#im considering cutting into chapters rather than posting all at once.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honkhonkrichard · 4 years ago

Text

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil. If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT: "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!" "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

#anyways #Stan #stanley uris #Stan uris #mine #Murder Theory #honktheory #thats a tag now I gues ??#pw #analysis #meta

262 notes · View notes

buckysbest · 3 years ago

Text

IT WAS GOOD UNTIL IT WASN'T

CHAPTER TWO: CAN I?

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Reader

Series Warnings: NSFW TOPICS, Manipulative/Toxic tendencies, sad boi steve rogers, cheating, alcohol

Series Summary: Heartbreak follows her everywhere and Steve Rogers is nothing but the latest victim, at least thats what she thought? Now she can't shake the feeling of him no matter where she goes.

Word count: 1.8K

A/N: Hey lovelies! Sorry I haven't been posting much, I am have just had a lot going on the past few weeks. I absolutely adore all of you (@lookiamtrying im talking to you extra) and I cant wait to see what you guys think!

ps sorry for any typos lol I really wanted to give you guys something today

Series Masterlist coming soon // Masterlist Coming soon

You could pretend you weren't petty and you could pretend he didn't have your blood boiling, but you knew you’d only be lying to yourself. At the sound of her voice, your stomach had dropped practically through the pavement and you were pissed.

Your “vacation” in Miami now officially cut short as you found yourself leaning back into your increasingly uncomfortable plane seat. You drummed your nails on the back of your phone as you began to actually consider the consequences that would follow the impulse purchase of your ticket.

You knew you shouldn't go back. You knew what kind of message this sent.

It practically screamed your need for attention from your boy in red, white, and blue while also displaying the jealousy you couldn't quite push down for all yo see

But you just couldn't help yourself.

If he was going to disrupt your plans this heavily, the least you could do is return the favor.

The sun was just rising over the wing of the aircraft as the flight attendants made their final rounds and speeches to the nearly empty plane. The pounding headache from your night of partying was only worsened as the roar of the engines seemed to get louder and louder. In an attempt to mitigate the pain, you pushed the power button on your phone and shoved it into the seat pocket beside you. Your head found the back of the seat with a small groan as your frustration with yourself only grew.

In need of some peace, you let your tired and heavy eyes drape shut. Much to your dismay, they only provided a screen for the tortuous highlight reel of his hands on your body to play upon.

This was going to be a long flight.

---

As the wheels of the plane finally landed, you quickly gathered your limited belongings and headed straight for the exit. Your rushed departure from Miami couldn't have been more obvious to the other passengers and pedestrians around you. The early morning business class was filled mostly with people in professional wear which provided a stark contrast to your, albeit, slutty and glittering minidress.

Your heels echoed throughout the airport with each step toward the exit of the building, disrupting the stillness of the morning. As you finally crossed the threshold into the fresh air, your driver waved you down excitedly. The pain in your head worsened once again as your agitation grew and you slid on your sunglasses with an eye roll.

“Miss. Y/N, it is really so lovely to see you, we all missed you so much! Your father was incredibly excited that you decided to come home early!”

As you walked further from the building, he rushed around you, gathering your belongings from you as he continued to sprinkle you with unnecessary compliments.

“Mhm, yeah, Thomas, that's really lovely- truly, do you mind though, can we just skip home and just go to the penthouse please?”

The request surprised him a bit, probably because your father prepared him for a different sight exiting the airport. Instead of a burnt out party-girl chomping at the bit for the comforts of home, he was met with a hungover and irritable heiress already smothered over her newly acquired lack of freedom.

The serenity of the ride into the city allowed you a moment of reflection as hints of guilt began to pool in the bottom of your stomach. While your attitude didn't completely improve, you did feel bad for the way you had spoken to Thomas because in all fairness, the limo was far warmer and comforting than the unwelcoming New York air and you knew he was simply doing his job.

The tension in the vehicle seemed to diffuse a little as you got closer to your apartment. Your eyes and energy had rather refocused on the real reason for your return as you turned to your phone, staring at the messages Steve had left you.

3:15 (We’ll talk in the morning, ok?)

3:20 (Sweetheart, look, if it's really important, I can stay up for a bit longer)

4:00 (did you at least get home safe?)

5:00 (doll, you're making me nervous, please just let me know your safe)

You bit your lip in concentration but your eyes were drawn away from your phone before you could craft a response as the car found itself coming to a slow stop. Thomas made his way to your door, opening it and offering you a hand as you stepped out and took in the building. After the all-too-long ride up the elevator, your mind was settled as you entered your top floor home. It was just how you had left it two months ago and it felt good to be back.

“Just a moment thomas, I just need to get changed”

Thomas awkwardly dismissed himself back to the car as you walked into your bedroom and subsequent closet. You paused under your closet archway briefly to finally type the response you had been thinking over.

8:00 am ( can I come over? or do you have company)

Your nails met your lips as you nervously awaited his response.

8:00 am (wait what? are you home already?)

8:00 am (you know you can come over anytime )

A smile grew on your lips at his timely response. Your hands rummaged through the variety of drawers lining the walls of your wardrobe before stopping to feel the lace of a white set of lingerie you knew he couldn't resist. Sliding it on, your eyes gel onto the perfect outfit for your intended purposes.

The black velvet top and matching skirt hugged your body in a way that should be illegal while your diamond-studded pumps found their way onto the floor replaced by equally stunning white pumps. They rubbed slightly on the blisters you had acquired in the past week as you quickly made your way back out the door after grabbing your handbag from the couch.

‘He lived right down the street’ you repeated to yourself as traffic dragged what should have been a five minute ride into a fifteen minute endeavor.

The anticipation of being reunited began to expose itself as your skin began to glisten and an excited glow rose onto your face. Before Thomas could even put the car fully in park, you had already opened the door, saying a quick don't wait up before slamming the door shut.

Your legs couldn't seem to move quick enough as you walked through the hallways until you reached his door. Your heels must have given your arrival away because before your knuckles could even knock on the door, he swung it open and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I am so glad you're safe”

His warm breath tickled your neck as he mumbled the soft words into your hair. A small smile found its way onto your face at the notion before you raised yourself onto your tippy toes, whispering back an “I missed you”.

You could feel the silence and comfort in everyone of your muscles as they relaxed into the man you knew all too well. You turned around, stepping into the threshold of his home without breaking the strong grip that he still had on you. Taking the small note, he released you slightly, pulling his large frame through the door as well before he shut it gently. His eyes softened as they met yours for the first time in two months.

“What are you doing home?” A small smile raised onto his face as you took another step into him, laying your head on his chest.

“I already told you, I missed you,” you replied as his hands that laid respectfully on your lower back were lowered by your own mischievous hands. You placed a soft kiss beneath his ear, “Did you miss me too Cap?”

A small groan left his mouth at the nickname and you knew you were close to getting what you wanted.

You lead his hands once again lower, this time to the bottom of your skirt, prompting him to slide it up a bit. Your hands finally left his as you reached them up around his neck and leaned in.

His lips met yours halfway in a movement that could only be described as desperate.

The slow and agonizing pace that he had tried to set for you was now gone as he patted your thighs and you jumped. He carried you to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed and crawling on top of you.

His mouth then began to make its way down the side of your neck, eliciting a loud moan from your painted lips. A satisfied smirk momentarily appeared on his face as he lifted his eyes to meet yours. They seemed to search your eyes for a moment before they broke away from yours with a small frown. His hovering form came down as he placed his head on your chest with a groan.

“What's wrong cap?” you joked slightly as you ran your hands through his hair.

“Steve?”

“I can’t do this doll.” His sweet eyes raised to meet yours and you could immediately tell they were filled to the brim with guilt.

“Of course you can Ste-”

“You don’t understand y/n,” he said with a deep sigh before pulling himself further back and standing up. He began to pace slightly as he continued with a frustrated groan, “I- fuck- “

Your eyes widened at the uncharacteristic language and behavior of your golden boy as his eyes met yours once again. “I-I finally found someone who will give me what you cant y/n.” He paused momentarily, as if being hit by the recoil of the gun he had just fired into your heart. “She, She really sees a future with me doll and, and I-I can't just throw that all away for nothing” he says. His words and his eyes were laced with propositions and it really appears like he's trying to convince himself more than you.

Nonetheless, your heart dropped to your stomach and you could feel tears threatening to brim at your eyes. “Nothing? Am I nothing to you Steve?”

“Oh- of course no- I didn't mean it like that,” he sighed as he quickly walked back over to you.

You extended an arm out before pulling him back onto the bed and flipping him over. Straddling his hips, you leaned down and laid into his chest. His arms once again found their way around you, if only because of muscle memory. You held this embrace for a moment before sighing out your own proposition.

“I’ll go Steve… I’ll go and leave forever if you really want…. Just tell me..” You leaned your head up slightly to meet his ear and whispered,

“Is that what you really want?”

#marvel masterlist #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #self insert #x reader #steve rogers series

29 notes · View notes

unsettledink · 3 years ago

Text

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

#mysteryspider #spiderio #quenter #quentin beck x peter parker #quentin x peter #mcu #spiderman #gotcha #wip #my work #fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth - I.I: Stay

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature languages, descriptions of death and murder, violence, graphic depictions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?...

chapter directory

Once upon a time there was a lone seamstress who lived inside a little house in the woods. Few knew of her existence, and even fewer knew of her name, for outside the safety of the forest, the world and its inhabitants were cruel and corrupt. To relieve the weight of her loneliness, the seamstress sat on her roof every night to speak to the moon as it traveled across the black sky. She spoke to the moon about everything, from the rushing of the river current after a spell of rain to the plumpness of the round, ripe peaches that arrived in the summer, and when she ran out of elements of reality, she turned to ones of fantasy instead. She told the moon stories of massive dragons who breathed butterflies with wings of jewels instead of fire and planets where the seas were composed of golden honey and tall mountains of glass.

The moon fell in love with the seamstress and her fairy tales, for she was just as keen for a companion. She loved the seamstress so much that one night per cycle, when the ocean tides were at their lowest, she would leave her nightly perch and join the seamstress on her roof. No one knew of the true nature of their relationship, whether they were friends, lovers, soulmates, but that did not matter, for the moon loved the seamstress, and the seamstress loved the moon in return.

In order to show her love, the moon gifted the seamstress one of her brightest stars from the night sky. Upon consuming the star, the seamstress was blessed with abilities beyond imaginable: Gifts to heal creatures long past the point of decay. Talents in skill, wit and knowledge that surpassed the most brilliant scholars. And most notably, the miracle of eternal life.

Outsiders soon caught word of the immortal seamstress who lived in the little house in the wood, and some sought to steal her and the moon’s power for their own gain. On a night when the moon was at its fullest, a band of malicious villagers stormed the seamstress’s home right on the very roof where she sat. The moon, unable to intervene, watched the villagers kill the one she loved. In a final attempt to best the attackers, the moon shattered the seamstress’s soul into pieces, which had become one with the star, and scattered them across the world. To this day, the ruins of the seamstress’s house still stands deep within the forests of time. On nights when the moon disappears from the night sky, some say that if one listens close enough, sobs and wails can be heard from the roof of the little home where the moon mourns her lost companion.

Many have tried, but it is impossible to gather enough shards of the seamstress’s spirit to recreate the full power of the gifted star. It is said a piece of her soul resides inside all of us. Though in some, the magic is more prominent than others…

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she started getting all defensive over it.” You hold back a sigh at Jihyo’s huff, not desiring to make your roommate and close friend aware that her over-the-phone rant is draining what little sanity remains within your mind. To be honest, you actually lost track of the conversation a couple blocks back, and have little clue over who she’s complaining about. Probably yet another one of Sana’s douchebag crushes “Like, I get you like him and all, but the dude’s literally an asshole. I mean, he’s stood her up how many goddamn times, and not to mention, the whole thing with Chaeyoung—

“(Y/N)? Are you even listening?” You immediately snap from whatever headspace your consciousness slipped into at the change in Jihyo’s tone. Your hand raises to wipe the drowsiness of a twelve-plus-hour day from your eyes as you speak for the first time since you left the university:

“Not really, honestly.” You finally release the breath in your lungs, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jihyo scolds, “You know you’re free to hang up on me anytime I get too fired up. Or at least snap me out of it.”

“I know,” You peer at both sides of the street before making your way across, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to fight the chilly, night air. “Like I said, it’s just been a long day.”

“You can tell me all about it over some take-out, sound good?”

“Sounds great. I haven’t eaten much today.”

Jihyo’s grumble emerges over the line, earning an amused chuckle from your own chest. You can hear her yell something to most likely Sana, your other roommate, in the background before returning with yet another scold, “You’re in serious trouble now, (Y/N) (L/N). What have we said about skipping meals?”

“I was busy today!” You protest, unable to hold back the smile that spreads along your lips at your friend’s mother-like nagging.

“That is no excuse!” A couple muffled sounds carry over the line, along with a hushed, inaudible conversation between Jihyo and another person. You cross another street and round the corner, preparing to cut through your usual shortcut to your apartment building, when Jihyo finally returns, “I hope you’re okay with Thai because apparently Sana’s going to die if she doesn’t get her Mango Sticky Rice...”

“I’m okay with that. You know my usual?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You chuckle, “Fair enough. I’ve got maybe another ten minutes until I’m home. Try not to let Sana eat all the food before I get there.”

“No promises. See you soon, babe.”

You hum a wordless farewell in response before lowering your phone from your ear to end the call. Without the buzz of the line and your friend’s voice to fill the silence, you finally notice how quiet and empty the streets seem. During the hours of the day, the town is usually packed with people meandering out and about in the bay’s usual nice weather. Without the sunshine, however, the nights can get rather cold, and by missing your bus, you’re experiencing that fact firsthand.

You can feel goosebumps emerging across your skin underneath your clothing as you traverse further down the path, a flickering, lone streetlamp your only guide through the darkness. The alleyway in which you usually cut through gapes on your left, but before you enter the narrow passage, you pause to peer over your shoulder. While it wouldn’t be the first time your paranoia has emerged for little reason, considering your track record of life experiences, the sight of shadows and stillness does nothing to ease the eerie sensations creeping along the back of your neck.

Passing the strange feeling off to the cold, you finally step into the pitch black of the alleyway, taking quicker and longer steps out of pure instinct. You pilfer through your bag, wanting to find your phone again to light your path, but as per usual, it seems to have dropped to the very bottom of the bag’s contents. A silent groan rumbles from your chest at the discovery that you’ll have to continue through the dark, or at least until you reach the opposite end of the alley. Hopefully there’s no rats or bats or—

Your entire body jumps at a loud clatter that sounds from behind. You quickly pivot on your heel to investigate the sudden noise, finding nothing but darkness, darkness and more darkness.

“H-Hello?” Your call bounces between the brick walls of the alleyway, echoing back inside your ears. You swallow, with your throat as tight as your chest, and call again. The only sound that answers is the violent racing of your pulse and your shaky breaths. Clutching your bag closer to your chest, you begin to walk backwards while keeping your eyes trained toward the entrance you only moments before came through. The idea seems ideal, that is, until your foot catches a divot and your form collapses onto the pavement.

It takes you a moment to recover from the fall, but you’re quick to grab one of the stiletto heels from your foot and arm yourself with as best a means of defense as you can manage. You carefully rise, shuddering as another clatter sounds from somewhere in the alley. Your eyes dart through the darkness, searching for a shadow that moves more than the rest. After maybe another minute of silence, with your makeshift weapon still in hand, you rush toward the exit of the passageway.

A breath of relief leaves your lips as you enter a level of light where your hand is no longer a silhouette in front of your face. Using the lamp post as support, you reach down to grab the second heel from your other foot and toss it inside your bag while its twin remains prepped just in case. You can survive walking the last three minutes to your building barefoot. All else be damned.

Just as you’re about to resume your walk home, something grabs the back of your scalp, and using the roots of your hair as assistance, yanks you back into the dark alleyway. You immediately fight back, swinging your arm as hard as you can to stab the assailant with your heel. Obviously taken off guard, the figure surrenders its hold on your hair and provides the opportunity for you to stab him again. It releases a blend of something between a groan and a growl, grabs your wrist and quite literally, launches you deeper into the darkness.

Your body connects with a brick wall with a violent thud, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs. You try to clamber to your hands and knees, but your right arm throbs and goes completely limp at the movement. You curse at the broken bone, but still manage to bring yourself to stand. No sooner are you on your feet, the figure, who you briefly forgot about, shoves and pins your back against the wall with a hand around your throat.

“G-get off…!” You sputter, using your good arm to claw at its face. With speed and strength that’s mostly definitely not human, it keeps your flailing body pressed against the brick surface, yanks your arm out of the way and harshly tilts your head to the side. A loud scream sounds from your lips as binding pain erupts from your neck. Warm blood slips down your flesh like raindrops, staining the collar of your shirt crimson red. The pain is so fierce, it disorients your mind and numbs the remainder of your physical strength, leaving no room for you to fight back any longer.

Your vision begins to grow blurry, partly from tears and partly from the painful fogginess exhausting your brain. For a moment, you wonder what will kill you first: The blood loss, the excruciating pain, or the knowledge that your life in itself is slowly slipping from your fingertips.

You are going to die. The thought repeats itself like a broken record on repeat. You are going to die without seeing your students again. You are going to die without seeing Jihyo and Sana and all your friends again. You are going to die right here, in this dark alley, from a brutal monster that came straight out of hell.

Just when you’re on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness, the figure is torn away, leaving your body to collapse to the ground. Muffled sounds of what seem to be barbaric snarls and roars spill into your ears, followed by the obvious snaps of breaking bones. Through the pitch black, you can almost make out a human-like silhouette approaching your grounded figure.

