me. Are you in trouble? Are WE in trouble? Do we need to run?“ You looked at him, touching his face to make sure he calmed down.
„No. Don’t worry. Everything’s alright.“ Bucky lied. „I’m just taking precautions.“
You doubted this reassurance.
„I can ditch university. I can come with you.“
„No. It calms me down to know that you’re safe at university.“ 
„Okay. But don’t forget: If you jump, I jump, remember?“ You quoted the movie you both watched last night. 
„You’re stuck with me. Where you go, I go.“
He kissed the palm of your left hand. „I’m not going anywhere.“, Bucky lied again. 
And with that he accompanied  you to university. As he left, you walked into your class and you took out your phone and your homework. You checked the latest news. The day before there was a bombing in Vienna but on this day there were breaking that there’s a picture of a suspect. The picture showed no other than Bucky himself. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn’t think clearly. This explained his behavior and fear. You knew he was innocent- no doubt about that. You knew the man you fell in love with and James would never do such thing. The only conclusion was that he was being fraud by someone else. You decided to skip the class and go home to find James. 
When you arrived outside, the campus was quite empty because the majority of the students were already in their classes. As you walked to the gate a man was calling you.
„Hey! Wait!“ He jogged to you. 
„You’re working with Bucky, aren’t you? You’re his accomplice.“ The man in front of you assumed. 
„None of your business.“, you muttered. You wanted to pass him but he stopped you by grabbing your shoulder. 
„My name’s Sam Wilson and you really need to come with me.“, he said, scarring you with his words.
His grip was so tight that you couldn’t break free.
„Im not coming with you. Who do you think you are?“
„I’m working with Captain America.“ He said. You could hear the pride in his voice.
„So? That doesn’t make you an authority. I don’t trust you.“
„You saw the picture, didn’t you? You saw the picture of him in the newspaper. You don’t strike me as a dumb person, yeah? You know what this picture means. They are after him. They are already here. So I need your help.“
„Why do you need my help? He’s innocent. That picture is fake and I know it. But do you? Do you believe in his innocence or what aim do you really pursue?“
Sam didn’t answer but he also didn’t let go of you. So the only thing that you could do was to kick him between his legs. But your head start wasn’t for long. You can’t outrun an athlete. He caught you with his hand which made you stumbled and you fell face forward on the ground. Your lip was bleeding. 
„Im sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.“
As you looked around you saw police officers pointing their guns at you and Sam. 
„You called the police?!“ You asked unbelievably.
„Ey. They’re pointing their guns at me too. So no- I didn’t call the police.“ 
They handcuffed you both and took off. Sam talked with someone via earpiece: „I’ve got her but the police got us both. I’m sorry.“
At the same time, Bucky, Steve and King T’Challa were also handcuffed. Steve looked at his childhood friend and shared the information Sam just gave him: „I’m sorry, but they’ve got her.“ 
To say that Bucky was furious was an understatement: He would burn down the whole city if they’d hurt her. 
When you arrived at the office in Berlin you couldn’t stop all the questions that were floating in your mind. „Why are we here? Since when is Germany responsible for crimes that happened in Vienna or Bucharest? Why were German police officers in Romania? What the heck is going on?“ You asked but everyone was ignoring you. 
Minutes later a man entered the room and you realized that this was Tony Stark. „Who is that?“ He asked, pointing his finger at you. You didn’t bother to answer him. You just turned your head away. „Alright. Kinda mean but we will get the answers anyway.“ He sat down next to Steve. „Is the thing you have with him even legal?“, he asked you again.
„You tell me. He was born in 1917. I was born 80 years later.“
Tony scrunched up his nose. 
The screen was turned on and you saw James. „Why is he in a cage? Why is there no lawyer? Is this how Germany practices its law now? Did you tell him his right to silence?“ You asked almost aggressively 
„You’re audacious and naive.“, said a man in a suit. 
„Stop insulting me. James is as innocence as I am. He wasn’t in Vienna and I told you that from the beginning. And no one in this damn room is listening. You’re just looking for a guy to take the blame. I don’t know how America treats their suspects but here in Germany they have human rights as well. They have dignity and they are still treated with respect and decency. All people have rights. We learned that 70 years ago and we will never ever forget it, understand?“, you spatted. „You imprisoned and treat him as if he’s a monster.“
„My dear child, do you know what he just did today in Bucharest? The damage he caused?“, the man screamed. 
„But it were you with the loaded guns, right?“
„He’s not just a suspect. He’s the delinquent.“
„In some countries there is a trial for this question to be answered, but you seemed to be hangman and judge in once.“ You provoked him. This was so unlike you that you really couldn’t understand the anger that was inside you. 
„I like her.“ Tony said. „She’s loyal like a golden retriever.“
„Stop insulting me even more. I’m defending the man I love that doesn’t mean I’m a puppy wagging its tail.“ 
Before anyone could say anymore to worsen the situation the power was gone for merely seconds but the power was back, Bucky disappeared from the video. Everyone in the room turned around and looked at you. 
„How are you going to explain this.“ Tony asked you 
„Kid, you stay here. Don’t even think about leaving this room.“ As Tony walked downstairs he asked himself if you’re related to a woman he met over 20 years ago who happens to have the same last surname like you did. No, unlikely. Almost impossible. 
Bucky, in his winter soldier mode only had one aim: to kill as many people as possible. But something was off. He hasn’t been the winter soldier for quite some time and the impact you had. The thought that you were hurt made him even more lethal. His priority was to find you and made sure you were okay. So everyone who fought him was a threat, an enemy.
It ended in a cafeteria where Bucky held a gun to the head of a seemingly important man. Bucky was circled with dozen of agents, all pointing a gun at him. 
„Where is she? Where is (y/f/n)?“ Bucky asked
„She’s okay. You don’t need to worry about her.“, Steve assured Bucky
„I don’t trust you. I need to see her.“ 
„We can bring her here. So you can see it for yourself.“ Steve suggested while Bucky just nodded. 