The last thing you remember before you slip underneath the waves of exhaustion is the gentle touch of bloody hands and a soft murmur of your name.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Familiar faces mill about the confines of the graveyard, some as bystanders, whispering rumors behind yellow-taped borders, and some as pursuers, tiptoeing around the grounds as if one wrong step will shatter the tense atmosphere like glass. From his perch leaning against a nearby tree, Mark watches the coroner zip up the black body bag with a blank expression set across his features, contradicting the cloud of sorrow suffocating the means of his soul. Even with the corpse out of sight, he can remember her face—the still-rosy cheeks, the icy touch of fingertips, the unseeing eyes…

The coroner rises to his feet, shaking his head before turning to speak to the town sheriff beside him. Mark continues to observe as both investigators engage in a brief conversation. As if sensing his gaze, they simultaneously turn to peer his way. Mark quickly turns his eyes elsewhere and abandons his post. He heads in the direction of the crypt, attempting to push the persistent, vulgar images out of mind.

“Mark! Hang on!” His steps halt at the frenzied call of the sheriff, providing the opportunity for the older woman to approach. She offers him an apologetic smile and an affectionate pat on his forearm. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anymore questions.”

“Good. Don’t think I have anything much else to say.” The sheriff doesn’t reply to his weak attempt at humor, instead mapping out the very extent of his face. Trying his hardest to keep his features neutral, Mark stares right back at the female officer—the last thing he needs is to break down right then and there.

After another moment of silence passes, the sheriff finally speaks, “How are you doing, Mark? Really?”

“How do you think I’m doing, sheriff?” Mark releases a sigh, “One of my friends is dead.”

“I know.” She also expels a deep breath, running a hand through her long, brunette tresses. Her grip stiffens just slightly, enough to be able to feel her skin trembling against his. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t believe it myself—” She chuckles scornfully, “Do you have any idea who—or what, would do this?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.” Mark replies, “Some of us are… taking it pretty hard.”

“Until then, you and everyone else have to be careful.”

Mark shakes his head, “Sheriff—”

“I mean it, Mark,” The sheriff squeezes his arm so tight that Mark wonders if it will bruise. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, and they knew what she was. Promise me that you’ll keep on your toes?” Flashes of her lifeless body overtake the forefronts of his brain even before he can help it. He hates how his stomach twists at the memory of that foreboding symbol carved into his chest—right next to the confines from where her heart was torn.

“I promise.”

“Good.” A breath that Mark didn’t even know he was holding escapes his lungs as the sheriff removes her hand. “Let me know if you find anything. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, sheriff.” The sheriff doesn’t say another word, only lays one final pat on Mark’s shoulder before taking off after a group of officers hauling the body bag into the back of a large van. Mark watches as she goes, unable to shake off the feeling of her quivering fingers until she’s out of sight.

Ignoring the staff mopping the blood-stained gravel pathways, Mark resumes his journey up the steps and inside the tall, white-marbled mausoleum. To anyone on the outside, the structure just seems like a normal place to house a passed loved one, but to the specific few, it’s so much more. The coziness of the inside somewhat eases the anxiety flowing through his veins, welcoming the warmth the flames in the fireplace provide. He gazes around the one-room building, past towering bookshelves stuffed with ancient grimoires and cabinets lined with jared materials of all kinds, until his eyes settle on a second figure standing at the lectern placed in the center of the room, flipping through the yellowed pages of a ragged book.

“Any luck?” Mark asks, making his way through the cluttered space beside his busy companion. Youngjae glances up from the tome that’s pretty much falling apart, and sullenly shakes his head.

“Nothing. I tried to track her blood—” Youngjae gestures to a map on a nearby table, its surface decorated with spreading crimson lines and swirls, “—but it’s weird. The trail doesn’t go anywhere. It just…doesn’t stop.”

“What about that mark? Anything on that?”

“I’ve gone through everything we have on runes, symbolism, hieroglyphics, but there’s nothing that even remotely resembles what was on her chest.” Youngjae pauses, hesitant to speak the words on the tip of his tongue, but with a glance at Mark, he continues, “...It’s like whoever, or whatever killed her doesn’t exist, hyung. There’s literally nothing.”

“Shit—” Mark curses, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff, “There can’t just be nothing! There has to be something—!”

Youngjae shakes his head, “I don’t know what to tell you…” The younger watches as Mark picks up his book. He flips through a few pages before slamming the cover shut with more force than necessary. A moment of silence aside from the sounds of their breathing passes until it is broken by Mark’s yell as he launches the text across the room, knocking over a collection of stacked artifacts.

“Hyung—”

“One of our people is dead, Youngjae!” Youngjae flinches at the elder’s harsh tone, watching helplessly as he shoves a pile of grimoires across the mausoleum floor. “And we have no fucking clue who killed her and why they did it! What if they come back, huh!? What if they come for you next!? Or Lia!? Or Jisung or—” Mark’s angered tangent falls quiet at the shrill call of a cell ringtone. Mark retracts his phone from his pocket, and with a composed sigh, answers the device and lifts it to his ear.

Youngjae watches Mark’s face carefully as it shifts from annoyance to confusion to absolute anguish. He tries to inquire about the subject of the phone call, but Mark only lifts his finger in warning. After a couple cool replies, Mark mumbles a less-than-pleasant farewell and disconnects the line. One of his hands lift to push back the strands of his dark hair while the other frantically reaches for his jacket:

“(Y/N)’s in the hospital. Fuck, I have to—”

“Go, hyung.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

Mark’s composure softens. Guilt begins to flow through his veins as he recalls the harsh tone he previously directed at his younger companion. Guided by his emotions, Mark reaches forward to squeeze at Youngjae’s bicep, similar to the sheriff’s actions minutes before. He murmurs, “Thank you, Youngjae.” Youngjae only nods, bending down to begin clearing the remnants of Mark’s wrath as said figure heads out the door.

The forensic team is still cleaning the blood as Mark makes his way toward the exit of the graveyard.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The first color you see when you open your eyes is white, playing more into your assumptions that you’re currently in the beginning stage of the afterlife. As more and more of your consciousness and common sense return to your brain, the puzzle pieces of the strange situation slowly begin to slide into place. You’re not floating in a cloud at all—but in fact, laying on the most uncomfortable bed known to man. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as to collect more clues to your surroundings.

A soft murmur of your name and set of hands on your shoulders takes you completely off guard. Immediately, memories of your encounter with the violent creature invade your brain like water to dry soil. You flail your limbs wildly, attempting to defend yourself against the unknown figure with each kick and punch.

“(Y/N), hey! Calm down!” The stranger seizes your wrists before you can knock his eye out, tugging your arms to rest on your lap. It’s painfully aware that his strength outmatches your own, so you make no other attempts to use force—also partly due to the gentle tone of his voice. You allow the stranger to guide your upper body back to lay down on the bed, using the opportunity to peek at his face:

The man is despicably handsome to the point his features seem to be sculpted by the gods themselves. His face is long, with a jawline that is sharp enough to slice your finger if you were to reach up and touch the structure. You can’t tell which is more alluring, between his dark, almond-shaped eyes, or his full, rose lips. Then again, the jet black, fluffy hair atop his head is also a close third…or the milky canvas of his strong neck—

“...(Y/N)?” When the stranger speaks again, you notice a strange lilt to his voice, almost like an accent of some sorts. But like the figure himself, you can’t place where you’ve heard such a figment of speech. “...Can you understand me?”

“I’d hope so.” You murmur blankly, “What am I? A fucking alien?”

The stranger’s lips curl in amusement at your retort. He pulls a lone chair closer to your bedside, not once breaking his gaze from your own. You ignore the strange shivers that crawl down your spine as he takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms atop the edge of your mattress. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the multitude of wires connecting your arm to the machines stationed on the opposite end of the bed—so you’re not dead. What a relief.

“You’re in the hospital—”

“Figured that out already, pal.” You sigh, rolling your head back into the pillows and allowing your eyes to slip shut. The act does little to calm the storm occurring inside your mind, so frustratedly, you open them again and instead, peer at your unfamiliar companion with a raised eyebrow, “Pardon my French, but who the fuck are you and why are you here?”

Before the stranger can settle the confusion bubbling through your entire body, a knock sounds from the door a few feet away. It slides open to reveal a woman in a white coat with a clipboard and pen in hand. With a sweet smile across her face, the doctor enters the room to approach your position on the bed.

She outstretches a hand, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m Dr. Yoo Jeongyeon. I heard you had a pretty rough night.” Too lost inside bewilderment, you accept her formal greeting without saying a word. Dr. Yoo pays no mind to your silence, instead checking the machines at your bedside. “You should be glad Jinyoung found and brought you here.” She finishes recording the results of the pacemaker before requesting you to sit up for a moment. You do so, looking straight ahead as she checks your eyes. “You suffered a nasty concussion—” She switches off the light, “—so how do you feel?”

“I feel…” Your voice fades before you can give a complete answer. It’s not that it wasn’t an easy question—it’s the fact that right now, you feel great… The best you’ve felt in the past couple years as a matter of fact! But that doesn’t make any sense, especially with what you remember from the alleyway. There was blood… and you’re pretty sure your arm was broken too…

“It’s okay to be a little out of sorts. Especially after hitting your head and knocking yourself out.” Dr. Yoo assures, marking something down on her clipboard before nodding, “Everything looks great, but we’re going to keep you here for the rest of the night just as a precaution. You’re free to go home first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, I swear I—”

“Please let one of the nurses know if you need anything else. I’ll see you in the morning.” You watch as Dr. Yoo bids both you, and the man called Jinyoung, a brief goodnight and exits out the same door she came through only minutes ago, leaving your thoughts swirling with even more questions than before.

You shake your head, “I didn’t fall though. I was attacked.”

“Like she said, you hit your head pretty hard.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Your memory is probably a bit off.”

“That’s not—no.” His face grows visibly surprised at the drop in your tone, but still retains his usual neutral aura. “I know what I saw.”

Jinyoung releases a heavy, almost annoyed breath before climbing to his feet. More shivers attack your helpless body as he leans forward, diminishing the distance between the two of you until his nose is only centimeters from brushing your own. You can taste the mint of his breath as he speaks. Calm, collected, and slow:

“You fell and hit your head. Nothing else happened.” Amongst his strange words, you can’t help but notice the rather unusual behavior of his eyes. The ring of his chocolate, brown irises disappears as his pupil grows three times its normal size before shrinking down to a nonexistent dot—you don’t like the familiar ghost of paranoia breathing down the back of your neck.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

For the first time, actual emotion lifts to Jinyoung’s face in the form of pure disorientation. He lurches backward, as if finally realizing how uncomfortably narrow the distance was between the two of you, and clears his throat. Although it’s probably a trick against the bright, alabaster background, you swear you saw his eyes once again flash to black.

“Nothing. It’s the lighting.” He manages to get over his confused state, or mask it beneath another layer of vacancy, before awkwardly gesturing to your cell phone on the bedside table. “I called your friend, Mark. He was the first contact on your list, so I just thought…”

“That’s… really nice of you.”

“He should be arriving soon…” Jinyoung, once again, stiffly points in the direction of the closed door. “I should wait outside to make sure he finds your room…” He hurries to the doorway, eager to be rid of the tension lingering between the two of your forms, and peers over his shoulder to nod, “I hope you have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Jinyoung, wait—” You hurry to sit up, hoping to catch your mysterious savior before he disappears from the room. Thankfully, Jinyoung, with one foot out the door, pauses at your command. This time, he does not turn to meet your gaze—and you curse the longing that sparks in your gut because of it.

“Thanks for… bringing me here, I guess.” Your cheeks burn as you say the words out loud, wondering if Jinyoung can hear the slight waver to your tone. You expect the stranger to nod his head, like before, and high tail out of your sight, but as always, Jinyoung does what you least expect: He turns around and delivers a tight-lipped, but surprisingly sweet smile.

“You’re welcome.” His response makes your insides flutter, “I… I hope to see you again soon.” Jinyoung doesn’t give you the chance to return the conversation, and with one final glance, vanishes through the hospital doorway. Even with his presence gone, your body thrums with the remnants of his aura. Partly because of the lingering aftertaste of his charming presence:

—And partly because of the apprehensive feeling in your gut that grows the more you dwell on the abnormality of his gaze.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung never meant for the night to turn out like this. He only wanted to get out of the manor—well, get away from his brother before he broke his neck. Literally. Jinyoung never meant to catch your scent during his midnight stroll, nor eventually find you in that alleyway, where he watched as you bravely attempted to fight off that crazed, bloodthirsty fledgling with nothing but a single shoe. The logical part of his brain initially forbode his intervention, but watching how you fought that vampire awoke the remaining human component inside his soul.

—He realized that he couldn’t let you die.

So against his better judgement, Jinyoung saved your life… and now he’s paying the price.

“You better have a damn good explanation or I’ll hex you into the next fucking century.” Jinyoung waits patiently as Mark exits the hospital elevator, barely flinching as he shoves his body against the nearest wall. Ignoring the pure rage wafting off of the witch’s body like a Spring scent, Jinyoung raises his arms and replies coolly:

“Please take your hands off of me.”

“Not until you explain to how (Y/N) was almost killed by a fucking bloodsucker.” Mark tightens his hold on Jinyoung’s collar, pressing him further into the surface of the wall. “If this is because of your douchebag brother, then I swear—”

“I already told you that Jaebeom cannot turn other vampires.” He pushes Mark’s body with just enough force to free himself from his hold. “And so help me, if you try to go after my family again, I’ll kill you and your pathetic minions.”

Mark scoffs, “Just because you can’t be killed doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” Jinyoung quickly bites his tongue to hold back his retort and inhales a deep breath to calm the frustration brewing through his veins. His mind, against his own will, conjures up the memory of you sitting and staring at him from the hospital bed. Just the image of your bright, fire-lit eyes eases the tension from his shoulders, washing away whatever anger remained inside his gut.

Jinyoung sighs and changes the topic, “(Y/N) is fine. After I killed him, I fed her my blood—”

“Oh, fucking hell—” Mark curses, burying his face in his palms. “Yeah, everything is just peachy.”

“It was either that, or she die from blood loss. Take your pick.”

“We had a deal,” The witch begins, “The coven, the pack and the league would allow you and your brother to stay in town as long as no other bloodsuckers make an appearance—“

“I can’t keep count of every vampire that comes into town,” Jinyoung replies truthfully. “Last I checked, that’s your seer’s job.” He takes note of the painful expression that overtakes Mark’s face, replacing his frustrated tone with one of concern, “What happened?”

“Nayeon is dead.” He feels an imaginary punch sink into his gut at Mark’s sullen answer. “She was killed a couple hours ago.”

“Killed? By what?”

“That’s what we were trying to figure out when I got your goddamn call.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m sor—”

“Save it.” Mark finishes just as a couple of chatting nurses clad in sky blue scrubs turn the corner and stop in front of the elevator. Both him and Jinyoung offer the hospital staff polite smiles, waiting a couple breaths for the metal doors to slide open and the passersby to enter. Only when the doors shut and the elevator dings, is when Mark continues: “Where is she?”

“Room 116. I told her I called you.” Jinyoung quickly moves forward as Mark tries to push past him, blocking the doorway so he can’t pass. “Hang on—”

“We’re done talking—”

“She can’t be compelled.” Jinyoung ignores how Mark tries to shove him aside, keeping his body rigid and exactly in place.

Mark rolls his eyes, “Well, no shit. I gave her a ring infused with vervain—”

“She wasn’t wearing it,” Jinyoung insists, “And her blood is clean. You know what that means.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” A couple surrounding bystanders curiously glance their way at Mark’s hiss. The witch releases a heavy breath before dragging Jinyoung to a more inconspicuous corner of the hallway. His voice is quieter when he speaks, “Look, I know this girl. There’s no way in hell she's anything remotely supernatural.”

“Then explain how she can’t be compelled by a Prime Vampire.” Jinyoung argues, narrowing his eyes as Mark scoffs and turns to begin the journey to your room. He purses his lips before calling out, “I know you feel it too.” Mark freezes, but doesn’t say a word. Jinyoung takes his silence as a means to continue, “—that rush you feel whenever she’s around… like you’re the most powerful being in the world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mark replies before peering over his shoulder to shoot Jinyoung a stern glare, “Stay the hell away from her. Or else.” And with that, Jinyoung watches as Mark scurries down the white hallway and disappears around a corner.

Jinyoung releases a sigh, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. His thoughts are scattered: Stressing about a witch killer lurking around the town… Dreading his future encounter with his ignorant, dastardly counterpart back at the manor… Pondering over the reasons why Mark lied just seconds before…

But most importantly, Jinyoung wonders when he will be able to see you again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous to see you. Maybe it was the look in Jinyoung’s eyes that has him spooked, or the fact that you can’t be compelled by one of the most powerful vampires in existence. Since you came to Moon Dye Bay, Mark has been able to shield the truth of the monsters that go bump in the night from your innocent eyes—the knowledge of your resistance toward mind compulsion proves that he has to be even more careful… especially with a supernatural murderer in the picture.

He inhales a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door. Your gentle call for his entry immediately lifts the heaviness from his chest. With less hesitation than before, Mark opens the obstacle and slips past the doorway into the room, his eyes softening at the sight of your body tucked beneath the sheets of the medical bed.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Mark.” Just the way you say his name spills warmth through his limbs, settling like a warm blanket over his heart. He makes his way to your bed to gather your figure in his arms, appreciating how yours and his bodies fit like puzzle pieces.

He murmurs against the crown of your head, “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… confused as hell.” Mark pulls back at your weak attempt at a laugh to watch your face instead. His desire to caress the swell of your cheek comes at him so strong that he has to station his hands on your knees as a distraction. “I swear I was attacked by—I don’t even know what—but I don’t even know…”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, I just—don’t understand how things just got so screwed up, you know? I don’t even—Mark, what’s wrong?”

Your question seizes his attention, causing his eyebrows to furrow from confusion. He opens his mouth to inquire about your out-of-the-blue concern, but his words die at the hand that appears on his cheek. He watches in disbelief as you wipe a tear from the edge of his eye, wondering where during the conversation he had begun to cry. Whether it’s the pure compassion in your eyes, or the traumatic encounters throughout the night, Mark doesn’t know… but he allows himself to break down in your hold.

He allows himself to melt into your embrace as you pull him down against your body. He allows the sobs to freely flow from his lips and catch into the crook of your neck. He allows himself to be vulnerable for that one moment… because he can’t show weakness anywhere but with you.