Steve and Tony ran upstairs and Tony grasped Steve by his arm. „What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring her downstairs to him. He’s dangerous and she’s just a kid. You can’t control him.“
„He isn’t dangerous and I don’t think he would hurt her. After all they are something like a couple. She knows him. And we will be there as well. Trust me, Tony. Nothing will happen.“
So they both accompanied you downstairs. 
You’ve got nervous, shaking uncontrollably. „You don’t have to do this.“ Tony said. 
„And I’m really sorry that I compared you with a golden retriever. I just think that loyalty is a great character trait.“
You smiled at him. „It’s alright. I’m sorry too. For being so angry and impulsive and arrogant.“
„Are you scared?“ Tony asks. „No, I’m not. I trust him. I trust the man I love. He isn’t the winter soldier anymore. And that he remembers me in this moment- that’s a good sign, isn’t it? So I had a little impact on him.“
Steve opened the door. You felt all the eyes of the agents on you. Thats really made you uncomfortable but you tried to ignore and only concentrate on James. You tried to relax. Your hands where cold as ice- something that always happens when you get nervous. You walked towards him. „You need to let go of this man, James.“, you pointed with your eyes at the man. „I’m alright. I’m safe.“ You approached him. „You really need to let go of him.“ Your voice was firmer. „The agents here are scared of you. They see you as a threat. So I’m begging you: let go of him.“ 
And Bucky let go of him. „They hurt you.“ He stated looking at your bruised lips. „No, they didn’t. I stumbled.“ You reassured him. „James, you need to put down the gun as well. The avengers aren’t the enemy. We can trust them. I do. I trust them and I think we might need their help.“ And you kissed him. Right in front of anyone. You heard the thump of the gun greeting the ground as James let go of it. 
You broke the kiss and caressed his cheek. But before Bucky could say anything you looked to your right and something you saw made you so scared. You pushed Bucky with all the strength you’ve got, making him stumble a few steps backwards. But that was enough to take his spot. 
Bucky saw the redness on your shirt before he heard the bang of the gun. Steve and Tony screamed „NO!“, but it was already too late. You looked at it and all the color of your face vanished. You started to fall but Bucky caught you, laying you softly on the ground. Soon you lost you consciousness.
Steve used the chaos to get Bucky out of there. „They will help her. But you need to come. It’s not safe for you here.“ 
During that time agent Sharon Carter kept Steve and Bucky informed but Bucky had a really hard time. „She’s still sleeping. You are not missing anything.“ She assured him. 
When you woke up you were greeted by non other than Tony Stark itself. He read a German magazine. „Do you understand what you’re reading or are you just looking at the pictures?“ 
He looked up and grinned. „Really nice pictures. But I also get help with the translating.“ He pointed to his high technology-glasses. 
„How do you feel?“
„Exhausted but okay.“ 
You looked around and you saw James standing in the door frame. „James“ you whispered, reaching out for him. „I’m so relieved that you’re fine.“ Bucky looked at Tony who faintly shook his head indicating that you were still oblivious about the fight in Leipzig and the separation of the avengers. 
„What happened after I passed out?“, you asked
„You mean after you got shot.“, Tony corrected you. 
„Why did you pack?“, you ask James, forgetting the last question you just asked. 
„I’m leaving for Wakanda. They offered me to free me from the mind control and I’m gonna take that chance.“
„Take me with you. I want to be with you. I can’t imagine a life without you. Please, James.“ 
He looked you deep in your eyes. You could see how he’s debating on the inside. „Okay.“ And he kissed you passionately. 
Tony didn’t like that idea at all. „Okay, lovebirds. We better should look for a doctor to sign the release papers and you can rest a bit more.“ He ushered Bucky out of your room and when the door closed he let go of his facade.
„You can’t take her with you. Thats really selfish of you. She’s kid. She can’t throw away her life for you. She is not your psychologist. You know exactly what you are. You’re a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. You’re destroying her life. And you don’t care because after all you will always be the winter soldier. Nothing will change that.“
Bucky looked at Tony like he just got slapped. „I know who and what I am. I will never be good enough for her. Yeah, maybe I’m selfish taking her with me but I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her and I will protect her. I promise.“
„But can you protect her from yourself?“ 
As you packed your belongings James waited outside your room. „You don’t have to go with him. You don’t need to throw your life away. You don’t owe him anything.“, Tony stated. 
„I’m not throwing anything away. He’s my future. He’s anything I’ve ever wanted. Wakanda will be an adventure and I’m ready to take it.“
Tony suppressed all the things he wanted to tell you. He hugs you and said instead. „If he hurts you in anyway, call me. I’ll come and get you.“ He caress your hair and without noticing he took a single hair of you. He needed to know who you were to him. He couldn’t ignore his curiosity anymore. 
Chapter 6
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orphaned-kiirokero ¡ 4 years ago
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Outro: Love Is Not Over (2)
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Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.
Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,
Warnings: Nothing, just very cute moments between mom and son.
Word Count: 1.6k
Note: Heyo, if you want to be added to this story's tag list, you can reply to this post or message me!
Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.
Chapter Guide:
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      “Yunho! Are you dressed?” I called up the stairs. “Yes! I’m coming!” Yunho called back in an excited voice. It was a wonder how he could be so awake and peppy at 6am. Maybe it was his hybrid genes... Golden retrievers are notorious for being cheerful dogs. 
      I heard Yunho’s rapid steps, and he quickly came skipping into the kitchen, immediately hugging my leg. I set down the butter knife I was using to make his lunch and gave him a full hug, kissing his forehead. 
      “Are you excited for your first day of school?” I asked, picking off some lint that was on his shirt. “Yes! I get to make new friends!” He exclaimed, hopping up and down. It made me chuckle. Even if I was exhausted, he was like a dose of happiness medicine. “I’m glad.” I smiled. 
      I got Yunho his breakfast and finished preparing his lunch. I did a check over all of his things to make sure he had everything he needed. I checked off every box in my head. Pencil case... Notebook... Water bottle... “Eomma!” Yunho called out for me. I walked over to the dining room and saw him sitting in his chair, still eating his breakfast. “What’s up bub?” I asked. “Can you sit with me? Please?” 
     I nodded, walking over and sitting in my seat. Yunho smiled and went back to eating. We sat in comfortable silence while I pet his head. I just admired him for a minute. I don’t know what God blessed me with such a son, but whoever it was, I’m indebted to you for life. 
     Yunho was a calm baby. In the way of, he wasn’t a screamer. I remember Hyejin telling me horror stories about Hajun screaming in the middle of the night, startling both her and Yoongi awake. They worried me when I had Yunho, but he never screamed, maybe once or twice, but he normally kept his volume to a reasonable decibel level. 
     Yes, Yunho was enthusiastic, but he never raised his voice enough to where it was anything but childlike excitement. As a baby, he’d just cry, but he’d cry softly. There wasn’t a right way to describe it. If I was in the kitchen and he was sitting on a blanket in the living room, I would hear him cry, but it wasn’t ear piercing. Maybe it was due to the small house that I could easily hear him... He was just a calm baby. 
     When he was around 3 and 4, he started being very emotive and enthusiastic. At first he’d do it all the time, even when he was supposed to be extra quiet. But after teaching him that there's a time and a place to be expressive, he caught on pretty quickly. 
    That didn’t mean we didn’t have problems though. More than once he’d draw on the walls or walk through the house with his shoes on. Sometimes he was in a foul mood and would throw a fit, but that was rare. There was a time he refused to clean his room, and it hurt my soul to put my foot down, but I was still his mother. 
Point being, Yunho was the sun. A sun that deserved the universe. 
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      “Alright bub, are you ready?” I held Yunho’s hand as he stood wide-eyed in front of the school building. Yunho had only been to a small daycare that was also a kindergarten, so this is all new to him. I slowly started walking forward with Yunho walking behind me. It was cute, but I knew he couldn’t hide from school forever. I don’t want to go to jail. 
      The building was dazzling and straight out of a fairytale. Artwork lined the halls and the walls were painted with dragons and princesses, the occasional mermaid here and there. All in all, a very welcoming place. I could see Yunho’s eyes light up as he looked at the walls, and he was slowly walking next to me again. 
    We stopped in front of a room labeled, “Mrs. Hopkin’s First Grade Kingdom!” It made me chuckle. The building seemed to have a theme going on here. We walked in, hand in hand, and if I thought the hallways jumped out of a fairytale, this room jumped out of a Disney movie. 
     It was set up like the ordinary first-grade classroom, but the one wall had a whole mural. There were fairytale decorations hanging from the ceiling. The floor tiles were white with dots of rainbow colors, and they set the desks up in clusters inspired by different fairytale creatures. As in, one table cluster was mermaid-inspired, decorated with scales and a seashell rug underneath. One was dragon-inspired with flame details and a dragon stuffed animal in the middle of the table. A green rug was also underneath the table.
     It made you wonder for a second if you stopped at the wrong school because this seemed expensive and you definitely didn’t have the money to send Yunho to a rich kid's school. Being a writer paid well, but not THAT well. 
     Soon, an old woman walked up to us. She was wearing a floral, floor-length skirt and a white button up. “Hello! I’m Mrs. Hopkin. Welcome!” She smiled, and it was the classic grandmother smile. “Hello! I’m Y/n and this is Yunho.” Yunho waved, still holding my hand. “Lovely to meet you, we’re just about to start!” Mrs. Hopkin exclaimed, so I let Yunho go and ushered him to go play while I went to stand with the rest of the moms and dads. 
     This was a primarily hybrid school since Yunho and I lived in a predominately hybrid community. Meaning, most the parents were also hybrids, but I didn’t care. I hung around hybrids for 2/3rds of my life. Funnily, hanging out with another human would be odd for me. However, that didn’t stop the occasional side glances and looks I would get. 
     I was used to it at this point because I stuck out like a neon sign. It happened everywhere I went. We lived in a pretty sizeable community, meaning I didn’t have to go out of town a lot. At first, it made me insecure, but Hyejin and Yoongi snapped me out of it and told me they weren’t judging me; they were just surprised. I remember Yoongi’s wise words... “Look, dumbo, what the hell are they gonna judge you for? Living? Breathing? I already do that, so no need to worry.”
He got a pretty good punch from Hyejin for that one. 
     Mrs. Hopkin clapped her hands, calling everyone's attention to the front of the class. “Hello everyone! Welcome to first grade!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, “We’ll be going over the rules and then we will say goodbye to our mommies and daddies.” And just like that, she started explaining the basics. It made me think she rehearsed this in a mirror last night. She flowed as if she was running on muscle memory. Or maybe she's been teaching for way too long. 
      It was fairly simple. Keep your hands to yourself, listen to whoever is speaking, raise your hand, yadda yadda... I’ve been to first grade before. After Mrs. Hopkins finished speaking to the parents about expectations and what happens if one of our kids is bad, she let us all say our goodbyes. Yunho ran and jumped on me, burying his face into my chest. 
      He was scenting me, showing me he was nervous. “You’ll be okay, bub. I’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.” I pet his head and his tail started wagging. “I don’t want Eomma to go...” He whined. I swore that my heart exploded. “But you were so excited this morning?” I chuckled. “I take it back.” He grumbled. I cooed and softly put him down, unraveling the scarf I had around my neck. 
      “Here you go. Just for today, okay? You’re a big boy now, Yunnie.” I smiled at his big puppy eyes. Yunho held to scarf to his nose, and I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, baby.” I whispered. “I love you too, Eomma.” 
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      Stepping out of the school, away from my son, was eye opening. Yunho was growing right before my eyes, and before I know it, he’ll be walking out of this school grown. Ready to tackIe the next level of school. It makes me tear up a bit and I feel like a mother in a slice of life film. I chuckle, shaking my head as I get into my car. 
      Just as I’m about to start it up, my phone rings. Hyejin. “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, deciding that I’d drive after this call. “Y/n! Thank god you answered!” She sighed in relief. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” She hums and I can hear ruckus in the background. “Yes... No...? I’m in a predicament.”