“I… I thought I lost you…” Mark feels your hold tighten at his whisper, “I can’t lose you… Not you…”

“You won’t, Mark…” For a moment, he allows his heart to trick his mind into believing your words meant more than what they’re intended for. Just for a moment, Mark actually convinces himself that here, in your arms, is where he belongs…but he knows it’s far from the truth.

Because even though you may feel like home—Mark can never, truly satisfy his homesickness for you.

121 notes · View notes

littlenekosfan · 4 years ago

Text

Friend - visual narrative

this is going to be a long thread bc i have a LOT of panels, so read under the cut!

since im reworking with Friend chapters panels, i paid attention to the details more than ever before.. and wow, the way these chapters are narrated is absolutely amazing

lets start off with my one of my fav panels

if there is a theme between these two that keep recurring it’s “duality” (whether when it comes to their character or the way their story is told) we will also find a lot of parallels with it.. this panel above starts it very well, one left, one right, they both call each other’s name, the expressions completely different, even the background is reversed

there we go again, all this in one chapter, i simply love how they have the same pose/image but reversed, its a really nice contrast with how different they are and yet are at the same level also, look at their speech bubbles, most of the time, jugram has a round one while bazz a sharper one, its the case here and the previous panels aswell

AGAIN! kubo gives us each’s pov with the same image/paneling, i love that method bc he treats them the same, even if one is stronger than the other and ppl will most likely root for/side with one more than the other, they both get the same treatment, also, we get to see how both lives the same struggle, it both conflicts them this whole fight considering the past they had together

the transition is also really nice, the black background outside the panel and the partial grey shading that matches with it inside the panel.. we will get to see that technique again, but here?? lovely.

a whole page not showing their face even if you guessed who they were, you get that little surprise with the face reveal which comes out really nice

the chapter reveal!!!! its so pure and empty (no dialogue and it’s only one panel), it perfectly empathize on the title and its meaning

i love how discreet bazz motive to help out jugo is shown here, obviously none of them would speak about it (jugo is pretty closed and bazz despite being loud, he isnt obnoxious and he’s smart) so it had to be shown without any words and these panels do it so well!

the first panel is just so beautiful and you can tell how jugo is just, happy. and then, the moment his uncle speaks, his face drastically changes, from white to black, kubo loves to work with that contrast of b&w (just look how the ritters/espadas are dressed vs shinigamis.. there is also the sun/moon theme and so on... its not called bleach for nothing lmao) kubo uses contrast very often and we can tell he loves to do it (and he does it super well!!)

i know we dont have any colour on these pages, but both pages are from the same chapter, first one (right) being their fist meeting on a normal day (probably an evening so the sky is orange ish) and the second page is again a jump to a flashback but this time it’s not the sky that we are shown in the last panel, but rather flames, the same colour as the day they met... the two last panels look the same but arent....

there is also the absence of facial expression in some panels, which imo conveys the mood much better, we are not left up to interpretation, we clearly know what kind of feelings that are expressed yet they didnt need to be shown...

again with the parallels (left/right) and using the same image from younger to older to show their growth? nice.

the built up with the grand reveal... wow, love it, also, that panel was such a surprise to me when i first read it... still give me goosebumps today ngl..(if you are a manga reader to likes to have the book, well, this the end of vol69... what an ending :))) just look at the build up, the bg is dark and you get that white and empty panel right after like, wow

AGAIN WITH THE SUPRISE AND WOW IT HURTS, also the title being in capital... OOF, im going to loose it

ppl like to call kubo lazy with his titles, but is it?? i mean, here, i really cant think of a better title, remember how the first chapter friend was introduced? so sweet and smooth and then you get this... the fact friend is written here is a good call back to their relationship, what it is, what it really means, and the current situation

the way bazz recalls all the things he had heard about this.......th-that hurts (we’re like in his mind, we’re just as shocked as he is) also, it shows well how bazz recall all these moment in silence and does all the realization without saying a thing, bc no, he didnt say a thing ever since yhwach started to talk..

the left panel is yhwach talking (as he was for like the whole chapter) and there is no dialogue going on, the two boys didnt say a thing... as the slience was taking place, bazz breaks is with a shrieking voice, just looking how the letters are written in japanese, we went from pure, clear panel to a messy and dark one....

jump back to present, with both jugrams having the same pose but they both don’t convey the same feeling, with the shading and how cut it is (not being able to fully see jugo’s eyes) you can tell the first one is more disturbing/devastating than the second one

there we go... we get to see both of their expression at the same time and it change within the following panels,.. (im telling you, kubo love both of them, not just one.., both.)

this is one of my favorites moments, the way know bazz has lost his fight and how HE is self-conscious about it..., the way he monologues about jugram is really depressing, and how we are only given images that illustrates his struggle...the images are so strong, desperate and yet, his words are so empty, powerless, he knew he lost.. (the moment i start reading it, i cry on the fucking floor)

i mentioned earlier how i loved kubo’s choice in not showing the face, well we have it here again in a flashback and the end of the fight... jugram turning his back to bazz, he did it in the past and did it after bazz’ death.. it’s his way to avoid to face his feelings. (the fact we are shown he did it in the past and the reason to it, let us know why he did it again even later)

here again with empty panels, the fact it’s only bazz who is talking.... feels really heavy and the way he clings to jugram with burning hands....... you really need to look at every panel carefully to feel that heart wrenching moment,, there is no crying or screaming, he just softly admits his defeat and that’s it, like, im sorry but that’s fucking sorrowful

here again with kubo choosing to not show the face, but in this case, it’s harder for us to tell which expression jugram has (since he’s so closed about showing emotions or his intentions) but the fact kubo deliberately chose to hide it proves jugram has something to hide from us, something he didnt want us (readers) to see.........

these panels? concludes their story perfectly you have jugram walking up the stairs leaving bazz-b alone laying behind, being reminded of the day they met where bazz was the one standing high while jugram is on the ground the setting: the cold empty castle during nighttime vs the warm summer day met in a forest at daytime bazz reached to jugram and jugram left him behind, they met with touched hearts only to leave with empty ones, bazz used to look down on jugram and now, jugram does, they used to be so different and still do but only now, their role are inverted...

thank you @equipollency for that remark! i think your post does it much better if yall wanna read it !

i mentioned earlier how the background (outside the panel) would change from black to white, we know the black means the past, but i love how its broken here, going back and forth from the past and present (within the same page) to show how things are still the same between them, the same struggle, the same fight over and over

also, the “not yet” is just so perfectly placed, i cant, it just emphasize even more on my point earlier (how things between them never changed on that matter) and it finally concludes the flashbacks (with the way it’s presented: the b&w,, and the words themselves, how they weight so much)

the black shading like that is rarely used with kubo but when he does, you know it conveys extreme emotions (we didnt get to see it with bazz bc it wasnt as intense as jugram has it but also) the trigger to these emotions for jugram are related to trauma, the first one being his uncle and the second being his friendship (im not calling his relation with bazz traumatic, its how important this relationship was to him and how ended up broken that triggers him)

but NaKi ThErE iS ThiS pAneL wHerE baZz Is ShaDeD bLacK! yes i know, but it’s not about bazz expression nor emotions, its about the scene, the situation (the white bg vs the black silhouette: perfect), so no it doesnt count, but its still a very nice panel just like with the jugo’s reveal with everyone “kneeling” to him.. white bg was The way to go

i forgot to talk about how i like their fight, how there is so little dialogue and how there are a lot of empty pages just to let place to the fight... it lets you enjoy their fight while we suffer with their flashback, anyways, im not a fan of endless dialogue in fights unless it really changes something, here, they both already know each other and they know what they want, so it was a good pick to just, us reader, witness their story through their mind instead of them narrating/recalling it to us

i know kubo uses that technique outside of these chapters, but the grey shading... i love.. he also has a LOT of close ups with eyes bc we all know how expressive eyes are;... i love that too

i know i talked about some facial expressions, but really, kubo’s art is amazing, the way he can convey certain expressions that are so precise... here, have some panels that i think are underrated naki your boys are underrated.. bc i love kubo’s art so much

i had the chance to see the colored version only once, and to be honest, the black and white is just, Amazing. nothing close to that, kubo’s use of b&w and how he keeps his panels pure is MADE to stay that way

anyways, im really in love with how Friend was made and thought out in it’s visual narrative (and story wise too ofc), kubo didnt just do a side story, these chapters are fucking amazing and ppl often ignores that sadly..

#bleach #jugram haschwalth #bazz b #Friend #naki using her brain #ok so tumblr was a dick and deleted some part of that fjhdf #i hope i didnt miss anything...#oh well #guess ill just add it later lmao #im simping hard for these chapters yes shut up

31 notes · View notes

palukoo · 4 years ago

Text

ok i said i would make a post about amy & not josh! so! the thing is that im endlessly fascinated by her relationships with the main cast bc they are so... implicit? in a way that its not given to you upfront but theres obviously some depth there? and i think that it’s something that i wish the writers had explored more!

amy and sam or amy and will, isn’t that interesting to me, and we’re not really given all that much there and i’m okay with that! she thinks sam should run but its for political reasons. she works with will on the marion cotesworth hayes thing. that’s all, and that’s okay!

amy and toby we really don’t get much from either-- he bets in her election betting ring, and she teases him about his losses. but i think they’re actually a relationship i would like to see more of, because they both are somehow simultaneously cynical and idealistic, and they’re quite possibly the most consistently liberal characters in the first several seasons.

amy and cj is really interesting, because they talk in like. dead irish writers, election night, privateers, some of the zoey kidnapping arc, and then way later in season 7, but before most of that, when that woman on the stackhouse campaign is calling out amy’s relationship to members in the white house, cj is mentioned second (without missing a beat after josh, and right before the first lady and the president. which. is also Interesting-- its before amy works for them). in dead irish writers they seem familiar if not close, and cj defends amy’s argument to abbey, in election night they exchange fond glances and easy conversation, in privateers amy is exasperated but not upset with cj, in 25 they wordlessly work together to try to handle and comfort abbey, and in the last hurrah i think, amy leans in BIZARRELY close to her in a way that cannot be described in words other than to say i have questions. they have amazing chemistry and are, evidently, friends? and i can see the two of them joking back and forth for hours? but we really rarely see them together, and it’s only once that it’s just the two of them

amy is close enough with abbey that she is introduced to us through a complaint she’s made to abbey. she’s comfortable enough with her that she goes over josh’s head to abbey about their hiring practices at abbey’s birthday party, yet surprised enough by being invited to drink with her that she makes a comment about writing a book, and then proceeds to spend half the episode basically laying down on abbey and playing with abbey’s dress. abbey’s threat about finding someone else to do this job visibly shakes amy, and while i’d say a lot of this is more with regards to her professional esteem, other context does make it seem personal. she has to list her credentials to abbey when she’s afraid of being fired, but abbey hires her without a second thought after they carry easy conversation. as aforementioned, that woman talks about amy’s relationship to abbey. abbey mentions that she used to babysit amy, and moments later amy calls abbey hot. abbey fully trusts amy to run her office in her absence, while amy panics weekly it seems about being fired. jed says that abbey would (at the moment in question, anyway) choose amy over him. i just sort of wish we saw them more, but i do get that neither of them is a main character. i also think it’s interesting that amy, with josh, is kind of always the one who can’t politically compromise, who can’t give up, and then with abbey she has to be the one who can.

oh, guess who else amy is called on her relationship to? thats right-- the president! and when do we see them interact? when he’s yelling at her! but guess what-- amy also told josh, way before we see her and jed talk, that shes crazy about the president, has been since before he’s known who jed is (which makes sense-- you can extrapolate, after dead irish writers, that she’s probably at the very least from new hampshire, where he’s been involved in politics for years). when they do interact he yells at her about using abbey, she practically cries talking to josh about being fired by him, and then he tells her she’s not fired and even as she quits, he has enough trust in her that he tells her to further fund the project he nearly fired her over. it’s neat! are we to assume they have a prior relationship through politics? through abbey? have they worked together? how has that gone? i want to know!

amy and matt? also neat, bc he hires her not through josh but because she’s a friend from the hill, yet he doesn’t seem to have directly worked with her before, at least not in debate prep, but they joke together easily and have clearly spoken before, otherwise he wouldn’t have hired her. he later knows pretty damn well how to push her buttons in to working for him despite her protests that she doesn’t work for people well, but she goes through josh rather than straight to him about her vp advice (which he listens to but doesn’t take-- which we see a lot of again when she’s actually working for him) when she works for him she seems largely exasperated, but she does it anyways, which, given her character, is kind of a big deal. i kind of wish there was more of how they work together, because they’re both people trying to do the right thing, even if it’s not the most politically smart thing, but he’s much more bipartisan than she ever could be, and it is a little hard to imagine amy, who can’t work for people, who says she’s her own constituency, working for anyone, including him.

and, finally, drum roll please, amy and donna. i think theres a time of two where we see donna joking on the phone with amy. in amy’s first ep, she asks josh if he’s dating donna, who she also describes as cute despite that to our knowledge they have not met. they’re both there in dead irish writers, but really only say “canadian, huh? feel any funnier?” “no but i am developing a massive inferiority complex” to each other, but amy asks about donna before that when she’s not at the party and josh has forgotten to work things out. they smile and exchange jokes when amy has a meeting with josh. donna smiles at the fax from amy and says “a new chapter begins” and then there’s commencement where amy keeps going to donna, ostensibly to ask about josh, but eventually getting to a point where she’s clearly asking about donna too, in the fact that she asks why donna is upset to, and at a point in the episode it feels like she’s seeking out donna about that, not about josh. and then she famously asks if donna is in love with josh, which to me is the least interesting question in the whole conversation-- but regardless, there’s a familiarity in how they talk to each other, how they easily work together, how they take the car together, how donna trusts amy enough to talk about josh’s trauma with her, and how amy trusts donna enough to throughout the episode go to her for like. emotional advice, which considering that amy’s not emotionally open or expressive like. ever? is a big deal? like she voices her insecurities to donna? she barely even does that with josh? in 25 donna watches amy as much as cj and abbey while abbey’s essentially breaking down, and that scene cuts off with amy on the phone and donna staring at her, looking concerned. in constituency of one, donna urges josh to find amy, which he doesnt, and theres also a shot of them looking at each other across the bullpen after theyve both just talked to josh, and then it cuts off? why does it keep cutting away from them? why am i so fascinated but the unseen, the unspoken (hey-- their scene in commencement is also cut short). seasons later, in requiem, amy easily approaches donna to ask about the girl she’s trying to set up with josh, and donna plays along despite that she’s canonically sleeping with josh, and they seem to again have some fun taking shots at josh’s expense in a way that feels sort of out of place for someone you haven’t talked to in, oh, the timelines are bizarre, but... at least two and a half years? maybe closer to three? and by a lot of interpretations, amy and donna are romantic rivals, but theyre so clearly not? like, is there a tension in their scenes? sure. does it feel like they dislike each other? literally, not at all. and i really wish we’d gotten to see more of them, because it feels like they’re friends, it feels like they mean something to each other, and we just don’t really get the time to explore what.

#amy gardner #the west wing #tww #my post #i also have amy & lou and amy & helen and amy & liz and amy & zoey and.... etc etc etc thoughts but ill go by what has any canon basis #oh can you tell i ship donna/amy??#look if you read this youre amazing thank you!#i need to shut up about amy gardner but i will Not #i wont do all the character tags #hey! stay tuned for the massive fic! its currently #about 116k i think?#or you could just blacklist my tww tags bc i know this is not what my followers signed up for #this post may be incoherent

8 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Saorsa, Chapter 16

A/N Here is the next installment of Saorsa. Jamie’s on a mission, and Ned Gowan makes his first appearance. He keeps poking his head up in this story, like a marmot with a law degree.

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging! It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

For a man who couldn’t walk more than fifty yards without getting winded, Jamie Fraser was still a force to be reckoned with when he set his mind to a task. In the two days since she’d confessed her dual secrets to him, he had directed labourers to a nearby bog to cut peat to burn through the winter instead of wood; suggested they mill the estate’s abundant acorns for flour, rather than letting the wild boar eat them all; shown Murtagh what was needed to repair the old grist mill; and sent the field hands out to collect the season’s last thornapples, so that Cook could stew them as preserves and dry them as fruit leather. He deferred publicly to her position as Lady of Lallybroch in all matters, but it was clear that he knew a great deal more than she about the running of the estate in hard times. How that came to be was a question she grew increasingly focused on answering.

With supper eaten and cleared away, they were now at opposite ends of the long couch in the great room. Claire sat with her legs curled by her side, a novel resting on her thighs. Jamie's feet were extended on an ottoman as he listened attentively to BBC Radio broadcast the latest news of the war.

Her guest treated the war with odd disassociation. Unlike most every other man she knew, he neither gloried in Britain’s triumphs nor seemed overly moved by her defeats. He asked strange questions about the location of Pearl Harbor and the size and nature of a Panzer division, but otherwise absorbed the news in silence. The Duke of Sandringham’s comment about the dubious dedication of the Scots to the war effort came to mind. In truth, she barely knew Jamie, but she was certain he was not a coward nor a draft dodger. As usual, all her suppositions about his motivations led her to barred doors that she did not feel entitled to open.

The news ended with the usual orchestral flourish and was replaced by quiet jazz.

Jamie stirred and looked her way. “I’ve been thinking, Sassenach...”

She smirked, both at the now-familiar nickname and the fact that Jamie always seemed to be thinking. He was often silent, as though over-awed by the simplest of daily occurrences, but it was clear that he was a man who reasoned deeply, yet preferred action to words. It was a practical intelligence, when contrasted with Frank’s cerebral style. If her late husband had been a florid adjective, James Fraser was all verb.

“I ken tis yer decision but would it no’ be wise tae consult the law about yer… situation?” he finished delicately. She’d yet to tell anyone else about Frank’s death or her pregnancy, and she appreciated Jamie��s discretion.

“I thought of that, Jamie. But I’m worried about what will happen if word gets back to the Duke of Sandringham before I’m ready. He’s connected to every High Street lawyer in Scotland, I’m certain of it.”

Jamie grinned what she’d come to consider his piratical grin before suggesting, “Aye. Where’er in Scotland could we find a man of the law who wouldna go blethering tae an English laird about keepin’ Lallybroch out of ‘is clutches?”