     “What?” I chuckle nervously, unsure if I should be worried. “So... Um... I forgot today was the boy’s first day of school, so Hajun is not there...” She cautions. “Okay? He can go tomorrow.” I reason. “He’s with me... And I can’t watch him, I have to go to work.” If I was in The Office, this would be the moment where I would look directly into the camera with a blank stare. 
“Hyejin-”
“I know! You can scold me later... Can you come pick him up? Please~” She begged.
“Yeah, I can... I’m at the school right now.” I grumbled.
“Great! Meet me at the daycare so you don’t have to drive as much. I love you!” 
I sighed, shaking my head. She’s going to be the death of me. 
203 notes ¡ View notes
writefightandflightclub ¡ 4 years ago
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Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso MuĂąoz x GN reader)
What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane​ who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!
If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.
Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper​ @witchyavenger​ @veuliee2​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @pascal-isaac​
Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P
Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)
Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.
Tagging: @anetteaneta​ @isvvc-pvscvl​ @nowritingonthewall​ @supernovafeather​ (ONLY READ IF 18+)
GIF by @nathan-bateman​
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“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.
Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.
You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.
When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.
“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.
“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.
You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.
“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”
You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.
“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.
It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?
Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.
And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.
Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.
“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”
You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.
“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”
Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.
“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”
“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.  
As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.
As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.
Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.
He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.
************
One month later:
You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.
You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.
“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”  
“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”
“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“
“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”
You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.
“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.
Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.
You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.
You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.
In fact, everything about it is familiar.
Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.
It’s your letter.
The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.
The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.
But… It can’t be…?
It’s… unopened.
All the air leaves you lungs.
No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.
You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”
But if he didn’t read it…?
You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.
He doesn’t know.
His words didn’t mean what you��
Oh my god. All this time.  
You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.
He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.
Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.
“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”
“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.
“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”
You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”
Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.
“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.
Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.
“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.
Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.
“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”
“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”
His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.
Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.
You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.
“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.
When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.
“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”
His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.
“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.
For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.
************
One month later:
You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.
“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.
You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.
Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.
Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.
Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.
You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.
As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.
Letters.
Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.
Letters addressed to you.
Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.  
Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.  
You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.
No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.
Could it be true? Is this really true?
Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.
My darling,
There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.
There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.
You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.
You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-
“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.  
“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.
His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.
Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.
At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.
You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.
“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.
“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.
“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.
You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.
Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.
You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.
Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.
You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.
He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”
His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.
“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.
He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.
You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.
“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.
God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.
Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”
You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.
“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”
You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.
He loves you.
*******
Later that night:
At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.
So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.
Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.
“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.  
“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”
“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”
He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.
He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.
“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”
“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.
After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”
“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.
“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”
His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.
“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”
You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.
With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.
THE END
Bonus:
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200 notes ¡ View notes
coffeesuperhero ¡ 4 years ago
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a brief guide to alec hardison’s AU aliases (with inevitable annotations and entirely uncalled for mockery by parker and eliot, probably)
so my @ot3tropetober​ entries required a little background setup before I could jump into posting them??....so here that is. actual AU’s tomorrow, setup today. enjoy!  -- 
01. Email from: Alec Hardison; to: Parker, Eliot Spencer
Dear people I love very much (Parker, stop rolling your eyes. Also I can hear you growling and muttering to yourself, Eliot, but I am allowed to tell you I love you at least once a month, I have that in writing. Also you're not actually mad and I know it, you have a tell and no I will not tell you what it is, because you'll stop doing it, and it's real cute), 
As y'all are aware, I work very hard to build a believable portfolio of aliases for each member of our team. Not all of us keep the team safe with our punchy hands and a taser, okay. Some of us are manly yet delicate people who focus on the more technical aspects of our security. 
Recently it has come to my attention that y'all either don't know how much work I put into this or you think it's, and I am quoting here, "weird" or "funny" or "a waste of damn time, Hardison," to build complex backstories for each of these alias scenarios as well as corresponding social media profiles. 
So I thought maybe I'd just walk you through a little bit of the creative, extremely detailed work that I do to keep us safe and, God forbid, make sure somebody can be at the hospital to hold y'all's hands the next time you a) get stabbed/shot/ribs broken/various other injuries that I cannot actually write out because I find it very upsetting even though you don’t b) jump off a building and "land funny" after a thirty-foot fall and "sprain your knee" c) absolutely have a concussion and no, I don't actually care how many times you've been hit in the head or how much medical knowledge you have acquired in the field, you are still not a doctor, Eliot!!!!
Anyway, starting tomorrow, I'm gonna send a short file to you every couple of days to illustrate the painstaking detail and research that goes into crafting these carefully constructed alternate universes that keep us all safe and our covers not blown, and I expect that you will both see them AND read them. There may or may not be a quiz. 
I know by now you've both seen this email and you're probably standing there, giving each other that look that you do, like "Oh, there goes Hardison again, complaining that we don't appreciate him, let's find something tall and push him off of it while we laugh," which by the way is not as cute as y'all seem to think it is, okay? But listen, I do this work because I love you. What can I say? Some of us make delicious food or mastermind criminal escapades with our partners because we can't always vocalize our feelings, and some of us construct elaborate backstories for our various criminal aliases so that we're all taken care of. All ways are valid. But yes, I would appreciate a little more respect for the work I do around here, work that I do, again, because I love you. 
Your boyfriend, who loves you, in case you forgot,
Alec Hardison
02. Text message thread (transcript below!) 
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Transcript of texts: text thread is labeled “my people <3″
Hardison: check your email :)  Eliot: hardison we had an agreement once a MONTH there are like, 4 “i love yous” in this one email what are you doing, man??  Parker: i agree w/eliot this is ridiculous even 4 u  Eliot: thank you parker made you brownies in the kitchen on the island Parker: !!!!!!!!!!!!!! BROWNIES Hardison: y’all this is literally what I’m talking about This right here DIFFERENT LOVE LANGUAGES, people. mine is just ACTUAL LANGUAGE. love y’all. 