She couldn’t help smiling back at him, despite the seriousness of her situation. Their eyes clutched and held for a long moment, before she broke the hold and looked down at her lap, smile fading.

“If you could make some discreet inquiries…” she murmured.

“Consider it done.” He rose carefully from the couch and came to stand before her.

“It’s time fer me tae be beddin’ down wi’ Murtagh in the croft, Mistress Beauchamp.”

The switch from the familiar to the formal was not lost of her, and she rebelled against it instinctively.

“Absolutely not! You’re still healing. And you are not a labourer. You’re my guest.”

“I’ve strayed in yer bed too long already,” he protested, and then blushed as he realized what he’d just said. He plowed ahead anyway. “Yer a widowed woman, and tis no’ right for me tae… weel, ye ken what I mean.”

“I most certainly do not. I’ve been a widow for as long as you’ve known me. Nothing about that has changed. I will not hear of it, Jamie. If you feel badly for depriving me of my bed, we can switch bedchambers. You aren’t sleeping in that damp croft, and that’s final.” She rose to stand in front of him, her fists resting against her hips and her chin thrown back in defiance.

“Did no-one e’er tell ye that yer as stubborn as a whole team o’ oxen, Sassenach?” he said with resigned affection.

“Let there be no mistake, Mister Fraser. I’m far more stubborn than a whole team of oxen.”

Ned Gowan looked every bit the part of a disreputable lawyer. His long hair was pulled back into a greasy pigtail, and he had the narrow, canny eyes of a larcenist. Jamie would not divulge where he’d located the man, but he begged Claire to listen with an open mind as he set forth his argument.

The royal grant that saw Lallybroch pass from a family of Jacobite traitors into the hands of Frank Randall’s ancestors was clear. Lallybroch would be held in perpetuity by successive generations of Randalls until there was no direct heir, at which time it would pass to the current Duke of Sandringham, to whose line protectorship of the estate had been given. As long as the customary payment of a hundred pounds was made twice a year and a Randall resided at the estate, Lallybroch was theirs.

There could be no question in anyone’s mind that the child Claire bore was the lawful heir of Captain Frank Randall, conceived after their marriage and before his death.

Therefore, once born her child would be the natural inheritor of Lallybroch. During the child’s minority, Claire would hold the estate in trust and be responsible for its management.

“Even though I’m a woman? Even though I’m… not a Scot?” Claire asked, her hand unconsciously touching her still-flat belly.

“Oh, yes, my dear. British history is full of examples of foreign women wielding power in the absence of their native husbands. On that subject, the law is very clear,” the lawyer responded with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not saying the Duke will not try to contest it, but the child you carry is the future Lord or Lady of Lallybroch.”

She was totally engrossed in what Ned Gowan was saying, so she missed the look of mute agony that travelled over Jamie’s face.

The relief she felt after Ned Gowan’s visit put her in a playful mood. She ribbed Jamie good-naturedly about his peculiar fondness for Cook’s cock-a-leekie soup at the supper table.

“Tis almost as good as my mam’s recipe, Sassenach. She would make it when’er I was ill, or when I strayed too long in the dreich and came home frozen tae the marrow, which was often.”

She opened her mouth to ask about his mother, but he forestalled her question with his own.

“Where’abouts are yer people, Sassenach? I ken they’re no’ here in Scotland, but do they visit ye?”

The smile fled from her face, and Jamie immediately looked contrite.

“Claire, I dinna mean to…”

“It’s alright. It’s just that, well… I don’t have any ‘people’. Not really. Not the way you mean.”

He emitted a soft sigh and reached for her hand where it rested on the table.

“My, err… my parents died when I was quite young. In the influenza epidemic that followed the Great War. My uncle, Lambert, raised me until I was old enough to attend boarding school. It was quite the unconventional upbringing, visiting all manner of places, wherever his work took him. He was an archaeologist, you see.”

Jamie nodded absently.

“Lamb died before the war. Cancer. It’s been just me since then. Well, and Frank.”

“How long were ye marrit tae ‘im?”

“Less than a year. Love during wartime, I suppose. We met last June, were married by October, and he was deployed only weeks later. We last saw each other in August, and then…” Her free hand unconsciously strayed to her flat tummy.

“I’m sae sorry, Sassenach.” She was grateful there wasn’t an ounce of pity in his tone, only sincere regret.

“No, it’s alright. It sounds cold, but we weren’t together long enough for me to truly miss him. Anyway, you asked after my people, but all I have are memories.”

A pained noise burst from Jamie’s throat.

“Ye ken that isna true, Claire. Afore ye know it, ye’ll have yer wee bairn tae raise. And the men and women of this estate care for ye, truly.”

“Do they?” she asked, glancing at him sideways.

“Aye.” Jamie nodded, but said no more.

#my writing #outlander

42 notes · View notes

makiema · 5 years ago

Text

I was just reading Snk 123 again and somehow I’m just so sad that Isayama literally flipped Levi out of Eren’s life just like that. I mean this has been hard to accept for a long time now but with all the miscommunication between AM and Eren in this chapter, it is even harder to take in. Levi has played such a big role in Eren’s development and has always understood Eren better than anybody. His pov is extremely important at this point. And I’m just a lot frustrated at how Isayama keeps pushing him out of the whole conundrum. So basically I wanted to write a meta but I was just too sad to write a meta so below the cut is just a whole rant about Levi and Eren and why we need Levi back in Eren’s life. Eh, it’s like really long but I just had to get this off my chest.

I just want Levi to talk with Eren once more before the manga concludes. His POV is extremely important rn, more than ever, given that he was the only one who acknowledged Eren for his whole self ( yes both his darker side and the baby side). Additionally he was the only one who talked to Eren in his language (like freedom and choice) something that would later influence Eren’s outlook and consequently his speeches too. I don’t have anything against AM (in fact I love both of them a lot) but really the fact that they CHOSE to see only one side of Eren is something that’s undesirable and unfortunate. I mean, every living person has a darker twist associated with them. Nobody is flawless and it’s important for us as well as people around us to acknowledge the flaws, to accept a person for who he is. Choosing to ignore the darker aspects and accepting only the idealised version of someone is rather naive and immature behaviour.

And here I just wanna point out how Levi was always aware about the darkness that Eren possesses inside him. He has always spoken in terms of duality when it came to Eren like to him, Eren was both a “tameless monster” that might be dangerous and also his “source of all miracles” ,i.e., his hope. Levi is someone who never had a Romantic perception of Eren. But for AM, it was just the opposite. Could it be because AM were somewhat afraid that if they chose to see Eren’s darkness it might make them love him less and also shatter the idealism they associate with him? And am I blaming AM for having this outlook? Hell no. It’s a personal take but tbh as teenagers that’s not uncommon. I mean we do like to think that the people closest to us are absolutely perfect. We like to believe that they can never be in the wrong, specially when it comes to family and childhood friends who’ve been there for us since forever. It’s hard to accept that they might have a darker side to them. AM love Eren so much that it makes them turn a blind eye to reality and they “did not want to see” the slow transformation in Eren because that could lead them to confront Eren’s demons.

However, coming back to Levi, he really foreshadowed Eren’s whole character arc in his understanding of Eren’s nature. Yes, Eren does have a darker psychological side: he is essentially a monster that cannot be hold in check by anybody. Mikasa and Armin tried in 112, but sadly they couldn’t get through to him. And also, let’s talk about the difference in approaching Eren when it comes to AM and Levi. Armin, in all the instances he managed to talk Eren out of his delirious state, has always made references to the outside world and elaborated on the beauty and variety that lies there. It was kind of like projecting his own dreams onto Eren and not realizing that Eren doesn’t care about oceans or mountains or deserts or anything. For Eren, it is not about the beauty of the world or the variety in it, it is the FREEDOM and the FREEDOM OF CHOICE that a person who’s not oppressed has when it comes to seeing and experiencing the world. In contrast to Armin’s way, we have Levi’s way of approaching Eren where he talks about the different taste in air outside the walls because the outside has what BOTH OF THEM value: FREEDOM. Levi also talked about how hellish the outside is, in contrast to Armin always associating beauty with it. And when Eren later talks to Falco he tells that what awaits him might just be another hell, but it could be hope too- the hope of finally being free. Levi has a superior understanding of Eren, of what he needs to hear, etc.- something that can’t be just thrown out of the window. (Isayama did just that by denying any involvement from Levi when it comes to Eren’s recent actions/attitude. He denied us the talk that was much needed)

Now the VN isn’t exactly canon given that it wasn’t written by Isayama but we can consider it semi-canon as it required Isayama’s approval. So, the whole thing highlighted the message that “Humanity’s strongest understands Eren Jaeger very well” and yeah, even going by the manga we know Levi is integral in Eren’s development and is the only one who saw through the duality in Eren, understood his drive and his will. So why all the focus on Levi’s understanding of Eren if it is supposed to amount to nothing in the end? I get that Isayama wanted to set it up like Levi’s role in Eren’s life is over but it is just so abrupt?? I mean, okay I accept that when Levi said “He’s fifteen. Everyone has a phase like that”, it was an indirect reference to the fact that Eren is in the teenage phase™️ where he wants to be left alone with only his friends and therefore, Hange shouldn’t be so inquisitive (and maybe Levi too should not concern himself with Eren as much as he used to before??) Like, if we look at this way, it justifies Levi’s distance from Eren post the basement revelation. Since then, we got no other moment of conversation between them while before that, there’d be plenty. I get Isayama’s motif of taking Levi out of Eren’s life to add fuel to Eren’s gradual isolation from everybody but then why did he bother to put so much emphasis on Levi’s understanding of Eren in the beginning? It should have some ulterior purpose right? If the Rumbling does happen and the world is really destroyed (i’m not ruling out the possibility of the world destruction not happening im just considering the situation if it really does comes to the worst), there has to be someone who reproaches Eren, someone who berates him in a way that he understands and reflects on what he has done; someone who brings up the topic of if this is really what freedom demands and actually gives us the answer to the pertinent question: if this was the only way? And I cant think about anyone else really suited for this other than Levi- someone who realized the potential for danger that Eren holds? someone who always realized his desire for freedom? (Also, Levi and Hange are the only senior officers left right now so it ideally should be either of them but because Levi played a greater role in Eren’s life compared to Hange, I side more for him being the one to deal with Eren.)

Also, Armin pointed out how he always thought he understood Eren even more than Mikasa but it turned out that he actually didn’t; the same went for Mikasa in 123 when she accepted that she’s been seeing only one side of Eren. Both of them could never accept the plausibility of Eren doing something so monstrous. But, Levi could. From the very beginning. Not that it made him love Eren any less I mean, he did say that he’d willingly go to war again to protect Eren. Besides the vow he made to Erwin, the fact that Zeke could be controlling Eren and it’s Zeke’s fault that the higher-ups don’t trust Eren, also became a crucial factor for Levi to decide going against authority and killing Zeke. That’s how much Levi still loves Eren, even after Liberio. So all I am saying is that Levi should be let in Eren’s life once this all is over and the manga concludes because imo there is no one better qualified to address Eren and talk to him as he is now. Only someone who had a vague idea about Eren’s darkness can and also should talk him down. If the Rumbling really happens, and all hell is really let loose, then is this really the freedom that Eren wanted? Is this a price worth paying? Given that Levi is the only one who has spoken explicitly about freedom to Eren, his take on this becomes extremely important and that’s why we need a Levi-Eren talk or at least Levi’s pov on Eren and the Rumbling.

The manga has established that Levi understands Eren’s drive for freedom and his monstrous essence better than anybody else. In fact, it is an undeniably important aspect of his character arc and unless he gets to have a final conversation with Eren then his arc will never really get a proper closure. At least, this is how I feel and I’m also sad that Isa made him so non-inclusive in Eren’s life just like that and in his place, AM couldn’t understand Eren at all. I mean let’s face it he is Eren’s mentor and his influence on Eren is so visible that this cutting away of Levi from Eren’s life just doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe it’s because I’m biased idk but I strongly feel like Levi should get a final say on Eren and his behaviour, because right now, as it stands, he is the only one who got the closest to understanding Eren, all of him.

#idk im just rambling #and im sad #it just hurts that Levi would become so unimportant #like idk why all the focus if it means nothing in the end #im bleh #snk #ereri #sorry for the rant #levi ackerman #eren jaeger #levieren #snk 123

164 notes · View notes

dr-who-said-lgbtq-rights · 4 years ago

Text

Hey so ive been writing recently (I know gasp lmao) I find I can really stick with writing if I do it between 9-10 pm so thats what ive been doing and i have three chapters written so far??? Im so happy with myself :)

Anyway I wanted to share the first chapter on here with yall, I’ll put it under a “keep reading” thingy, but if you could read it that would be amazing!!

tw: death

Chapter 1: It Had Begun

The air was cold and damp and quiet as the grave. A breeze drifted through the air, too weak to be felt but strong enough to slowly push the pillowy clouds of fog that had formed over the river. The lazy currents passed by small, moss-green foothills that eventually grew into formidable sapphire mountains. The river was also wide, wide enough that, in order for someone standing on one pebbly shore to see the other, they would have to squint their eyes nearly shut and tilt their head just so.

While it may have been hard to see the opposite shore, it was certainly not hard to see the gargantuan creature dwelling in the river. As wide and flat as the river, the beast resembled a koi fish, with its long barbells and patterned scales. This fish, however, was more of a greenish-blue hue than koi fish tend to be. It also had six eyes.

This remarkable being was the Guardian, a creature with both incredible power and wisdom, as well as a good sense of humor. Its duty was to swim the river, called the Stream of the Stars, and make sure the multiverse was taken care of. It had done so for nearly three googol years, and it planned to do so for the rest of time.

But, as anyone could tell you, plans never work out the way you want them to.

It was the 3.2978534^100th year of the multiverse (for you non-math people, we’ll call it the “Really Bad Year”, for reasons that might be elaborated on later). The Guardian was doing what it always did: swimming in the Stream, laughing at its own jokes in between looking out for potentially universe-ending situations. While it never paid much attention to the shores (as one who lives alone tends to do), an odd disturbance coaxed the Guardian to one of them.

To its surprise, a figure stood firmly on the slick shore. Their dark cloak was drenched, making the Guardian wonder just how long the being had been standing amid the fog. It could hear the figure’s breathing: quick and raspy, like a smoker who had just won a marathon would sound.

“Who are you?” The Guardian asked, though not in the way you humans do. As a fish being, it couldn’t form words with its flubbery lips and fish tongue. Instead, it spoke telepathically, its words seeming to boom in the misty air.

“I am the End,” the figure replied. They appeared to talk like a human, despite not having a face.

“Ah yes, the End. My immortal enemy and shadow; the one to kill both me the multiverse I hold so dear.” The Guardian laughed, ignoring how morbid that might have sounded to you readers. “You’re about...”

The Guardian paused. Not a thoughtful pause, as a scholar would take when pondering a paragraph they had just read. No, this was an awkward pause, the kind well-meaning children make when they have to weasel their way out of trouble, the kind that twenty-somethings make when they have to tell their Aunt Gertrude why they won’t be attending her birthday. After this awkward pause had lasted a horrifically awkward time, the Guardian continued.

“...about 300 million googol years too early.”

It was the End’s turn to laugh. Their laugh was surprisingly nice, considering the proportions of their evil. While one might expect their laugh to be akin to nails on a chalkboard, the End’s laugh was more like that of one’s favorite grandfather, deep and joyful. Of course, considering their role in the Guardian’s life, the grandfather laugh didn’t really help matters.

“I assure you, I am right on time.” The End wheezed, recovering from laughter. “I have been looking forward to this moment since the beginning.”

“The beginning. Boy, that sure was a long time ago, wasn’t it? I was only the size of a large boat, and you had the loveliest voice voice. I wonder, do you still sing?” The Guardian reminisced.

“Quit stalling.” The End said, letting their impatience extend past their generally stoic exterior. “I’ve come to kill you, and that’s just what I’ll do.”

The Guardian sighed. “I suppose it would be rude to deprive you of your very point of existence. But would you please do one thing for me?”

The End said nothing. They only raised their hand and spun it a little, the universal sign for “well, get on with it already.”

“Would you please write this prophecy down for me? And then send it to the Center? Pretty please?” If the Guardian were capable of making puppy-dog eyes, it would be.

“And why,” The End said, “would I do this for you?”

“Simply to humor me, I suppose.” The Guardian mused. “After my death, the multiverse will only have six days until it is wiped from existence. It’s entirely likely that this property will yield nothing more than frantic scrambling.”

Silence ensued. The End was taking a scholarly pause, considering what the Guardian had just proposed. Finally, they spoke. “Speak quickly. I’ll only write it down once.”

“Splendid!” The Guardian cried, almost giggling. “The prophecy is as follows:

“In six winks of a serpent’s eyes,

Universes will fill with the sound of cries,

All will end in fire and torment,

Leading up to all that is silent.

“The first to go will be on the edge,

The next slipping off a delicate ledge,

The third crying through pain and blood,

The fourth drowning in flaming flood,

“And the final will last, through days five and six,

Praying helplessly to Gods in Heavens,

All will die, all will burn,

If not for the one whose eyes will turn.”

The End scribbled the final words on to a summoned scroll of parchment. As soon as the pen left the page, the paper began to burn. It smoked until nothing but an ash or two remained, a sure sign of its delivery to the Center.

“Some of that was rather... cheesy.” The End finally remarked.

“I know, I know,” the Guardian said. “Now that my business has been taken care of, you are free to take care of yours.”

The End bowed. They reached into their cloak and pulled out a sword. It was long, almost to the point of comedy, but a sword must be long if it is to cut the Guardian.

The fish blinked its eyes several times, the way you humans do when you try to erase your tears.

The End raised their sword and brought it down in one quick, smooth motion.

The Guardian laid still, its eyes unblinking. The gentle breeze that had been animating the fog ceased, giving the scene an increasingly eerie feel.

The End disappeared from the Stream of Stars.

It had begun.