Eliot: still counts if you write it, hardison Parker: update i have eaten all the brownies
Hardison: already?!  Parker: :DDDDDDDDD Hardison: I didnt’ get any brownies  eliot :(  Eliot: maybe if you weren’t so busy living in your little “alternative universes” you would have  Parker: he has a point Hardison: you’re just saying that because you got brownies  Parker: Mayybe v good brownies tho best ones yet Eliot: :)  i guess this universe isn’t so bad huh too bad some of us don’t appreciate it Hardison: I appreciate this universe fine that is literally my point also it’s ALTERNATE universe. ALTERNATE. Eliot: whatever you say skyrunner Hardison: skyWALKER Parker: lmao  Hardison: why do i even bother  Parker: u love us :) Eliot: you love us  you said so like 5 times  Parker: he really did Hardison: i’m going back to my hard work on these AUs gonna make one where i get brownies, since that’s the only way i’ll get oh baby!! you left some by my computer? Eliot: you’re welcome Hardison: I love you, too :)  Eliot: dammit, hardison Parker: lol 
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emilyplaysotome ¡ 4 years ago
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Queen’s Choice: Part 4
This is the fourth chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. 
Catch up:
 part 1 part 2 part 3
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I don’t feel nervous until I’m in the elevator, on my way up to see him. 
You’d think I’d be used to seeing Victor by now, and even more used to him giving me grief about my presentations but I’m never prepared enough when it comes to him. 
I realize it’s because I owe him in more ways than I feel comfortable admitting. 
I owe him for helping my company and for saving me. 
Again and again and again. 
I know that they all care about me, but Victor has this uncanny ability to appear and whisk me out of harm’s way. I shudder when I think about what might have come to pass had it not been for him. 
Goldman is the one who breaks me away from my thoughts and I make small talk with him as he leads me to Victor’s office. I’m dressed slightly different, with a tight pencil skirt that’s flirting with being a bit too skimpy for me and a conservative blouse so it looks like a mistake. 
I’m not wearing underwear and I can feel my heart racing as I interact with a man outside of my target, worried that he can tell and I’ve accidentally exposed myself.
That doesn’t seem to be the case though, thanks to my blazer that covers my chest and I take a deep breath as I enter Victor’s office, the door shutting behind me. 
He looks even more handsome than I remember and I remind myself that my intention for today is to tease, not necessarily seduce - though I’m open to the latter. His eyes are glued to his computer screen, and he doesn’t so much as glance up in my direction as I take off my blazer and sit in front of him. 
The fabric of my blouse rubbing against me combined with the chill of the offices has made my nipples erect, and I resist the urge to cover up, instead arching my back to give the illusion of a fuller bosom despite barely filling out an A cup. 
When he does finally look at me I see a flash of irritation in his face before he says, “Your presentation was filled with errors.”
“What!? Really?”
I’m genuinely shocked because I spent so much time checking and rechecking my work and without thinking I run beside him, behind the desk and bend over to see the computer screen. As a result I can feel my skirt riding up and I wonder if I’m as exposed as I think I am. 
Victor doesn’t seem to notice this though, exasperated he walks me through what I need to do better and I end up forgetting about teasing him and take notes diligently. It’s because of this that when he finally asks, “Are you trying something funny with me?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about at first. 
“What?”
“You really are a dummy, you know that?”
With that he pulls at the back of my pencil skirt, his fingers accidentally brushing against the top of my thighs. I blush uncontrollably and nervously scuttle back to my chair. 
“I didn’t want panty lines,” I whisper so softly it’s barely audible but he hears me and sighs again. 
“I’m driving you home and you’re changing so no one else sees you like this.”
“Is it that bad? You don’t...like it?”
It’s then that he pauses and with an eyebrow raised asks, “Is this for me?”
“Maybe.”
He grins now and I’m worried about what will come next. 
“Have you dumped those other 3 and come here to confess?”
“What other -“
“Let’s not act like I don’t know and you don’t know. Call me when you’re done with them and then I’ll fuck you silly right on my desk if you want.” 
He goes back to work and I’m stunned by his the straightforwardness of his response. 
“I...”
“Was there something else?”
He’s smirking when he looks at me and I can’t help but feel like he’s enjoying playing with me like this. 
“I want to negotiate.”
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I can tell that this intrigues him. He puts down his pen and sits back in his chair, crossing his legs and waiting for more information. 
“I agree to stop seeing one of them and we see what we are like together.”
He laughs and my face instantly feels hot. 
“Why is that funny? Aren’t you curious too?” I say a little too loud and with an indignant expression I can’t help but have. 
“Dummy.”
He leans forward in his chair, putting his weight on his elbows as his closes the distance despite his grand mahogany desk between us. 
“I’m not curious because I already know.”
My face burns but I don’t back down. 
“Well I don’t. Offer stands.”
He considers this and with a smirk says,
“Three.”
“That’s basically confessing! I’m not ready!”
“I thought we were negotiating? I have the upper hand you know....”
“Two! And that’s my final offer.”
“I’ll consider it. But for now, let me take you home.”
—
I feel rejected as I sit in the passenger seat and far more disappointed than I expected to feel. 
None of them have denied me, and I can’t stop fantasizing about what it would have felt like to have him capitalize while I was next to him, bending over. I think about how his fingers could have entered me and how exhilarating it would have been to fuck on that grandiose desk of his. 
But it looks like I won’t find out. 
The car pulls up in front of my building and he says, “I’ll be in touch. Cover up in the meantime if this was really for me...”
“Huh?”
He sighs but he doesn’t look exasperated. He looks gentle and tender and loving and he says, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you as you are.”
He drives off before I can reply. 
—
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My head is filled with fantasies of Victor beyond the ones in his office after he denies me. I check my phone to see if he has agreed to my terms but I don’t see anything from him. 
I feel frustrated but I also don’t know who I would pick. 
I really don’t want to choose. 
In the days that follow the intensity of the fantasies increase and I find myself alone in bed touching myself to the thoughts of being with him. I get messages from the others but I’ve got tunnel vision. 
I’m a woman obsessed and whose curiosity needs to be satiated. 
I eventually buckle and write him, asking if my terms have been agreed to, all the while not knowing who I’d pick. 
I get no answer. 
—
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I’m thinking about what my next move is a week after our encounter in his office. I’m home, wearing a comfy pj set, hair still wet and fresh out of the shower when there’s a knock at my door. I’m honestly wondering if Lucien has returned next door but it’s Victor who I see through the peep hole. 
He’s holding something and looks impatient and I eagerly open the door, forgetting that I’m not exactly in sexy attire. 
“I’ve brought a contract,” he says, breezing by me and heading to kitchen to fix himself a drink before walking over to my couch. He’s clearly come from work, but he’s loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, indicating that he’s done for the day.
I sit beside him and confused mumble, “a contract?”
There’s a snort and he says, “Our negotiation? Or have you already forgotten?”
“No!” I exclaim, but my heart sinks knowing what’s most likely in here.
When I look over the papers, I’m surprised to discover that there’s no mention of parting ways with anyone. Instead the demands are...far more accommodating to my desires. 
The contract outlines in details how we shall entire an exploratory phase with each other, and will not finish until both parties are satisfied. This period has no deadline other that it will last until both parties are satisfied.
There is one catch. 
With each week that goes by, I have to say goodbye to one suitor. Two weeks, two men total. Three weeks...well, the decision will be made by then even should we not have a label on our relationship. 
Victor smiles as I realize the contract is outlined in a way should I have unlimited men, one would be sacrificed per week. 
He hands me an expensive looking fountain pen and asks, “Do we have a deal?”
I nod, taking the pen from him and signing my name next to where he’s already signed. 
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“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” he says and extends his hand for me to shake it. When I take it, he grabs me and pulls me into him, his other hand wrapping around the back of my head as he kisses me. 
It’s brief because of how we are situated on my couch, and he pulls me onto him so I’m straddling him as he unbuttons my top, before sucking on my breast. His tongue flicks at me while his hand gently pinches the other and I moan helplessly. 
“Is this what you wanted when you appeared in my office in that sheer blouse?” He teases, but I can’t formulate a reply. 
“Well?” He pushes again, not accepting my half moan half whimper as a response. 
“Yes but more.”
“What more? Describe it.”
It’s embarrassing to tell him everything I fantasized but I do and as I do I can feel him getting harder and harder underneath me. I can tell he loves hearing about the nights spent with nothing but myself and thoughts of him and he carries me to my bed, stripping me of my bottoms, and demands I show him what I did those nights. 
I’ve never touched myself in front of anyone before and it’s both nerve-racking and exhilarating. As I start to do it, he strips down in front of me and does the same. 
It’s the first time I’m seeing him like this, not just naked, but animalistic in the way he watches me. I can tell by the way he’s stroking himself that things are escalating for both of us. I don’t want to come because he still hasn’t really touched me, but he demands that I show him exactly what I did and I feel compelled to obey.
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I cry out as a wave of pleasure rushes over me and moments later he’s kneeling between my legs on the bed, hovering over me as he finishes on my stomach.
We’re both panting as I hand him a tissue to wipe himself and I’m about to get dressed when he grabs my arm and stops me.
“We’re not done,” he says with a smile.
For a moment I’m surprised, but then excited at the thought that our first night together is only beginning.
Part 5
I hope you liked the fourth chapter of my steamy fic. As I’ve said before this is very out of my comfort zone but I tried to kick this up a notch! If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)
As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, or buying me a coffee!
Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged and I’ll take you off.
tagging @ho-lee-snow-balls 
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@mamafishfound 
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@galaxystarrr​
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ashintheairlikesnow ¡ 4 years ago
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Fish
For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles
CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker
Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs
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BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.
October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days
It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.
Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.
I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans. 
Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”
She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”
That’s not the point of this. 
I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.
I need some days off so badly.
Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.
I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L. 
I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.
No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.
Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.
So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.
She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.
Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.
Maybe not. 
We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so… 
I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?
I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse. 
It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.
She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.
I get too distracted by the mer.
He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces. 
They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.
I am.
A little.
I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?
I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous. 
She’d know I did it.
I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.
But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?
Anyway.
Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks. 
Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.
We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.
Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.
Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.
No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?
I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.
Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?
His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.
Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders. 
He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.
I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...
Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now. 
“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”
Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey. 
I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?
I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know? 
I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.
Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?
This is not helpful, Bahram.
I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…
I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.
But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.
The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to. 
I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”
He knows fish. 
I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.
I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle. 
But it makes sense, right? 
He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats. 
No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.
He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.
I’m hurting a child.
I’m teaching a child to be hurt.
I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.
No I’m not.
What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?
What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?
I need to stop thinking about this. 
“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk. 
I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.
I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater. 
“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.
He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled. 
“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”
Blank stare. 
Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”
I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that. 
I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously. 
Has it never seen fire before?
Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.
“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out. 
“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.
“No, wait stop-”
The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes. 
The big sad eyes are wrecking me.
“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”
He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound. 
The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting. 
“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”
“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.” 
“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.
Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing… 
I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.
I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.
He sounds like a child.
He IS a child
He’s just
I’m a fucking
No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.
The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated. 
He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other. 
Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”
“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”
The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”
I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they? 
But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.
Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”
The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”
“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.
“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”
The bloody thing knows my fucking name. 
He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has
I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I 
I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only
It’s going to get worse for him.
He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.
Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.
What else was I supposed to do? 
He knows my name!
He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.
But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…
Because what the hell do I do now?
I can’t tell Miah.
Can I?
 ---
@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper
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ooops-i-arted ¡ 4 years ago
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Din's morning routine: finding Yoditos in various inconvenient places while trying to get ready in AM. OR view frim inside of 'fresher door - dozens of tiny hands and "Dads?!" Happiest if Birthdays to you!
Thank you! Please enjoy this outline of Din's morning. And this was also inspired by your request.
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3:38 AM
Din rolled over to check the chrono, or at least as much as he could with a snoring juvenile varactyl using half of him as a pillow. Twenty-two minutes still until his alarm went off. He lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping for a little bit more sleep.