~END CHAPTER 1~

YEEEEEE I WROTE A CHAPTER!!!! and as of me finishing transferring this I have six chapters written! If this post gets 50 notes I’ll post Chapter 2! plz don’t let this flop i’m really excited about this

#i wrote something #!!#writers of tumblr #fantasy #also don't be afraid to leave advice i'd love to improve my writing #if you read this i love you #tw: death #cw: death

1 note · View note

ssixa · 4 years ago

Text

CHANCE ENCOUNTER//MARK TUAN X Y/N

Description: Walking into the night shift at the hospital proves to keep you on your toes. Nights are left to the universe so you can only hope that tonight will be decent. What happens when you find out that one of your patients is THE Mark Tuan from GOT7? how do you try to deal with the chaos erupting from this chance encounter? and how many times do you have to tell yourself that you love your job?

Genre: fluff, slight cringe, smut (in this chapter)

Pairing: Black Fem Reader x Mark Tuan (though I will say there isn’t much description of black characteristics)

Word count: 5.7K

Warning: explicit language, SMUT!!!!!!, mention of piercings, drinking, switch, slight restraining, breath play

A/n: sorry for the hella late post! I got in this solid routine of studying and I didn’t want to break my stride with it lol. This is the first legit smut scene I’ve written before the narrative about Narachan that I posted. I’m still not very good at writing smut though, but I enjoyed writing from the y/f/n pov!

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Chapter Eight

~y/f/n’s POV~

I opened up Yug’s profile and clicked chat.

“I can’t believe this bitch, imma kill her one day. But I’m happy, a little more happy then I thought I would be. How do I even start to message him? Why am I so nervous he’s a crackhead fetus. Ok, here we go” I thought to myself.

“Heyyy it’s y/f/nnnn” damn too many y’s

“Um hey y/f/n nuna” he replies almost instantly with a nervous emote

“Yug, sweetheart you don’t have to call me nuna, y/f/n is just fine” I respond slightly flirtily

“Oh ok...y/f/n. Um~” he responds

“Yes?” I respond already having a hopes of what he’s going to ask

“I was just wondering if you wanted to come hang out with me at the hotel? I fully understand if you don’t want to though and you would much rather stay with y/n” he sends with almost a nervous sense.

“I don’t mind as long as I’m not interrupting your rest time” I reply back just being certain

“Oh no you’re not interrupting, I invited you didn’t I?”

“True, well I guess y/n can drop me off at the hotel then. You can go ahead and send the address to her”

“Yes ma’am hahaha”. Wow this boy has no limits, this will be an interesting night. I look to y/n who is on her phone purging the bad pics and videos from the concert.

“Yo y/n, Yug said he’ll send the address of the hotel to you. You can drop me off there and go to your boo” I laughed

“Lol ok ok...Mrs. Kim” I joke

“Well said Mrs. Im” we broke out in laughter. What a circumstance we’re in. y/n starts the car and we leave heading towards the hotel. We keep ourselves occupied with small chatter back and forth when it occurred to me,

“Wait I just realized, when the boys were coming over to our side during the concert, was that because of you?” I ask

“Yup, apart from Mark, that was the first time they had ever seen me in real life. So I guess they just wanted to be idiots” y/n replies with a laugh. The drive wasn’t long, but that’s probably because we talked the whole time. We arrived at the entrance of the hotel and I texted Yugyeom that I was here.

“Ok, go ahead and head to the 7th floor. Room 723” he replied almost instantly

“Gotcha” I replied. I said goodbye to y/n and walked inside. I headed to the elevator and walked in. I hit the seventh floor button and rode my way up. I took some deep breaths going up and until I was standing in front of his room. I knocked lightly and I heard footsteps rushing towards the door. A moment later, the door opens and I’m met with Yug’s adorable face. His smile is wide and he invites me in. After closing the door, he heads into the room and awkwardly stands a bit away from me. The air is full of an awkward silence until I speak up,

“Um do you mind if I take a seat?” I ask kind of nervously

“S-sure here” he points to the bed and neatens it up before I take a seat.

“I guess that’s his bed huh” I think

“D-do you want something to drink? The boys and I went out together yesterday and I bought some drinks in case I had some time to enjoy it” he mentioned

“Oooo what kind?” I ask since I was in the mood for some drinks tonight anyways

“Some flavored soju” he says with a smile

“Perfect! Then of course! Can we also play some games too?” I ask excitedly

“Yes! I love games! What do you want to play?”

“Mmm, how about we start off with cham cham cham? Do you mind if we take a couple of shots first” I suggest excitedly.

“OK!” he jumps up and grabs the drinks from the minifridge. He grabs a couple solo cups and returns to the bed. He pours a shot's worth into both of our cups and we take the shot together. He asked me what type of drinking games Americans play and I gave him a few ideas.

“We have games like flip cup, beer pong, or even a card game like Uno” I relay

“Oh wow! Can we play one of those games?”

“We can play beer pong since we can play it with two people, but if the others get back we can play flip cup! It’s one of my favorites and super fun too!”

We continue small banter back and forth and we are a few shots in when we decide to start the game. I guess it’s because he plays this a lot more than me that Yug is really good at the game. I lose a good few times and the penalty is taking a shot or a flick on the forehead. We decided to make it more interesting and cut up slips of paper and put ‘F’ for flick and ‘S’ for shot. We grabbed an empty cup and threw the slips in it so whenever one of us loses, we shake it up, pick a slip, and do what is on it. It was my idea for this since we could easily drink all the alcohol he had.

The game continued on with shots here and flicks here. A little while later, I could tell that we were both pretty tipsy; not super drunk, but gone enough to become really comfortable with each other. It was my turn at the game to cham cham cham him and he ended up seeing past my trick and dodging the direction my hand went. Next was his, he ended up winning so I had to take my draw from the penalty cup. To my demise, I ended up picking F which caused me to hide the slip. Yugyeom caught on to my sneakiness and asked to see the slip.

“y/f/n, let me see the slip!” he says laughing

“Noooo!” I reply in a laughing

“Come oOooOOoOnnnn” he pleaded

“Nope nope nope” I replied, shaking my head. My mother always told me my stubbornness would get me into trouble. I jumped to the other bed in the room trying to avoid Yugyeom. He got up and chased me there, I dodge him and roll off the bed jumping to his. No wonder he’s the main dancer because he changes direction and heads towards his bed. He hopped on top and fought to grab the slip out of my hands. I tried my best to keep it away from him, but all things considered, let's just say I lost.

After we were done cutting up and trying to catch our breath is when I realized what position we were in. My back was against the headboard with my legs crossed while he leaned over me pinning my arms above my head with one hand. It’s when I finally opened and focused my eyes that I realized he was staring at me. His eyes looked glazed yet so dark. His nose and cheeks slightly tinted with a light shade of pink though I was unsure if it was because he’s embarrassed or because he was drunk. The contact remained persistent for only a few more seconds when he suddenly bent down and connected our lips. His lips were so soft and warm. The kiss was long and innocent and yet had me holding my breath.

He broke the kiss and had both of our lungs trying to recapture the air that wasn’t breathed in. His facial expression changed suddenly

“I-I’m so sorry y/f/n” he said with a sense of panic. I couldn’t even react properly, I just kept staring causing him to panic more. He quickly pushed off of me and scooted to the end of the bed.

“I don’t why I did that! I must have drunk too much..” he continued to panic and ramble on as I sat up.

“Yug, it’s ok, really, it was nice” I look to him trying to calm him down with a gentle smile

“I know I should’ve asked and not just done it, I-” he paused

“You- it was nice?” he asks surprised at your choice of words

“Yeah~ you did catch me by surprise, but it was a nice surprise” I said quietly

“T-then would you-” he stammered

“Yes” I answered

“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask” he laughed slightly

“Then what were you going to ask then” I say with a smirk

“W-would you want to continue?” he asks without making much eye contact. Scared that your previous answer was going to change.

“Yes Yug. I told you I knew what you were about to ask” I laughed

“Hahaha I guess you did”

“Well then, are you going to come back here” I ask

“Anything for you” he replies as he slowly crawls back to me and centers himself between my legs. He closes in again where our lips are barely inches apart, but only a second later does he close the gap between us once again. Our lips move hungrily against each other, almost like he hasn’t had a sensation like this in a while if not ever. The kiss stayed heated and I tried to reach out to touch him in any way I could, but he tightened his grip on my wrists..

“Yug, please let go of my wrists” I beg

“I don’t think I will, baby girl” he replies lowly. The effect of the new nickname did it’s job in making me know my place. I find it hard to believe that he’s younger than me and yet he is this dominant. Then again I shouldn’t be surprised that the main dancer has a different personality. That’s one thing I’ve learned from being a kpop fan for so long. You can never trust these “sexy on stage” idols; them mostly being the main dancers at that. We go back to making out when he uses his free hand to slowly lift my shirt. I froze. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep with him it was that I couldn’t imagine that the person I was hooking up with WAS him. I started this day off going to the concert with my best friend only to find out she’s best friend’s with the group, and is now dating the leader.

“Like damn, I really be living the “y/n” life right now” I think. Before I knew it, he somehow managed to pull my shirt over my head and now I was just sitting there in my bra and skirt. When I looked at his face, it showed no emotion, almost disappointed.

“W-what?” I ask nervously with obvious concern in my voice. I start to panic, normally I’m really bold with my foot always forward and my head high, but his gaze and just who he is...what the hell has this child done to me. I look down to see if there was something wrong and look back up when I don’t see off. When I look back into his eyes, he’s just staring at me.

“Yug...you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“You’re..just so…” he starts

“Yug don’t you fucking dare” I say almost angrily.

“...beautiful” he concludes. I thought he was going to say something else before I warned him, but when I looked at his eyes, all it showed was the most sincerity in the world. The black glaze from earlier was gone and his beautiful brown eyes sparkled like they just gazed upon the most beautiful picture in the world. He leaned back in starting to kiss my lips once more then making his way down to my neck and truthfully I can’t tell if there will be a mark left after this. Goosebumps start to form as he keeps moving down onto my shoulders. Light, yet warm kisses coated my skin that was left bare to the air conditioned room. He got down to my chest where he was able to unsnap my bra from the back which REALLY led me to think that he wasn’t as inexperienced as he looks. My thoughts were suddenly brought out of its state of euphoria when I heard a gasp. I snap my head up,

“Fuck...how many piercings do you have?” he questioned

“Oh sweetheart there’s more to come” I comment with a smirk

“Will I have a chance to see them?” he questioned a slight smirk and raised eyebrow

“Anything for you” I wink. What the hell is wrong with me. This isn’t like me at all! I’m never this cheesy when it comes to getting my back blown out, but I just can’t figure this kid out. One moment he looks like he could devour me whole, while the next he looks like a kid in a candy store.

“That’s all I needed to hear princess” he says with his voice almost significantly deeper than usual. He goes to suck on one of the nipples while kneading the other and the pleasure is beyond the roof. I let out a soft moan which wasn’t soft enough because his actions suddenly changed. The hand kneading the one breast made its way down my stomach and to the edge of the skirt. He pushes back,

“Now, I’m going to release your hands and I’m going to need you to take off your skirt for me. Why don’t you be a good girl and do that for me?” he says

“Ok...but” you start

“I can’t be the only one fully naked out here. At least take off your shirt” you conclude. Finally, after this whole night since the concert ended, you’re showing signs of yourself once again.

“Whatever you want sweetheart” he complied, releasing your hands. You get off the bed causing a look of confusion. You turn towards him and put your hands behind your back. You slowly start undoing the zipper at the back and you see the realization suddenly hit his eyes. He sits at the edge of the bed leaning back using his arms as support, enjoying the show that he knows is only for him. As I start shimming out of the skirt and seeing his eyes watch where my hands are, I stop.

“Why’d you stop?” he questions

“Last I checked, I said I wasn’t going to be the only one without clothing” I relay

“Sorry, just enjoying the show. I hate missing good moments of a great movie” he winked

“Well looks like you hit the rewind button” I comment pulling my skirt back up and reaching for the zipper.

“Oof you’re really going to make this a fun time huh?” he laughs

“Of course” I wink. He stands up and removes his shirt showing his pale yet fit self. You just stand there gazing as this boy built for the demigods. That’s when you truly realize that god truly picks favorites, though I know he’s worked hard for that body.

“Like what you see?” he slyly says

“Who wouldn’t” I replied without looking back up. It didn’t take you long to rid yourself of your skirt. Though he was still wearing more clothes than you were, it still felt better that he didn’t have a shirt. This wasn’t a moment of teasing during a concert where it is only a moment that a shirt gets raised, this is close to permanent and with more purging of clothing coming down the road. You both stood there just looking each other in the eyes. A deep breath held by much tension was let out and that’s when Yugyeom picked me up behind the knees and laid me down on the bed.

It wasn’t a foreign fact that his hard on was rubbing against my clothed core. He knew exactly what he was doing, he grinded harder and I let out a subtle moan. He dragged one of his hands down my sides and past my underwear. He rubbed my clit in circular motions with just the right amount of pressure. His index finger slid down my slit, teasing my opening

“Fuck Yug, please” I begged.

“Damn you’re so wet” he seeths. Luckily he wasn’t fully ignoring my pleas. He slipped his finger in and slowly started pumping. The moans that left me could not be described with words. He easily found the one spot that could ruin me and made sure to hit it. Suddenly, he slides in a second finger. I let out a louder moan than before and continued to receive the pleasure he had been giving. He pumped harder and rubbed my clit faster and the tension in my stomach kept building,

“Fuck I’m close daddy” I moaned out. My eyes shot open in realization of the word that just left my mouth

“What did you just say?” he says in a low voice

“N-nothing” I squeaked out avoiding eye contact with him

“Say..It” he growled in what I would’ve thought a demon would sound like.

“D-daddy” he said quietly

“Louder” he commanded

“Daddy” I muttered slightly louder and more boldly. This I knew about myself; this daddy kink has always been a thing about me, but I have never uttered that word from just finger play and even someone younger than me.

“Now what would you like daddy to do? Hm?”

“Please, I’m so close”

“As you wish sweetheart” he replies. He throttles the two fingers back into my warmth and curves his fingers up; with his thumb back on my clit. Knowing exactly where to hit, I let out a loud moan. My respirations grew deeper and faster as he kept pumping. The tension built more and more until I couldn’t bare it anymore.

“Fuck fuck fuck” I moan out. My body erupts in spasms almost immediately and it takes a minute for me to calm back down. My breaths slow as I catch my breath and realize how this might look. I couldn’t think of how I might look and I shield my face.

“Why are you covering your face?” Yugyeom lightly chuckles

“I probably look a mess right now” I reply back

“y/f/n, you look beautiful” he compliments removing my hands from my face. He lays down beside me, almost exhausted himself.

“Why are you the one that’s tired? You weren’t the one that just got finger fucked” I laugh

“Seeing you like this, truthfully takes my breath away...and you forget that we just performed a two and a half hour concert” he replies back jokingly

“Wow ok cringe, and that makes sense” I reply back. I lay to my side and he pulled me into his chest.

“Don’t you want a turn?” I ask after a moment of silence

“Nah I’m fine. Let’s just lay here” he says soothingly. Now, I know better and though I’m sensitive and truthfully tired, he seems to have unfinished business that is screaming to be dealt with. I slowly start moving my butt against him trying to gain a reaction from him. He slightly growls,

“W-what are you doing?” he asks nervously

“You seem to have some unfinished business and I just wanted to solve it for you” I replied. I started moving faster as I feel him growing harder and...bigger?

“Y-y/f/n” he moans out

“Now tell me what you want baby boy?” I reply back slightly

“P-please…” he sputtered

“Please what? Use your words” I state. I was happy that I was finally getting back to my regular self.

“Please, I need you” was all I needed. I turned to face him and pulled my arm down to his crotch. My hand grabbed his covered member and started slowly massaging it. He let out a small moan, but tried to keep it suppressed. I was determined now to make him moan louder. I put my hand in his sweats and realized

“No underwear?”

“Well they tend to be a little constricting so I choose not to wear them when I don’t have to” he mumbles out. I nod understanding his position. Hell, I understand because I hate wearing a lot of clothes when I’m at home. I grab his member and start pumping slowly. His breaths were getting deep so I decided to switch my tactic. I turned him on his back and got between his legs. I grabbed his waistband of his light gray sweatpants and slowly started inching them down. Throughout this whole process, my eye contact never left his. His stare was so innocent and his face was obviously getting red. I locked my eyes back on his pants once they were pulled far enough. His hard member shot up finally being set free from the constraints of the waistband.

He was a decent size, not super big but not small either. It stood boldly and was already slightly oozing with precum. I knew better than to gawk because he might take the opportunity to take control back and I sure in hell wasn’t going to let that happen again. I pumped him more and lowered my mouth to it. I start to bob my head up and down at a steady pace. A string of curse words made their way out of his mouth along with some moans as well. I kept bobbing and stroking his member for a little while longer until I felt him jerk his hips up. I hold them down preventing him from bucking them up again. I do help further the pleasure by hitting the back of my throat a little more often than before. He tried grabbing my hair and I decided to hold down his arms. That proved to be pointless since he was a lot stronger than me.

I released his member from my mouth and he snapped his head up.

“Why did you stop?” he wined

“I can’t have you grabbing my hair now can I?” I comment

“S-sorry” he apologizes

“No~ that won’t work now will it” I smirk. I got off the bed and looked around for a second until I found what I was looking for. I went to his luggage, opened it, and started looking through it.

“What are you doing?” Yugyeom questioned

“Just looking for something...found it!” I exclaim. I turn around and hold up two belts with a smirk on my face.

“W-what are you going to do with those?” he shockingly asks with wide eyes

“This will keep those lovely hands of yours to yourself” I reply

“Fuck, this is going to drive me insane not being able to touch you” he sighs

“Mmmm, I’m going to enjoy this” I say as I get back on the bed and straddle him. Luckily, and unusually, the hotel beds here came with a “usable” bed frame. I grabbed one of his arms and pulled it back. I tied one belt around his wrist then around the bed post frame. I grabbed the other arm and did the same. This is one thing I can say I’m good at, though I don’t think girl scouts taught us tying skills to be used for this reason. After making sure the belts were nice and tight, I went back to being stationed between his legs. I place my mouth back on his stiff member and my hand at his base helping me pump as I suck. He moans more than before and I guess it’s because of being restrained that causes it.