3:57 AM
A wail started growing louder and Din’s dream of searching for his children in the ruins of Aq Vetina melted away as he sat up, struggling out from underneath Boga Jr. He knew that sound. The babies were awake early this morning.
Quickly he stumbled into the children’s room, finding that fortunately only Yod’ika 99 and Yod’ika 94 had woken each other up in the crib. He scooped them up and held them to his collarbone with one hand, humming softly and soothing them with the vibrations in his throat while he used his free hand to fix a bottle of formula for each of them and set it in the rack Kuiil had constructed to suspend over a matching line of customized infant seats, each labeled with the number of Yod’ika it was sized for. Once his two little ones were sufficiently soothed he set them in their seats and tilted the bottles into their reach, allowing them to drink while he started preparing another batch of breakfast for the others still asleep.
The infants were still being bottle-fed, so he fixed up those first and set them in the racks so they were ready for their recipients. Next were the older kids; the three jars of minced salamander had the closest expiration date so he set up bowls of those and stacked them in the fridge for when the older children woke up. A few servings he put through the food processor and mashed first, for the youngest toddlers who still had difficulty chewing as much.
4:25 AM
IG-11 always entered quietly enough not to wake the children but still with some familiar mechanical whirring of gears. He always claimed Kuiil had forgotten to oil them again, but Din had overheard Cara telling IG-11 not to be so quiet to not startle Din a few weeks ago. Din wasn’t quite to the point where he could thank IG-11 for the effort but he did appreciate it in silence.
“You’re early,” Din commented.
“My morning optimizing subroutines finished early,” the droid said in its flat voice. “I have been running some in the evening as well before shutting down, to be as efficient as possible.”
“These two are awake and fed,” Din said, removing the bottles from the racks and scooping up two of his smallest sons.
“I will engage tummy time routines.”
Din set the two in IG-11’s clawlike hands. “Try and stay quiet.”
IG-11 took the babies. Din could already hear a few more starting to stir, but let IG-11 handle them as he returned to his room. He hadn’t found time to shower yesterday so he definitely had to this morning.
Boga Jr. was awake and already rearranged the bedding into a bigger mess, looking proud of her efforts to reconstruct her “nest” as she usually did. Din scratched her head feathers before pulling out his jumpsuit and fresh underwear - dank ferrik, was he due for another load of laundry already? - and heading for the ’fresher.
4:45
He’d taken care of his bladder and brushed his teeth and was halfway into the shower when a bright voice said “Good morning, Buir!”
Din stared. “Yod’ika 18, what are you doing in the sink?”
“I’m cleaning myself,” said the little one as Din glanced at the definitely-locked door.
“Why?”
Yod’ika 18 looked down guiltily. “I had an accident…”
Din got a towel around his waist before going over to check on Yod’ika 18. “Yeah, looks like you did… you know you can get up in the night to go potty, right?”
Yod’ika 18 frowned and looked down. “It’s just so dark at night…”
“We’ll see about getting a night light in there, okay?” Din helped him out of the dirty clothes and threw them in the hamper before pulling out another tunic that passed the sniff test. “Wear this for a little bit and we’ll get you properly dressed after breakfast.”
“No!” said Yod’ika 18, shying away. “It’s stinky, Buir!”
Din sighed, but he was awake enough by now to remember what a neat freak Yod’ika 18 was. “Okay, okay, come here.”
Din scooped the little one up, making sure his towel stayed secure as he went to the closet and pulled out the first outfit he found. “Here you go.”
“It’s not my favorite color…”
“Yod’ika 18,” Din said sternly, and finally Yod’ika 18 submitted to being dressed in the yellow tunic. “Go see IG-11 and he can get you breakfast,” Din said, shooing the little one along.
“But I want to eat with you, Buir.”
“Then wait a little bit and I’ll join you when I get out of the shower.”
The pattering of oversized gangly varactyl feet was his only warning. Boga Jr. loved snatching up clothes and flinging them around and he just managed to get the closet door shut in time to remember that what she really loved was snatching things directly from him, and he only had one article of “clothing” on him right now.
Din barely grabbed the towel in time. “BOGA JR, NO!”
She tugged playfully on it with all her juvenile varactyl strength, encouraged by Yod’ika 18’s giggles. “Stop it!” Din ordered, barring her from getting closer with his leg; he needed both hands to keep his towel. “Sit, girl!” he said desperately, and luckily she followed the command, her tail thrashing proudly.
“Go tell IG-11 that Boga Jr. needs to be fed,” Din told Yod’ika 18.
He hurried off to perform the special chore, loudly saying, “Of course, Buir, I will help you!”
Boga Jr., knowing food was imminent, hurried after Yod’ika 18. But now Din could hear more stirring, more pattering feet and perking ears and chattering little voices.
He barely made it to the bathroom in time. As soon as he shut and locked the door there were already scratching noises and bustling little bodies and loud little voices. “Good morning Daddy!” “Papa I want to come in.” “Stop pushing me!” “Daddyyyyyyyyyy-” “Come eat breakfast with us Buir!” “Dada, food, I hungwy…”
The doorknob started moving all by itself. Din grabbed it and held fast. “Anyone who opens this door with the Force doesn’t get frogs for a week!” he yelled in desperation.
Suddenly the door stopped vibrating slightly and it was quiet on the other side.
“Go and tell IG-11 you’re awake,” Din said. “I’ll be out soon and I’ll eat with you.”
He listened for acknowledgment and to make sure the horde retreated before finally, finally getting into the shower. Just in time to find out IG-11 had used all the hot water on food prep and dishes.
5:10 AM
Din toweled his hair dry just enough to not make the inside of his helmet gross before leaving the bathroom and going to his bedroom to put it on. He didn’t bother with the rest of the armor yet, but even though IG-11 was the only person - thing, droid, whatever - there not a family member, he still didn’t like breaking the spirit of the Creed’s helmet rule anyway. And there was no telling whenever anyone else might come by.
He knew food had to be out and served since no one was swarming him, and he passed through the kids’ room to see how many were still asleep. Not many - once they were up, the horde usually swarmed like flies on a ronto.