“Fuck I’m so close, keep going, I’m so fucking close” he moans out. I picked up my pace to get him to reach his climax. Only a few seconds later do I feel his hips bucking up, hot liquid shoot to the back of my throat along with a string of curses. I milk him for all he’s worth taking my time to look at his face curling in pleasure. I release him and crawl my way up to his face. He opened his eyes and we made eye contact. I swallowed the liquid and used my finger to swipe my bottom lip showing that I would leave nothing of his wasted.

“Fuck...I can’t….fuck” he mumbles. I smirk as I scooted to get off of him, fully satisfied by my accomplishment. That was short lived when I realized that his member was still slightly erect.

“I see that someone isn’t satisfied quite yet” I laugh

“What can I say, you have me horny as fuck” he replies with a sigh

“Well we can’t have that, now can we” I smirk. I get off the bed and remove my underwear that proves to be pointless at this point. I get back on top of him and center myself above his member. As I began to lower myself down, he stopped me

“Wait I think there’s a condom in my bag” he states

“Don’t worry, I’m on birth control” I state. With a breath, I slowly let myself down onto his member. We both let out moans of pleasure as I was being filled and he was being enveloped around my walls.

“Fuck, y/f/n, you’re so tight. god you feel incredible” he moans out

“Yug you feel so good, fuck” I moan out as well. I give myself a little time to adjust from being stretched out so suddenly. Once I felt settled I started moving slowly. More strings of moans were let out by the both of us. Yug tried to reach out, but groaned out of anger forgetting he was restrained.

“Damn, y/f/n let me out of these. They’re driving me insane” he uttered angrily

“Hmm we’ll see, I quite enjoy this” I laughed. To increase the torture I decided to pause for a moment.

“Why did you stop?” he growled. I said nothing and just looked him in the eye. I put my hands on my boobs and slowly started massaging them. I slowly started moving my hips back and forth trying to stimulate myself as much as possible. I threw my head back in pleasure that I was inducing myself. Yug was struggling to rid his arms of the restraints,

“Shit, take these things off of me. I can’t stand it, FUCK I can’t touch you” he angrily says. Seeing him struggle and beg just turns me on even more. I think it’s because of how much he exudes big dick energy, that seeing how he looks so vulnerable had me at my wits end.

“Fuck, please!” he begs

“Damn, ok. I bet your arms are tired” I slightly give in. I lift up off him and go to untie his hands. As I release the second arm, I realize my mistake; maybe I riled him up a little too much. He suddenly pulled me on the bed and flipped me over with my arms yet again trappe above my head. My eyes were wide and my heart racing fast,

“Sweetheart, you made daddy very mad by all the teasing” he commented with his eyes covered by his bangs. Damn he looks hot.

“Oh did I?” I say with an innocent look

“Don’t play innocent sweetheart, you knew exactly what you were doing and now you’re going to pay for it” he says with a growl. He grabs my arms and one of the belts and ties them up. Well played Yug, well played. He leans over me and without warning, shoves his member into me.

“FUCK, SHIT!!” I scream out. He thrusts at a sporadic pace that drove me crazy. I knew this was payback and I greatly regretted torturing him earlier. He was missing my g-spot intentionally every now and then and it was driving me up the wall. He reached his hands up to my boobs and started massaging them while he started grinding at a slower pace. I moaned out in pleasure and I could see a smirk form on his face

“Damn, do you feel that good?” he cocks. Nothing but a string of moans leave my mouth as a response.

“So how does my princess want me to continue?” he asks continually grinding into me

“Please...harder...harder” I reply

“Harder what beautiful?”

“Please harder daddy”

“As you wish my queen” he replies. Damn that new name change just increased this ecstasy. He did as he was told and went harder.

“Fuck I’m so close Yug” I moan out

“Me...too” he moaned out a reply. He slowly slid his hand up around my throat and slightly squeezed unexpectedly which caught me by surprise. My eyes crept open making direct eye contact with him

“Yug…” I squeak. His eyes are dark and lustful, but it was almost like he was broken out of a trance, he snatched his hand away and halted his movements altogether.

“y/f/n, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I...I..” he panicked

“Yug, it’s ok. Shit it was hot please keep going I’m so close” I assure him

“A-are you sure?” he looks with such innocent eyes

“Yug I swear If you don’t finish what we started I will end you” I threaten

“Alright alright” he says as he leans back down to kiss my lips. He started to pound into me quickly and without warning or hesitation again . He returned his hand back to my throat and after the two words of “I’m close” slipped my lips, he started to squeeze harder. I could tell he was reaching his climax due to his movements getting sloppy and the rhythm being less consistent. Deep moans rung throughout the room as we both hit our climaxes. The constriction around my neck really made it all the more euphoric. He thrusted his hips a few more times helping me ride out my high. After a few deep breaths were given out before Yugyeom collapsed beside me.

“Oh my god…” he says still trying to regain the lost air

“...that was amazing,” I finished. We turned to look at each other and he leaned down giving a long kiss to my sweaty forehead. He pulls me into his chest and I feel my eyes getting heavy.

“You getting sleepy?” Yugyeom softly speaks up

“Mmm” was all I could respond

“Do you want to get cleaned up a little first?” he suggests

“I know I should, but I’m so lazy now” I whine in almost a sleep type manner

“Here let me help you” he responds. I feel the dip in the bed disappear and I force my eyes slightly open. Before my brain could comprehend what was going on, I felt my body being lifted off the bed.

“What are you doing?!” I exclaim in a slight chuckle

“We both need to freshen up anyways and…” he draws out

“And what?” I look at him in confusion

“Well, I don’t think Mark hyung would be appreciative of us stinking up the place” he laughs

“True he would probably stop rooming with you during tours” I laugh as we proceed to the bathroom.

“I can’t have that!! I get really lonely during tours and no one else wants to share a room but he’s the only one that doesn’t mind” he fake cries. (V Live, 05122018; http://kpopherald.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=201805131852414957228_2)

“You cry baby” I laugh while lightly hitting him on his shoulder

“Do you mind putting me down? You’ve been standing in the bathroom, holding me in this bridal style for the past 10 minutes” I continue

“Nope, this is nice” he grins, but puts me down into the already filling bathtub...wait...when did he even do this? Oh well nevermind. I see him grab some soap he brought from the sink and pour it into the bathtub. I’m surprised, and also not, that this man would enjoy bubble baths, but I can’t complain, who doesn’t like bubble baths. After pouring a decent amount in, he hops in and sits behind me. We sit in the quietness of the bathroom with the warmth of the water and our bodies keeping us comfortable. We continued small banter back and forth until we decided that it was time for us to get out and dry ourselves off.

Yugyeom told me to wait as he ran into the room and came back with one of his shirts for me to wear. I threw it on as he put on his own clothes as well. We went back in the room and Yugyeom jumped in the bed while I headed to the window.

“What are you doing?” Yugyeom looks over to ask

“Opening the window, this place might need a little airing out. Let’s spare Mark the details” I laugh

“Makes sense, but sometimes I like to bully hyung. I’ll refrain this one time though” he laughs. I laugh along as I return to the bed after opening the window. Luckily, it was a cool night so leaving the window open wouldn’t be too much trouble. We cuddled together and I could feel some heavy breathing from behind me. I turn around, and smile slightly to see he’s fast asleep. He looks so precious and cute it’s crazy to think that this same boy was the same one who went crazy down on me earlier. I turn back around to have my back against his chest when I hear my phone go off. I reach and answer it,

“Bbbiiittcchhh you done getting your back blown out?!” I hear y/n scream through the phone

“y/n you drunk?” I ask laughingly

“Well of course! Now ANSWER MY QUESTION!” y/n sasses

“Yes we’re done lol. I was just about to fall asleep when you called. Now I’m pretty sure you’re too drunk to drive back to my place so you spending the night with your new boo?” I ask slightly groggily

“Good! I made sure the dinner lasted a little while longer, so you’re welcome. And yes! They’re letting me head to JB’s room first to avoid any suspicion and he would follow me in later” y/n rambles on

“That’s nice, well a bitch is getting tired so imma have to talk to you later”

“OKIE DOKIE GOOD NIGHT!!!” y/n replies and hangs up the phone. I place my phone back on the nightstand and cuddle back into Yug before drifting off to sleep.

Previous/Next

#kpop smut #kpop fluff #got7 mark #got7 yugyeom #got7 jaebum #got7 jackson #got7 bambam #got7 youngjae #got7 jinyoung #idol au

2 notes · View notes

hoodlessmads · 5 years ago

Text

Bloom Into You Ch. 44

Me, a young naive aspec person: *reads/watches bloom into you for the first time* wow what a lovely sweet understated romanc—

Bloom Into You Chapter 44: *porn*

Me: okay then

lol I love how you can’t even post screencaps of half the new Bloom Into You chapter on tumblr because its nsfw. *Drake voice* Started from the bottom now we here…

I’m in the minority in that I didn’t want to see…like any of it. If Nakatani had cut straight from Yuu saying, “Here I go,” to the next morning, I would have been fine, honestly. At first when it happened I was pretty shocked and icked out because like minors and also they’re like my children lowkey and I saw things I never wanted or needed to see. Only one gif could adequately describe my mood at the time.

But I’m glad for all of y’all thirsty ass motherfuckers because Nakatani literally went to her editor like

Except maybe make that “the guys,” considering who the target audience is for Dengeki Daioh. Except when her audience is actually the gays. In that case it was definitely give the gays everything they want.

The morning after was really cute, but most of what I liked about this chapter was before the sex scene. We finally brought Mio’s dead ass rolling in her grave back to a topic of conversation. It was something. I’ll take it. And Touko…god she’s such a dunce. Yuu truly is a morosexual, and that’s official. The whole scene where Touko was innocently like, “You keep saying we’re girlfriends and lovers, but personally I don’t want to put a label on it,” I was literally like, “ToUko im BREaKinG out in HIVeS BEcauSe of yOU.” Understandably, Yuu was nervously kinda like, “Um…why?” Touko barely saved herself from ruin by saying some shit like, “Oh, we definitely are girlfriends and lovers and all that, but since our relationship is going to change so much over time, I don’t feel like giving it a name, I’d rather us just be me and Yuu (haha get it because you).” Which is like,,,pretty dumb, but everyone in this world has their trash, and Touko Nanami is mine. It is actually incredibly sweet that she also views her relationship with Yuu in the long-term, and never once thought otherwise. Anyway, Touko basically waves around her character arc and her newfound peace of mind, like, “Love changes, relationships change. Isn’t that awesome?” and then from that draws the conclusion that the only thing that won’t change is “her and Yuu,” so she doesn’t want to give their relationship any labels which she deems transient and fleeting? Wait…?

Literally Yuu in this chapter in that one panel: Senpai no baka *already taking off her clothes* God Touko you are so fucking stupid

One of the best lines in the whole chapter, to me, ironically happens during the sex scene that I’m not so fond of. I’m basing this off the translation by Sogeking on reddit since I didn’t have the time/energy to decipher all that Japanese text, at least not for that scene. I’ll breeze past the part where Touko is like, “Will you think of us as [Yuu and Touko] too for me?” because we don’t have the time to get into that bullshit today, Touko.

The part where Yuu says, “Because I thought that I wanted to become a version of myself that was capable of falling in love with someone, I ended up becoming just that. That’s why, from here on out as well, I’ll be able to choose for myself. My ‘love’ is one that I’ve chosen for myself. I want go on loving you.”

That. THAT. That’s the tea. The fucking yaGaTe. That’s one of the main reasons I fell for this story so hard, distilled into a couple lines right there.

“I wanted to become X version of myself. I decided that. And that’s who I became.” My dissatisfaction with the past few chapters aside, Nakatani had written herself into a place where she could have easily slapped some fanservice on the tail end of this manga and called it Good. She could have just left it at the fact that Yuu is gay as fuck (she is) and never said a word about how uncertain she was at the beginning ever again. Never mentioned it.

But this line, to me, explicitly acknowledges the fact that Yuu is aspec. Explicitly acknowledges it. Right in the middle of banging her girlfriend. So how about that. Yuu herself definitively states that this is not a story of “first love,” it’s a story about self-discovery. (Besides, “first love” implies there will be others and ya girls themselves have already decided that they’re endgame.)

You will eventually become you.

Anyway, the final chapter of this manga comes out (for us in the west) on my birthday. That’s poetic. I’m sad but ready to read what I hope is an excellent concluding chapter. It’ll probably give us some kind of timeskip, and that…that fascinates me. Sigh, I just hope it’s good.

This manga meant a lot to me and my personal development in the past six months. This series isn’t anywhere near perfect, but damn if it hasn’t been a ride just in my relatively short time being a fan. The story and its characters are very near and dear to my heart. I’m not completely satisfied with the way things have gone in the past few chapters just on a personal level–I would have preferred more introspective character stuff than, like, a sex scene, but I still think this series is quite special in many ways and I adore it.

I’m still not a hundred percent sure how I feel about the handling of the sex scene itself. Like some panels/pages were tastefully handled, I felt, some of it was understated enough for me and actually quite cute, like basically all of page 29 where their conversation is being narrated over those images of Touko getting all squirrel-y that Yuu isn’t also taking her clothes off, that shit was cute, some of the other stuff was cute. And then other pages were just kind of…a bit too much for me and felt a bit too voyeuristic for comfort (and more voyeuristic than this series has ever been) and I didn’t really need it. But for those of you who were super pleased by it and think that it was handled tastefully–power to you. Y’all deserve it.

Edit: i should have mentioned this already but I’m actually really proud of Yuu in this chapter. She WENT for it. She knew exactly what she wanted and she got it. She went there for one reason and that was to smash.

#bloom into you #yagate kimi ni naru #bloom into you spoilers

42 notes · View notes

haughtbreaker · 5 years ago

Link

Gus returns home the morning after the party to find a tense household. Nicole wrestles with the events that had happened the night before.

Special thanks as always to @jaybear1701 for putting up with my shitty punctuation habits. Sorry it took so long for this chapter. There was a con, a bunch of unexpected life stuff and just my brain not willing to cooperate. Yeah I might have been listening to a bit of Death Cab for Cutie while I wrote this, hence the title.

There’s a Spotify playlist for this fic that goes up to whatever the current chapter is if anyone is interested.

TW: Blood and graphic depiction of a suicide attempt

"Where's your sister?" Gus shucked off her coat before she took a seat at the table. She'd only had a few hours of sleep in the room above the bar but it had taken the edge off the exhaustion and given the girls time to clean up. Well, to be honest, it gave Waverly time. Wynonna, as always, was nowhere to be seen.

"Still sleeping." Waverly set a mug of coffee and an empty plate in front of her. "You know how she gets."

Yes, Gus knew exactly how Wynonna could get. Considering the house wasn't in shambles and they weren't in the emergency room, they got off easy. "Well, I suppose she's forgotten she's to have community service today." Gus began to pull pancakes and scrambled eggs onto her plate from the different serving dishes. "Luckily, Randy is hungover." Gus smiled at Rosita who was quietly alternating bites of pancakes, paying attention, and scrolling through her phone. "Enjoy meeting the hooligans of Purgatory?"

Rosita grinned around her fork. "They're not too bad. Strangely comfortable with nudity in the snow, but other than that, not much different than back home."

Gus looked at Waverly in question.

"Go Devils," Waverly said as she sat down with a bowl of fruit and oatmeal.

"Ah, hockey team, got it." Gus unfolded the newspaper she'd brought home and began to skim the articles. There was a sale on her favorite fertilizer and she made a mental note to stop at the hardware store. "Is Nicole still sleeping as well? She's usually up bright and early helping you with breakfast." She looked at Waverly over the top of the newspaper.

Waverly didn't look up from her oatmeal, just shrugged. "I think so. I haven't seen her this morning."

Gus rose an eyebrow. In the past few weeks, Waverly and Nicole had slowly grown to become inseparable. While the changes in Nicole, from her original forlorn state, had been the most obvious, Gus could swear even Waverly had started to look a bit brighter. Not just in the smile she gave everyone, but deep in her eyes - a glimmer that had begun to truly sparkle. What in the world had happened that had made Waverly unwilling to look up?

There was a soft beep from Rosita's phone and she sniffled. "I think Nicole just woke up." She took a long sip from her coffee before pushing back from the table. "I'll go see what she's up to. I'll be right back, cause these pancakes are too good to not finish." She tossed a wink at Waverly.

"Could ya let her know Sheriff Nedley is too hungover and her sentence has been delayed again."

Rosita paused, tilting her head for a moment. "Um… I'm going to need the deets on that but I'll let her know."

Watching Rosita leave, Gus turned her attention back to Waverly who was absentmindedly stabbing at her oatmeal, not really eating it. Her eyes didn't seem to be focused on anything, just gazing off into nothingness. Interesting.

---

Nicole looked down at the familiar desk, worn and comfortable. She could feel the burn in her eyes but she wasn't exactly sure why. The taste of vodka clung to her tongue as she looked around the room. Familiar posters and photos lined the walls, movies and bands she had adored when she'd still had the care to decorate. Hanging from the corner of her closet door, a familiar hoodie drew her attention.

This wasn't Purgatory. She knew that and she knew it was wrong, yet still she felt the comfort of familiarity numbing her curiosity. She was moving before she knew what she was doing, grabbing the hoodie and sliding it on. It was a little snug, not fit for her own frame, but fit for her on another level. The scent of coconut lotion was woven into the threads and she hugged the material to her as she moved back to her desk.

In her hand there was suddenly a photo, she and Shae sitting in the sand together, faces covered in smiles of unknowing. Nicole didn't want to be there anymore. The comfort of familiarity was replaced with the cold of a blade, one of her father's replacement blades for his box cutter. A song played on repeat from her phone, one of Shae's favorites. She looked down at her arms, coconut-scented sleeves already pushed up past her elbows, not wanting to get the material wet as vodka suddenly pooled on the desk from the bottle she didn't remember tipping over.

The movies had been wrong, she thought, as the spilled vodka began to turn red. They hadn't prepared her for the way flesh parted. There weren't neat lines that slowly seeped crimson, but rather layers of muscle that seemed to spill out once free from their flesh casing. The movies hadn't told her how she didn't have the grip strength to go as deep or far with the second cut. She felt the warm touch of another hand covering her own, a familiar presence giving her the strength she needed to keep cutting.

Over the sound of the song playing on repeat and the percussion of her father suddenly banging on the door, she heard the voice in her ear.

"Follow me."

Nicole jerked awake, gasping in pain as she looked down at her arms. Familiar scars greeted her, dark red lines with their train tracks of stitch marks. A familiar pain pulsed through her arms and she winced, taking a moment to breathe in and out. It had been a while since she felt the pain in her arms like this. Physical therapy had helped with it the most, but she hadn't been since getting to Purgatory. Maybe that was stupid.

Experimentally, she opened and closed her hands, feeling the tug from within that hadn't existed a year ago. They'd told her she was lucky there hadn't been extensive nerve damage, that she still had a grip at all.

That she was still alive.

That she had her whole life to look forward to.

With a soft sigh, she looked around the room, noticing Rosita wasn't anywhere to be seen. Her phone told her it was past nine, later than she normally woke up. She was usually downstairs by now, helping Waverly with breakfast.

Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, all the memories from the night came back to her. She remembered the drinking and that stupid game. She remembered kissing Wynonna. She remembered the jealousy that had flared up when Rosita kissed Waverly.

She remembered the barn - the bite of cold being chased away by the caress of soft lips, the warmth of fingertips against her cheek.

Oh God, Nicole thought, laying back and pulling the covers over her head. What the hell had she done? She paused for a moment. What the hell did Waverly do?

Pushing back the blankets, she looked for her phone before pulling it back to her, quickly pulling up her IMs.

I need you.

Nicole hit the send button before pulling up her social media. No weird photos. No idiotic, drunken posts. It was a small comfort in the whirlwind of emotions that were rolling through her. Of course, she hadn't been that drunk. Why the hell was she even checking? She knew there was no point, but still she scrolled through, pausing to like a photo Rosita had posted of the bottle from the night before, tagged #drama. That was the damn truth.

She remembered everything.

Everything.

Her fingertips came up to trace her lips, once again remembering the soft caress before she pulled her hand back, her eyes falling to the scar on her forearm. "Fuck." The word slipped from her lips just a second before a body fell onto the bed with her. "Shit!" She gasped as the blanket was pulled back.

"You're finally up." Rosita wiggled into a more comfortable position.

"Rosie…"

"Oh hey, Gus said to tell you something about the Sheriff wants to delay your sentence again… due to a hangover?" Rosita gave her a questioning look.

"Oh, great… I completely forgot about that."

"Sentence?" Rosita poked at Nicole's side. "What the shit is that about?"

"Wynonna," Nicole responded as if it explained everything. When she got no response, she looked over at rubbed at her eyes. "She got us arrested for drinking in public and we have to do some shit community service."

Rosita hummed positively. "Such a rebel. You were never arrested back home."

Nicole sighed heavily. "Did you bring me any water?"

"Did you ask for water?" Rosita snorted and picked up a glass and a bottle of aspirin. "I brought it up earlier."

"God, I fucking love you." Nicole sat up before accepting both. The world spun slightly but she powered through it, gulping down the water.

"Don't forget your other pills."

Nicole nodded, grabbing her backpack and hauling it onto her lap. "Can't forget those." She went through the process of shaking out the collection of pills. "Can't… forget… these." The remnants of her dream still tugged at her mind even as she swallowed the handful of medication, false sanity that left a bitter taste on her tongue.

"Hey. You okay?" Rosita reached up to push a lock of auburn hair behind Nicole's ear. "What's up with that text?"

Nicole cradled the glass in her hands, pursing her lips. "Yeah… sorry, just a little panic from waking up from a bad dream." She'd contemplated bringing up the kiss to Rosita, but the words seemed to stick to her tongue, a hard-to-swallow pill that caused more anxiety than it soothed.

"So it has nothing to do with you and Waverly mysteriously disappearing for a chunk of time last night?"

In the middle of another sip, Nicole nearly choked on the water. "What?"

Rosita shrugged. "I mean, not like anyone else was paying attention or anything but it's pretty suspicious when you suddenly disappear after Waverly kisses me and then she goes after you." Rosita gave her a suspicious look.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nicole crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Nicole hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of just coming out and saying it. "Waverly kissed me." The words came out before she could stop them.

"She kissed me too," Rosita joked. "She's actually really great at it." She paused for a moment, turning to look at Nicole closer. As if sensing Nicole's discomfort, Rosita pursed her lips, folding her legs under her. "But I'm guessing she didn't kiss you the way she kissed me."

Squirming uncomfortably, Nicole changed positions. "No." She had her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap.

"Okay so this is a we totally need to talk about it kind of kiss."

Nicole took a deep breath. It was so easy to turn her arms, to see the dark red marks on her skin again - permanent reminders. She curled her hands into fists, turning the scars away, as if she could pretend they weren't there. "I think we both drank too much and we were in the barn with just the two of us…"

Rosita reached over, slipping her hand into Nicole's. "By that, I'm guessing you kissed her back."

"I just… it hasn't even been a year since…" Nicole swallowed audibly, her words stuck in her mouth. It felt wrong to bring up Shae while talking about Waverly, but how could she avoid it? "I mean… I'm feeling so many damn emotions, I don't even know what to do anymore. Everything just keeps piling up and up and it's like I can see it about to tip over but I can't stop it."

"You're allowed to be happy, Nicole."

"I know."

Rosita snorted. "Do you? Because right now you're acting like you're supposed to be punished."

"Maybe I am…" Nicole spoke softly. She couldn't forget about the fight she'd had with Shae, how their last words had been an argument.

How she'd basically put Shae in that car.

Even if she verbally agreed with Rosita, she knew she didn't deserve to be happy. She deserved to be in pain for the rest of her life, loving and missing Shae.

"You're an idiot."

Nicole blinked, her head jerking up in surprise. "What the fuck?"

"You… are… an idiot," Rosita said slower, giving her a no-nonsense look.

"Wow… um… okay."

"Nicole, Sweetie." Rosita reached out and tapped the tip of Nicole's nose and Nicole swatted her hand away. "I love you. Like, I love you so much, but you are such an idiot. But, at least you're pretty."

"Why did I even call you up here?" Nicole exhaled loudly.

"I improve the aesthetics of the room." Rosita grinned. "That and your gay panic."

"It's not gay panic."

"It's the prime definition of gay panic."

"You're the prime definition of gay panic."

"That's mature," Rosita snorted. "Anyway, let's get back to you and Waverly and your gay shenanigans."

Nicole groaned, laying back down and covering her face. "I mean… she's not even gay," she huffed, rubbing her eyes. "She was dating Champ of all people." She made a face at his name.

"Excuse me with your gold star bullshit…" Rosita rolled her eyes. "Maybe she's bisexual… or pansexual… or fluid… not everyone adher's to your black and white gay scale, Miss I was born with a vag in my mouth."

"Shut up!" Nicole sat up just so she could push Rosita back.

Rosita just barely stayed sitting up. "Bitch." There was a moment of silence, both just living in the comfort of their friendship until Rosita eventually moved closer, sitting right next to Nicole. "If you honestly believed Waverly were 100% straight, do you think you'd be sitting here about to hyperventilate right now?"

Nicole knew it was true. There was no way to ignore the way Waverly had pressed against her, the softness of her hand against Nicole's cheek and the hunger in her kiss.

Rosita reached up, tugging on a lock of auburn hair. "Do you honestly think you would have stomped off into the cold, dark, night in a jealous fit if you weren't kind of into her?" A moment of silence passed between them before Rosita captured a tear that slipped down Nicole's cheek. "Hey. Come on. This is a good thing."

Nicole pulled away slightly, her hand coming up to rub at her eyes. "Do you…" She sniffled softly. "Do you think Shae would like Waverly?"

"God no, she'd fucking hate her."

Nicole pulled back in surprise, not expecting that comment. "What?"

"I mean, Waverly is fucking amazing," Rosita quickly spoke up, "but she's like… too perfect and you know how much Shae liked being the center of attention." Pausing for a moment, she pursed her lips before continuing. "I mean, even in the short time I've been here, I can tell that this town pretty much worships the ground that girl walks on, which is really fucking weird."

Nicole shook her head. "She's not perfect. She's flawed, and insecure, and…" Nicole looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. "She's so sad sometimes. She's so good at hiding it from everyone, but I guess maybe takes one to know one." She sniffled. "She's so damn guarded behind that damn smile and wave." Shaking her head, she sighed softly. "I'm such a fucking mess, Rosie."

"And that is totally acceptable." Rosita covered Nicole's hands with her own, stopping her picking fingers. "I miss her too, Nicole. Every day, I think about her." Rosita looked down at their hands, the dark red scars evident as always against Nicole's pale arms. "Sometimes I'll be getting dressed and in my head I'll hear her voice like 'you're not really wearing that top with those pants are you?'" She impersonated Shae's questioning voice.

Nicole had to laugh. "That's good. That's… that's definitely Shae." With a sigh, she adjusted her position, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on one knee. "I miss her, every damn day. I think about her, the good and the bad and how much I still love her." Nicole sniffled. "Waverly has this weird ability to… I don't know… calm shit." She took a deep breath, feeling her emotions settling even just thinking about Waverly's presence. "When she's around it's like the storm calms down, or rather makes way for a completely different storm… a storm I want to be in."

"That… is some deep shit." Rosita rolled her eyes. "Now, can we go downstairs so I can finish my breakfast?" She huffed. "Waverly is acting all skittish and the only other person down there is Gus. I need you to keep me company, at least until Wynonna wakes up." She gave Nicole a wink.

"Rosie…" Nicole was thoroughly distracted, as she unfolded her frame. "That is such a bad idea."

Rosita had the decency to smirk. "I know, but you know how much I like a bad idea."

----

"Good morning!"

Waverly looked up at Gus's greeting, seeing Nicole following Rosita into the dining room. She immediately got up from her seat to retrieve the coffee to pour Nicole a cup.

"Happy New Year." Nicole smiled at Gus. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I would have here," Gus answered with a chuckle.

Nicole stepped up to Waverly, who was holding a mug in her direction. "Thank you." She offered Waverly a smile and Waverly's cheeks flushed slightly.

"Of course. Have a seat and eat something."

Nicole nodded, taking a seat next to Rosita who had resumed alternating bites of her breakfast and typing into her phone.

"So, what are you lot up to today?" Gus folded up the paper she'd been reading, setting it aside. "Not much is open today. Everyone's nursing a hangover."

"I have a fantastic idea." Wynonna came bounding down the stairs and into the room. "Hey Gus, Baby Girl, Red…" She paused at Rosita, offering her a wink, "Hottie." She looked at Waverly whose eyebrows shot up to nearly her hairline. "We got some fresh snow last night. We should head out to Nakiska, show these Californians a good time."

"Naked kissing what?" Rosita perked up.

Nicole coughed loudly, nearly choking on a mouthful of eggs.

"Nakiska," Waverly corrected. "Wynonna wants to go snowboarding." She pursed her lips, thinking over the idea. "That could be fun. Did you want to drag the boys along?"

Wynonna snorted, dropping down next to Waverly and grabbing a pancake and beginning to pour syrup over it. "They wish. How about just us? Just a bunch of gals… being pals?" She looked at Rosita and licked a bit of syrup off her fingertip with a wink.

"Oh boy." Nicole focused on her own plate.

"We don't have to… if you don't want." Waverly smiled softly.

"No. It sounds like fun." Nicole nodded. "I've been wondering how different it is from surfing."

"Well I definitely can't tell you that." Waverly laughed, a sound that made Nicole smile wider. "Not a lot of ocean around here."

"Yeah. I've noticed." Nicole chuckled. "I don't know if we have any snowboarding worthy stuff."

"No worries. We've got a bunch of stuff. I'm sure we can find something to fit," Waverly added, looking at Wynonna.

"Yeah. I'm sure we can find something warm you can slip into."

Gus looked around the table and sighed heavily.

#wayhaught #wynonna earp #pmm #tw: suicide #tw: blood

24 notes · View notes

shesawriter39049 · 6 years ago

Text

|BRAVADO|HOSEOK (M)| AU

EX IDOL ...TRANSITIONING TO SOLO K ARTIST (NOT BTS)

A/N: I had taken the sneak peek for part 1 down and swapped it out for the BACKSTORY ...but you guys asked for it..also it’s like completely reworked lol. This is 2.7K the full thing will prob be around around 10k…storyline heavy since it’s the first chapter but there will be a good amount of smut!

I’d suggest reading the backstory..at least after this so you have a better Idea..as this is a AU for multiple reasons….BUT you don’t HAVE to read it to get the gist.

PLEASE NOTE: THE WAY I’M WRITING HOSEOK’S FEELINGS ABOUT BEING A IDOL IS NOT HOW I THINK HE FEELS...IT’S REFERENCED HERE..AND WILL BE REFERENCED IN DETAIL DURING THE STORY. BUT THE GROUP HE WAS IN..THE CONTRACT AS EXTREMELY STRICT EVEN FOR KPOP. THE GROUP MUSICALLY OR CONCEPT WISE WAS NOTHING LIKE BTS SO PLEASE DON’T READ INTO THIS TOO DEEP !

Lol it’s just a story!! !

-The OC is tatted...but that’s as far as it get physically also her name in this is actually a nickname/business name sooo she’s still “Y/N”

Glancing up at all the lights throughout the city, just silently observing the way the sun was starting to set, taking in the different color waves that dusted the sky.There was this...array of calmness that had washed over Hoseok's body as of late, and he couldn’t even tell you where it came from. To be real, you'd think he’d be a total wreck considering he was in the final stages of finishing his debut album. A Week from today to be exact, in one week he’s due to sit in front of his label and play them the finished product. Once that album get’s the labels stamp of approval..that's when it all starts, picking the single, finding dancers and a choreographer..shooting the music video, and album cover art. Oh let’s not forget the endless traveling to promote the single as well as multiple live performances. While hopefully finding a couple hours a to eat and sleep. The funny thing is, no matter how utterly exhausting that all sounds, especially because for the first time in his career he’d have to do it alone. Hoseok still felt good, damn good,confident, happy, genuinely happy, the butterflies that roamed through his body as he anxiously awaited the start of his new journey felt more exhilarating than anything else. For the first time in years he was looking forward to the idea of stepping into the “Unknown” excited to grow and mature within in craft. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not sitting here saying the ride so fars been nothing but rainbows and butterflies. He did damn near have a mental breakdown last night while in the studio with Gray and Yoongi, over the production of a song. Let’s just say it was pushing 1AM, and Hoseok had a little too much coffee..mixed in with a little too less sleep...and for some reason the 808 just didn't sound right. But of course..after finally getting a good oh I don't know 10 hours of sleep, waking up to a voice memo from Gray... ultimately the 808 actually did sound right! To be fair it always did, he was just stressed and trippin’ a little ,but that was normal, that was expected this is his first solo project , his baby if you will.

“Our sunshine” that’s what his fans called him, no matter what mood you were in, if Hoseok smiled at you...your body responded on command. There was no way around it, and the energy and pure bliss that radiated from his body as of late reflected that nickname to the tee. I’m not implying he was completely miserable during his career as an Idol because he honestly wasn't. Hobi loved his members, fans, and will be forever grateful for the life and memories they’ve given him. But, Idol life at least under the contract he signed...wasn't meant for a free spirit like Jung Hoseok, and this mini hiatus he’s been on since the groups disbandment, has shown him that first hand.

As he continued gazing out the window of the tinted SUV that was currently sandwiched in LA traffic he didn't even realizing the permanent smile engraved on his cheeks the entire car ride. One earpod in, currently playing a couple rough cuts of the songs he'd just finished last night as he just people watched. Loving the different cultures and personalities that danced along the streets of LA, the city of dreamers...always feeling at home no matter what part of California he was in. Moments like these were still felt new to him, the freedom he now felt being able to not be paranoid if he went to events solo. Or if he wanted to go out to a bar and have a couple drinks with friends..no matter the gender. Finally able to run his own social media accounts and post whatever he wanted….if he felt like posting a picture of him in a towel after the gym then he could. If he wanted to post a picture of him and a girl out at dinner….he could, now if we're being real here..the majority of his fanbase is still women so he’s not in any rush to settle down and spam his socials with a girlfriend. Nor does he even have time to entertain someone full time, but it’s just the principle,if he wanted too he could...and that’s something he hasn't been able to do since he was shit,18. His new contract for the most part was solely business related, it held no stipulations on his personal life. Smiling fondly at the growing line of fans that started streaming down the sidewalk, the event itself didn't even start for damn near a hour and a half yet fans were already posted outside.

Tonight was Jay Park’s album release at “The Novo” in Downtown LA, the event itself was a showcase and a album release party all in one, this particular event wasn't for the fans though. They were just all outside patiently waiting to show their love and support while of course also hoping to get glimpses of some of their favorite artist, as well as Mr. Park himself. The idea behind the showcase was more so for industry reps to get a first listen at the album: Radio personalities, music critics ,bloggers and of course Jay’s friends and family. Hints why Hoseok was invited, even during his boyband days the two of them were close, bonding over there love for hip hop and dance.He often refers to him as his “Little big brother” since even though Park is almost 8 years older..Hoseok is almost 4 inches taller,and there's not a day that goes by that he doesn't remind him of that. The two of them were a lot closer than the public actually knew, Park starting out in a boyband himself later transitioning into becoming the founder of his own label. Partially because he wanted to give other Korean artist who didn't fit in that “Idol box” full reigns and creative freedom over there craft, Jay understood Hoseok’s concerns and struggles first hand.