“Dad?” asked a sleepy voice just as Din was about to step out, and he turned to see his eldest sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“Good morning, Yod’ika,” Din said. “You still sleepy or ready for breakfast?”
Yod’ika held out his arms in a plea to be held. “Breakfast.”
Din scooped him up obligingly; every child in his care needed individualized attention but Yod’ika was always extra hungry for it. He snuggled up under Din’s chin and Din smiled, rocking him a little. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yeah,” he said. “No bad dreams.”
“Good,” said Din, and he made sure the few remaining Yod’ike were fast asleep before carrying Yod’ika into the kitchen.
Most of the awake Yod’ike were sitting at the table but several were still crawling and toddling on the floor, too restless to eat yet or already finished, and the babies still in their feeding chairs were starting to cry. Din hurried over to get them out first, his helmet’s audio feed automatically adjusting to the volume.
“Buir, come eat with us!”
“Hold on, let me get the babies first,” he said without looking at who had called for him. He felt a stubborn, otherworldly pull on his hands. “No!” he told the babies firmly, and the sensation stopped. Din was glad they were responding better; the last thing he needed was an infant unexpectedly yanking him around. Carefully he extracted the infants from their feeding seats and passed them over into IG-11’s supervision, watching the droid as he carefully put them in the playpen he’d set up for them. Only the very youngest ones could still be counted on to stay where you put them, and Din knew he wasn’t going to have that luxury much longer. Even little Ika’ika was already squirming in protest in the playpen, rolling over repeatedly to try and make himself move.
More Yod’ike toddled in, calling for him, so Din told them good morning and started heating and setting out more bowls of minced salamander.
“I want frog,” whined Yod’ika 27.
“We’re eating the salamander today,” Din said. “We’ll have frog another day.”
“Can we go frog hunting today, Baba?” asked Yod’ika 14, quickly echoed by several of his brothers. “It’s been ages since we got to!” insisted Yod’ika 18.
Din knew “ages” meant “a week” but it was one of the clan’s favorite activities. “I need to look at the schedule and see if there’s a pond that’s been rotated long enough. If we go too soon, there won’t be enough frogs -”
“For us and for the animals,” chimed in multiple Yod’ike.
“Exactly,” said Din. Proudly, “Good job remembering.”
“We hafta take care of the en-vi-en-met,” added Yod’ika 33.
“You’re right,” Din said, finally getting his own bowl of human protein-fortified cereal and sitting down at the table, setting his helmet in his lap where it was safest from sticky hands.
“Can I try some, Buir?” asked Yod’ika 6, reaching out.
“No,” Din said, waving his spoon at his son’s hands. “Eat your own.”
6:00 AM
Everyone was awake - it was rare any of the Yod’ike slept through the din of their brothers - and everyone was fed, so now it was time to get ready for the day.
“You all know the drill,” Din told them. “Old clothes in the laundry, use the potty, IG-11 set out new clothes for you, and then brush your teeth.”
They all chattered agreeably and then the storm of pajamas flying through the air began. At this point Din was used to the commotion, so he pulled off the shirt that landed in his face off and went over to start changing the babies one by one, occasionally pausing to remind the others no laundry fights but otherwise going as fast as he could before -
“Buir, I need help,” said Yod’ika 44’s little voice at his ankle.
“Ask one of your brothers,” Din said, barely remembering to say it instead of automatically helping his son. “Right now I’m changing the babies.”
“But I want you to do it, Buir.”
“Then you need to wait.”
Sometimes it worked, but more often than not Din had a cluster of Yod’ike seeking help (and attention) sitting at his feet. Today Yod’ika 44 sat right on his foot, clutching his new outfit and underwear.
Din felt something wet on his foot and his stomach turned. “Did you wipe?”
“Oops!” Yod’ika 44 ran back to the bathroom.
Din didn’t look down. He just quickly grabbed a wipe and cleaned his foot very thoroughly before anyone else came over.
By the time he was working on Ika’ika - a delicate task, changing the smallest diaper in the galaxy and stuffing the squirming infant into the smallest custom mudhorn-patterned onesie Cara had brought back from her last trip into the Core - a whole cluster of children were at his feet, arguing who was first for help and shouting at Yod’ika for trying to force them to accept his help, Yod’ika the loudest as he yelled back that he was the oldest and his help was just as good as Dad’s.
Din knew if he let go of Ika’ika, even for a second, all his hard work making the wiggly baby get dressed would be undone, so he ignored the fuss until finally he could hand Ika’ika over to IG-11, who deposited him back into the playpen with his littlest brothers. “Okay,” Din said. “Who needs help?”
With at least thirty kids clamoring “Me! Me! Me!” it was impossible to tell who had really been first. Din had found the most success by making it into a game and randomizing it, so he said everyone with a blue outfit had to go see IG-11, everyone with a mythosaur on their clothes had to go ask Yod’ika for assistance, and anyone with a mudhorn should wait for him. They were used to the game so there wasn’t a lot of protest, and now Din had only five children waiting. He pulled on shirts and shorts, gently folded ears through a hat, and tucked Yod’ika 29’s malformed feet into their supportive shoes.
“Are we all ready?” Din asked his brood, all eagerly staring up at him.
“You’re not ready, Dad,” pointed out Yod’ika, and the others all nodded in agreement.
Din looked down. The flightsuit was on, and already stained by food and slobber from when he’d helped his sons eat and from when Boga Jr. had rested her head in his lap, trying to steal scraps. He suppressed a sigh. “No, I guess I’m not.”
7:02 AM
His armor was on, even polished a bit thanks to Yod’ika 3 sneaking into his room for some quiet time in Din’s room. (“But I was being an Armorer,” he’d said so sweetly, and he’d used the right polish, so he got out of any consequences.) He’d remade the bed so it wasn’t currently a varactyl’s nest. The kids were all awake, fed, and dressed, and ready to take on the day. And now, so was he.
“Dad, come on, let’s play!”
“I’m coming.” Din put his helmet on, and stepped outside, ready for anything the galaxy had to throw at him today.
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