Currently headed not even a mile up the road to “The Ritz-Carlton”, which is where Jay was staying while he got ready for his party.Feeling the car come to a complete stop,taking that as a hint that they had arrived, pulling down the mirror to give himself a one over, before stepping out of the car. His dark wavy locks messily pushed out of his face, skin holding a warm glow due to being in LA for the past 2 weeks. Minimum makeup on, let’s be real when your going to a papped event ...all celebrities no matter who you are have something vailing over there skin. The last thing you need is the full exposure on a camera zoning in on every pour on your face, it just wasn't a full blown smokey eye. Letting his eyes trace down his face, gazing over the small silver hoop that sat in his nose, all the way to the ink the laced along the side of his neck. He felt good, he felt like him...not even trying to hide the smirk that danced along his lips as he glanced back at this reflection “Sir is this entrance okay?” The sound of the drivers voice snapped Hoseok out of his moment of vanity “Oh yeah, well, actually let me make a quick phone call first just to double check.” Tilting his head up to smile at the driver through the partition before scrolling through his text messages quickly looking for the one labeled “Mariah-JP” . Clicking the call button, placing it on speaker as he could tell his pods were dying, and he swore it didn't even fully ring once before she picked up “ PLEASE, tell me your here!?” The level of frustration and desperation in her voice shouldn't have been as amusing as it was,impulsively snorting out the ugliest cackle , not even able to imagine what her days been like. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn't mean to laugh but...wow...ugh yeah, I’m getting dropped off at the main valet entrance is that cool?” Wanting to make sure she wasn't it by any other door as he’d rather get dropped off than make her chase him around “Yes that’s perfect just hurrrryy!!!” Even the driver couldn’t help but chuckle at how frazzled she seemed. Quickly apologizing for the break in character not wanting to seem unprofessional in which Hoseok waved off, not minding one bit, the call was on speaker and it was honestly hilarious. Almost reaching over to open the door himself before he heard the drivers side door open, still a task he felt unnecessary..I mean..come on...he could open his damn door. But not wanting to offend the driver or interfere with him doing his job...he waited patiently for him to open his door.

Hopping out of the car swiftly, turning around to grab the small black David Yurman bag off the seat, as well as to double check that nothing fell out of his pockets as he wouldn’t be riding to the party with the driver. Part of the reason he was meeting Jay here first is because he received a text in regards to a mandatory pre-game session before hand. In addition to the fact that Park wanted his entourage of friends to arrive with im to walk his “black carpet”

Gazing up at this beautiful 54 story glass structure that sat in front of him.. instantly bringing back memories of the boys last world tour, were they sold 2 nights at the Rose Bowl. It was crazy how his heart started fluttering all over again just at the thought of it..the biggest grin stretching across his cheeks. To anyone else just walking by, hell even the driver he probably looked fucking insane but he didn't care, that memory too vivid, too pure..to be held in regardless of the circumstances. Eyes starting to tear up at the pictures he was starting to paint in his head, he swore he could literally still here the fanchants clear as day ..damn near a year later..

Snapping himself out of that memory before it got too deep, and his makeup got ruined..because if he would’ve sat in that moment any longer he would have started balling his eyes out! He felt the driver simply just pat his shoulder... It was the sweetest thing ever the way he just stood there, not asking any questions, not exactly sure what just happened that caused the sudden shift in Hoseok's mood. But he just let him have his space, not in any rush to leave, and even if Hoseok didn't physically say anything about it, he picked up on the gesture immediately, something so small, meant so much.It wasn’t required for him to give a damn, all he was instructed to do was drive...yet he could tell this young man needed a little more than that right now...even it was subtle.

“Thanks man I appreciate it” There was this sense of warmth that laced through Hoseok's voice as he spoke, a slight tremble knocking at his usual collected tone because he meant that phrase in more ways than one. Extending his hand to the drivers for what he assumed was just a handshake instead Hoseok slid a tip in his hand before smiling up at the gentleman fondly.

“The pleasures all mine, I hope you enjoy your night!” The warmth was returned graciously before he made his way over to the drivers side to pull off. Of course the driver didn't actually open his hand and look at the amount until he got in the car but let’s just say he was pleasantly surprised.

It didn't take long for Mariah to spot him...not that he was hard to miss in his leather embellished Gucci jacket. Damn near pushing past the doormen to hold the door open for Hoseok, who previously started walking towards the door extremely slow, with a shit eating grin on his face. “Don’t make me hurt you! Get your ass over here!!!” flailing her arms in the air as egged him closer, pulling her in for a quick hug because she damn sure looked like she needed one, in addition to a whole lotta liquor! Standing there in her cute pink little bodycon dress and Louboutins, hair pin straight, parted down the middle draping down her back.“Thank God...this man has been asking about you all damn day!” Sighing into Hoseok's chest as she spoke , her tone shifting immediately, soothing out while in his embrace. Hoseok’s known Jay for almost 5 years and Mariah's been Park’s assistant since he started his label in 2013, so naturally the two of them had become friends as well! A snort left Hoseok's lips as he shook his head not even surprised. Again that was his “Little big brother” after all….

“Offff course he has..” a slight air of sarcasm cracked along his lips as he tried to fight back the smile tugging at his cheeks. Secretly loving the fact that one of his closest friends genuinely just wanted him around, as friendship was something Hoseok held dear to his heart! Following Mariah’s lead through the lobby, grand wasn't even the right word to describe this hotel, the sound of Mariah’s heels clicking along the marble, as she lead them towards the elevator.”So on a scale of 1-10 how ready are you to quit today?” Brow arched at the implied question, as the door opened and she damn near slumped against the glass upon entering. But before she even had time to respond a ringtone comparable to the grim reaper cut through the air causing a loud cackle to erupt from Hosokes chest.

“Oh my God, please tell me that’s not Jay’s ringtone!?” Mariah couldn't even help the exasperated sigh that left her lips as she put the phone call on speaker. Not even waiting for her to say “Hello” before he spoke into the phone

“Have you-”

“Dude stop whining like a little bitch!” playfully sliding his tongue through his teeth as he teased Jay through the speaker. Waiting for him to recognize Hoseok's voice through the phone...

“Well it’s about time your punk ass got here! And who are you calling a bitch! It’s Jay hyung to you motherfucker” This was their relationship 24/7 they gave each other shit on a consistent basis, if you actually didn't know how close they were you'd probably think the hated each other. Park brought out a different side to Hoseok and he loved it, growing up in Korea, and growing up in the states is a complete 360! Even if your parents were extremely strict and “traditional” if you will. Naturally growing up in a integrated area...your character traits adapt to the people your around. So with the two of them technically being Korean -American there wasn’t a barrier within there “vulgar, or “crude” sense of humor. There were things he could do or say around him that Hoseok wouldn't dare say around most of his Idol friends just due to the culture difference. Dramatically rolling his eyes at the sound of Jay asking for him to be called “Hyung” as he already knew he only said it to be a smart ass .

Hoseok could hear another voice in the background that he didn't recognize but it was clear it was a woman and from the sound of things she busting his balls which made Hoseok happy to no end. “Alright, man will be up there in a minute, were literally in the elevator just stop your crying for 2 seconds little big brouthers coming!�� Not even waiting for him to respond before he clicked end on Mariah's phone already well aware he’d have some smartass comeback.The sound of the bell dining rang through the small space, as the glass doors slowly parted...exposing the cherry stained wood walls.

Hoseok’s curiousity getting the best of him “Who's in the room with him right now?” Glancing over his shoulder as they swiftly moved through the sea of people..walking through the halls, a amused smirked moved up her face at the question “That would be Rain….” there was a certain twang to her voice as she said your name only making Hoseok even more curious as the approached the room.

Peeping her head through the door after swiping the keycard to make sure he wasn't walking around balls to the wind, and the minute the door cracked open, exposing the extremely spacious executive suite the two of them could hear the the endless banter that was currently taking place. “Yeah, I’m sure they are comfortable you look like your about to take your kid to soccer practice Janice. Where the fuck’s you minivan!?” Brow arched, tone slightly elevated at the implied question, after a good oh I don't know 10 minute discussion as to why Jay was NOT wearing those particular pair of jeans with his custom jack for his performance tonight. More importantly..he hadn't even started getting ready for the night at all, as he had a rack to his left with four options to walk the carpet in because he couldn't narrow it down prior too.

“Fuck off it’s a durango not a minivan! Anddddd you could always like, I don't know sew some leather patches here ...and oh here..” Eyes almost bugging out of your sockets not even believing he was legitimately standing in the bathroom trying to get you to alter a random ass pair of jeans that looked like they’d be rejected from Goodwill...a hour before his party.

“Are you- did you- Park!” The growl accompanied in the way you said his name made his entire face crumble into it self as he laughed which let you know he was just busting your balls at this point. “Okay you know what..I’m gonna kick your ass, and take those before I burn them, I swear to god!” Huffing out in frustration as you ran your fingers rough your scalp, taking a firm grip on your roots as you held your hair in place. Eyes fluttering over to your left following the footsteps that entered the room only for you to meet the gentleman who standing parallel to you. A smirk glossed over your lips as you acknowledged the way his eyes shameless took you in from head to toe. Your gaze almost somewhat encouraging him to continue as to be fair….you were doing the same thing to him. I guess you could lie and say it was the inner stylist in you that made you give everyone you meet a one over which is the honest truth. But if were being real, that didn't have a damn thing to with my your eyes were flicking from his lips over to his disgustingly chiseled jawline. More importantly, why did this man look so familiar..you knew him from somewhere you just..couldn't quite put your finger on it...

You watched the way his eyes admired the sinful manner in which your black leather Moschino mini dress clung to every curve on your body..more importantly the way the entire piece was held together by one single zipper than ran down the center of the dress.Letting his eyes drift over to the extremely sexy contrast of the full black and white sleeve that started at your shoulder and draped all the way down to your wrist, extending slightly onto the curve of your hand. Or maybe it was the fact that your entire presence didin’t crumble the minute he locked eyes with you. Even at first glance the aura radiating off your body had him intrigued you just looked like you could actually keep up with him, the real him. It was insane the way a good oh I don't know, 30 seconds of eye contact between the two of you said so damn much. I guess the night will tell if he was on to something or if you were just being a little tease..which to be fair you definitely were regardless, but that’s part of the fun right?

That’s all she wrote for the sneak peek...lemme know what ya think and if your excited for the full thing which is halfway done actually thank the lordt! lol

Love you guys as always,

Rocki

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok au #jhope smut #jhope #jhope au #bts #bts au #bts smut #hoseok one shot #jhope one shot #bts one shot #kpop smut #kpop au #kpop one shot #kpop #jung hoseok #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic

33 notes · View notes

nightfayre · 6 years ago

Note

hi im the anon ! i dont remember what i said >

and I’m alarmed by the fandom mentality. Maybe HT means good - but how would we know? we don’t have access to his thoughts - but we must judge his actions, and his actions are for the least very troubling. It’s always abt coercing Mo and not respecting his boundaries. I see the trope “when she says no, she means yes” here and once again, the fact the fandom swallows it uncritically (bc HT is a poor, hot tortured boy) is alarming. Forcing Mo to wear his gift stinks of “this is my possession, don’t mess wt him” 2/5

Maybe im pessimistic n its actually to protect him by distance, but once again he totally disregards Mo’s will. What if he doesnt want to be protected ? what if he doesnt want to be an object to be pass around between self-entitled psychos ? The first step to protect and help someone is by listening to them. I hope Mo will react strongly and will tell HT that by saying this, he’s no different from She Li. And i hope that would provoke HT to self-reflect a lot - smth he lacks tremendously. 3/5

That being said i love HT and tianshan! And what i love is how realistic and flawed they are. Theyre both hyper violent, distrustful, and severly lacking in communication skills. Im thrilled to see how theyre going to evolve -for the better or the worse, both is good for me. But i’m very disappointed by the fandom reaction like “ooh how cute hes possessive it means love!” or “actually its not bad doing HT doing that bc his intentions are good”. 4/5

And I will be vry, vry disappointed if OX decides to follow this trend and to not show how this kind of actions is detrimental to their reliationship and use the tired and dangerous trope of “being violent means that you care”. I trust them to be more nuanced than that bc until now they are great at drawing grey relationship. So yea i hope next chapter, tianshan plunges (before being better). Anw sry for the rant, and plz continue the good work !! 5/5

phew. there’s a lot to unpack here – but I agree wholeheartedly with you. since this post is already kinda long, I will put my answer/explanation under the cut!

the parts that I bolded in your asks are what I intend to focus on in this answer. strap in, because this is going to be a long one.

before anything, let me put a disclaimer: I love He Tian. I love Guan Shan. I love Old Xian. I love tianshan, and I love where they are headed in the manhua. does that mean I also love where tianshan are right now? no, it doesn’t. and I’m here to explain why I look forward to their potential rather than their current relationship’s dynamics.

one of the hardest parts about being in a fandom is being able to separate fiction, reality, and morality. this is especially hard when a fandom is as old and endearing as 19 Days, and when you fall in love with & are rooting for all the characters. furthermore, 19 Days is not a tragedy. of course, when Jian Yi disappears, it will be tragic. but otherwise the majority of the manhua is a comical, romantic slice-of-life plot. as such, it’s easier for what would usually be seen as blaring issues/problems in tragedies to be disregarded for comedy or, in some cases, romance in a comedic, romantic slice-of-life.

this is exactly the case with tianshan. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: He Tian’s current relationship with Guan Shan is not healthy. he doesn’t listen to Guan Shan. he doesn’t respect his personal space. he doesn’t know where to draw the line. he doesn’t know how to properly communicate with him, and thus resorts to violence or threats. tianshan just have a problem with communication. and, sure, maybe it can be chalked up to the fact that they’re young and stressed and don’t know any better. but that excuse is almost as bad as the “boys will be boys” excuse, and that doesn’t make it any better nor does it justify their actions.

He Tian’s idea of relationships is so twisted, and as I talked about in a previous answer, it can probably be stemmed back to his trauma with the puppy Cheng took away from him. I won’t get too deep into that since I explained it in detail in that answer, but keep this in mind nonetheless: He Tian grew up in a family of violence, distance, miscommunication, and lies. it’s all he’s ever known, and that’s what he’s applying to his relationship with Guan Shan. does that make it right? no, absolutely not. but he’s learning.

when Guan Shan had a panic attack at the restaurant, He Tian learned that people aren’t robots/pawns to use at his disposal and rather have their own strong emotions/backgrounds that shape them. thus, he brought Guan Shan home without a word. when he had his night terror and woke up to Guan Shan holding his hands, He Tian realized that there are parts of Guan Shan he still doesn’t know and, potentially, an aspect of their relationship that they’ve only started to uncover. thus, he thanked him without preamble and with a bowed head.

what I’m trying to say is that He Tian does have good intentions at times, but not always. he’s learning as he goes, because god knows he didn’t have a family to teach him how healthy relationships should be. there probably is a part of He Tian that only wants to protect Guan Shan against She Li, but he certainly doesn’t show it in the right way. he acts possessive because he knows that if he doesn’t, he’ll lose what he loves (*insert flashback to the puppy*). again, does that make it right? hell no. jealousy and possessiveness are not cute and are entirely unhealthy in a relationship. the fandom should view them as such, but should also keep an open mind when considering He Tian’s background.

and honestly, the reason why I’m focusing so much on He Tian right now rather than Guan Shan is because if it were up to Guan Shan, he would’ve dropped He Tian within the first few days (maybe even hours) of meeting him. but because of He Tian’s persistence, Guan Shan has no choice but to be involved with him and retaliate when He Tian verbally/physically/emotionally attacks him. nonetheless, Guan Shan has tried to walk away from He Tian on multiple occasions when He Tian’s teasing became too much, and on those occasions, He Tian has given in. (ex. I can’t find the exact chapter, but there is a chapter in which Guan Shan refuses to use He Tian’s fork to eat He Tian’s leftovers, and he gets up and says, “I’m going home,” to which He Tian replies, “Fine, fine, I’ll buy you new food.”)

so yes – tianshan certainly have flaws. He Tian holds too much power, and Guan Shan can’t catch a break. the fandom romanticizes their interactions, but if you take a moment to think realistically and recognize that character flaws are essentially bad but also critical for character development, then there is an even balance in the readers’ relationship with the manhua. don’t support He Tian’s violent interactions with Guan Shan and claim “omg He Tian loves Guan Shan sooooo much when he forces Guan Shan to do XYZ,” but rather support the fact that he hasn’t physically manhandled/harmed Guan Shan in many chapters. support and celebrate He Tian’s development, not his flaws.

and as for what you said about Guan Shan telling He Tian that he’s “no better than She Li”? while I don’t think He Tian is truly as bad as She Li, I actually think that would be a painful, great, and pivotal moment in their relationship. after all, the most consequential scene in tianshan’s relationship thus far has been the kiss. at that moment, Guan Shan had told He Tian outright that he disgusted him and to leave him alone. since then, I don’t think He Tian has ever looked so… taken aback. unsettled.

and guess what? their relationship has only gotten better since then, and He Tian hasn’t touched him like that again.

I don’t know, anon. it’s a tough call. I think tianshan have a lot more chapters ahead of them, and I don’t think Old Xian will allow them to end on bad terms. actually, I don’t think Old Xian will allow them to end on the terms that they’re on right now. they can only improve from here on out, but how Old Xian will go about showing that improvement is unknown to us. there are many paths this story can take, but rather than worrying about what might happen, let’s focus on the here and now. let’s focus on the problems at hand, and let’s focus on the development the characters are undergoing.

don’t ignore the wrongness/cruelty of characters’ actions, but don’t romanticize them either. if you do, you’re only doing a disservice to the character’s personality, existence, and the author’s intentions.

(and as for this newest chapter specifically: I see why people can get excited about He Tian telling Guan Shan to wear the earrings. He Tian wants to verify to both himself and She Li that Guan Shan is with him now. that Guan Shan is no longer under She Li’s control. who doesn’t love a little verification of their OTP’s relationship, especially when it involves an enemy?

but at the same time, it’s unhealthy. Guan Shan doesn’t have a say. he’s being handed around like an object. I don’t think this is pessimistic thinking; I think it’s the truth that no one wants to acknowledge/hear. but I’m not saying that tianshan is wrong in this chapter; I’m saying that He Tian has good intentions, but he’s not showing them correctly. and there will be a chapter in which he does show them correctly, but we must travel this rocky road before we get to that point. patience is key, and I cannot wait until He Tian and Guan Shan reach that moment of clarity. you can’t have light without the dark.)

#19 days #tianshan #mailbox #anon

24 notes · View notes